#i twist and when i push it just wont open so.

[luveline]

hi love! i absolutely adore ur writing and u should be so so proud of it. anyway i was just thinking about coworker james when readers car wont start in the parking lot and he like takes a look at it and is under the hood and reader is just like "oh...😍" cause the muscles are OUT and shes down bad

ty lovely 💌 fem

“Oh,” you say, “of course.” 

You drop your face into your steering wheel and sigh. An annoyed burst of sound, not cute or feminine or fun, a grunt of defeat. This sucks. Work sucks, life sucks, your car not starting is the least of your worries and yet somehow the most prevalent. 

How am I gonna get home? you think to yourself, defeated.

“Hey!” someone calls. Jogging, the last person you want to see in the world right now stopping at your door. James frowns at you. “It’s not starting?” 

You pop your door, careful not to pop him at the same time. “How’d you know?” 

“I heard the engine turn over.”

“It’s making a clicking sound,” you say, twisting the key so he can hear it. 

“It’s dead, probably. Your battery.”

James has an odd way of talking occasionally, as though you’ve started a conversation and he’s adding onto it. Remus says it's ADHD. You like it no matter what it is and despite yourself —it’s getting harder to pretend you don’t like him. Like, you hate him, he’s annoying beyond explanation, but your more positive feelings for him are heavy and ever present. So, so heavy.

“I’ll pull my car up and we can give it a jumpstart,” he says. “Easy fix.” 

“You don’t have to go?” 

“What?” 

“You have rugby today.” 

“Oh, no, it's the off season now.” He smiles and you don’t get why. “Let me go get the car.” 

James jogs back to his car and brings it next to yours. Everybody who isn’t Human Resources or security has left already, leaving the car park practically empty, ample room for him to park beside you. He gets back out. 

“I don’t have, uh, cables,” you say.

James gives you a smile that is as patronising as it is attractive. “Don’t worry about it, beautiful. I have everything you need.” 

He feels along the edge of your hood, pops the seal, pushes it up into the air, and hooks the prop rod into place. He’s clearly done it before, and the whole while you’re watching his arm. His rolled sleeves draw attention to the tightness at his bicep, and the moving ligament and muscle of his tricep as he leans into the engine to look things over. “I’m no mechanic, but I do know everything, and I thought maybe things were a bit hot but your engine’s stone cold.” 

“So it’s definitely the battery?” 

“Probably.” He scratches his jaw, peering curiously into the guts of it all. “When was the last time somebody looked in here?” he asks, squinting at you, unaware that he’s the finest thing you’ve ever seen. 

Your breath gets caught. 

“Have you ever had it looked at?” he asks, concerned. 

“I… maybe I did. I think so.” 

“You’re supposed to have it looked at every year? For MOT?” 

“I know, I thought you meant before that.” He’s distracting.

James looks you over. “It’s fine,” he says emphatically, “even if I can’t fix your battery, I can still drive you home. You’re panicking for no reason.” 

“Right.” Panicking! Yes, this is panic.

“Listen, can you get the jump leads from my boot? I have to open the hood.” He gestures for you to go. You do as he’s asked, wobbly, and struggle when you get there to actually open it. You slides your fingers under his car's emblem and flinch as it flies up past your face. 

His boot is surprisingly well organised. There’s a duffel bag to one side half-zipped that showcases a flash of red and white uniform, a pair of formal shoes, a dark jacket folded and hidden behind the bag. You want to be nosey and you don’t want him to think you’re stupid. You rush to grab the cables and almost clip yourself on the boot as you duck from under the boot and round the car. 

James smiles when he sees you. No indication that you’re an imposition, it’s sort of like you’re two friends. 

He pushes his sleeves farther up and digs in. It’s awful, what business does he have looking so sharply put together? You hadn’t thought you were preferential to muscle until right this moment watching James move around your engine like an expert. 

“What are your plans tonight?” 

Your palms are hot behind your back. “I was thinking I’d watch a new movie.” 

“That sounds fun.” He ducks away from the engine. “I don’t watch many movies.”

“What do you do with all your time?” 

“Argue with Sirius about who’s turn it is to wash the dishes.” 

You startle. “You and Sirius live together?” 

James laughs and pulls the leads to his own engine. “You didn’t know that?” 

“You come in different cars.” 

“I come in much earlier than he does. And after work he and Remus always have things to do. It’s weird, isn’t it, how couples are always busy? I feel like I never do anything.” James grins at you. “This is interesting, at least. My Friday night isn’t a total waste.” 

James gets into his car and you into yours. With some fiddling, pleading, and a strange noise, he manages to push life back into your car. His smile when it works is his worst one to date, elated and shockingly handsome. 

That Monday, against your better judgement, you bring him a little carrot cake in a tin. A thank you card felt like too much. 

To his credit, he doesn’t brag to anyone that he saved you. He says thank you for the cake with another real smile, and for some reason, despite the mild weather, he rolls his sleeves up at his desk. Almost like he noticed you…

Well, he couldn’t have. Right?

[pbnbucks]

can you please do a blurb when the reader wants attention but paige is on fortnight so the reader takes action and eats her out while she is playing and ice hears the noises she making.

also i love you stories🫶🏾🫶🏾🫶🏾🫶🏾

word count : 737

warnings : smut, sorta public ig, paige w a strap.

summary : you get caught by ice, which makes paige angry

“paige can you get off the game please” the girl in front of you sits in her purple gaming chair not removing her eyes nor does she notice that your there or talking to her

“ice bro your selling” you grab the head set off of her giving her a dirty look “oh, hey mamas” you roll your eyes at the girl

“p get off the game please can we go to bed?” she grabs her headphones back from you putting them on shooing you off “yea just give me 15 minutes, stop acting so needy”

your taken back by her response wanting nothing to do with you. you didn’t care that ice could hear, you knew exactly what you needed to do.

you found yourself on your knees crawling under paige’s desk slowly slipping your hands under paige’s waistband of her sweats sliding them half way down placing kitten licks on her clit receiving a look and soft moan as you hears the distant voice of ice

“i didn’t hear anything ice just focus on the game” you giggle at her response trying so hard not to let out a noise as your lapping her wet cunt spreading her legs out farther

“so wet for me” you skilled hands find a way to slip up her shirt as you playfully pinch her hard nipples seeing her face twist and turn giving u the reaction you wanted you take your right hand out from under her shirt as two of your fingers easy slip in to her tight hole making her unable to contain her moans receiving a laugh from you

you hear ices muffled voice through the headphones saying ‘AYOOO’ causing paige to rip of her headphones and leave the game.

“fuck- get on the bed” you scurry from under the desk getting on the bed as she goes to your shared dresser pulling the drawer out grabbing the strap and shutting it loudly so it would purposely make a sound to make you know she was angry.

next thing you know shes fully on you whispering in your ear as she runs her cold pointer finger up and down your bare chest

“your so in for it baby, such a bad girl for acting like a bitch in heat” her voice sends shivers down your spine as shes now spreading your legs open sparing no time as she slides the strap in to you not waiting for you to adjust as she begins her fast pace.

“you gonna act like that again?” you shake your head quickly hoping the night wouldn’t end in a punishment, as she leaves a hard smack on your inner thigh disappointed in your response

“no i wanna hear your fucking words since you wanted to act like that” your wince as you feel the red mark forming “promise, i wont act like that” she begins to rub the spot she hit massaging it “i hate that you had to make me act like this my sweet girl” you whine as you feel her pounding in to your guts filling you up as you see stomach bulges form on your lower stomach.

“your enjoying this aren’t you, fuck” she pauses as she’s slowly turned on from the way your taking her. “yes mommy” you coo as you run your hand over her abs opening your legs wider for her. she continues to slip the pink silicone strap into your sopping cunt earning filthy embarrassing noises from your pussy.

“such a good girl” she wines at the feeling of you tugging at her hair. the known knot forming in your stomach getting tighter each thrust now burning in the middle of your stomach

“look at my cock going in and out of your pussy, look at that” she praises as the strap builds her a new face of confidence. “paige i need to cum”

she runs the back of her hand over your cheek softly. “i want you to watch as you cum all on my dick” she grabs the top of your head pushing your head to look at your lower half your two bodies combining,

as your release hits over the edge as your juices run down her strap. she helps you ride out your high as she pulls out the silicone making you wince at the emptiness. “you gonna pull that move again” you shake your head quickly as you can.

[seratopia]

miguel o'hara x reader (fluff) - please? → she/her pronouns!

miguel begs you not to get out of bed

By far the highest blessing you could receive in the morning is Miguel O'Hara's morning voice.

Deep, gravelly, and sparse, Miguel's morning voice always manages to send chills down your spine, especially when you're nothing but a hair's width apart from his chest.

You can feel his heart slowly beat against your cheek, his chest rising and falling to the sound of his breathing. Waking up to a face full of chest has been unexpectedly, one of the numerous highlights of your day.

Slowly, your eyes flutter open, and it takes you a moment to come to your senses. He smells nice, a reminder of the shower gel you keep in your bathroom for when he visits.

Miguel's almost too big for your bed; he takes up your space, barely fits the comforter, but you love him anyway. You really don't know how, or why Miguel chooses to sleep with you in your tiny little bed, but you don't complain.

"Amor."

His wording rumbles from the deepest parts of his throat, and you can feel the vibration of his voice against your ear. You squirm a little, tiny noises escaping your mouth as you make yourself just a little more comfortable.

"Mmmph... what time is it?" You murmur into his skin, savoring the warmth he omits.

Miguel lazily rests his heavy arm over you, running his abnormally large hand over your back. He presses a darling kiss into your hair, humming. It's only you who gets to see him like this, all sleepy-eyed and touchy beyond repair. You try to savor this version of Miguel as possible, knowing that he has to be someone else when he's at work.

Miguel keeps a single arm on you while you try to bend your arm in impossible ways, twisting and turning your limb to try to reach your phone on the bedside table. Eventually it works, and you manage to slip your phone into your fingers before you dislocate your arm.

"It's 9:23..." You breathe, sighing before turning your phone back off and placing it next to your pillow.

Miguel's pulling you in like a magnet, snuggling you like a puppy would a teddy bear. He's just too cute like this, hands and legs roaming around your body for something to squeeze. As much as you absolutely hate to let go of him, duty calls.

"Miguel... we have to go to work."

He can hear the distaste in your voice, reminded of the agonizingly long spread of cleanup, the idea of people bothering him, the mediocre food at the cafeteria. (Except for the empanadas, lmao)

Miguel doesn't want to go to work today, and he doesn't think you do either. Wearing a skin-tight supersuit just wasn't it today.

"Noo...." Miguel whines, strengthening his arms around you. You have to tap on his arm, just so enough air can find it's way back to your lungs again.

"Miguel, we have a job to do." You say, rubbing the sleep away from your eyes. You hear him groan into your hair, your mind practically going blank at the sound of his intense morning voice.

We mUST stay focused brothers, we must stay focused!!!

Almost like every morning, you begin your wrestle for freedom, pushing at his forearms wrapped tight over you. It's almost like you forget that Miguel's a superhuman Spider-Man. Stubbornly, he keeps his lazy stance, ignoring your tiny pushes and shoves.

"Oh my gosh, Miguel. Let me go. If you don't go to work, I will." You curse, squirming and kicking yourself in all sorts of directions.

He shakes his head again, eyes closed shut and nose still in your hair.

It was only a matter of time before you'd tire yourself out.

And you did.

Miguel's got the shittiest, most satisfied grin on his face, and all you can do is scowl at him. Still, he hasn't let go of you, and now you're convinced he wont let you go until the end of the day.

As much as Miguel was stubborn, you were too. You have a final ace up your sleeve, and hopefully it'll save both Jessica and the kids from disarray in the office today.

Miguel's face starts to melt down a little when you flutter your eyelashes at him, shoving your face into his chest and pressing a sweet little kiss between his pectorals.

It's like the satisfaction from Miguel transferred over to you, and Miguel is left speechless as you trail your way up to his clavicle, nipping and kissing at the surface of his skin.

"Let me go, please?" You ask, specifically in the tone of voice that you know Miguel loses his shit over.

His voice is hitched in his throat, ears turning scarlet as his grip around you starts to loosen.

"I... honey-"

The moment you reach his neck, Miguel know's he's done for, a chill running down his neck and back. It makes him all hot, his mind being wiped clean like a whiteboard. Just for the funsies, you kiss his pulse point a little, wrapping your own arms around his neck.

Utterly, Miguel melts, the sweetest, poutiest expression on his face like he doesn't know what to.

You win.

While you still can, you slip out of Miguel's grip, your feet finally meeting the carpeted floor. Miguel realizes your little act, grumbling and pouting to himself as he relishes the disappearance of your warmth.

"If you come to work, we can do more..." You tease, trotting off to your bathroom with a chuckle.

Reluctantly, the man rises from your bed, the boards creaking under his weight. (One day, he's gonna break your bed, somehow.) He follows after you, running his hand through his messy bedhead.

"Coming, sweetie."

© 𝒔𝒆𝒓𝒂𝒕𝒐𝒑𝒊𝒂.

[footygirl114]

Salvadora (Alexia Putellas X Reader)

It's amazing the inspiration you can get when you get rid of an unsupportive weight! I hope this wraps up this series and does it justice, but I could be open to adding additional scenes to this one :)

This is the final part to my body guard series; but the universe could be added to :) See here for previous part: Part 7

Seeing the knife pressed to Alexia’s neck immediately kicks in your military training, the mindset you have been so hard to get out of immediately falls back into place. Taking stock of your surroundings you know that you are alone here and if the police come up it will be behind you up the elevator, you also know the knife is pressed right on the carotid artery and one false move and its over for Alexia. 

“okay there no need to do anything drastic here” you start as you take a step to the side away from the elevator and towards Alexia’s kitchen. 

“She’s mine, you cant have her” he hisses out and you see his free hand tighten on Alexis hip, pulling her close to him. 

You watch the grimace on Alexia’s face and when she meets your eyes you can see the fear in them, you have to look away cause you know if you get lost in them your facade will fall. The military training is what you need here as you know what you say next will hurt. 

Moving slightly closer to the pair you meet his eyes and say “You care about her, then why are you hurting her right now?”

He shakes his head and says “i’m not! I am just keeping her away from a whore like you. I wasn’t sure but then I saw you today in the parking lot, you are clearly corrupting her away from me!” 

Knowing this guy is delusional and having experienced this before you swallow as you tell him “you can have her, she’s not worth this hassle anyway.” 

“what?” he looks surprised and you see Alexia’s eyes widen at you as well. 

“You love her right?” he nods and you press on “Then let her go, and hurt me. I am the one who’s corrupted her, and right now she needs to see that you wont hurt her if you want her.” 

He looks at you and you see the knife drop slightly from her neck as he thinks about it “you’re right, come closer here bitch.”

You nod slowly moving closer, and you watch as he squeezes her hip and presses a kiss to the back of Alexia’s head. You cant tell what he says to her but as soon as your in reach he pushes Alexia hard to the side and moves to point the knife right at you. 

You can feel the tip press against your chest and you ask him “can we let her go? She doesn’t need to see you hurt someone else” 

Nodding he turns to Alexia who is just out of arms reach on the floor, which is why you haven’t made your move, and he says “go, wait for me in bed baby.” 

She meets your eyes and a subtly nod from you has her moving towards her bedroom, once she is out of view you turn your attention back to the man in front of you of you. He’s got a half foot and about 100 pounds on you but you know you will do anything to make sure Alexia is okay including fighting this guy. 

As you can see him formulating a plan, you hear the faint hum of the elevator and you know this will be your chance. You shift slightly away from the elevator and he presses the knife harder and hisses “stop moving.” 

The elevator beeps and you know its police arrival, and you use his distraction turning towards the door to immediately grab his arm and twist so the knife falls from his hand. With him disarmed you know that you have a chance and you swing and land one on the side of his head. I disorientates him enough that you can get your leg behind his and have him hit the ground in a heap, pouncing you are able to twist a hand behind his back. When you feel two officers join in and keep him subdued. 

You spring back and see the place crawling with officers, and they have guns trained on you telling you to put your hands up. 

You do as they say and say “I’m the bodyguard! Guardaespaldas!” you try again but they keep you stationary. 

While this was happening officers were clearing the rest of the apartment and one walks back into the main room with Alexia behind him and she pauses at the scene and tells them “Está bien, ella me salvó, ella está conmigo.”

The drop their guns pointed at you and move to help with the suspect on the floor who’s still yelling out about Alexia being his. You cant bring your self to look at Alexia after what you said so you immediately move into work mode and give statements and make sure the police have everything under control. Over the course of the next hour you know Alexia has been sitting on the couch talking to officers, Jose had shown up as well and was helping to mediate the situation. When everyone starts to clear out you can feel the tension in your shoulders start to loosen, and when Alexia tell Jose he’s good to go you see him hesitate to leave her alone but he assures her there is an extra security guard in the lobby. 

Once the elevator doors close behind him you lean back against the kitchen counter and sink down to the floor, letting your head hang between your knees. After a few moments you feel her come closer and sink next to you and you whisper out “i’m sorry.” 

She whispers out “Oh mi amor” and you feel her arm go around your shoulder and she pulls you into her you try to push back against her hold but she whispers “shhh ive got you.” You give up fighting and sink into her side letting the tears flow, you can feel your walls dropping as you sink deeper into her. 

You don’t know how long you sit there crying into her, as she whispers sweet nothings in your ear and continues to run her hands through your hair. When you pull back you meet her eyes and whisper “thank you.” 

She smiles slightly at you and says “no thank you, you saved me Y/N, you gave yourself up for me.” 

“I will always do that for you Alexia” you tell her and reach your hand out to cup her cheek. 

She turns and presses a kiss to your palm and says “can we go to your place tonight? I don’t want to stay here” 

You nod and stand up and reach down to pull her up as well, once she gets up you pull her into you and wrap her in your arms. You whisper into her head “I really care about you Alexia, and I wont let anything happen to you.” 

She pulls back and looks at you and whispers “Te amo” before closing the distance and pressing her lips to yours. 

You deepen the kiss and take a moment to remind your self she’s here safe with you, when she pulls back you keep her close and whisper “i love you too.” You both smile and you whisper “lets get out of here.” 

She nods and you know that everything will be okay, as long as you are together. 

The news of Alexia being attacked makes headlines the next few days, luckily the team had only one game that week and the coach was able to excuse Alexia from it. Which mean the two of you barley left your apartment due to the media outside. It was exactly what you both needed to process and get over the situation, it also gave you time to help Alexia look for a more secure apartment, which lead to her asking you to move in with her. 

Of course you agreed and you were excited to start your life together, not just as her body guard. 

[whokilledsamara]

Could we have the amab version of your "MISUSE" Mr Scarlett's fic? I adore them aaa

MISUSE {amab vers}

a Mr. Scarletella x amab!reader fic.

warnings || misuse of an umbrella {handle is inserted, but you get poked with the tip}, bleeding, hatefucking, sadism, amab reader, bondage, non/dub-con, "forced" blowjob, VERY SHORT FIC

{an: a copy and paste of my other fic, i just changed the genitalia.}

hiding didn't work. you could hear the static in your head, matter of fact you could see it too. the cold, and slightly damp flooring made your senses all the more tingling, head a bit woozy from all the running.

it was innocent really, the man who always happened to be crawling brought you a gift, and in return you gave him a small peck on the cheek. you hadn't thought anything of it, but you saw him. he saw you too.

bold move. he saw it as defiance. doesn't matter if it was innocent or not, he noticed. he notices everything even when you don't know he is there. the moment you saw red flash in the corner of your eye, you knew you fucked up.

why did you touch that stupid umbrella..

hours passed and nothing happened. you assumed everything was fine, and that perhaps Mr. Scarletella had just gotten his feelings hurt, not angry as you had assumed. but your hopes were cut short when you heard him, his voice filled with static and coldness as usual.

"Knees."

the way he said it in his language unwillingly did something to you, though you would never admit it.

sighing to yourself, you obey his command and slowly sink to your knees. your gaze is locked on the floor as his eyes glare at you. though you aren't looking at him, you can feel it.

his presence alone makes the room feel thick and uncomfortable, but having his length shoved down your throat definitely didn't make it any better.

it was your fault really. you knew better than to attempt to get past him. his strong hand on your hair made sure you were kept up as high as you could go without actually leaving your knees, his thick length clouding your senses as you desperately tried to choke it down. tears welled in your eyes and all you could see was that sadistic grin that he almost always had on his face, though it was wider this time.

once he had his fill, and so did you, he yanked your head off of him, watching sadistically as you gasp for air. the dried tears on your face only made his heart rate speed up, that shit eating grin never leaving his face.

"You, remove, clothing." he says. not even as a question, but a statement.

sputtering and coughing up his leftovers, you grudgingly slip off your bottoms, eyes closed and face flushed with embarrassment. his head tilts and he hums in response, crouching down in front of you.

your body is tense, and your eyes are squeezed tight with anticipation. his long, slender hand makes you shiver at the coldness as he parts your leg, putting you on display for him. a few seconds go by, and just as you are about to open your eyes, you feel a cold poke to your hole. its cold, and strange, making your eyes snap open to stare at the foreign object.

his umbrella.

you start stuttering and looking up at him with a worried expression, the tip of it pressed firmly against your hole. he experimentally moves it back and fourth, making your hips unwillingly jerk from the sensations. your face heats up and you watch carefully as he flips the object around, suddenly pressing the edge of the handle against your opening once more.

"w-what the fuck.. what? that wont fit.. what are you do-" you begin to argue, but are quickly cut off as he pushes it in, using the curled part to his advantage and pushing it as deep as he can.

you let out a shriek, thighs trembling and hands firmly planted on the damp ground beside you. he makes a few curious thrusts with it, seemingly getting off on the view, or maybe even feeling it himself.

"a-ah.. hurts.. mngh." you manage to choke out, your voice a low whine as he twists the handle inside of you. he seems to notice a bit of blood around your opening, only exciting him further as he thrusts it faster.

your legs lift slightly and you cry out, his hand shooting to cover your mouth as to not alert the other members. eyes clenched shut, he curves the handle just the perfect amount- that for some reason makes your vision go black for a second as you unwillingly orgasm on the foreign object.

pathetic noises leave your lips, his hand tightening around your lower face as his grin only grows wider.

"Good." he mutters, slowly pulling the umbrella out of you. his hand leaves your face and before you can think properly he is pushing the handle into your mouth, effectively making you taste the mix of cum and blood off of it. "Clean."

and so you do. you quickly suck off whatever you can, your face tired and worn. he pulls it out of your mouth and pats your head, before static surrounds him.

and hes gone.

{ made by @whokilledsamara }

[s0urw00lf]

BULLSEYE

Eventual Billy Russo x fem!reader

Summary: you and two others were to make sure billy Russo and frank castle couldn’t go on with their plans

Casting - join taglist

An: this idea was just a one shot but it was too long to make into a one shot so i made it into a story. if you cant tell already my fav character is ares. Also if i tagged you in this and you don’t want to be tagged again lmk it’s fine it wont hurt my feelings.

You woke up the same as every day. Dark grey concrete walls surrounded you and the small square window barred by thick metal rods did nothing to lighten the dark space.

You sat up, on the incredibly thin mattress that felt no different than a comforter covering springs. standing up, you walked over to the barred window, boots making little to no noise. you peeked out of the foggy glass just out of mere habit, from what you could see nothing was out of the ordinary. The sun, much like always, failed to show itself, leaving the sky covered by grey. The tree that stood just below your window seemed to grow, as the vines are starting to creep up the side of the concrete beside the window.

You were in a daze, staring out the window that hadn't been broken, even when the unexpected sound of the heavy metal cell door opened, before you had the chance to turn around you heard the sound of a gun cock.

You kept your breathing level, not giving him any reason to even think about shooting you “don' you move” a deep thick, British voice spoke. He was new, you'd never heard him before. You always kept mental notes of everyone you had the displeasure of meeting here, he was a new one.

“put your hands on your head and get on your knees” he instructed harshly. slowly with even breaths you did so your hands moved to the back of your head, fingers intertwined with each other and steadily you dropped down to your knees.

After you did so, the man approached you, heavy footsteps echoing off of the concrete walls. He roughly grabbed your wrists and bound them together with the only tool they hadn't taught you to break out of. you had no clue what it was, you just knew they made it especially for you.

”Hope you're well rested, got a good goose chase fo’ ya” the man sarcastically remarked, not really giving a damn whether you were rested or not. He finished tightening your “cuffs” and pulled you onto your feet. “move” he said, you started to take a step before he tugged you back making your lip twitch with irritation as you faced him for the first time. he had black hair and a thick black beard, and a scar going across his cheek that seemed like it'd just belonged there “and if you try anything i'll put a bullet in ya’ lung” he warned before pushing you forward.

He led you down the cold hallways, the small gusts of wind causing chills to cover your bare arms. “Stupid fuckin’ hallways too many twists and turns” the man muttered dragging you by your arm.

You wondered who it was you'd be assigned to kill this time. You weren't let out a lot, only once every few months if you counted correctly. Every time it was the same. You're given a target and it's up to you to find em and snipe em. No mistakes, no witness, no mess.

“fukin’ finally” he muttered as he brought you to a stop in front of another cell door and turned to you “I’d really like to have you on this mission so don’t make me shoot you” he said. Your blank expression didn’t budge and he rolled his eyes turning towards the cell door.

I'd really like to have you on this mission’ does that mean he'd be coming along? and if so that means this other person would be too. What the hell kind of mission would call for you and two others? the unforgiving sound of the cell door opening caught your attention “don’ try anything stupid. Hands behind ya head an’ get on ya knees” he warned holding up his gun. you guessed the person inside obliged like you did, you were sure, whoever they were they were dangerous as well. Only the people who had extensive training were in singular cell’s.

the man walked in, most likely to cuff the person's hands like he'd done yours. “ill tell you like i told her. You try anything stupid i put a bullet in ya’ lung” he said and pushed the person forward and out of the cell. they stopped in front of you and you observed the person. dark curly hair, brown eyes and a cut in his eyebrow. his face held so much youth that his eyes didn't carry. He couldn't have been older than eighteen. He was a boy.

he seemed to be observing you as well, but much like you his expression was neutral and didn’t give away anything

“alright dream team follow me” he said, beginning to walk before he paused and turned around to you and the boy “actually dont, i don't need to be choked out in the middle of the fuckin’ hallway.”

he grabbed one of your arms with one hand and one of the boys with the other. “Let's go, ain't got all day” he muttered, pulling you and the boy along. it was a short walk from there to the briefing room that you were vaguely familiar with.

In the room there was a large board with pictures littering it and a table surrounded by four chairs and three folders laid neatly side by side, all labeled. ‘VIPER’ ‘PHOENIX‘ ‘ARES’

The man let go of you and the boy and walked over to the board. “Right, so we've got a few targets. This man” he pointed to a picture of a dark haired man, his hair was buzzed and his nose was crooked as if it’d been broken a few times. “This is frank castle, otherwise known as ‘the punisher’ not many people have the luck of looking down the barrel of ‘is gun and livin’ to speak ‘bout it” he then pointed to the other man pinned to the board, he looked more youthful and his hair was longer and he had a small beard that complemented his face “this is William Russo, otherwise known as Billy Russo, best friends with frank and he runs a private military corporation called Anvil.” he explained before turning to you and the boy.

“Don’t underestimate them, they both have military training and were the best in America when they were in” he walked around to stand in front of you and the boy “but you two. Just one of you could go in and handle 'em both on your own, but that’s not how this works. We’re all partners and our job is what it always is. Kill.” He explained

”But before we get to the fun stuff we gotta get 'em to trust us. We’ll work alongside ‘em, figure out their plans and stop' em before it happens. Easy peasy” he clapped his hands together.

“Those are our orders. Understood?” He asked. You didn’t understand, there was too much being left out for you to understand. You had questions but it wasn’t your place to ask. “Understood” your gravely voice spoke. The man then looked to the boy “I said… understood?” He glared at the boy.

“Fucking understood”

You woke up the same as every day. Dark grey concrete walls surrounded you and the small square window barred by thick metal rods did nothing to lighten the dark space.

You sat up, on the incredibly thin mattress that felt no different than a comforter covering springs. standing up, you walked over to the barred window, boots making little to no noise. you peeked out of the foggy glass just out of mere habit, from what you could see nothing was out of the ordinary. The sun, much like always, failed to show itself, leaving the sky covered by grey. The tree that stood just below your window seemed to grow, as the vines are starting to creep up the side of the concrete beside the window.

You were in a daze, staring out the window that hadn't been broken, even when the unexpected sound of the heavy metal cell door opened, before you had the chance to turn around you heard the sound of a gun cock.

You kept your breathing level, not giving him any reason to even think about shooting you “don' you move” a deep thick, British voice spoke. He was new, you'd never heard him before. You always kept mental notes of everyone you had the displeasure of meeting here, he was a new one.

“put your hands on your head and get on your knees” he instructed harshly. slowly with even breaths you did so your hands moved to the back of your head, fingers intertwined with each other and steadily you dropped down to your knees.

After you did so, the man approached you, heavy footsteps echoing off of the concrete walls. He roughly grabbed your wrists and bound them together with the only tool they hadn't taught you to break out of. you had no clue what it was, you just knew they made it especially for you.

”Hope you're well rested, got a good goose chase fo’ ya” the man sarcastically remarked, not really giving a damn whether you were rested or not. He finished tightening your “cuffs” and pulled you onto your feet. “move” he said, you started to take a step before he tugged you back making your lip twitch with irritation as you faced him for the first time. he had black hair and a thick black beard, and a scar going across his cheek that seemed like it'd just belonged there “and if you try anything i'll put a bullet in ya’ lung” he warned before pushing you forward.

He led you down the cold hallways, the small gusts of wind causing chills to cover your bare arms. “Stupid fuckin’ hallways too many twists and turns” the man muttered dragging you by your arm.

You wondered who it was you'd be assigned to kill this time. You weren't let out a lot, only once every few months if you counted correctly. Every time it was the same. You're given a target and it's up to you to find em and snipe em. No mistakes, no witness, no mess.

“fukin’ finally” he muttered as he brought you to a stop in front of another cell door and turned to you “I’d really like to have you on this mission so don’t make me shoot you” he said. Your blank expression didn’t budge and he rolled his eyes turning towards the cell door.

I'd really like to have you on this mission’ does that mean he'd be coming along? and if so that means this other person would be too. What the hell kind of mission would call for you and two others? the unforgiving sound of the cell door opening caught your attention “don’ try anything stupid. Hands behind ya head an’ get on ya knees” he warned holding up his gun. you guessed the person inside obliged like you did, you were sure, whoever they were they were dangerous as well. Only the people who had extensive training were in singular cell’s.

the man walked in, most likely to cuff the person's hands like he'd done yours. “ill tell you like i told her. You try anything stupid i put a bullet in ya’ lung” he said and pushed the person forward and out of the cell. they stopped in front of you and you observed the person. dark curly hair, brown eyes and a cut in his eyebrow. his face held so much youth that his eyes didn't carry. He couldn't have been older than eighteen. He was a boy.

he seemed to be observing you as well, but much like you his expression was neutral and didn’t give away anything

“alright dream team follow me” he said, beginning to walk before he paused and turned around to you and the boy “actually dont, i don't need to be choked out in the middle of the fuckin’ hallway.”

he grabbed one of your arms with one hand and one of the boys with the other. “Let's go, ain't got all day” he muttered, pulling you and the boy along. it was a short walk from there to the briefing room that you were vaguely familiar with.

In the room there was a large board with pictures littering it and a table surrounded by four chairs and three folders laid neatly side by side, all labeled. ‘VIPER’ ‘PHOENIX‘ ‘ARES’

The man let go of you and the boy and walked over to the board. “Right, so we've got a few targets. This man” he pointed to a picture of a dark haired man, his hair was buzzed and his nose was crooked as if it’d been broken a few times. “This is frank castle, otherwise known as ‘the punisher’ not many people have the luck of looking down the barrel of ‘is gun and livin’ to speak ‘bout it” he then pointed to the other man pinned to the board, he looked more youthful and his hair was longer and he had a small beard that complemented his face “this is William Russo, otherwise known as Billy Russo, best friends with frank and he runs a private military corporation called Anvil.” he explained before turning to you and the boy.

“Don’t underestimate them, they both have military training and were the best in America when they were in” he walked around to stand in front of you and the boy “but you two. Just one of you could go in and handle 'em both on your own, but that’s not how this works. We’re all partners and our job is what it always is. Kill.” He explained

”But before we get to the fun stuff we gotta get 'em to trust us. We’ll work alongside ‘em, figure out their plans and stop' em before it happens. Easy peasy” he clapped his hands together.

“Those are our orders. Understood?” He asked. You didn’t understand, there was too much being left out for you to understand. You had questions but it wasn’t your place to ask. “Understood” your gravely voice spoke. The man then looked to the boy “I said… understood?” He glared at the boy.

“Fucking understood”

Tags: @watermeezer @oliviaewl @uniquehijo

[artdcnaldson]

beyond ready to match your freak on this, sick and twisted, i luv it >:)

i think this is the night he finally cracks a little... youve been rilling him up for so long at this point, lying to him, ignoring him, purposely making him jealous, hes had enough of this little game. especially when he notices you didnt even bother with panties under your skirt...

so there you two are, in his bedroom once again. his cock is right there, right in front of your face, you can basically smell his musk from where you're sitting. whining at him when he's telling you to beg for big brother’s cock. its so dirty, you really should be disgusted by this, but hes so intoxicating like this. something is different in his eyes from last time you two where sitting like this. theres a desperation in his eyes, like hes begging you to push him into the deep end.

suddenly he's telling you that if you beg real pretty for it, he might let you touch him... oh boy... why did he say that, he'll regret saying that in the morning. but for now he's too occupied with the dirty, depraved prayers slipping from your lips. if patrick could hear them now he would be sick to his stomach, honestly what's wrong with you both??? making his sweet little sister call art her big brother and beg him, on her knees, to let her touch him?? but neither of you are thinking about that at all.

i think, after reveling in your praises, he lets you move closer. tells you to take care of his balls while he jerks himself off :(((( he still wont let you touch him with your hands tho. but maybe he lets you come off the floor, instead he sits against the headboard and lets you lay between his thighs, making such a mess on his sheets. even while lost in pleasure and depravity, art keeps insisting that this doesnt mean that he'll ever fuck you. this is for him, not for you. he doesnt believe you when you tell him youd never tell anyone, youre too much of a slut to keep it to yourself. maybe he'd even rest his pretty cock on your face while youre sucking his balls :(((( makes you beg him to slap your face with it :((( so mean of him!!!

-🐞

GODDDD thank you for matching my freak <3

“Say it and I might let you touch me. If you beg pretty enough— if you’re a good little sister.”

And you know how bad it is when the words slip past your lips for the first time. Know it’s fucked up to fantasize about. But you’re so wet it’s dripping down your thigh where you sit between his legs. Patrick is so far from your mind, reality is a hazy blur around whatever the fuck exists outside of Art’s dorm room.

Because you he was like a brother earlier, just to make him mad, and now he’s making you eat your words. It’s the worst thing he’s ever asked you to do, just the sheer taboo of it all. It’s all fake, you remind yourself, and you want him so bad you’d do anything.

“I want my big brother’s cock.” It makes you shiver, makes your cunt clench around nothing, needy, desperate. You whine, grind against your heel. “Need it so bad. I’m so wet, Art, I can’t stop thinking about it.”

He laughs, revealing his teeth as he smiles wide. But there’s nothing warm or sweet about it. Just cold, cruel pleasure. “Yeah? You want big brother to fuck you so bad, huh? You stuff that pussy full of your fingers wanting it.”

You nod, and fuck, he’s so close you feel dizzy with want. Just want to open your mouth, take him into your warm, wet mouth, get him nice and wet.

“Say it again.”

You whine. “I want you so bad. Need big brother’s cock inside of me— wherever you want, Art. Just want to make you feel good. I want to be a good little sister.”

Jesus fucking Christ. Just hearing you say it makes him dizzy. It shouldn’t be as hot as it is. He readjusts, sits against his headboard and you whine when he moves away from you.

“C’mere, lay down between my thighs, but no touching.” So you do— obeying easily. Your hands are pinned beneath your stomach, you look up at him with wide eyes, just begging for direction.

He starts jerking off again, so close that you can hear every slick pass of his hand. And you feel so left out, almost want to cry with need.

“Be a good little sister, suck on my balls while I make myself cum.”

He might as well have offered you the whole fucking world on a platter. You don’t give him time to change his mind before your mouth is on him, laving the soft skin of his sack with slow laps of your tongue.

You moan, loud and debauched, because it’s everything you’ve been wanting so bad. It’s the taste of him, salty and heady on your tongue. And the feel of him pulsing in your mouth, twitching and needing release. You grind into the bed, finding a tiny amount of friction in the balled up duvet beneath you.

He groans when you suck one of his balls into your mouth, when he feels your moan vibrate against him, nearly cums on the spot. This is supposed to be fucking degrading, but he can see you grinding your bare, sticky cunt onto his blankets. Your mouth is so hot, so wet— your lashes rest against your cheeks, you look so fucking content between his thighs with his balls in your mouth.

He wonders if there’s anything he could do at all to curb your incessant lust for him. Slapping you hadn’t worked, incidental as it was. Ignoring you only drove you to whore yourself out to other boys. He doubted there was anything on the planet that you wouldn’t do, any way you wouldn’t debase yourself for him.

Jesus Christ. He should tell Patrick. He should come clean, explain how fucking bad things had gotten. It would’ve been better if he’d just fucked you once to begin with, now if he tells Patrick he has to reckon with… this.

“Can’t believe you’re fucking getting off on this,” he mutters, even as he strokes his cock to the sight of you, humping his bed and sucking his balls into your pretty wet mouth. “This is supposed to be for me, not for you. Doesn’t fucking change anything either. I’m not fucking you, not ever.”

He holds his cock over your face, presses it against your nose and forehead. You whine, nuzzle against it like you’re a fucking puppy. It makes his cock pulse, the sheer neediness.

He hears your soft pants, the debauched moans as you grind into the bed. Keeps jerking himself off against your face, bucking his hips, lets his cock glide against your soft skin.

“Beg for your big brother’s cum, honey.” You sob pathetically, hump the bed harder, faster, desperate in your need for release. He slaps his cock against your cheek, makes you whine. “Beg for it.”

“Please, Art,” you whine. “Need it. Need it need it need it.” You mouth at his balls, your moans all choked and strangled as you get closer. It’s so pathetic, so fucking hot he can’t help himself. He cums, making a mess of your hair, of your face.

The sound he makes, the feel of his balls drawing up, pulsing on your tongue, it’s enough to drive you crazy. You cum hard, tears slipping down your cheeks as you pathetically grind against his duvet. You keep lapping at his balls, let his dick get soft, rest flaccid against your face.

He pushes you off after a while, mutters something under his breath about how gross this all is. How fucking desperate and depraved you were.

It pisses you off. You’re the one with his cum drying on your face, in your hair. It’s not like you were the one who was getting off on being called big brother. I mean, you were getting off on calling him that, certainly. But you didn’t bring it up. That was him. He was just as fucking bad as you were.

So you steal his shower, don’t fucking talk to him as you grab your shit. He, chewing on his cuticles as you shove past him, heading for the door.

“Where are you going? It’s, like, two in the morning?”

You laugh. So now he wants to play at being the protective friend? “Fuck you, Art. I’m sleeping in my own room.”

He lets you go, tries to ignore the pang of longing. Whatever. Maybe you finally learned something.

[the-californicationist]

s-soap with a dommy mommy? (it wont let me ask as anon so pls dont judge me)

most people have been really nice but i had an anon get a little aggro so I switched it off for now - sorry! I'll turn it back on after i feel brave again. tumblr is so scary to me cause im pretty new to it, and sometimes its hard for me to deal with it. lol

But! It is not hard for you, Soap's dominatrix girlfriend, to deal with him. He thought he'd leave his pretty black leather collar at home when he went into the field last month. When he walked into the door tonight, he saw his collar and leash hanging in the window, dangling like a shining medal, and he knew he was in for a true punishment.

NSFW below the cut. TW: dom/sub, whips, sounding, anal play, femdom, explicit consent, some aftercare

In truth, he'd been looking forward to it. Soap had left the collar behind on purpose - not out of shame; it blended in with his tactical gear seamlessly, and no one asked about it - but because he knew you'd be waiting to reprimand him... deliciously. Even just leaving it on its tiny hook before shipping off had made his cock leak with anticipation, and driving back home had given him the exact same feeling.

Soap heard you before he saw you. Your whip and its tell-tale snapping as it thudded languidly against the hardwood floor filled the quiet house with threatening little echoes.

Slap.

Slap.

Slap.

And then, silence. You saw him step into the doorway, peeling himself apart, garment by garment, happy to receive his punishment from you, his judge and juror. You were his Master, and he was your faithful dog, ready and eager to heel.

Naked, he padded toward you, sinking to the floor on his knees, waiting for your edict.

"You thought you could go across the world without me, my darling."

"No, mistress. I didnae mean --"

Slap!

The whip carved a rut into the floor, right between his thighs, expertly placed, missing him by just a breath, and another scar was added to the landscape of his playroom. Silence filled the space again. You could see his skin twitching across his cheek, and there were goosebumps running up his arms and neck, making his hair stand on end. You brought the body of the whip around to his arm, and you dragged it up, over his elbow, around his shoulders and down the opposite arm in a slow, soft caress.

"That wasn't a question, pretty boy," you purred, using your whip to point to the collar in his hands, "Put it on. Now."

He did so, holding the leash in his two open palms, offering it to you like a meal.

"Remind me," you asked in a quizzical voice, "What did I promise you if you disobeyed me again?"

You watched him swallow hard, both out of concern and excitement. He waited for a moment before answering you, his breathing deep and ragged,

"You promised you would... fuck me, mistress."

You gave him a few quiet tsks with your tongue before leaning down to him, taking his leash in your hand, and yanking him fully down on the floor,

"Tell the truth, Johnny. What. Was. My. Promise?"

You walked around behind him where he lay, face down, and kicked his legs apart, forcing him to spread himself for you. Then, you used the pointed toe of your extremely tall boot heel to press into his asshole, watching as the patent leather of the shoe pried his thick cheeks apart.

He writhed, but he didn't get up.

"You... promised... ahh!"

You knelt down behind him and used the blunt end of the whip to push into his hole, fucking him with the rounded ball of the weapon as slowly as you could.

"I'm waiting..." you threatened, pushing the plastic handle a little further than what he was expecting.

You watched as his body responded to you, twisting muscles and strong bones knotting together,

"You promised you would fuck my cock!"

His voice came out in a low whine, like a wounded animal, afraid and feral. You removed the whip and allowed him to relax before you bent down and licked his gaping hole, shoving your tongue just deep enough for him to feel you.

"Nngh, ahh. Mistress, please... mmf. Fuck..."

"Turn over."

He obeyed you immediately, and you gave his leash enough slack for him to get comfortable. Soap was sweating, panting, and his pupils were like two black, shining diamonds.

"Hands," you reminded him, and Soap immediately tucked his hands behind his back, palms down, trapping them under his ass.

"Yes, mistress."

"Mmm," you chuckled a bit, turning sinister, "You're not fooling anyone. You went, without your collar, on your fucking mission, and what did you think? That you would crawl back here to me and I would reward you after such a betrayal?"

Thud. Thud. Thud.

The heavy tails of the whip made moderate contact with his wide chest, causing him to grunt from the dull pain.

"No! No, mistress."

"You've been a bad boy, Johnny. A very bad boy."

You let the flexible tails of the whip run down the length of his torso, dragging across his skin, all the way down to his rosy, shining cock. He was as hard as you'd ever seen him, and he was leaking all over the place. You loved how wet Johnny got for you. It made everything it touched glitter with silky precome in the low light.

"Yes, mistress. I have," he confessed, finally submitting to you, "I deserve no mercy."

It was beautiful to watch. All of the high-strung, spooled-up excitement he had come in with was instantly washed away. It was like he had found a dark sort of peace, his facial features and his enormous body melting like ice to a flame.

Thud. Thud. Thud.

"Mmngh! Ah, fuck. Mistress, please. More. Please."

Snap. Snap. Snap.

"Yes. Mmfffuck! Fuck. Fuck. Nnnahhgh."

Thud. Snap. Thud. Snap.

"Ahh! Ahh. Ahh. Yes. Mistress. Yes. Yes!"

Red lashes painted your lover's hirsute form like powdered blush. You never hit him hard enough to do damage. You'd had plenty of other lovers in the past who had needed a much firmer hand. Soap was so pliant. So needy. So easy. And his quiet whimpers were your favorite song.

You knelt beside him, petting his sweaty cheek with the back of your hand, tracing your fingers over his open lips, plucking gently at his soft nipples.

"Are you ready for your punishment, Johnny?" Your voice was little more than a whisper.

"Yes, mistress."

"Good boy."

That praise earned you a trembling shudder. It rattled through his body, and you watched as his belly hollowed with each gasp of air.

He'd never tried to using a sounding rod before. You had helped him play with the tip of his cock, just pressing gently into it, letting him understand the sensations you could craft within him. But, you'd promised him you would save it for a special occasion, a truly intense punishment, for when he needed you to bring him back under your wing. It was a difficult tour, you knew, and the closer he got to defeating Makarov and his band of terrorists, the more he lashed out, seeking your protective retribution.

You were more than happy to provide.

Bending over him, you sucked his head into your mouth. Feeling how swollen he was, you knew he wouldn't last long. So, you found the metal rod you had prepared for him, sterilized and ready to be coated in lube and shoved into your lover's cock hole.

You brought it up to his face to let him see it. It was long, but you would only be teasing him with it this first time. If he took it well, you were fully equipped to take him much further. His eyes followed the implement like a moth to a lamp.

"Say your safe word, now."

"Tango."

"Good boy."

You rubbed the rod against his cock, and his whole body convulsed at the feeling of its cold length. He was shaking, his eyes wild with excitement. He looked to you for guidance in the face of this unknown.

"I've got you, pretty boy. Be good for me."

"Yes, mistress," he could barely speak the words.

You continued to rub the rod all around the outside of his cock, circling it, crossing over his slit, and then, finally, you let the tip dip - just barely - into the head of his dick.

"Mmmm, fuck...." He moaned so low that you felt the vibration resonating in his body.

You pulled it out, just a centimeter of insertion, and pushed it back in, over and over. In and out, fucking him with the cool, shining tool. As it entered him, it made soft, wet popping noises from the obscene amount of lube you had used to make it as easy on him as possible.

As you worked the rod, you began to rub his shaft. He was as hard as steel himself, and it was impossible to fit your hand around him. Soap was thick, and your body was hungry to have him inside of you again. But, tonight was for him, not you. You were here to serve him when he needed you most. You controlled him when he was out of control. You created peace in the midst of all of his chaos.

You worked him, up and down, in and out, slicking your palm across his skin, watching as he came undone.

"It's... too much, mistress. I cannae take much more. Please... have mercy."

"Are you asking for mercy," you snarled, "Or leniency?"

"Forgive... me... mistress..." Soap was slowly becoming more pliant and slipping deeper into his subspace.

"You've been so good for me," you pressed the sounding rod just a little deeper into him, and he moaned loudly, "Are you ready to come for me?"

"Fuck, yes, mistress. I cannae last any longer. Please let me come."

"Come, Johnny. Come for me."

You watched all of that strength that he kept trapped behind his skin come alive. His belly sank in with a deep breath, and when you pulled out the rod, he started to erupt with sticky, milky come all over himself and you.

"Ahhh! Ah! Oh, fuck. Fuck! Fuck!"

"Good boy. That's my good boy."

You dropped the rod and released him. All at once, he pulled his hands out from under him and wrapped you up, clumsily tackling you to the floor with him, releasing himself from your care, hugging you tightly to his chest, desperate for your touch. You held him back, running your hands through his grown out mohawk, petting his neck and back, shushing him. He was thanking you, kissing you, pulling you into him to show you his gratitude and his love.

"I promise I'll be good," Soap mumbled into your neck, "I'll be your good boy."

"You already are," you kissed his cheek and smiled down at him, letting him relax into you.

AO3 Link

[rosyjn]

I love your writing hehehe. I was wondering if you could write dilf jake gets obsessed with getting his human side piece pregnant and he can smell her ovulating and he’s like super cocky and dominant and “i know you want this even though you wont admit it” about it?

THIS IS SO FREAKY I LOVE IT

SMUT WARNING!!

“So tight,” Jake grunts, holding your body in place with a hand. Your small body jolts with every thrust, your cervix getting bruised in the process. His hair hangs down, dreads moving around wildly with all his movements. He’s got you folded like a pretzel, ruthlessly fucking you.

“Mph!” your eyes are screwed shut and your face is stained with tears of pleasure. There’s something so good about this, about being fucked by someone twice your size, not even exaggerating. This isn’t the first time Jake has done this, and it won’t be the last.

“Y’know why I’m pounding so hard?” he groans.

“Cause you’re horny!” you whine, pussy clenching around his huge girth.

“Silly girl,” he teases. You can only moan in response, the feeling of being stretched out and tossed around like rag doll becoming too much. He has so much pre cum, your little cunt cannot possibly hold it all, it spills out of you and drips down from between your legs. “Tryna fill you up, give you my babies,”

“Jake, no! It- it won’t work!” you mewl.

“I need you pregnant, fuck, I need your womb full of my cum,” he pushes himself deeper and you yelp.

“My god!” you squirm under him, but it’s no use. His warm juices spurt at your cervix.

“I can smell you, hon’. I can smell when you’re ready to get fucked- when your body’s ready for a baby,” he smacks your tit.

“I don’t understand,” a tear rolls down your cheek, dripping onto the bed. You open your eyes and look at his face, twisted with determination. “When I ovulate??” your voice cracks.

“Oh yes, god yes,” he speeds up his thrusts, making you slam into the mattress harder and you close your eyes again, holding back sobs of pleasure. It doesn’t make any sense. He can smell when you’re ovulating? When you’re horny? It sounds crazy to you. But after all, he desperately wants you to have a baby with him. You don’t even know how it would work. Would Na’vi sperm be too big for a human egg? It doesn’t matter anyways, as long as you can keep having mind blowing sex with him.

“Gonna cum!” you whimper, unable to form any more thoughts. He keeps fucking you, like an animal. You squirm and yell but it doesn’t stop him. He’s still wildly deep inside of you, in a way that you didn’t know was possible.

“I need you pregnant. I’ll fuck you over and over until you have my kid.” his tip practically threatens your cervix and your wetness runs down his length. Your toes curl and your body begins to writhe in pleasure.

Every time you think he can’t get harsher, you’re proven wrong when his tip slams into your cervix. Your bare body begins to shine with sweat. Your arms reach up and desperately grasp Jake’s shoulders. His length twitches and throbs inside of you as you clench around it, feeling each movement.

“You cant- cant get me pregnant-,” you mutter through a series of gasps and moans.

“I know you want this even though you won’t admit it,” he teases before pausing, with his tip pressed firmly against your cervix again. You cry out as he finishes, warm semen squirting directly into your womb. His fingers dig into your waist, sure to leave marks later. You pulsate and clamp around him, sharing the orgasmic feeling. Your eyes roll back into your skull and Jake practically melts at the sight.

“Fuck!” you yelp, him still not pulling out. He just stays there, deep inside of you. You wiggle and writhe, trying to give your sore hole a break, but he doesn’t budge.

“Not yet, I need my seed to take in this little cocksleeve,” he whispers, reaching up with a huge hand and pushing your hair out of your face. Tears continue to roll down your face and his fingers wipe them away.

“Please..” your voice is weak and strained. Jake smirks, finally pulling out of you slowly. The squelching sound that your pussy makes is like heaven to him. When he’s finally all the way out, your body relaxes itself. You unfold and just lay on your back, with legs shaking. He gently plops down next to you.

“Need you pregnant-“ he pants, trying to catch his breath. You just sigh, knowing he’ll be back the next time you ovulate, and that he’ll be checking in to see if your period comes for the next couple weeks.

Pretty short sorry!

[girlygguk]

fame - jjk (four)

full fic discontinued

summary ; christmas has come early this year when park dae-jung scores siren a chance to promote their latest single on a music show. the girls are excited to perform, hanna is wholeheartedly convinced this is going to be their breakthrough, and aera runs into two police officers coming out of the bathroom.

chapters ; prologue | one | two | drabble1 | three | four | five

warnings ; explicit language

content ; how aera & jk met, dope era bts <3, the start of it all!!

word count ; 4.2k

a/n: so i know (award)shows are not exactlyy like how i describe them in the story but lets ignore that <3 also it's 2015 in this chap but jk & aera are 18 bc u wont catch me writing abt minors !!

📅 March 2015 — 3 months before their call...

📍 PARK ENTERTAINMENT Building

"Oh my god!" Han-na's scream grabs me by the throat, dragging me out of my deep, dark, peaceful hibernation. My body jolts upwards with a groan, my eyes struggling to adjust to the light as I try to blink myself to life.

On the other side of our cramped dorm room, Ha-Joon is also coming to consciousness, her dirty blonde hair clinging to her pillow when she rises as if it's trying to haul her back down. "What the—" Joonie is cut off before she can finish her sentence, another wail from Hanna ringing in our ears.

I'm quick to shove the blanket off my body, jumping off my bed with a huff and dashing out of the room. I hear a soft whine behind me, our maknae reluctantly following my actions and trailing after me.

I slam open the door of Hanna and Nali's shared room, my eyebrows furrowing in confusion when all I'm met with is an equally groggy Nali. She's pushing herself off her mattress, no doubt on her way to finding the source of the scream as well. I turn on my heels and head for the last unexplored dorm, twisting the handle and stifling a laugh when Asami comes into view. She's sprawled out on her bed, a baby blue sleeping mask covering her eyes, and soft snores passing through her lips. She's fast asleep while our leader is possibly being brutally murdered. Shame. 

I leave the room with a shake of my head, the two blondes snailing after me down the hall as I follow the sound of our eldest's voice towards the office. My pace increases when I hear the tone of a male voice too. Please be getting beat to a pulp right now, Hanna, because if I walk in on you getting freaky in our shared office, I swear to god—

The creak of the door pulls me out of my submerged mind, and an enormous breath of relief leaves me when all I'm greeted with is an ecstatic leader and our Producer-Director, Park Dae-Jung. Smiles adorned both faces, our director standing tall in black slacks and a navy blue button-up, looking like he was halfway through his day already, whereas I was currently leaning against the door for support. My sisters and I sported similar outfits, pyjama shorts and simple tees—except for Hanna, of course. The early bird was dressed in a cropped singlet, her belly button poking out just above the waistband of the grey sweatpants that coated her long legs.

Relief washed over our huddle of three when our worry for Hanna's safety disappeared. Joonie wastes no time, spinning promptly on her heels and retracing her steps directly back to bed. Her eyes are basically shut as she walks, muttering something about it finally getting to the good part of her dream.

Hanna's "wait!" causes a giggle to bubble in the base of my throat, watching as our youngest stops in her tracks before letting out a muffled cry. "She's gonna make us start practice early! Look at what she's wearing, aiiiiiishhhhh!" She wails before being as dramatic as ever and stamping her sock-covered right foot against the ground.

The cackle that left me was loud, overpowering Nali's breathy laugh as she grabbed the hand of our maknae, hauling her into the office with us. I pulled Joonie towards me, wrapping my arms around her waist, and she leaned her head on my chest as we returned our attention to the slumber-ruining villains in the centre of the room.

I take a quick glance at the clock on the wall behind Hanna, and I almost start crying along with Ha-Joon. It's 6:15; we shouldn't be starting practice for nearly two hours. If she even begins to head towards that room, I will be leaving the group effective immediately.

"No, practice will start as scheduled," she rolls her eyes, "but Dae Jung-nim just surprised us with amazing news!" We stare patiently at the girl shaking like a chihuahua, our director turning towards us with a similar grin. Joonie untangles herself from me, and our tired trio deliver a quick bow to him in greeting.

"We're promoting on Inkigayo!" My mouth dropped as I stared at our leader that towered over us, turning my head to look at the girls standing next to me to see they were sporting similar shocked expressions. 

Our director was leaning against the table in the middle of the office with an easy smile, waiting for our reactions. My eyebrows furrowed, "I thought—"

Dae Jung-nim was quick to cut me off, "Times have changed, and we managed to secure you guys a slot. I know you might not want to promote there after they pulled a few of the debut stages, but..."

My sisters and I shook our heads, easing his worries with wide eyes and wider grins, "are you kidding? We would love to!" 

I could physically see the relief wash over him as I spoke, and I think he was downplaying how hard it was to get us on the show. Our director has been in the business for many years and acquired a lot of connections throughout his career. We are 1/2 of Park Dae-Jung's remaining active groups. Well, active-ish. 

Our male seniors, Poison, last had a group comeback almost two years ago now, most of them pursuing solo music and acting projects. They've been around since 2009 and were hugely influential for us as growing trainees, often mentoring us on their days off. Dae Jung-nim is like our Dad away from home, and while I still have vivid memories of him causing ex-trainees to break down in tears, I've come to see his sweet side. He's a big softie, really.

"I'm glad to hear it, girls. The more opportunities we have like this, the more the world will get to see your talent." He nods, hands clasped together humbly. Hanna is oozing with excitement as she jiggles on the spot whilst my other two sisters and I thank the lofty man with sleepy but ample smiles.

"All the info is here," he taps the thin file perched on the desktop, "and I've given Han-na a brief run-over."

My sisters and I part like the red sea as he pats Hanna on the shoulder before heading towards the office door. He flashes us one last sparkling grin before leaving the room, and Nali is the first to break the silence. "The things I would do for and to that man..." She sighs dreamily, head slumped against the wall to her left, and I swat at her arm teasingly.

"God, I'm so excited!" Our leader chirps, ignoring her roommate's crude remark, "This will be our breakthrough moment!"

Spoiler alert, it wasn't.

Suddenly, Joon brushes past me and treks further into the office towards the desk our promo file is sitting on, and I assume she's just going to peruse through it for a bit. I watch in interest as our youngest ignores the file entirely, her hand stopping over Hanna's phone that rests next to the folder. She taps the screen with purpose, the device blaring a painful 6:20 AM at her before she bites back a snarl and heads for the door.

"So about that early practice—" Joonie cuts off Hanna's teasing with a screech, already halfway down the hall towards her comfy bed. Nali and I share a knowing look, our eyes slowly, so so slowly, shifting towards our leader.

"Just go already."

That was all we needed for the blonde and me to fast-track out the damn door and back to our dorms to salvage the rest of our sleep.

"I'm waking you up at 8 o'clock sharp!" Our leader's voice booms from the room we just left, Nali and I not even reacting as we part ways to our separate dorms.

The sound of Joonie's heavy breathing hits my ears as soon as I enter my room, and I chuckle in astonishment at how she fell back asleep within seconds. Then, suddenly, it all makes sense as I flop onto my bed. The warm, cozy cover hugs me as my head sinks into my soft, cool pillow. As the darkness engulfs me in seconds, all I can think about is how Joonie is a fucking genius.

Jang Han-na is a, if not the prime example of a perfectionist. She believes in planning, lists, sticking to routines and scheduling every waking moment of her life. She is a born leader, my longest friend, and I love the girl to death. I couldn't name a better fit for our mother bear title, truly. But at times like this, I can't help but imagine my hands wrung around her neck. Not in a sexy way. You know when you're trying to stop the air from entering someone's lungs? That type of way.

It's been four days since our director graced us with the delightful news that we're going to be able to promote our latest lead single on Inkigayo. If you told me that right now, we'd be on our sixth hour of rehearsal for the fourth day in a row; I would've told Dae Jung-nim to shove the offer down his freshly pressed slacks.

I love to practice. I really do. I will never take dancing with my sisters for granted. It's always a guaranteed laugh when somebody messes up, and we watch Hanna lose her shit, though it's even better when she's the one who messes up. But this isn't funny anymore. I'm hot. I'm bothered. And I cannot stand to listen to our song play one more goddamn time in this boiling dance practice room.

My eyes lift from the ground in my heaved-over stance, a pained laugh passing through my lips as I see my four members sprawled out in various exhausted positions. Asami, specifically, catches my eye; her limbs are spread out on the floor like a starfish, her jaw to the ceiling as she heaves out heavy, strained breaths and furrowed brows to tie it all together. I almost lose it when our song dares to fade out and is about to replay automatically when Joonie's voice echoes throughout the hot box. "I will break your phone, unnie. I really will." Her threat is acknowledged by the oldest as she rolls over from her spot on the floor with a grunt and crawls over to her phone. Hanna lifts a hand to tap over the screen blindly, a satisfied sigh leaving her when the opening line cuts off mid-sentence before flopping back onto the ground again.

"I'll go get us some water," I offer, standing straight after unbending my knees and heading for the door.

"Are you kidding?" Joonie's voice causes me to turn back to the girls, my hand resting on the doorknob as I shoot her a confused look. "You are not even tired. You're so annoying!" She cries before rolling over on her side, turning to face the wall dramatically as the older members chuckle. 

I shake my head at the melodramatic teen, a smile threatening to break through on my lips, "I am tired. Just not as much as you." My teasing results in our maknae attempting to pull off her shoe and launch it at me before she tiredly moans and gives up, falling back with a huff.

I exit the room with an amused giggle, making sure to leave the door open and let the hallway's cooled air pour into the studio.

SIREN'S SONG: Rumour from Produce48 (no bc siren would eat this up fr) + SIREN'S STAGE OUTFITS (Left to Right) Ha-Joon, Asami, Aera, Han-na, Nali

The warm air of the hand dryer does well to bring some heat to my cold, shaky hands in the bathroom of Inkigayo. Apparently, Joonie has decided that my hands are dry enough and dashes out of the room, the door swinging behind her as she abandons me. Feeling my eyes roll to the back of my head, I take a quick glance at the mirror and tuck in the part of my white blouse that's not sitting right under my belt before following after the hyperactive girl.

"Joonie, hold up," I whine as I push through the bathroom door, seeing her waiting against the wall opposite the toilets.

"I just wanted to get out of there. It smells like thirty different perfumes." She chuckles before pushing off the wall and starts to head in the direction of our members. I only make it a step towards her before a masculine voice joins our conversation.

"Hello. Are you alright?"

I turn my head towards the voice to see two guys in pilot? policeman? uniforms staring at me curiously. "I'm sorry?" I reply, my tone not doing anything to hide my confusion.

The strangled gasp of Joon from behind me reaches my ear before she almost trips over her own feet, jogging to my side. "Oh my annyeonghaseyo!" She splutters once she's next to me. Her head drops into an instant bow, and I catch on quickly, turning back to the two guys before bowing even lower.

They return the gesture with big smiles before the taller one with dirty blonde hair and a dimple I want to poke turns to me, "Did you need something?"

I feel his friend's gaze on me as I tilt slightly to look up at him before responding, "What do you mean?" What a confusing fucking interaction.

"You yelled out my name."

"Oh!" Oh I see. "Sorry, I was calling out to Joonie," I say as I gesture to the blonde on my left.

"His name is Joonie. Namjoon. Namjoon and Jungkook sunbaenim," she informs me in a low, pointed tone. 

I blink a few times at my younger sister before turning back to the police officers. "Oh, wow! Bangtan Sonyeondan!" I bow again, "I'm a huge fan!" I add as I rise from the bow, and my eyes meet the brunette's when I lift my head. With an amused smile painted on his lips, he nods in a way that says 'clearly' in the most sarcastic tone you could think of. 

"Kim Ha-Joon," she introduces herself politely before gesturing to me, "and this is Hwang Aera. It's great to meet you."

I mean, I am familiar with Bangtan Sonyeondan; I just didn't recognise them instantly. They make great music, and I share a room with Kim Ha-Joon, a boy group fanatic; it's literally impossible to be unfamiliar with most boy groups nowadays because of her. I am, however, more of an Exo fan. I would give up my firstborn for five minutes with Sehun, but that's another conversation. 

I remember the two members she obsesses over in this specific group; one being Park Jimin and the other being the tall glass of water in front of her right now. I'm surprised she hasn't fainted or puked yet.

My eyes drag over their outfits quickly and interestedly before they raise to meet Jungkook's. His eyes are naturally wide and curious, and I find myself wanting to keep staring into them. But, seriously, they're so big that it's almost intimidating. I hate that I like that.

I force myself to eventually look away, though he does not do the same as I feel his gaze on me even when I turn to Hajoon while she speaks. "So excited for your performance! We love your music!" She praises, and I nod in agreement even though I couldn't tell you the first letter of the song they're performing if you held a gun to my head.

"Thank you," Namjoon says humbly, "We're excited to see you perform as well." I almost let a snort escape at his words because it's highly unlikely he even knows who we are, let alone our music. Instead, Ha-Joon accepts the polite response with a toothy grin and fiery red cheeks. It's so cute.

Suddenly, my phone buzzes furiously in my hand, and I mutter a soft apology under my breath before looking down at it, trying my hardest to ignore Jungkook's stare that I feel on my every move and trying even harder not to comment on it out loud.

[5:38 pm] HALMEONI: DID YOU GUYS FALL OVER IN THE BATHROOM OR SOMETHING?

[5:38 pm] HALMEONI: IF SO, GET UP RIGHT NOW AND GET BACK HERE.

[5:39 pm] HALMEONI: WE'RE ON SOON.

"Shoot," I mutter before looking up at Joonie, "we have to go before we get killed." 

She looks away from Namjoon for what I think is the first time since she laid eyes on him, and I see the faintest hint of a pout on her lips as she nods at me. I turn to the pilots, "I'm really sorry about the confusion. But we have to go before our leader comes to find us, and none of us wants that." I bow again for good measure and watch as Namjoon shakes his head with a chuckle and a dimpled smile.

"Good luck," Jungkook calls as I spin on my heels and head towards a heated Hanna. I grab the arm of my starstruck maknae as I retreat, throwing back a polite 'thank you, you too!' as I drag the girl down the hall with me. 

"Thank you SO much!" Joonie yells back, her free arm that isn't in my grasp lifting to give them a big wave. I am too distracted to laugh at her fangirl behaviour, trying to ignore the way the only two goddamn words he spoke during the entire interaction affected me.

Ha-Joon's borderline hyperventilating as we near the backstage area where our members are waiting pulls me out of my head long enough to glance at her and giggle. "You don't even know how shaky I am right now," she gushes, and I look down at my hand on her ghostly, goosebump-covered arm,

"I think I have some sort of idea."

"Jesus, look at their stage," Asami grumbles aloud as the five of us huddle around the monitors that display the performance of the current act. In this case, it's the Bulletproof Boy Scouts—or whatever I just heard the MC announce. Apparently, they have multiple names, and now I'm confused again.

The rest of us nod in unison, astonishment and a little jealousy, as we stare at the beautiful, very expensive-looking stage decoration through the little monitors. I watch as the spotlights flicker green before the camera zooms into the guy in the centre, and it's no other than Mr Oogly from the hallway incident. 

"Ayo, ladies and gentlemen," Jungkook's voice is smooth as he moves confidently, eyes never losing the camera once he finds it. Once he finishes the intro, it cuts to another member, Jimin, if I recall correctly. I glance at Joonie in time to see her eyes widen excitedly when he appears on the screen.

When I look back at the monitor, the rest of the group is running into view, quickly getting into formation before they start dancing to the chorus' instrumental. My eyebrows furrow as they move, taking over the stage like seasoned professionals instead of young rookies. Jesus, they're good.

"What's that one's name, Joonie-yah?" Nali asks wide-eyed as a platinum blonde member makes his way to the middle. 

"It's Suga, unnie," Ha-Joon replies instantly, her eyes not leaving the monitor for a split second.

Our youngest is rapping along (or at least trying to rap along) to Suga's part under her breath, and I watch as he casually devours his lines with a cheeky smile and breath control to be desired. 

"I gotta make it, gotta, gotta make it," 

The next chorus approaches before I know it, and Jungkook slinks his way to the centre before I have time to register how the fuck someone can actually look like the guy who Joonie just informed me was named V.

"Jjeoreo!" They fall back into their choreo during the chorus, and my eyes float from each member before landing right back in the middle. Jungkook's staring into the camera as he sings his lines, and I shake my head in astonishment. He doesn't miss a beat while simultaneously singing his lines live during the intense chorus choreography.

Ha-Joon's singing along to the music is so cute; I pull her over and link my arm with hers. We're bobbing along to the chorus as we watch the group perform through the monitor with vibrant energy and stamina. I hope at least one person in this entire building was as impressed by our performance as Joonie is with theirs; she's basically shaking.

Their song comes to an end, and the loud screams from the crowd drag my sisters and me out of our haze. "Wow," Hanna breathes as we step back from the monitors while the show cuts back to the MCs.

"They're just insane, aren't they?" Joonie sighs dreamily with her head leaning on my shoulder. I nod in agreement and drag the younger girl along as we follow our leader through the backstage area while she says something about photos and a particular staircase.

"I haven't eaten today; I was scared I'd puke it all up. Apparently, all the food here is free. I'll bring back a bunch for all of us," Asami exclaims before breaking off from the herd and heading towards the cafeteria.

Joonie's ears perk up like a puppy at the mention of food, and it doesn't take long for her to detach from my side and jog over to the Japanese girl. They disappear around a corner and throw back an obedient 'yes mum' to Han-na when she tells them to hurry.

I hear a resounding chorus of chatter get louder behind me, coming from the area near where the five of us were just gathered around the monitors. Right where you dismount the stage. I ignored their cheers of glee and tried to speed up a bit to catch up to Hanna and Nali before a voice stopped me in my tracks.

"Hey! Aera, right?"

I watch my two older sisters get further away on their trek to the stupid fucking staircase, and I'm almost offended. I could be getting abducted right now, and they wouldn't even notice. I spin around to face the voice, and his wide starry eyes catch me off guard again. 

Nodding in response, I am about to lean down into a bow once again before he puts up a hand to stop me. Jungkook's smile is cheeky with an undertone of cockiness, abruptly halting my action. 

"It's rude not to bow to your sunbaenims, you know," I inform through hooded eyes, my palms resting on the skin of my bare thighs. Suddenly, I wish I went for trousers today.

"Sunbaenim?" His tone is so cheeky, "We debuted barely a year before you."

His response catches me off guard, and I blink a few times, waiting for his confident facade to crack. It doesn't. "How'd you know when we debuted?"

"Big fan." He says simply with a shrug, no doubt referencing my comment from earlier this afternoon in the hallway.

"Hm," I nod with a pursed-lip smile, glancing over his shoulder and seeing his bandmates looking in our direction. They notice my gaze on them and suddenly spin around into a huddle, pretending to have never looked at me to begin with. 

A laugh catches in my throat at his members' actions before I look back at Jungkook. "Your performance was really good." I praise, watching as his head tilts ever so slightly at the comment, his teeth poking out of his mouth as he smiles. Like a bunny.

"You think so?" 

"Don't say things like that if I don't mean it. You were great." I nod, watching his Adam's apple bob in his throat as he swallows.

"Thank you. You were incredible as well," Jungkook replies politely, and I brush it off as an obliged response.

"Seriously. You were." He assures, almost as if he could tell I didn't believe him.

"Thank you." 

I find myself looking at his eyes again. You can learn a lot about someone through their eyes, and his are wide and full. He doesn't even try to hide his emotions displayed in their glossiness, and I don't think he wants to. It protrudes confidence and security, and I admire that.

A few moments pass, and my eyes flicker from him to the members behind him before they return. "I have to go take photos in front of a staircase," I say as his eyebrows raise intriguingly, "I'll let you get back."

He nods wordlessly before patting his back pocket, "Could I—" he finally finishes the phone from his trousers, "grab your number?"

My teeth pull at the inside of my bottom lip as I watch him unlock his phone before looking up at me with wide, hopeful eyes. 

"I, uh—" I don't give my number out. To anyone. I lost a lot of friendships in my journey to debut. Work occupied ninety-nine percent of my time and attention. Any relationships I did have prior to Siren basically fizzled out due to our long and odd hours of practice and preparation.

"I won't bother you too much," he smirks, "promise."

My lips purse shut as I take the phone from his grasp before putting my number in his contacts.

"I won't bother you too much." What a fucking liar.

[ston3rmommy]

tucking him into his sheets at bedtime, watching as he downs a serving of sleep medicine, kissing his face gently and rubbing his neck. moving from his cheeks to his jaw, down his throat, my tongue joining in along the way. pausing long enough to leave a dark hickey just below his collarbone. listening to him breathe a little harder. moving my hands up and down his hips and thighs, teasing him just enough to get him to open his mouth, but not enough for any sound to come out. sliding my tongue down to his soft tits, kissing and licking until i've tasted his entire right tit and all that's left is his nipple, pink and hard and begging for attention. I'll kiss it a few times, relishing in his first little squeaks, and then I'll run the flat of my tongue across it slow and hard, listening for the low moan I know is coming. doing this over and over again to both tits, until he's whining uncontrollably and then I'll stop.

I'll hold his head on my chest and coo him down from begging me to fuck him. cradling him until he starts rubbing his eyes, letting out stifled yawns between small, desperate whines.

I'll give him a few hours to settle in to his rest, and then I'll come back in the middle of the night, waking him up with a warm hand reaching between his thighs, petting his cute tdick a few times, waiting for his panties to get wet. it wont take long. he'll whine and moan, maybe even mumble a delirious 'mommy' or 'please' but he's not awake, and he wont remember any of this in the morning. I'll lift up his shirt and flip him onto his back so I can watch his tits bounce when I fuck him. pushing his thighs up, knees on either side of my hips and I'll listen to him try to process what's happening, what time it is, what I'm doing. I dont wait for him to finish before I start rubbing my hard cock down his slit, wetting it and bringing back up to his dick. watching him squirm and squeak and pushing my cock in as soon as he quiets. breathing in the noise he lets outs, and fucking into his wet pussy.

I love using him when he's this tired, and he can't tell really whats going on but he knows it feels good and he knows Mommy's making it happen. he'll grab onto me and sleepily buck his hips up, and within a few thrusts, his walls are tightening around me and I'm watching his face twist into release as he cums. and then it's my turn. he's whining with the overwhelming feeling a full pussy after cumming, but I'm going to keep going, faster, deeper, until he's dazed and red and shaking and I'm cumming in him, filling my pretty girl's soft cunt and collapsing on top of him. kissing his forehead as I pull out and rubbing any cum that leaks out back onto his throbbing, oversensitive dick. he's shaking and whining and saying my name over and over again. I'll clean him up and kiss him goodnight and maybe make myself cum about the whole thing own more time, before retiring to bed myself.

sorry for the essay chat :/

[lorillee]

im always thinking about kakashi flashback:2 if im honest. its like seriously sickening to me makes me crazy insane two big things 1) how seriously miserable he is throughout the entire flashback and 2) how guy was the one who dragged him out of that hell and kakashi doesnt even know it. like it makes me so crazy insane. like guy was the only one to keep reaching out to him and he never like pushed it he never made kakashi do anything he didnt want to do but he always extended his hand whenever the opportunity arose. and like its pretty obvious to me that by the end of it asuma and kurenai have would have entirely given up on him if not for guy, and its clearly guy's initiative that gets them to go with him to entreat hiruzen to make kakashi a jonin leader instead of continuing his anbu career. like it makes me crazy insane .

because like i said earlier kakashi is just so potently miserable throughout that entire whole like 12 episode long arc i dont think he smiles like once before passing team 7 like they seriously did save him in such a profound and visible way and it was guy's unconditional love of kakashi no matter how much he was pushed away that allowed any of this to happen. like it makes me sick and ill and twisted because literally almost everybody who kakashi forms some sort of emotional attachment to dies (sakumo, obito, rin, minato, kushina) and he blames himself at least in part for the majority of those. like you can tell hes opening back up a little bit when hes hanging out with guy on the night of kuramas attack but then immediately after minato and kushina die, which theoretically couldve been prevented if he had been able to control kurama with the sharigan instead of being pushed to the sidelines, and he immediately shuts guy out again because if another person he cares about dies if another person he cares about gets killed by him either directly or indirectly he literally wont be able to take it.

he shuts guy out in a desperate attempt to not get attached to get him to stay away from kakashi who gets everyone he touches killed. but guy refuses to abandon him no matter what and you can only imagine how much this terrifies kakashi on such a fundamental level and it makes me sick in the head because after forming team 7 kakashi starts opening up his heart again and forming genuine connections willingly for the first time in so so long and it almost seems like everything will work out and then guy willingly attempts to kill himself in one last attempt to stop madara in front of kakashi who is powerless to stop it to do anything and worse yet through his own logic caused it by killing rin and he just has to sit there as a bystander once again while yet another person he loves dies as a direct result of something he blames himself for and it like . Well can we walk off a cliff? Together?

[kpopluvrsblog]

Do you want this?

sequel to “I can take it”!

genre: Smut, fluff

pairing: Switch!soobin, Dom!beomgyu x Subfem!reader

Warnings: Threesome, unprotected sex, Marking, Rough, double penetration, anal, choking etc

A/N: SORRY FOR THE WAIT!!! Life got busy and i’ve been on writers block but finally found the time and motivation to write! Hope you all enjoy!

“So…do you think soobin was really watching us?” You whisper as you and beomgyu make your way back to his dorm.

“Why? You interested?” He chuckled under his breath as you lightly slap his arm. “It was most likely him, pretty sure he has a lil thing for you so I wouldn’t be surprised” He finished as he intertwined your hands together.

“…and how exactly do you know that?” You say while side eyeing him.

Beomgyu sighs dramatically before continuing.”BECAUSE Y/n. He told me. Surprisingly for a shy guy he was bold in asking if he could ever have a taste.”

He finished his sentence as you reached the door to his dorm, unlocking it quickly and letting you inside. “I told him yes” He whispers in your ear before you turn around to see soobin standing by the kitchen counter.

You let out a gasp and suddenly become shy after realizing he had already saw you naked hours prior.

“Go on baby, i’m right here” Beomgyu says as he holds your waist sweetly before pushing you towards soobin.

Soobin, still silent, grabs your wrist and leads you to his room with beomgyu trailing behind. As soon as the door is shut you’re pushed onto the bed and soobin leans over you.

‘So handsome’ You thought to yourself, before soobin let out a thank you with a dimply smile.

“Do you want this y/n? Now’s your last chance because once I start there’s no way i’ll be able to stop.” He quietly says as he looks into your eyes.

You turn your head to see gyu standing against the wall, with a little head nod and eyebrow raised you turn back to soobin before pushing your lips to his.

“Fuck” he whimpers into your mouth before smiling again. Soobin spreads your legs apart before leaving open mouthed kisses around your neck and lightly sucking.

You’re rudely interrupted when soobins head is yanked away from your throat. You look up to see a pissed off gyu with a hand full of soobins blonde locks.

“Leave any fucking marks and i’ll kill you. She’s still mine, just here for you to use tonight. Got it?” Beomgyu says while soobin groans from the harshness of his words before nodding to the best of his ability.

“Please let me have a taste…Wan her so bad.” He whimpers while holding onto your waist, already starting to bend down.

“Go ahead, get her ready for us.” Gyu says before helping soobin take off your clothes, leaving you fully exposed in front of the two men.

Biting his lip, beomgyu leans down to make out with you, while soobin licks a long stripe along your cunt.

“Please gyu..” You whimper out while gasping for air. Gyu starts to leave his own marks around your neck, purposely making sure they hurt.

“What do you need baby? Haven’t I fucked you enough? or are you just a cock hungry whore hm?” gyu spits out as he grabs your neck tightly. “Finger her soobin.”

You start to feel prodding at your opening as two fingers slip in easily. Soobin keeps his tempo while curling his fingers inside of you.

“Mmf gyu I cant” You whine.

“Cmon take it baby, I give it to you harder than that.” he laughs, now attacking your boobs and sucking hard onto your hardened nipples.

“Beomgyu i think she’s ready, she wont stop clenching on me.” Soobin says, coming up to see your face twisted in pleasure while you grab and pull on gyus hair.

Beomgyu pulls off of you with a pop, both of you panting before he smirks down at you. He motions for soobin to take off his clothes and gyu does the same.

Your thighs clench as you take in the boys toned bodies. They notice the movement and decide the waiting game is over. Soobin grabs your arms and pulls you up before beomgyu lays down flat where you were.

“Why..?” You whisper before soobin pushes you on top of him.

“Because im going to watch you get fucked baby. Now arch that back for him.” Gyu says before pulling you in for a kiss, soobin quickly rubbing his tip to your entrance before pushing inside, inch by inch.

You moan loudly into beomgyus mouth as he caresses your back. “I know y/n, I know. Take it” Gyu whispers into your mouth as you clench onto soobins cock.

He completely fills you up and pulls out. He grabs your hips before slamming himself harshly into your cunt again. You cant help the moans that pour out while he starts to fuck into you relentlessly with groans slipping past his lips.

“Y/n you feel sooo tight. So fucking sexy like this.” He continues the assault on your cunt before you feel another prod higher up. Eyes open in shock you reach to pull him away before beomgyu traps your hands beside him.

“Be a good slut and take it.” Gyu harshly says before you feel soobins thumb enter your ass. He slowly starts to slide it in and out of you as he thrusts continue. “God it’s so tight. if you keep clenching like that y/n, im gonna cum.” He says in his deep voice.

beomgyu quickly pulls soobin out of your cunt before taking his spot, spanking you before shoving his cock into your ass. You almost scream from the stretch but soobin blocks it with his hand, he then quickly fills your cunt back up with his cock. Now being stretched completely, you feel like you cant breathe.

“good girl” soobin says. He picks up his pace again while beomgyu waits for you to loosen up. Soobin moans and grabs your hips slamming you down repeatedly onto his cock, the tip pushing into your stomach. “fuck im so close please let me cum inside, need to fill her up she needs it.” He babbles as gyu gives him the okay, slowly starting to thrust in and out of your ass from how hard soobin is fucking you.

Slapping noises fill the room as both boys pick up the pace, now using you as their toy. Tears well up in your eyes from the pleasure as you let the moans slip past your tongue. “please soob… cum inside” was all you said before feeling his hips stutter and warmth fill your insides. He throws his head back as he emptys inside of you, eyebrows clenched and eyes closed.

“baby im close” Gyu says still not giving up his pace. “gonna cum inside of my pussy.” Before giving you or soobin time to think he pulls out of your ass leaving you clenching, before intruding your cunt with soobins dick still inside. soobin loudly gaps while whining from overstim.

“rub her clit soobin, she’s close. want this pussy to cum with both of us inside.” gyu starts relentlessly pounding into your sore pussy now. Hips slapping and wet sounds fill the air, soobins fingers playing with your clit.

You clench and moan wildly. “go on slut, cum” is all gyu says before you release. Some of soobins cum slipping out along. “fuck fuck fuck im cumming y/n” Beomgyu slams one last time inside of you, making sure to push to the hilt before filling you entirely with his cum, your thighs shake and you fall on top of soobin.

All three of you lay there for a bit catching your breaths. “They definitely know what we just did” soobin sighs, you let out a screech.

“They were here this whole time?!!” You curl into gyus arms as he chuckles and apologizes.

“Let me clean you up baby, soobin you can take the other shower.” Gyu smiles before picking you up and starting a warm bath for the both of you. He gently sets you in before getting in behind you, massaging your hips.

“How was it?” gyu asks while hugging you closer.

“I loved it gyu, thank you.” You smile up at him before letting your eyes fall closed, knowing your safe in his arms.

“I love you”.

[undressmewithyoureyes]

KING - (THIRTEEN)

**Lillith**

“Hello Leibling.”

The words make my stomach knot and twist. My head is pounding and the light in here is making the rhythm of my heart beat behind my eyes feel like a drum. The last thing I remember is toying with Alex and then smoke filled the room. After that, its complete darkness. For once in my life, I was careless. I want to blame it on 141 because I offered to help and I never had this problem before working alone, but deep down, I can’t blame anyone but myself. It was a rookie move and I fucked up. 

I just didn’t think I would be face to face with him. I go to adjust my body but I'm stiff and the slightest movements make me feel like I'm floating in the air. I divert my eyes from his and jerk my head around to see what is causing me to be immobile. My stomach churns from the sudden movement. The sedative still having its effect on me. I close my eyes and throw my head back and take deep breaths, but its hard to breathe. 

Fuck. I still have my mask on. This damn thing is a blessing and a curse. 

“Hard to breathe when you having something so constricting over your face huh?” Konig says with humor in his voice. Every octave in his tone makes me want to vomit. The shit he put in that gas is top of the line. 

I don't reply. I can’t. My tongue is glued in place and my mouth won’t open. I open my eyes as I stare at the ceiling - my neck getting stiff from the position I'm in. My heart rate picks up as I realize I'm dangling from the fucking ceiling by chains. 

The faint smell of smoke seeps through my mask and fills my nose. I slowly pull my head up so I'm level again with Konig. A figure to his left catches my eye and my eyes divert to the person leaned against the wall smoking a cigarette. “Did those myself,” the man says with a grin across his face. He points to the chains with the hand thats holding his cigarette. 

Slowly, my body is coming back to me as I roll my eyes, but that eye roll made me feel like my whole body rolled with it. “Its a bitch coming off that shit,” the man says as he takes another puff. The smoke growing stronger and twisting my stomach even more. 

“You’re…the bitch…for smoking…,” I manage to get out. Ive been under a lot of neurological stimulants and blockers, but this one tops the cake. The fucking cherry on top. He takes another puff and lets out a soft laugh - smoke coming out with each chuckle.

Fucker. 

My shoulders are fucking screaming and it takes me a few seconds to realize I'm still wearing my vest. The damn thing weighs almost an extra hundred pounds since I have ceramic plates. They weigh more, but protect you more. Again, a blessing and a curse. 

“Shoulders hurt?” Konig says with that same tone. Even though he has a mask over his face, I can tell he’s grinning. 

I take in a deep breath before answering, “Not at all,” I pause swallowing the spit and also the vomit wanting to come up, “Im quite comfortable, Arschloch.” I spit that last word out and over dramatize it. 

The man against the wall snorts and finally puts out his cigarette - smashing it under his boot. “Something funny?” Konig asks as he turns to the nicotine patient. The humor in his voice still there. This must be his right hand man and someone he trusts fully. 

Noted. 

“You’ve got your hands full boss,” he says with that same damn smirk on his face and pushes off the wall and heads to a door. Actually, thats the only door in here and there are no windows. Great. 

Before Konig can respond, I chime in, “And after I get done with you, you wont have any hands.” 

The smile on his face grows wider. “Three, Lillith,” Konig says as he points from this dude named ‘Three’ to me - as if this is a formal introduction. My heart nearly stops when I hear my actual name come from Konig. How the fuck does he know my name? “Lillith, Three,” he finally says finishing his greeting. 

Three nods at me and walks out the door, shutting it behind him. The loud bang echoing off the cement walls. “You my dear,” Konig says as he stands in front of me. 

I cut him off, “How the fuck do you know my name?” I say with gritted teeth. My teeth are grinding so hard I'm surprised my molars aren't cracking. It hurts like hell, but its a pain I'm willing to deal with. 

“Are a hard person to track,” he finishes his sentence disregarding my question. He’s not wrong. People don’t normally know where I am or where I've been until after the fact. I like to keep it that way, but it seems I have a fucking mole. 

“How do you know my goddamn name Konig?” I raise my voice a bit as the fight in me is coming back. Slowly, but its there. 

He takes in a deep breath, “Mmmm Leibling,” he says as if he is savoring what I just said. He reaches up and places his hand on my hip. I try to lean my body in the opposite direction to avoid it, but I cant. As soon as his hand touches my body, a fire ignites in that spot as if he’s branding me. “Say it again.”

I know what he means. His name. He wasn’t asking, but telling me and the slight huskiness in his voice sends alarms through me. “Fuck you,” I say through my still clenched teeth. 

He keeps his hand on my hip, but takes his other hand and grabs a piece of my hair and twirls it around his fingers. I don’t like that he’s this close to me - better yet touching me. I take in a deep breath and draw my foot back and kick him in the balls. He immediately removes his hands from me and doubles over. I take this lovely opportunity to kick him in the face - which sends him flying back and landing on the hard concrete floor. 

Konig immediately gets to his feet and is on me within two strides. Long legged fucker. He grabs my hair and jerks my head back as a sharp pain spreads across my scalp as a small yelp escapes me. His breathing is heavier, but I guess if a heavy ass boot hit me in one of the most, if not the most sensitive part of my body, I’d be furious too. It was a cheap shot, but its all I got at the moment. 

I try to fight him as he pulls my head back further by my hair, but using that little bit of strength I had saved up did it for me. “Go ahead and kill me and get it over with,” I say taking in a few deep breaths from exhaustion. 

He places his other hand back on my hip and that igniting feeling is back, “Kill you?” He says with a chuckle. His tone tells me he’s not questioning me. He has more to say. 

“If you think I'm telling you shit, you’re wasting your time,” I say before he has a chance to speak again. “Torturing me is nothing new, Konig,” I say emphasizing his name. His hand on my hip squeezing me. 

He tightens his grip in my hair and I open my mouth in protest but nothing comes out, “Darling, I'm not going to kill you,” he says as he removes his hand from my hip. His green eyes going back and forth between my left and right one. “But I'm going to make you wish you were.” He raises his hand and hooks his finger into the top of my mask that sits right on my cheek bones - right under my eyes. 

I try to shake my head and pull it back, but he has a death grip in my hair holding me in place. “Its going to happen whether you like it or not Lillith,” he tells me in that husky voice. His breathing is heavier than it was a second ago. 

He finally hooks his finger inside my mask and pulls it down. Panic races through me. This is my safety net. My ‘blanket’ per say and its being stripped from me. I feel the fabric slide down my face as the cool temperature of the room kisses my exposed skin. My eyes stay locked on his as I watch his pupils dilate. 

My arms and shoulders are numb from hanging here with the extra weight of my vest and now I wish thats how my whole body felt. Numb. “Mmmm,” he practically moans as my whole face is now visible to him. “Fucking perfect.”

My eyes shoot daggers into his and he knows it. “What do you want from me?” I ask in a low tone. 

He brings my face closer to his and continues to hold me there by my hair, “You.” One word. One fucking word that makes me feel like I have fire and ice rushing through my veins. He lets go of my hair and pain shoots to the spot he was holding onto the hardest. 

“You’re going to join me,” he says. It wasn’t an offer and Konig isn’t the type of person to ask. He takes. 

I snort, “Im not joining you.” 

He takes a few steps back and crosses his arms - staring at me, “It wasn’t an offer. You are and you will.” 

I shake my head as a smile forms on my face. Its not because I'm happy, but the balls on this motherfucker, “I don’t give a fuck how much you torture me,” I say staring directly into his green eyes, “Break my bones. Rape me. Brand me. Starve me. Do whatever the fuck you feel like you have to do that will make you think I will join you,” I say as the smile on my face spreads, “But I promise you, I will die before I ever join you.” 

He clicks his tongue as he takes a step towards me - closing the distance between us, “You see Lillith,” he starts. My name rolling off his tongue with his accent makes the hairs on the back of my neck stand up and I cant decipher if its good or bad. “The torture you went through all those years ago, isn’t going to compare to what I'm going to do to you.” 

I roll my eyes. I fucking hate riddle talk. He grabs me by my throat and a soft whimper escapes me, “Do your worst,” I tell him. “Ive been through worse.”

He lets go of my throat and starts walking to the door, “You went through physical punishment Lillith,” he says as he continues to walk. “Im going to dig into that thick head of yours and when im done with you,” he pauses as he opens the door, “You’re going to be so submissive, so needy for me and loving every second of it. You’ll be begging by the time I'm finish with you. And I know thats something you haven’t been through.” 

Before I have a chance to speak, he steps through the doorway and closes the door. Within a matter of seconds, the lights in the room shut off and I am left in nothing but complete darkness and my thoughts as I dangle from the ceiling. 

**Liebling - Darling (German)**

**Arschloch - Asshole (German)**

[bea-schuyler]

the ghosts of the city live underground- chapter one!

authors note!

hiii! i posted this on ao3 and plan to update weekly although that might not be feasible lol.

TW's: misogyny, racism (mentioned), death

summary: fox is most definitely dead. she lives underground, wanders stations until one day she meets someone. another ghost.

cyrus.

The ghosts of the city live underground, and Fox had learned the subway maps by hand. Ever since she had died, she would float around subway stations, waiting and waiting. Sometimes she played tricks on any assholes she saw, or sometimes she would float around an old friend. She saw Cowgirl with a boy once, and she gave him bad vibes. Fox may have done some interfering, but that’s a story for another day.

One day, Fox lay dramatically on a subway bench. She had tried her hand at being like Rembrandt and tagging around the stations, but she didn't know if any living could see it. The walls of the station were adorned with the names of the Warriors, among other things. A big “W” was written over other gangs tags. Fox turned her back and a woman tapped her on the shoulder.

She turned around and who was there but Cyrus.

“Cyrus?” she whispered in awe. “You can see me?”

Cyrus nodded and cracked a slight smile.

“You ran with the Warriors, right?” she asked.

Fox nodded. “Cleon didn't shoot you, I promise-”

Cyrus held a hand up. “I know, I know. What’s your name?”

“Call me Fox.”

“Well, Fox, what happened to you?” Cyrus sat down, inviting Fox to sit.

“Cop pushed me onto the tracks…I was trying to save my crew, and he twisted his knee and launched me over the edge.”

Cyrus frowned. “What about your crew?”

“Well, Cleon was our leader..your crew got her, but I hope she's alright.”

“I trust Masai. He was my right hand, till right when I died. He wont hurt her.”

Fox nodded, feeling comforted.

“We- The Warriors- We really admire you. Cleon believed in you, so did the crew.”

Cyrus cracked a small smile. “I appreciate it. Not a lot of gangs take women of colour like us seriously, you know?”

Fox nodded. She had seen and experienced the racism and sexism upfront, so she understood Cyrus.

“I hope they catch the guy who killed you. Luther. I saw him, and so did Cleon, but Cleon’s, you know..”

Cyrus raised an eyebrow. “Where's your crew from?”

“Coney Island.” said Fox with a proud smile.

“Nice.”

“What's it like, to be a proper leader?” asked Fox. “Because, you know, I was always the quiet Warrior, and the youngest.”

Cyrus sighed. “Being a big leader was..something. You have so much influence and so many people looking up to you but so many praying on your downfall.”

Fox nodded. She could imagine how it felt.

“Fox, how old are you?”

Fox widened her eyes. She didn't expect anyone to ask and felt almost embarrassed at how young she was.

“I’m..” She counted on her fingers. “I’m sixteen.”

Cyrus’ mouth fell open gently. She didn't expect Fox to be so young, and already dead from police violence.

“Oh my god..”

“Don't feel bad for me. I’m fine..I did what I wanted to do.”

Cyrus nodded but still had that look in her eyes.

Fox looked up. “You said “Imagine what I had to do to stay on top.” What did you do?”

Cyrus shook her head. “Things that are better left unsaid.”

Fox filled in the gaps and frowned. “Oh.”

“This is a world that we fought and killed for and look at me now!” laughed Cyrus bitterly. “Killed by some no-life misogynist!”

Fox was stunned to speak and just nodded. What Cyrus said was right, 100%, but she didn't have a response.

“Well..I guess that’s enough for now. See you next week, Fox? I’ve nothing else to do.”

Fox nodded and watched Cyrus walk off.

[a-small-batch-of-dragons]

A Suit and a Gown, Both Armor | Chin Up, Or the Crown Slips

You just posted “A Suit and a Gown, Both Armor”, so it’s probably too soon to request a part two to the fic but I wanted to put this request out there anyway. It could just be about Roman attending the ball in their gown, since I’d be interested in seeing them enjoying the ball dressed the way they feel most comfortable and happy. And since I was the one who requested a nonbinary Roman fic, I just wanted to say thanks for writing my request. The fic was very enjoyable to read :) – monkeythefander

did i frantically rewrite this maybe but here it is!! (for those who didn't know, you were supposed to get this on Wednesday but! my writing software deleted both this chapter and another fic i'd already written but! i have rewritten and so here you go)

Read on Ao3 Part 1

Warnings: anxiety about coming out, implied/referenced transphobia

Pairings: none

Word Count: 4432

 “Enter.”

The steward pushes open the door, letting it shut with a low thud. Roman looks over their shoulder as his gaze travels up and down the length of their outfit. The tailor pokes her head out from just behind their hip and hums in acknowledgement. 

“You have outdone yourself this time,” he says lowly, “your work is, as always, spectacular.”

“Save your flattery,” the tailor says, even with the slightest glow of pride to her cheeks, “not every tailor is so fortunate as to have such an excellent model.”

“You both should save your flattery, I’ve no need to hear it.”

“You have every need.” The steward comes closer, meeting Roman’s gaze in the reflection of the mirror. “Though I do not stop by just to admire: your brother has arrived.”

Ah.

Roman raises their chin just slightly, affecting a confidence they do not feel. An admirable effort, but a fruitless one: the steward catches sight of their mere hesitation and takes another step forward. 

“I am happy to tell him to wait until the ball begins proper, he is several hours early, after all.”

“Well, he is wont to show up unexpectedly.” They are unable to keep the note of fondness from their voice, even as their hands twitch at their sides. “Where is he?”

“Presently in the courtyard still, entertaining some of the children with tales of the Kraken.”

“I hope he’s picking the ones that are appropriate for their ears.”

“Their parents were within close range, I am sure they would make some attempt to alert him if his subject matter strayed too far from what they wished their children to be exposed to.” 

Roman sighs. They look down at the rich red fabric swirling from them and follow a single speck of dust as it leaves the skirt and lands on the floor. The tailor gives it a quick tug when they remain silent for too long. 

“Am I making a mistake?”

“Would you care to be more specific, old friend?”

“This,” Roman says, gesturing about, “the ball, the choice of clothing, the…this.”

“I do hope you’re not about to tell me you want another costume for the evening—“

“No, no, nothing like that, it’s just—“ their hands twist into each other and they bite worry their bottom lip between chapped lips—“is this the proper time to be…”

The steward picks up on his unwillingness to fully voice the statement—and how could he not, when Roman had all but stumbled around it like a newborn foal—and steps closer once more, close enough to brush their hands tighter. Roman takes it gratefully, clinging with a strength that they know takes the steward by surprise. He squeezes back, just as readily, as the tailor produces a needle and begins to finish a seam. 

“I can think of no better occasion,” the steward says softly, “than on the day of a ball where the kingdom has come together to celebrate you and all you have done for them—no, no, do not protest that fact. This ball is for the good of the people, for morale, yes, I know, but it is a celebration.”

“Why of me?”

“Who else would it be for?”

“What about for them? For weathering yet another year, for overcoming difficulty, for simply being? Does it have to come back to me?”

“You’re not dissuading his questions about why you’re suddenly so insistent on avoiding the spotlight, you know.”

Roman sighs, letting their head hang. The steward waits patiently until they can summon up their strength again. 

“I am…worried,” they settle on finally, “that in my efforts to celebrate this part of myself that I will only be at a greater disadvantage when it comes to what comes after.”

“You speak of the reaction to your reveal.”

“Yes.”

“Those who are truly yours to care for and care for you in return will not question it,” the tailor says with a certainty they wish they could borrow, if only for the evening, “and I will be there to pin the ones that would behave otherwise back into place.”

“I don’t believe there’s a need for that.”

“Which is why I am not asking for your permission.”

“I think you’d best nod and agree,” the steward hums, a chuckle evident in his voice, “we both know it might happen regardless of whatever approval she gains.”

“You say as if you won’t be pointing them out to her if she should miss them.”

“Naturally.” The steward winks at them in the mirror before growing sober once more. “In truth, old friend, I do not envy your position. I don’t mean to force you into a decision you do not wish to make. I believe you could simply reveal yourself in these stunning garments without ascribing them to the other secret you wish to reveal and the kingdom would think nothing of it. Well, aside from the obvious.”

“What is the obvious?”

“That the tailor is a master at her craft and you are as beautiful and handsome as ever.”

“Careful now, I believe I’ve been warned off of flushing too obviously.” Roman shakes their head. “I…this all seemed so simple just a few days ago.”

“Big decisions often do.”

The three of them lapse into silence for a long moment, interrupted only by the soft susurrus of the tailor’s needle through fabric. Distant sounds of laughter and hooves on cobblestones drift in from the still-open window as the afternoon wears on. 

“Is it worth it?”

“Hm?”

“IS it worth it,” the steward asks gently, “to know that those who would speak of you are not speaking the full truth, if it would save you the backlash of what you would reveal?”

Strings though wounds around their hands and words, their arms and legs, their waist and heart. Would it be worth severing them if the blade that did so cut him as well?

“You needn’t make the decision right now,” the steward says after Roman makes no further move to speak, “I can go and tell the Duke that he must wait until the ball begins to—“

“No.” Roman swallows. “He can come up now.”

“Certainly, I can fetch him.”

“And would you—“ Roman catches the steward by the hand as he goes to pull away, even as they do not make eye contact in the mirror— “would you tell him?”

The steward pauses, evidently surprised, and Roman dares look at him. 

“If he knew,” they say quietly, “if he knew, that might…that might help me decide about…the rest.”

“You did say you suspected he might already know,” the steward agrees with equal caution, “I think it is a wise decision to share the burden with him now.”

“Shame on you,” the tailor scolds, “for referring to such a thing as a burden.”

“I only meant to say—“

“I know what you meant,” Roman says quickly, squeezing his hand again, “I understand. I…yes, thank you.”

“I’ll go and fetch him now.”

He retreats, Roman watching him go until the door closes with a soft thud once more. Their gazer travels from the door to the open window along a thin golden shaft on sunlight, lingering on the armor set out to dry from an earlier spar, the golden embossing on its more decorous finishing gleaming in the late light. Further still to the bed with its rich red canopies, to the desk where the last of the correspondences sat with their paper edges curling up like forgotten petals. The slight coil in their stomach twists as they look at them: invitations answered at the last minute, those from suitors who wished to enter the ball as a matched pair, and of course, the ones from the other guests to the kingdom. 

“Forgive me if I am overzealous in coming to your defense,” comes the tailor’s soft voice, interrupting their thoughts, “I do not mean to offend.”

“You never could. I find that while I lack no strength or will to rise to the defense of others, when it comes to myself, I am…less than able.”They offer their other hand to her, letting her take it and squeeze. “It is an honor and a privilege for you to come to my defense so readily.”

Her brow quirks. “Even if I threaten to stab those who are despicable to you with pins?”

They laugh. “Yes, even then.”

“Noted.”

A few more moments pass in companionable silence, the tailor returning to her work as Roman allows their thoughts to wander, until the tailor pronounces the seam finished and steps back to have a look at them. 

“What do you think?”

“The steward did not misspeak. You are a vision.”

“And you are a master?”

“Well, that did not need to be spoken.”

A small smile curls up their face as footsteps approach from the hall. They begin to turn to see who it is—they know, they already know, they could feel his approach as easily as they can anything in the kingdom—and the door opens to reveal the steward and—

“Holy fucking shit, Ro.”

Roman turns fully, the tailor taking one of their hands to help. The fullness of the red skirt almost obscures the podium entirely, spilling out from the golden carapace framing either side of their torso.  One reaches upwards to wrap around their side ribs and chest, the other down to give the illusion of a swelling hip and thigh. The edges of the gold perfectly meld with the golden detailing of the white shirt, their asymmetry accenting the slimness of their waist and the broad line of their shoulders. A more traditionally masculine collar closed with a ruby nestles at the hollow of their throat, two golden epaulets atop each of their shoulders. Golden chains hang over their upper back and chest, the very longest of each just brushing the top of the higher half of the carapace. 

The crown sits waiting on a side table. 

“Whilst I cannot ascribe the same crassness to my own sentiments,” the steward says as he shuts the door again, “I concur wholeheartedly with the Duke’s statement.”

Remus hasn’t said another word, still staring at Roman. His own costume, a slightly sleeker and more elegant version of his customary green sash with black tulle, does little to cover the way his chest stutters slightly with his uneven breaths. After another pause, his eyes flick up to catch Roman’s and a grin spreads across his face. 

“Holy shit, Ro.”

“I take it that’s a good thing?”

“You take—Ro. You look fucking amazing. Everyone in that ballroom is gonna shit themselves when they see you.”

“I hope not,” the steward remarks casually, “that would be an awful mess to clean.”

Still, Roman cannot stop their own answering grin as Remus comes forward to take their hands. “I’m glad you came.”

“Like I would miss it.” Some of the mania goes out of his grin and he lowers his voice. “I did notice something about the way he introduced you to me, though.”

Roman swallows. “Yeah.”

“Are you…you’re using they/them now?” They just nod silently. “Okay. Are you still—can I still call you my brother?”

“Yes,” they say far too quickly, “yeah, that’s—that’s fine. I’m still going by ‘Prince.’”

They do not miss the way Remus’s shoulders sag in relief. “And then Ro-Bro?”

“Also fine.”

“Great. Good. Fuck, I’m so proud of you, Roro.”

“I didn’t do anything.”

“You just came out. That’s hard and scary, and not in the good way.”

“Remus.”

“Alright, alright, I’ll be serious.” He glances down at the garments against and gestures. “Is this…are you coming out to everyone tonight too?”

The humor in the room abruptly fades as a weight sinks from Roman’s throat to their stomach. They glance at the tailor and she nods, standing and going to take the steward by the arm. He lingers a few moments more, clearly unwilling to leave Roman in such an unsure state. 

“It’s okay,” Remus promises, “I got them.”

“We’ll be just outside.”

“Thank you.”

As soon as the doors close, they let out a shaky breath. Their shoulders sag, their hands in Remus’s beginning to tremble ever so slightly. Remus, ever the attentive brother, crouches slightly so Roman needn’t move to look at him, pressing as close as he dares to their skirts. 

“What’s going on, Ro,” he asks softly, “talk to me?”

“I don’t know what to do, Re.”

“About what?”

“This.” They gesture at themselves and the surrounding room with an edge of frustration. “It hurts, it does, but they don’t—I don’t know if I can do it if they—if they—“

“Hey, shh, easy, slow down a bit.” He reaches up and cups the back of their neck. “You’re talking about the others reacting to you coming out, right?”

“Yeah.”

“What could they do? Don’t look at me like that,” he scolds lightly when Roman glares at him, “let’s walk through it, what could happen?”

Roman sighs. The weight of standing still for so long as the tailor worked catches up with them all at once, leaving them weak at the knees and leaning heavily on Remus. 

“Shit—here, let me get that stool, you can sit on that. Do you think you can get it under the skirt?”

“Probably?”

Remus makes sure they’re steady enough to stand on their own for a moment as he goes to fetch the plump and plush footstool from the corner of the bed. Roman hefts the skirts up and out of the way as he sets it on top of the podium, helping to spread the fabric out so that no wrinkles or creases form. 

“There’s so much skirt it kind of looks like you just got shorter.”

“Does it?” Roman glances over their shoulder at their reflection. “Oh. It does.”

In customary Remus fashion, he ignores whatever decorum or courtesy rules there may be and plonks himself on the floor, still within reach of Roman if they need to hold on to him again. 

“It feels hypocritical,” they murmur, “to have a ball and make such a big deal of…of coming out and then not wanting it to be a whole thing.”

“How so?”

“I don’t want—I don’t want to be smothered about it. I don’t want it, like, shouted from the rooftops or anything. I don’t need it to be big and…and now this really sounds hypocritical.”

“There’s a difference between you celebrating it and someone else trying to celebrate it for you.”

“Yeah, that’s exactly it.”

“Mm. Yeah, I’ve met Patton before.”

“Is it that obvious?” 

“That one was. What else?”

“This is also going to sound hypocritical—“

“I don’t care about what it sounds like, Roro, just talk to me. I’m not gonna tell anyone else shit.”

“I know, I’m sorry. I think it’s…I’m…”

“Dealing with the things the others have forced onto you ‘cause they can be really shitty to you when you try and talk about things, I know, please continue.”

Roman winces at how blunt it is, but moreover, how true it is. “I also don’t want it to be just…dismissed? Or overlooked? I don’t want it to be a technicality.”

“You don’t want Logan saying you basically count as a man.”

“Are these really that obvious, Re?”

“They are to me.” He reaches out and knocks his hand against Roman’s. “Because I know you.”

“No, I don’t want that. And I don’t want Virgil calling me attention-seeking or dramatic either.”

“Like he thinks you’re coming out for the trend or some other stupid bullshit that isn’t true?”

“Yeah.”

Remus makes a grumble that sounds suspiciously like knocking someone over the head with a Morningstar, but it’s only a grumble that Roman can’t quite make out. “And Janny?”

The strings tighten and hook into their lungs. The metal suddenly digs into their ribs and the skirt grows heavy and viscous around their legs. Their collar tightens and itches. 

“Yeah,” they hear Remus mutter from leagues away, “I thought so.”

“I don’t mean to think the worst of them,” they say through a cotton tongue, “but I can’t help it.”

“You’re scared, Roro, it makes sense that your brain is conjuring up worst-case scenarios.”

They huff. “Worse than the idea of them not believing me in the first place?”

“You could pass it off as something that’s just true for the Prince Roman in the Imagination.”

“And be scolded for making light of nonbinary people? No, thank you.”

Remus falls silent for a moment and they sigh. 

“Forgive me.”

“There’s nothing to forgive, Ro. This shit’s hard. I’m just here for you.”

Roman nods, still not looking at him. They stare at their hands, at the calluses and wrinkles and dry spots, and the golden signet ring resting on their left pinky. They look at it, at their crest and the weight of the gold, and the way that it insists on catching the light no matter which way they turn it. 

“Whoa, hey,” Remus’s hands cup their cheeks and their head is tilted back to meet his concerned expression, “hey, Roro, it’s okay, I’m right here, okay? I’m here, I’m not going anywhere, it’s gonna be okay.”

I know, they try to say, but their throat won’t cooperate, I know, why can’t I speak?

Their answer comes in the form of a tremendous hitching breath and the feeling of Remus wiping something from their cheek. 

Oh. I’m crying. 

Realizing this fact does not do anything to stop it; rather, as soon as Roman realizes, the force of the sobs doubles and threatens to dislodge Remus’s  hands as they lean on him for support. He blindly gropes for a handkerchief and passes it to them, letting them bury their face in their hands as he curls protectively around them, still murmuring into their ears. 

“It’s gonna be okay, Roro, I’m right here. I promise it’s gonna be okay. We’re gonna figure it out. I swear we’ll figure it out.”

They fumble to get their hand around his wrist and hold on for dear life. Remus weathers the storm as though he were a mountain, immovable, immutable, everlasting. Roman loves him. 

Eventually the sobs taper off. They scrub the last of the remnants from their face as Remus tilts their chin up, tutting at the roughness left on their cheeks. 

“The tailor will have my head if I let you make your pretty face all messy,” he says without any real heat, taking the handkerchief and gently cleaning the rest of their face. 

“Did you know she’s threatening to stab anyone who’s mean to me with her pins tonight?”

“I’ll help her, that sounds like a perfectly reasonable idea.”

“Remus.”

“Oh, fine,” he sighs, “I won’t help her.”

“Thank you.”

“I won’t stop her either.”

Roman sighs and he chuckles, leaning forward to rub their noses together. “Hey, you know I love you, right? I’m so proud of you, Ro-Bro.”

“I love you too.” They glance at the door. “You can let them back in now.”

Remus nods and goes to the door as Roman gets themselves together just a tad. The tailor lets out a quiet noise when she comes back to his side, obviously noticing the last of the tears. They shake their head, it’s alright, and she gives their arm a reassuring pat. 

“Have you made our prince cry, Duke,” the steward asks lowly, “is everything alright?”

“It’s okay,” Roman says, “I’m alright.”

“Well, you’ve given me time to finish the beading on the skirt,” the tailor says, happily taking a seat on the floor and picking up a different needle, “hold still as much as you can, if you wouldn’t mind.”

“Perhaps the Duke would be willing to help with the rest?”

“Oh, fuck yeah, Roro, let me do your makeup.”

“If you want to?”

“Yeah, I want to.” He goes to the side and fetches a large case, setting it up on a nearby table. “You just shush and let me work, okay?”

“Okay.”

The steward brings over another chair from the table and takes a seat near the three of them. The rest of the afternoon passes in lazy conversation, the quiet stitching from the tailor, and the soft touch of brushes across their face. AS the sun sinks lower and lower in the sky, eventually Remus and the tailor step away and Roman beholds themselves in the mirror. 

Golden sparkles atop red eye shadow, a brighter highlight in the inner corner. Sharply contorted cheekbones and a bright red lip. They turn their head this way and that, admiring the way the light catches the high points of their face. 

“The finishing touch.”

The tailor has their crown in their hands. They bow their head slightly, feeling the weight of it come to rest on top. It settles perfectly into place. They take a deep breath and stand, facing the mirror. 

“My prince,” the tailor murmurs. 

As if on cue, the clock begins to chime. Not long now until the ball begins. 

“Do you want me with you,” Remus asks, “or in the crowd?”

“In the crowd. Let me find you.”

Remus nods, offering the smallest bow—Roman laughs at that—and leaving. The steward steps up to take his place, smiling. 

“You look resplendent.”

“Thank you, old friend. Though I fear I’ve kept you both from getting ready yourselves.”

“Nonsense. I just have to swap out a few things and I’ll be finished.”

“It would only be responsible of me to be on hand should you need an emergency repair,” the tailor says, innocently smiling when Roman narrows their eyes at her, “pins and all.”

“You’re both incorrigible.”

“And you would not have us any other way. Ah!” She slaps their hand lightly when they go to help. “None of that for you. You can simply stand and look incredible.”

“That doesn’t seem fair.”

“You are the prince. Letting us fumble about with our own garments is perfectly fair.”

They raise their hands in concession, sitting back down as the two of them ready themselves for the ball. When the time draws near, each of them offers a hand and they stand, moving slowly from the stool through the halls and down the back corridors to the grand staircase. From just beyond the shadow of the overhanging promenade, they can see the lights on the stone and the faint strains of music and conversation from the ball proper. 

The steward pauses just before the entrance. “How would you like to be introduced?”

The tailor squeezes their hand reassuringly. 

“What we discussed earlier.”

The steward smiles and lifts their hand, clasping it against his own chest in a modified version of the soldier’s salute. “My pleasure, my friend.”

He walks out onto the landing to address the herald. The sudden air of the ball makes them lightheaded and their hand trembles once more. The tailor steps a little closer in the shadows, letting them lean against her side until their breath returns. 

“Chin up,” she whispers encouragingly, “or the crown slips.”

“Thank you.”

“We love you, Roman, we’re by your side.”

The trumpets blare. They take a deep breath and push their shoulders back, raising their chin. The booming voice of the herald echoes over the now-hushed ballroom. 

“I give you, Their Majesty, Prince Roman!”

They walk out into the light. 

The first thing they see are the ornate chandeliers suspended over the marble floor. Glittering crystal fragments catch the light and send it dancing about the columns. Garlands swing in the gentle evening breeze from the hanging gardens, rich and vibrant blooms occasionally dropping petals onto the costumed folk beneath. As rapturous applause breaks out amidst the gasps and murmurs, their gaze travels from one side to the other, taking everything in. 

And there, in the middle, there they are. 

The first one he sees is Logan, a midnight blue cape over one shoulder, revealing a deep silver set of plate with a long sword at his side. The inside of the cape is inlaid with glittering gems that look like stars. Next to him is Virgil, also in a cape, covering a set of purple robes and black gems. Patton wears a similar outfit, except in light blue and white. On one hip hangs a small bag, also inlaid with sapphires and other precious gems. Janus stands to Logan’s other side, clad in a glittering gold ensemble fit for the finest of court sorcerers. His cane makes an appearance as well, elegantly gilded with a snake’s fangs at its base. 

Remus grins and offers them a little wave. 

Someone hands them a goblet and they raise it in toast. Across the room, many hands raise to do the same. They smile and drink as the steward motions for the music to begin again. The tailor comes to their side as the ball resumes, responding to their entrance with a new and vibrant energy. 

“You were spectacular,” she murmurs, “now come, let’s get you into it properly.”

They make their way down the stairs, the crowd parting around them as the steward and tailor follow close behind. Compliments and praise come from all directions but Roman only has eyes for the five in the center. They come to a stop a few paces away, still a little breathless from the rush of emotion. 

They do not have to say a word. 

The steward will tell you that the one in light blue managed to reach the prince first, throwing his arms around them with a squeal and a whisper. The tailor will say it was only by a hair; all five of them rushed to embrace their prince in celebration of their moment. 

Regardless of whose word you favor, both would agree that a ball had never had such cheer nor enthusiasm, and not a single person needed a sharp pin to the side to get them to see what was right in front of them. 

And all was right with the world. 

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