#is top right drawing from cam..

[daveymaybe]

i have a very strong suspicion on who the person who left top right was. a very strong one

send me anonymous drawings ( that are most of the time penises ) TODAY !!

[biteyoubiteme]

bubble gum flavored

Beomgyu x fem!reader

synopsis: you're a camgirl and beomgyu is your favorite fan.

warnings: 🔞!!! mentions of masturbation (m! and f!), sex toys, mentions of cum eating, panty sniffing, fingering, oral (f!rec), nipple play, overstim (m! and f! rec), marking, use of teeth, unprotected sex, creampie, reader calls gyu by username beomiebear, prob forgot some sorry

wc: 6k

an: my weakness is camgirl/camboy fics and I already want to write a part two. take a shot every time I use the three c’s cum clit cock feedback appreciated :)) [m.list]

this is a part of my mini kinktober event check out the other fics! [dumdums m.list]

beomgyu remembers when he found your stream for the first time. The cam website had you listed in the newcummer ranks, only a few watchers sitting in the chat when he clicked on. he usually kept to the top camgirls in the list, getting off once and then heading to bed, but he had misclicked when logging on ending up right where he needed to be all along.

The little window previewing your stream showed your pink backdrop, a million pink pillows laid out on the ground where you leaned back. He shrugged, opening your stream to see you with a wand pressed to your clothed clit, legs lifted to your chest, your back arching as you came, the strappy blue bikini straining against your tits like it would pop off at any second. It was over for him the second he heard your breathy whines, thighs shaking as you overstimulated yourself, knees pulling in before you gave a shout pulling the vibrator away. The swimsuit bottoms are completely soaked through sticking and outlining your cunt. 

Even without the wand you were trembling, head thrown back as you tried to catch your breath. And for the first time ever gyu commented in the chat dropping a donation with a single word. 

beomiebear: again.

The ding of the request was the only sound in your room, drawing you to look right at the screen for the first time. If he hadn't been gone by the sound of your pretty noises he was with your pretty face. 

“okay ill go again,” you hooked your arms under your knees, and before pressing back down on your clit you muttered, “This one's for you beomiebear,” 

beomgyu stayed up until your stream was over, cock raw from how long he had been fucking his hand, stomach covered in streams of his cum from how often he finished to the sight of you. he bookmarked your page, paid to be an exclusive member and waited for a notification that you were on live. 

The first month of following you he got used to your schedule on Wednesday, and Friday nights he would be at his desk filling your chat with requests, commenting on your beauty, dropping donations like candy leading you through the forest of your other commenters to praise him and him alone. Every stream he joined got him more and more recognition from you. A sweet, “hi beomiebear,” drawn out and giddy, your little wave and smile just for him. Other exclusive members in the chat didn’t get that voice, no, it was reserved for beomgyu and beomgyu alone. Even as you grew higher in the ranks and more people started joining your little army you always greeted beomiebear. He was the longest standing member in chat, donated the most, requested things he could tell you liked just by the way you sounded. 

When you listed a wishlist for items to be sent to you, if the gift was from beomiebear you didn’t just mention the one time you wore it but every time after, “You remember this one don’t you? It was a gift from beomiebear,” your fingers snapping the waistband of the pink thong you wore, “beomie says he loves me in pink, do you guys agree?” 

Your streams were everything to him, even if he was on a trip or out late when you started a stream he was in the bathroom of a bar jerking off like it was the first time he ever saw you, he's trying to stifle his moans in hotel rooms, cumming hard with your name on his lips. he was there for your streams when you just got ready, always in your tiny little tank top nipples peddled, treating the camera like a facetime call. Asking the chat what you should wear, holding up options. His favorite part is always at the end when you put on your lipstick and then go on to fix up your hair, spinning in your outfit asking if you looked pretty. He never missed an opportunity to shower you with love. 

And when you did an event for reaching your goal sub count you promised the highest donator a fleshlight, two used pairs of panties, and a personal video of you cumming in one of them. beomgyu was the winner by a landslide. “and who would have guessed that beomiebear was the winner? I'm not surprised my beomiebear is obsessed with me,” it was the same time that you set up personal chat offers for long-time members and no one had been watching as long as gyu had. 

you: Do you want me to use your real name in my video for you?

But gyu loved that you called him by his screen name, anyone else he had ever had sex with only called him beomgyu and you were so much more than just casual even if you had never met in person. 

beomiebear: No, I like it when you call me beomiebear or even just beomie or bear. 

Once beomgyu got his video he watched it on the days you didn’t stream, playing it over and over until he had each word memorized. 

“I picked these out just for you,” your hands running over the bubble gum pink panties you wore, “you’re going to have to tell me if you like them. and then these,” you held up that strappy blue swimsuit, “I know I said two panties but these were from the first stream you joined, so that means I wore them the first time you made me cum,” 

just the fact you remembered made him hard. and when you pulled out the fleshlight you got him, unboxing it to show it off, “now it's not wet unlike how I am right now but I'm sure you'll get it wet enough,” your fingers running over the silicone, slipping your middle and ring finger in the hole before taking them out and putting them into your mouth, “I wish I could lick this clean after you had used it,” you pout, “I know you must taste so good,” you kissed over the puffy lips before asking, “you’ll think of me when you use it right?” 

You had him wrapped so tight about your little finger that he was nodding and answering to a screen knowing damn well you couldn't hear him.

When his package came in he was shaking with need, straining in his jeans ripping open the box, groaning over the smell of you. You didn’t only send the things promised, you tossed in an extra pair of panties, sprayed with your perfume, and a little bear and lollipop phone charm. A note card handwritten for him saying ‘for my beomiebear, don’t forget to give your new toy clitty kisses before fucking it and filling it up while thinking of me <33’ and did he listen, kissing over where he knew your lips had been before sending it, fucking it until he was so drained he was amazed at how much cum could leave his body. Your panties pressed to his nose, phone charm hanging from his case. 

You were right about him being obsessed with you and neither of you would have it any other way. and you were no different. Seeing beomiebear's name in the chat or donating would never stop you from smiling. He was one of the first people to support you on live, calling out bad behavior in chat, and calling you the prettiest names. When beomie was active you were putting on your best show. You felt the prettiest when beomiebear was watching and commenting. You picked out outfits you knew beomie would like and couldn't help but think about how he must look behind his keyboard at home.

You've never seen beomie but that didn’t mean that you weren't obsessed with the idea of him just like he was obsessed with the idea of you. Sometimes after a stream when beomie would go to your private chat complimenting you and saying goodnight you were laid out in bed giggling and kicking your feet, blushing and smiling acting as if you've never had a boyfriend before in your life. No man had ever made you this giddy in real life and no one else from your streams compared. 

You remember finding the little phone charm when you were on vacation smiling like a madman just thinking about beomiebear so you bought it. You wouldn't be able to forget the cute little bear or the lolly pop, beomiebear, and his bubblegum princess in pink. Always wondered if he had put it to use or if it was sitting in his nightstand with your panties. 

Tonight you set up your stream for a get ready with me, fingers rolling over your nipples to get them hard, “Hi! Tonight is just going to be a short stream, it feels like forever since I've been on but it's been only one day,” your eyes scan over chat, welcoming the users who tip or the ones you've seen before. These streams never did as well as the ones with you masturbating but they did bring in long-term tippers, the ones who requested private texts and videos often. “I'm going out tonight so I need help to make sure I look good, do you think you could help me decide on a few things?” 

Your setup is in your spare room, the one space that made you sign for your apartment as soon as you saw it. Your backdrop is set up right along the back wall, a bed set up lengthwise along the wall with all your pillows to lay down at the perfect angle for your camera. Your vanity is usually behind the camera, only used when you do streams like these, the lights setting the mood. The small closet attached to the room held anything you wore for streams, all your toys and props organized under where everything hung. Tonight you were going out with friends for drinks for a rare night out with friends. You spend most of the time commuting to class and home, and with both your cam schedule and your school schedule you didn’t go out much. And none of your friends knew your little secret and you would keep it like that as long as you possibly could. 

You held up the two options you had picked out for tonight, “maybe I should try them both on for you?” 

It then that beomies name pops up in chat and your smile brightens, “Hi beomiebear! Which one should I try first?” you were going for an angel or devil theme with the white set and the black set in hand, both of them nearly identical to each other.

beomiebear: Don’t we get to see the lingerie first?

“I didn’t even think of that beomie you’re so right. I would need your help to pick out the perfect panties for these, hmm let me see what I have,” you dig through your collection, pulling out a few options for them to pick between. “Here I have pink,” you hold them up one at a time, “white, red, and black. If I wear the white skirt I don’t know if I'll be able to wear the red but why don’t we see?” 

Your top half was mostly in frame as you changed your panties but stepping closer to the bed you could see more of your body in the viewfinder. Picking up the white skirt to pull it on, purposefully tugging it up higher. “see what I mean everyone would be able to see, especially if I bend over,” you demonstrate leaning over the bed and looking over your shoulder as you wiggle your hips. 

beomgyu is sitting in his apartment biting his lip trying to decide if he should touch himself when he has to be ready in an hour to leave for drinks with his friends. Debating if the clean up is worth it but knowing that if he doesn't get off at least once he will be fighting a boner for a while. He watches as you pick up the next pair of panties to try, you’re standing in front of the camera tugging your skirt down enough so that when you take off the red pair the camera doesn't pick it up, but as you tug on the white lace and bend back over the bed he gives up on resisting. The material is just sheer enough to show the outline of your cunt and as you sway your hips asking if these are better the fabric slips along your lips. there is no way he is not touching himself now. “oops,” you giggle fixing the lace so that it sits right again, “maybe not these, don’t want anyone else seeing what is only meant for my angels,” 

you stand back up, “You know what I think the black skirt is better,” you slide the white skirt off leaving you back in your tiny cropped tank and lace panties before sliding up the black skirt, “okay but now the white is too showy,” you bend again, “what should I pick next the black or the pink?” gyu is fast to respond, “okay beomie says pink so I think we have to try that one next,” and gyu doesn't know what happens to him when he sees you wear pink only that he's whimpering with his hand down his sweats picking up his pace as he squeezes his cock. When you bend doing your little wiggle he knows he's the one who sent these to you from your wishlist, that alone makes him cum. His head falls back against the headboard, not caring about the mess anymore when you’re there taking your top off, pushing down on your boobs with your arm to hide giggling about not wanting to wear a bra tonight. Your bare back to the camera as you pull on your new top. 

By the end of your stream, he was cutting it close to making it out on time to meet up with everyone. But when he got to the bar they had saved him a seat at their booth half taken up with his friends and half taken up with yours. 

You were half squished between your friend and soobin, feeling claustrophobic amongst the group. soobin and you have an econ class together along with another friend at the table. He had invited the two of you out a couple of times but it was always on a Friday and you always made the most of Friday nights. But he had asked to celebrate the end of the semester pointing out everyone else was going so you agreed wanting to finally get out even if it was only the one time. So far all of his friends were nice, picking up conversation easily and adding everyone in like they had been besties for years. gyu didn’t even realize it was you at the table until you lifted your head at yeonjuns loud, “Look who finally made it!” 

beomgyu had only just seen you on his screen, putting on lipstick and blowing a kiss to your chat before logging off, he felt like he was hallucinating but he didn’t want to get caught staring. He tried to keep his features blank, avoiding spending too much time looking at you when he nodded a short greeting to everyone. he wasn't fully convinced it was you until soobin was introducing your side of the table, “And this is gyu,” 

your smile was the barest reaction he had ever seen you give, “Hi gyu,” so unlike the way you look when you call him beomie. he sat on the other side of soobin as the others continued their conversation. His hands were slick with sweat as he discreetly pulled out his phone pulling up your private chat, he had messaged you after stream like he usually did complimenting you, your sweet reply always going straight to his heart. He typed out a message for you clicking his phone off and letting it sit in his lap as he watched you pick yours up. 

beomiebear: I hope you’re thinking of me while you’re dressed that pretty tonight don’t need you forgetting me. 

beomgyu was trying not to make it obvious he was watching you as your face lit up typing before clicking your phone off. In his lap, his buzzed and he knew it was you. That little smile gave away more than anything else. 

you: There is no way I could forget about you when I'm always thinking about you <3

And as much as beomgyu wants to talk to you he's completely scared shitless. 

He feels like the second you two lock eyes you'll know he knows you’re a cam girl. That you'll feel weird once you know he's watched you get off for what feels like forever. Not even that he just watched but he's gotten off more times than he can count from watching you. that not even two hours ago he was fucking his hand wishing it was you and you had only been changing. He wouldn't be able to take it if you ignored him, stopped answering his messages, and smiled at his user. So he bit his tongue and sat back.

beomgyu didn’t think he would have a problem acting normal but when your friend dragged you out onto the dance floor it was almost painful not to watch you. the way your body was moving drawing him in without him noticing he was stuck on you until soobin bumped his shoulder, “just talk to her,” 

“w-what no,” he stumbled, waving away the suggestion, “she wouldn't- I'm not-“ his heart was beating so hard he's sure any more attention brought to him would give him away. 

“I will if you don’t,” gyu gave the deadliest glance, it was the last thing he ever wanted to think about, his friend and you together when it should be him. soobin chuckled, “I'm kidding I like her friend but it proves my point on why you should speak up,” 

beomgyu bit the inside of his cheek before muttering, “I'm getting another drink,” 

and that's where you found him at the bar. He was checking the time on his phone waiting for his drink when you popped up next to him leaning over the bartop waving over the bartender. Not even noticing he was from your group until the bartender walked right past ignoring you. gyu went stiff, placing his phone face down on the counter when you spoke up, “gyu right?” 

“Yeah,” he absentmindedly starts to play with the charm on his phone, flicking the lollipop. He knows you've never seen him, that you wouldn't know him in the way he knows you. Every shared glance feels as if you will just know it's him, like his username is written on his forehead that if you paid enough attention would be visible to only you. He could feel a pit in his stomach, a brewing mix of embarrassment and need. If he wasn't worried you would freak out he wanted to get to know you like he would any other girl in the bar. Ask you to dance, get you a drink, flirt until the sun comes up; he wanted you to like him, feel something for him even if it was a fraction of what he felt for you. 

“how do you know soobin?” you ask just trying to make conversation as you wait for another bartender to pass. 

“we're childhood friends and we roomed together our first year,” he flicks the charm again, looking over at the glasses lining the wall in front of the two of you, missing the way you looked down at what he was messing with. 

You could feel your heart in your ears at seeing the charm on his phone, the instant realization almost blinding. Your silence is what makes gyu look back at you, both of you looking at eachother like you saw a ghost. The two of you jumped out of your skin when Yeonjun and Kai came up behind gyu to say goodbye. 

“beomgyu were leaving,” and if Kai hadn't said his name at that exact moment you could have written it off. Anyone could be beomiebear it didn’t have to be gyu but mixed with the phone charm at that exact moment you couldn't have missed it. 

“o-okay,” beomgyu had to clear his throat to get the words out. the final nail in the coffin was when Yeonjun ruffled gyus hair as a salute not knowing he was leaving the two of you in a puddle of nerves after saying, “Bye beomie,” 

Even if it's a packed room, the only thing you can see is gyu in front of you. you had always dreaded the day when you would meet a member outside of chat, the possibility so much higher with your face uncovered. Now you were face to face with someone you had proof watched almost every single one of your streams. “so… is it going to be really uncomfortable now?” 

“I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable at all. I wasn't going to say anything,” beomgyu feels like he's rambling, grasping for straws to try to right the situation. You can see the panic on his face, the same face you're re-examining with your new clarity. A deep blush is set across his cheeks, his brows pinched in worry. 

“no it's okay I'm more shocked than uncomfortable,” you try to laugh it off, finger brushing over the little bear charm. “Happy to put a face to the name, you’re way cuter than I imagined,” 

beomgyu could feel warmth all over his body at the compliment, a soft smile showing itself. “you think?” it was so much better in person to hear you say nice things, to know it was meant for him alone. 

you give a soft chuckle waving, “Do you want to dance with me? I don’t think the bartender cares about us at this point,” 

“o-okay,” 

beomgyu couldn't believe you were here, the two of you are so close now that beomgyu can smell your perfume, making his cock so much harder remembering your panties pressed to his face, aided now by the way you were grinding back on him. he had a hard time putting his hands on you in the first place, you have to guide him to grab your waist. But as the night went on he was finding it easier and easier to let his hands roam wherever you let him. 

It felt as if you've known him for so long, everything falling into place as if you've always known each other, like that first stream was a first date and you haven't been apart since. If it had been anyone else you think you would have gone straight home and locked yourself away, with beomiebear, with beomgyu, you felt as if you could lock the two of you in a room and never leave. Because even if he had been behind the screen he still had picked up on the way you liked things. 

You turned wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him closer to your mouth, “it's getting late,” 

“I don’t wanna go,” he confessed not caring if you could feel his erection pressed against you, he wanted to stay with you not see you go. 

“You don’t want to go home with me?” if you could push yourself any closer you would just to make your point, “Because something tells me you really do,” 

beomgyus mouth is dry, trying and failing to come up with words that won't seem too needy because all he wants to do is beg. he would have you right here if he could, right in the back of the uber you called to pick the two of you up. He's never been so nervous to be with anyone before, even his first time he was less needy and more confident. What breaks him is when you get to your apartment, when you push open the door to your spare room and he sees that pink bed from your background, moody lights and all. He moans at the thought of all the times he's seen you spread out on those very pillows with your hand between your thighs. The white skirt and panties you didn’t wear were still on the floor. “are you really wearing the panties I picked out?” his voice was caught in his throat, not at all how he wanted it to come off. But you just smile from the doorway, no one has ever been in here with you before and it gives you butterflies.

“Why don’t you find out for yourself?” you ask, sliding your hands up his chest and around his neck. 

He's slow to kiss you, the soft tentative nature of his kiss unlike how you thought he would be. He was being so gentle, taking his time with you, exploring the way you two fit together. His hands at your waist pulling you into him, kissing you breathless. beomgyu could make out with you forever, making every effort to know you inside and out. one hand sliding down the curve of your ass, pushing your shirt up until he was feeling the lace of your panties, groaning into your kiss. “do you-,” he can’t even pull himself away from you, pressing himself closer, coming back to your mouth like it was the source, “do you think-“

you have to pull away giggling. “it's okay beomgyu I'll still kiss you after you ask your question,” he's nodding like he understands, nose brushing against yours as he tries to latch back onto your mouth. 

“Do you think I could watch you?” those puppy dog eyes working wonders on your stomach, “please,”

“only if I get to see what it looks like on the other side of the screen,” you reach down to cup him over his jeans, “it's only fair,” beomgyu has never been so noisy in his life, whimpering as you feel him up, wanting to thrust into the air when you pull away. “Do you want me to use a toy?” 

he's nodding his head watching you pull open your closet door, the drawer you pull open overstocked with everything he's ever seen you use in a stream, even things he hasn't seen you use yet. He's almost a little shocked at the sight of all the options to choose from, mind filtering through every reaction he can remember you having with each one, needing to see your lashes flutter. It's when he sees the wand toy from the first stream he attended that he knows there was never another option for him. 

beomgyu sits on your vanity chair, leaning back against the cushion to get the perfect angle to watch you. The nerves were new for you, even the first few streams you had done you had been able to overlook the feeling because you were just alone in the room and no one really watched. Now you were actively being seen because even if the chat was running it was almost always positive comments that boosted your ego. Even other partners hadn't stepped into the space and maybe that's what was making it worse, you didn’t want to disappoint, but as you laid back on the pillows all stacked up to keep you slightly upright and looked at beomgyu it all faded away. He was watching you like he was seconds away from devouring you, that needy crease to his brow, the hem of his shirt rolled up just enough to show off his navel and waistband of his underwear. 

You lifted your knees to your chest using your arm to help keep them up, the way you were folded made your panties tighten against your cunt, the wet outline making gyus mouth water. He popped the button of his jeans, zipping down the zipper, to give him some release. You clicked on the vibrator, the hum the only sound in the room as you pressed it over your clit. Your reaction was instant, hips jerking and lashes fluttering. You could see the way beomgyus breathing increased, his hand pushed into his pants, lip between his teeth to keep his moans quiet. 

“I want to hear you,” you gasp, “I need to hear you,” 

beomgyu nods adam's apple bobbing, the breathy whimpers taking up all of the space in your mind until he pulls down his pants. His cock is heavy as it slaps against his stomach, beomgyu works fast to take off his shirt not caring where it lands as you focus in on every vein on his shaft. He's already so leaky, all his precum aiding his strokes. The visual of watching his hand working himself drives you insane, your imagination running wild as his hand pumps up and down stopping right at the flared tip, picturing exactly what it would feel like when he pushes into you. Your orgasm comes crashing down on you, the pretty sounds coming from your mouth alone have beomgyu following right after, both of you locking eyes across the room as you try to come down from your high. gyus stomach is covered in streaks of his cum, sliding down with every breath he takes. You click off the wand not wanting to overstimulate yourself letting it fall in the pillows next to you.

Your panties are completely soaked as you push them down, strings of wetness still clinging to the fabric. You toss them over to beomgyu who's eager to catch them, cleaning up the mess he's made only to wrap them around his still-hard cock, letting your combined cum work as more lube for his slow pumps. “Your cock is so pretty beomie, does it put the gift I gave you to good use?” 

beomgyus thrusts up into his hand at the nickname, “Yes, I-I make sure to give it clitty kisses just like you told me,” 

you run your fingers through your slick folds spreading your legs wider to give him a better view, “are you going to give me clitty kisses before you fuck me?” beomgyu has to pull his hand away from himself before he came again at the question. He had dreamed of tasting you; getting lost between your thighs. He dropped your panties making his way to kneel in front of you on the bed. You still had your shirt and skirt on and he helped take both of them off before hooking your knees over his shoulders. As much as he has seen your pussy on screen nothing beats in person, your swollen clit covered in your slick, his head framed by your thighs. beomgyu is licking his lips as you brush your fingers through his hair, pushing the strands behind his ears, his eyes flickering up to yours as he wraps his hands around your thighs to keep you still. “how is it that you look this edible?”

you roll your hips, the heels of your feet pushing into his back, “just get to eating me,” 

his lips ghost over your clit, your whimper drawing him closer, soft kisses dusting over every part of your pussy. You have to tighten your hold on his hair, pushing him to your clit to get him to move past all his teasing. beomgyu moans at the taste of you, the vibrations aiding his work on your clit. If he could spend the rest of the night between your legs overstimulating you he would. Every sound and movement in reaction to the way he's making you feel fuling him on. He's messy as he buries his face into you, all of your wetness gathered on his tongue as he circles your bundle of nerves, sucking deeply making you roll your head back. Your second orgasm is blinding as he presses two fingers into you, the pressure making you see spots, legs closing in around his ears. 

When beomgyu pulls away your legs feel weak when they rest back on the bed. He kisses up your stomach, loving your uneven breathing as you try to come back to reality. His mouth is all over you, tongue trialing your skin before he finds your nipples. Taking his time with each he lightly tugs them between his teeth, sucking along the delicate flesh leaving marks up and down your body. beomgyus thinking about seeing all the hickeys he's leaving on you when you stream, everyone knowing someone had their mouth on you. The thought alone has him humping into the mattress, your giggles waking him up as you run your thumb over his cheek, “who knew beomiebear would be so needy,” 

“only for you,” he confesses kissing your extended wrist, “please let me fuck you, please,” 

you don’t hesitate to let your legs fall open wider as an invitation beomgyus cock already pressed against your thigh, sticky still from earlier. “you don’t need to beg,” 

you help him guide himself to your entrance, mushroom tip pressing in enough to make you shiver, mouth opening in a silent moan at the feeling. beomgyu can’t contain his noises, eyes glued to where the two of you are connected. He pushed in further the sight of him disappearing into your cunt like a beacon he won’t look away from. He doesn’t look up to see your face until he gives one last thrust to fully knock his pelvis to yours. Your head is rolled back with that hazy fucked out expression and he’s hardly done anything at all. he rolls his hips back before pushing all the way back in your whimper tearing him apart. “you feel so fucking good,” 

beomgyu sits back on his heels dragging you with him, hands holding your hips as your back arches. The angle pushing him right against your gspot, your feet digging Into the mattress as gyu frantically picks up his pace. He guides your body down on his cock, every thrust making your boobs bounce. beomgyu is lost in the feeling, desperate whimpers escaping him, veins in his hands and arms bulging from his hold on you. 

“beomie,” the name slipping so easily, the whine making beomgyu feel like any second he would cum especially when you felt this warm, this wet. He was using you like his own personal cock sleeve focused solely on getting his cum as deep as possible into you. 

Blindly you reached out next to you for the vibrator, finding it and turning it on pressing it to your clit. beomgyu can feel his orgasm building aided by the way you’re squeezing him. Sloppily thrusting he feels the tightness in his balls, he presses as close as he can get himself to you. 

The fucked out expression on his face as his hot cum spills inside you triggers your orgasm, the wand pressed to your clit also pressed to the base of his cock overstimulating the both of you. You go to move it but beomgyu’s hand shoots out holding the vibrator in place watching the way your body convulses. Thighs trying to close in around him, your cries loud enough you know you’ll get a noise complaint. But beomgyu’s cock is still pulsing your body milking him in a way no one ever has before. 

It’s only when he sees the tears in your eyes that he pulls the wand away, switching it off and laying himself onto you. His mouth is on your neck, hammering pulse pressed to his lips as he gives you slow soft thrusts making sure you’re stuffed full of his cum. 

Your arms wrap around his shoulders, fingers curling in the sweaty strands of hair at the base of his neck. Both of you catch your breath slowly coming back to yourselves. 

When he pulls out you feel the overwhelming gush of your combined cum slipping out and down to puddle on the mattress. beomgyu sat back watching in amazement. “I’ve always wanted to see what your pussy would look like after i was done with it,” two fingers scooping up anything he could to stuff it right back in.

🏷 taglist: @kissmekissykissme @bts-txt-ateez @apeachty @stwq2349 @isa942572 
@tomorrowxforever @beestvng @soobingf-blog @lovinjjong @lola-horore-553 
@cypher-03 @midnight-mochii @hueningwhy @choibeomning @soobinbunnie5 
@yunjinswifee @cupidtaehyun @bamgeutsz @prince-jjae

and a very special thank you to @fairyofshampgyu for beta reading this for me <33333

[thighsa]

BEAUTIFUL MONSTER

Artist :

STAYC Isa X Male Reader (Third Person POV)

Tags :

Wardrobe Malfunction, Female Masturbation, Masochist Fetish, Kidnap, Forced Sex, Rough Sex, Rape, BDSM, Bondage, Virgin, Anal, Anal Virginity, Gangbang, Double Penetration, Blowjob, Deepthroat, Creampie, Gape, Sex Tape, Blackmail, Drug Usages, Slut, Cam Girl, Sex Slave, Prostitution, Strip Dancer, Golden Shower, Humiliation,

Warning : Non Con Smut, This smut is going to be a long one.

(please don't read if you don't like it, thanks!)

CHAPTER 1 : THE CONCERT OF A RAISING K-POP GROUP

Finding herself standing in the bustling backstage of a colossal concert venue, the air thick with anticipation and the sweet scent of hairspray. Lee Chaeyoung, or as the world knows, Isa, a rising star in the glittering universe of K-Pop as part of the sensational girl group, STAYC. With her heart racing in her chest, she look into the mirror and adjust the glittering hairpin in her raven locks, her reflection showcasing her flawless makeup and piercing gaze. Isa run her hands over her curvy hips and give her thick, toned thighs a squeeze, drawing confidence from the power they hold. The sound of the crowd's roar crescendos as the opening chords of her latest hit echo through the corridor. The stage calls, and she takes a deep breath, ready to captivate the world once more with her unparalleled charm and talent. "It's showtime, Isa," her manager says with a nod of encouragement. Isa flash a dazzling smile, feeling the excitement surge through her as she step into the spotlight.

The stage lights hit Isa like a meteor shower, illuminating her scintillating, revealing outfit. The ensemble is a masterpiece of modern fashion K-Pop flair: a crop top that barely contains her ample cleavage, paired with a thick leather jacket as the outerwear, and a skirt that hikes high on her hips, showcasing her voluptuous thighs and perfectly curvy rounded ass. Her long, silky legs seem to go on forever, ending in a pair of thigh-high boots that scream confidence with every step. The crowd goes wild at the sight of her, the sea of faces blurring into a tapestry of admiration and desire.

With the opening beats of the song pulsing through her veins, Isa takes control of the stage like a tempest, her body moving in a symphony of seduction and precision. She's the main dancer, the heart of StayC's choreography, and her every move is calculated to leave the audience breathless. Her hips sway and pop in time with the music, her curvy figure a mesmerizing spectacle under the strobing lights. Her bandmates follow her lead, their movements synchronized like a well-oiled machine, but it's Isa's fiery charisma that truly sets the stage alight.

The choreography intensifies, and Isa leaps into a high kick, her skirt fluttering up to reveal a hint of the lacey thong she's wearing underneath. The fans scream even louder, their phones raised in a forest of flashing lights, eagerly capturing every moment. Suddenly, as she lands, there's a sharp tug, and the unthinkable happens: the clasp of her top gives way, the fabric parting to expose her right breast to the thousands of eyes in the arena. For a split second, time seems to stand still, the music a distant echo in the face of the impending disaster.

But Isa is a seasoned performer. Without missing a beat, she cups her hand over her breast, her cheeks flushing a deep shade of red that only serves to enhance her allure. The crowd's gasps are drowned out by the bass drop, and she spins away from the audience, using the momentum to conceal the wardrobe malfunction. The other members of StayC, caught off guard, exchange worried glances but Isa waves them off, signaling to continue as if nothing happened. Her professionalism is a beacon of calm in the storm of chaos, a testament to her unshakeable poise.

The moment Isa's breast is exposed, a ripple of shock waves through the arena, but it's quickly swallowed by a frenzy of excitement and anticipation. The flashes of cameras and phones are so intense that it's as if a thousand paparazzi have descended upon the stage. The video of her wardrobe malfunction is captured from every conceivable angle, the digital eyes of the audience eager to preserve the scandalous moment for posterity. The videos are uploaded to social media faster than you can blink, spreading like wildfire across various platforms, hashtags springing up like mushrooms in the aftermath of a storm.

While the performance goes on, the malfunction is a mere hiccup in the grand scheme of things. Isa's swift recovery and the sheer force of StayC's stage presence are enough to keep the audience enthralled. The music, the lights, the dance as they all conspire to distract from the brief flash of nudity. The other members of the group, though shaken by the unexpected turn of events, keep their cool, their movements sharp and their expressions composed.

As soon as Isa enters the backstage, the situation is a different story. The second the music stops, a cacophony of worried whispers and frantic gestures replace the organized chaos of pre-show preparations. The manager's eyes widen in horror as they watch the live feed of the performance, their hand slapped over their mouth in disbelief. "Oh no," they murmur, their mind racing with the potential repercussions. "Isa, are you okay?" they ask, rushing towards Isa.

Isa, though still flustered, nods with a forced smile. "It's fine," she says, trying to shrug off the embarrassment that clings to her like the sweat on her skin. "It was just a wardrobe malfunction. It happens." Her voice is steady, but the tremble in her hand as she adjusts her costume gives away her nerves. She quickly gathers her composure, drawing on the iron will that's brought her to the top of the K-Pop world. "We'll just have to make sure it doesn't happen again," she adds with a determined glint in her eye.

The concert ends with a thunderous applause, and as the final notes of the last song die out, Isa is ushered backstage, her heart racing not just from the exhilaration of the performance but also from the fear of what's to come. She quickly locks herself in the waiting room, the sound of the cheering fans a muffled roar behind the thick door. Pulling out her phone, her hands shaking with a mix of excitement and mortification, she opens up various social media apps, her fingers flying across the screen as she searches for any sign of the wardrobe malfunction. It doesn't take long for her to find it a video of her exposed breast has already amassed millions of views and countless comments, both supportive and malicious.

Her heart sinks as she reads through the comments. While there are fans praising her professionalism and others sharing their own stories of similar mishaps, there's also a sea of cruel words, body-shaming, and accusations of it being a publicity stunt. The weight of the negative attention is crushing, a stark reminder of the darker side of the industry she's worked so hard to conquer. She tries to push the negativity aside, focusing instead on the love and support from her devoted fanbase. Yet, the fear of losing everything she's worked for gnaws at her like a ravenous beast.

As she was scrolling at the comments, an advertisement popped up in her phone, Isa's hand trembles with anticipation as she opens the screen fills with a smorgasbord of explicit thumbnails, each one more graphic and enticing than the last. She bites her bottom lip, her pulse racing as she selects a video that promises the depraved thrills.

With the door locked tight and the cacophony of the concert now a distant memory, her hand shakes as she sets it aside, her eyes glazed with a mix of excitement and trepidation. She's never truly allowed herself to explore this side of her sexuality, but something about the raw, unbridled passion within its pages has her craving release. Her hand slides down her torso, her fingertips grazing the smooth skin of her stomach before delving beneath her skirt. The fabric of her thong is damp with anticipation, the fabric clinging to her plump pussy lips as she slides it aside. Her heart hammers in her chest as she touches herself, her virginity a mere technicality in the face of her burning need.

The video starts with a petite Asian girl, her eyes wide with a mix of fear and excitement, surrounded by a group of well-endowed black men. They're all grinning like predators, and Isa can feel the heat rising in her cheeks as she watches. She watches, rapt, as the men in the video begin to touch and kiss the girl, her cries of pleasure growing louder with every passing second. The scene is a whirlwind of flesh and desire, a symphony of lust that resonates deep within Isa's core.

Her clit is swollen and sensitive, begging for attention. With a gasp, she rubs it furiously, her other hand squeezing her full breast, the nipple pebbled with arousal. She's seen the way the men in the videos looked at the bound women, the hunger in their eyes, and she craves that same intense focus. Her imagination runs wild, her hand moving faster as she imagines herself in the girl's place, her thick thighs spread wide and her plump ass jiggling with every rough thrust. The walls of the waiting room seem to close in around her, the pressure building with every stroke. The room is filled with the sweet sound of her moans, each one louder and more desperate than the last.

Her breathing quickens, her chest heaving as she watches the men take turns with the girl, her small frame seemingly incapable of containing the sheer size of their cocks. The sight of it all is almost too much, and yet she can't tear her eyes away. Her own hand is a blur between her legs now, her fingers working her clit with a fervor that borders on desperation. The tension builds, a crescendo of pleasure that threatens to shatter her very soul.

Isa's orgasm hits her like a meteor, her entire body convulsing with the force of it. Her pussy clenches around her fingers, her juices spraying out in a fountain that soaks her hand and the floor beneath her. The pleasure is so intense, so overwhelming, that for a brief moment, she forgets where she is, lost in a world of pure ecstasy. The image of the gangbang in the porn video blurs with her own reflection in the mirror, the line between fantasy and reality growing thinner by the second. Her eyes squeeze shut, her teeth digging into her lower lip as she rides the wave of her climax, her moans echoing through the empty waiting room.

When she finally opens her eyes, the aftermath of her solo performance is stark: her hand is sticky with her own fluids, her chest heaving, and her cheeks flushed. The video on her phone is still playing, but the sound has been muted by the roar of the blood in her ears. She pulls her hand away, her pussy quivering, and looks down at the mess she's made. There's a twinge of guilt, a whisper of doubt that flits through her mind, but it's quickly drowned out by the lingering aftershocks of pleasure.

The echoes of Isa's powerful orgasm still resonate through the air as she slowly comes to terms with the reality of what just happened. Her heart thunders in her chest, her breaths coming in ragged gasps. The sticky warmth of her cum is a stark reminder of the unbridled passion that had just consumed her, leaving her trembling and slightly embarrassed at the wet spot on the floor. The mirror reflects an image of a girl who's just crossed an unspoken line, her eyes glazed over with a mix of satisfaction and curiosity about the dark desires that now lay bare before her.

As she takes a deep breath and attempts to compose herself, the harshness of the fluorescent lights seems to cast a judgmental glare on her naked form. The glitz and glamour of the stage have been stripped away, revealing the vulnerable young woman beneath the K-Pop images. She quickly cleans up the evidence of her masturbation, feeling a strange mix of excitement and fear. What if someone finds out about her newfound kink? Would it ruin her image? Would it change how her fans see her?

The thought sends a shiver down her spine, but it's quickly replaced by a fiery determination. This is her private time, her own little secret, and she won't let it define her public persona. She tucks the magazine back into its hiding spot, her eyes lingering on the cover for a moment longer before she turns away. The concert is over, the fans are dispersing, and she's still a star. The malfunction was a blip on the radar, something to be handled with grace and professionalism.

CHAPTER 2 : THE THUGS AND THE KIDNAP

The night air is cool against Isa's flushed skin as she slips out of the venue, hoping to avoid the usual post-concert fanfare. She chooses a shortcut through a dimly lit alley, eager to be alone with her thoughts and the aftermath of her public exposure. But the shadows hold more than just her secrets. As she walks, the echo of her boots against the concrete is soon accompanied by the jeering laughter and heavy footsteps of a group of thugs. They've recognized her from the viral video, their leering smiles growing wider as they approach.

"Well, well, well," the leader says, his voice slithering through the alley like a serpent's hiss. "If it isn't the little show-off from the concert. Did you do that for us, sweetheart?" His eyes rake over her body, a blatant hunger that sends a chill down her spine. The other men close in, their intentions as clear as the moon in the sky above.

Isa's heart races as she tries to keep a brave face. "Excuse me, I'm in a hurry," she says, her voice wavering slightly. She tries to step around them, but they block her path, their bodies a wall of malicious intent.

"Oh, we'll make sure you're not late for your next appointment," the leader sneers, reaching out to grab her arm. His grip is like iron, his nails digging into her soft flesh. "We're your biggest fans, you know. We just want to show you some... appreciation." The men chuckle in unison, their eyes glinting with a predatory gleam.

Isa's mind races as she tries to pull away, her heart hammering against her ribcage. "Please, let me go," she pleads, her voice a whisper of the confident performer she was mere hours ago. But the thugs are relentless, closing in tighter, their hands grabbing at her exposed skin with a hunger that makes her stomach churn.

The leader leans in, his breath hot and sour against her neck. "You liked showing us your goods earlier, didn't you?" he growls, his teeth grazing her earlobe. "Now it's our turn to play." His hand moves to her crop top, fumbling with the clasp as the others grab at her skirt.

Isa's body tenses as the thug's rough hand clamps down on her right nipple, his grip tight and painful. He gives it a twist, a sadistic smile playing across his lips as he watches her face contort in a mix of pain and humiliation. Her eyes water, and she tries to stifle a scream, not wanting to give them the satisfaction of knowing how much it hurts. The fabric of her crop top tears under their greedy hands, the remnants of her dignity shredded along with it. Her bare chest is exposed to the cool night air, her breasts jiggling slightly as the men lean in to get a closer look. The pain from her nipple is a sharp reminder of the danger she's in, sending a jolt of adrenaline through her veins.

One of the thugs, emboldened by his leader's actions, reaches out to cup her left breast, his palm greedily squeezing the soft flesh. "Guys, look at these tits," he says, licking his lips. "I bet you've had these out more often than you've had your panties on, huh?" His leer is almost comical in its depravity, but the fear gripping Isa's heart is anything but amusing. She tries to kick him away, but her legs are trapped in the tangle of her skirt, which is now around her ankles.

The thug's hand snakes down Isa's torso, his thick, calloused fingers digging into her soft flesh as they make their way to her thighs. He squeezes them with a groan of appreciation, the other men following his lead. They all seem to have the same idea, their grubby hands reaching out to grope and fondle her thick, muscular thighs and plump ass. Isa's breath hitches in her throat as she feels the unmistakable bulges in their pants pressing against her, their excitement palpable in the tense air of the alley.

"Let go of me, you animals!" she shouts, trying to struggle free, but their grip is too strong. They laugh, their breaths hot and heavy, as they continue to maul her. The leader's hand slides up her skirt, his fingers brushing against the damp fabric of her thong. "Looks like someone enjoyed their little show," he sneers, his fingers probing further, pushing the fabric aside to reveal her glistening pussy. "You're a wet little slut, aren't you?"

Isa's body is a flurry of panic as the thugs overpower her, their rough hands tearing at her clothing and pinning her down. They're like a pack of hyenas, each fighting for a piece of their prey. Her legs kick and thrash, but it's no use; she's outnumbered and outmatched. One of the men pulls out a roll of duct tape, ripping off a piece with a grin that could only be described as sadistic. He slaps it over her mouth, silencing her protests and muffling her screams into desperate whimpers. The taste of the tape is bitter and metallic, and the smell fills her nostrils as she struggles to breathe.

Within minutes, they've managed to tie her wrists behind her back and her ankles together, hoisting her into the back of a waiting van. The doors slam shut, plunging her into darkness. The van lurches forward, and Isa's stomach drops as she's thrown around on the cold, hard floor. She can't help but wonder if this is the end, if she'll ever make it out of here to see her bandmates again. The thought of her friends, her music, her fans, it all fuels a burning anger within her, giving her the strength to keep fighting, even if it's just in her own mind.

The van ride seems to last an eternity, but it eventually comes to a jarring stop. The doors open, and Isa is dragged out by her arms, her feet barely touching the ground as the thugs pull her along. They've brought her to an abandoned house, the smell of decay and dampness fills her nostrils as she's tossed into a musty, dimly lit room. The duct tape is ripped from her mouth, and she gasps for air, the sting of pain from her bruised skin making her eyes water.

The leader of the thugs grabs a fistful of Isa's hair, yanking her head back to expose her neck. "On your knees," he commands, his voice a low growl. Isa's legs wobble, but she complies, her heart pounding in her chest. He shoves her down onto a filthy rag that covers the floor, the grime and dust of ages sticking to her skin as she lands with a whimper. The fabric is rough against her knees, the sensation only adding to her growing sense of dread and disgust.

The thugs are like hungry beasts before a feast as they strip Isa of her remaining clothing. They tear away her crop top and skirt, leaving her in nothing but her drenched thong. The fabric clings to her body, revealing the full extent of her plump, glistening ass and her thick, toned thighs. The leader rips the thong away, tossing it aside with a grunt. Isa's nakedness is laid bare, her curves and the dark patch of hair between her legs on full display for their depraved eyes. She tries to cover herself, but her bound wrists are useless, and she's pushed back down onto the rag. The coldness of the floor seeps into her, a stark contrast to the heat of the lust in the room.

"Look at her, begging for it," one of the men leers, his eyes glazed over with desire.

The leader of the thugs unzips his pants with a dramatic flourish, revealing a cock that's both terrifying and awe-inspiring in its size. It's thick and long, the veins pulsing with anticipation as it stands proudly against his muscular thigh. The other men follow suit, their cocks of varying sizes but all equally hungry for her. The room is filled with the sound of zippers and the rustle of fabric as they expose themselves, their erections bobbing in the dim light. Isa's eyes widen in horror, unable to look away from the display of male aggression and lust.

The thug's cock slams into Isa with a brutal force that steals the breath from her lungs. She screams into the gag, her eyes watering as she tries to comprehend the pain and violation. Her tight, untouched pussy stretches to accommodate his massive girth, the sensation a blend of agony and unwelcome pleasure that sends shockwaves through her body. The sound of skin slapping against skin fills the room as he fucks her without mercy, his hips slamming into her thick ass, leaving bruises that will surely last for days. The other thugs form a ring around them, jerking themselves off to the sight of the K-Pop star's degradation, their eyes glinting with malice as they wait for their turn.

As the second thug positions himself beneath her, his cock pressing against her unprepared anus, Isa's eyes widen with terror. She's never even considered such an act before, and the thought of it fills her with a visceral fear that's only heightened by the brutality of the rape she's already enduring. He doesn't bother with lubrication or gentleness, simply pushing his way into her with the same violent enthusiasm as his comrades. Isa's screams are muffled by the gag as she's stretched to the limits, her body a battleground for their twisted desires.

The sensation of being double-penetrated is unlike anything Isa has ever experienced. The pain is unbearable, a fiery invasion that seems to rip her apart from the inside out. She tries to squirm away, but the weight of the man beneath her keeps her in place, his hands gripping her hips as he thrusts up into her. The thug behind her shows no mercy, his thick cock pummeling her pussy without pause. Her body is a symphony of pain, each movement sending a new wave of agony crashing through her.

Isa's cries for help echo through the abandoned house, her body contorting in pain as she's mercilessly used by the two thugs. Her eyes are squeezed shut, and her cheeks are stained with tears as she rides the edge of the agony they inflict upon her. Her thick, curvy body is a canvas of their brutality, each thrust into her ass and pussy a testament to their depraved hunger. The sound of her cries mingles with the sickening wet slaps of their bodies coming together, the squelching of her ravaged holes as they're stretched beyond their limits.

"Look at her, taking it like a champ," the man beneath her says, his voice thick with lust. He grabs her ass, his fingers digging into the soft flesh as he fucks her harder, the head of his cock popping out of her asshole with every thrust before plunging back in. The other man, the one who had been watching, decides he can't wait any longer. He moves closer, stroking his cock in time with the rhythm of his friends' rape, his eyes never leaving Isa's tear-stained face.

The pain and degradation become too much for Isa, and her body finally gives out. Her vision swims, and she faints, her head lolling back as the thugs continue to pound into her, their grunts and the squelching of her ravaged holes the last things she hears before everything goes dark. Her muscles relax, no longer resisting the intrusion, and for a brief moment, she finds a small reprieve in unconsciousness.

But the thugs are not content to let her escape so easily. The leader notices her stillness and gives her a vicious slap across the face, bringing her back to the world of pain with a gasp. "Wake up, slut," he snarls, twisting her nipple to the point where she can feel it might snap off. "You're still far from done."

Isa's eyes fly open, the pain in her nipple a white-hot beacon of agony that cuts through the fog of her fading consciousness. The thug holding her by the hair yanks her upright, and she's forced to look at the man beneath her, his cock still buried in her ass, his face twisted in a grotesque mask of pleasure. "You like it rough, don't you?" he asks, his voice a sneer. "You're going to love what we have planned for you next."

The thug beneath Isa doesn't miss a beat, his hips continuing to piston upwards, his cock tearing into her ass without mercy. He's a man possessed, driven by his own twisted desires and the thrill of defiling a celebrity. The thug in front of her, his cock still buried deep in her pussy, starts to fuck her even harder, his movements punctuated by the cruel twists of her nipple. The pain is unbearable, but the fear of what they'll do if she doesn't stay conscious keeps her eyes open, her body tense.

"You're going to make a great little porn star," the leader says, holding up his phone to capture the scene. "Just think, your fans will get to see the real you." His words are like acid, burning into her soul as the thugs continue to ravage her body. Isa feels a strange mix of anger and humiliation, her mind racing as she tries to find a way out of this nightmare. But for now, she's trapped, a plaything for their sick games.

The third man steps closer, his cock bobbing with excitement. "My turn," he says, his voice guttural. He grabs her hair, yanking her head back so he can whisper in her ear. "You're going to suck me off, and you're going to love it." The taste of the duct tape is still in her mouth as he forces his cock between her lips, her gag muffling her gagging noises. He's not gentle, pushing his way into her throat until she chokes, her eyes watering and nose running with snot. The men laugh, the sound a symphony of cruelty that rings in her ears as she's used in ways she never imagined.

The camera's red light glares at her, a silent witness to her degradation. The thug filming zooms in on her face, capturing the tears streaming down her cheeks, the snot bubbling at her nose, the pain in her eyes. He moves it down to her gaping pussy and asshole, the juices of her rape mixing with the grime of the floor. "You're going to be famous, baby," he says, his voice a sadistic purr. "Everyone's going to see you like this." The thought of her fans watching this, of her family discovering her darkest secret, fills her with a despair so deep she thinks she might drown in it.

But Isa isn't one to go down without a fight. With a surge of strength she didn't know she had, she bucks her hips, trying to dislodge the cocks inside her. The men laugh, tightening their grips, but she doesn't stop. Her body is a whirlwind of pain and fear, but she refuses to let them have complete control over her. The thug filming moves closer, his cock pressing against her cheek. "Suck it," he says, his voice a demand. "You know you want too."

The thugs continue to abuse Isa's unconscious body, her muscles now limp and unresponsive. They take turns fucking her, their cocks sliding in and out of her gaping holes with ease. Her pussy and asshole are stretched to the maximum, the flesh around them raw and torn from their abuse. They laugh and jeer as they use her, their sadistic pleasure clear in every grunt and slap against her flesh. The one filming keeps a close watch, making sure to capture every moment of her degradation.

"Look at her, she's like a fucking ragdoll," one of the men says, pulling out of her pussy and smacking her cheek with his wet cock. "I bet she's never thought she will be fucked like this before." he added.

The thugs, sated by their depraved act, stand up, their cocks still dripping with Isa's blood and cum. They laugh among themselves, basking in the power they've exerted over her. The leader grabs a roll of rope from the corner of the room and approaches her limp form. They hoist her up, her body hanging lifelessly as they tie her wrists tightly to a metal bar that's bolted to the wall. The cold metal bites into her skin, leaving red welts that stand out starkly against her pale flesh. They bind her ankles as well, spreading her legs wide, her gaping holes still on display.

"Leave her like this," the leader says with a malicious smile. "It'll be a surprise when she wakes up."

The men chuckle as they pull on their clothes, their eyes lingering on Isa's bruised and bloodied body. They grab a few bottles of water from a dusty shelf, tossing them at her feet. "You're going to need these," one of them says, his voice filled with mock concern.

Isa slowly comes to, her head lolling to the side as she tries to make sense of her surroundings. The pain between her legs is a constant, pulsing throb, a stark reminder of the horror she's endured. She looks down at her bound wrists, the metal digging into her skin, and feels a wave of despair wash over her. She tries to scream, but her voice is gone, lost to the screams of the night before. All that comes out is a hoarse whisper that's barely audible even to her own ears.

Her eyes fall on the bottles of water, a cruel taunt in the face of her suffering. With trembling hands, she manages to untie the knots around her ankles, the rope scraping against her raw, bruised skin. Wincing, she uses the bar to pull herself up into a standing position, her legs threatening to give out beneath her. Every movement sends a fresh wave of agony through her body, but she refuses to succumb to it. Determined to survive, she hobbles over to the water, her legs shaking with effort.

The liquid is lukewarm and stale, but it's a gift from the gods as it hits her parched throat. She gulps down half the bottle, feeling a semblance of life return to her. Her eyes scan the room, searching for anything she can use to free herself. The metal bar digs into her wrists as she tries to pull herself together, the pain a stark reminder of her new reality. In the corner, she spots a rusty knife, discarded amidst the detritus of the abandoned house.

CHAPTER 3 : ANYTHING TO RELIEVE MY PAIN

The leader of the thugs saunters back into the room, a sadistic smile playing across his face as he watches Isa's futile attempts to free herself. He's followed by two of his laughing comrades, their eyes raking over her bruised and bloodied form with predatory interest. Isa tries to shrink away from them, but her bound body refuses to cooperate. The leader pulls a syringe filled with a murky liquid from his pocket and strides over to her, his cock already thickening at the sight of her fear.

"You're going to love this, sweetheart," he says, his voice a sinister purr as he approaches her. "It's going to make you feel so good, you'll be begging us to come back." He grabs her chin, forcing her to look at him. "You're going to be our little addict, aren't you?"

Isa's eyes widen with terror as she watches him prepare the syringe, her heart hammering in her chest. She tries to pull away, but the metal bar is unforgiving, holding her firmly in place. The needle pierces her skin, the cold liquid invading her body, and she feels a rush of warmth followed by a nauseating wave of dizziness. Her legs give out, and she slumps to the floor, the thug holding her up with a grip on her hair. The drug takes effect quickly, a euphoric haze clouding her mind, muting the pain and fear.

"Look at her, she's already a junkie," one of the other thugs says, laughing. "This is going to be so much fun."

The leader chuckles, stroking her cheek with the back of his hand. "You're going to be our little slut for as long as we want you," he whispers in her ear. The drug is already starting to make Isa feel woozy, her thoughts a tangled mess of fear and confusion. She tries to fight it, to cling to the last vestiges of her dignity, but the haze is too strong.

As Isa's eyes roll back in her head and she succumbs to the drug-induced faint, the thugs chuckle to themselves, their sadistic games successful. They leave her there, sprawled on the cold floor, her body a canvas of bruises and abuse. The abandoned house is silent once more, the only sound the distant echoes of their laughter. Days pass, and the drug takes a firmer hold on Isa's system, turning her into a desperate, addicted wreck. The withdrawal is a monster that gnaws at her bones, making her crave the very thing that has brought her to this state of despair. Her mind is foggy, and the pain between her legs is a constant, pulsing reminder of their brutality.

Isa, desperate and overwhelmed by the relentless craving for the drug, finds herself succumbing to the thugs' twisted demand. With the camera's red light blinking in the corner, she hesitates for a moment before sliding her trembling hand down her bruised body. She's lost count of the times she's been violated, the rapes and abuse leaving her feeling both physically and mentally shattered. Her fingers tentatively trace her swollen pussy lips, the sensation sending a jolt through her despite the pain. The drug has turned her into a sexual creature, her body now a tool for their perverse entertainment.

The thugs circle around her, their cocks hardening at the sight of her submission. They jeer and leer, urging her on with crude comments and lewd gestures. One of them grabs her chin, forcing her to look into the camera. "Smile for the camera, slut," he sneers, his breath hot and rancid against her cheek. Isa's eyes are vacant, glazed over with the need for the drug that will dull the agony of withdrawal. She whimpers, her hand moving faster, her thumb brushing against her clit, trying to coax out the release she so desperately craves.

The leader steps closer, his hand stroking his own cock as he watches Isa's pitiful performance. "That's a good girl," he murmurs, his voice thick with lust. "Now, spread those legs wider for us." The pain in her thighs and ass is unbearable, but she complies, her body now a tool for their depraved amusement. The camera zooms in on her, capturing the raw desperation in her eyes, the tears that roll down her cheeks. The men cheer, their excitement palpable as they watch her degrade herself for a fleeting moment of relief.

Isa's hand moves faster, her fingers slipping in and out of her wet pussy, the sound of her masturbation echoing through the room. The drug has heightened her sensitivity, and even the slightest touch feels like a bolt of lightning. Her body responds despite her mind's protests, her hips bucking involuntarily as she tries to get herself off. The thug holding the camera leans in closer, his breath hot on her neck. "You're going to be the best little slut we've ever had," he whispers, his hand reaching out to tweak her nipple, sending a fresh wave of pain through her.

The leader watches with a cruel smile, stroking his own cock as he decides how far to push her. "Keep going," he says, his voice a command. "I want to see you cum for us." The other two thugs sit back, watching the show with eager eyes. They've grown bored of the usual rape and pain, the novelty of her masturbation a new form of entertainment. They make lewd comments, egging her on as she fucks herself for them.

With trembling hands, Isa takes the massive dildos from the leader's outstretched hand. They're much larger than anything she's ever seen before, let alone had inside her. Her eyes fill with fear and revulsion, but the desperate craving for the drug overpowers her. She knows what will happen if she refuses, the memory of the withdrawal agony fresh in her mind. With a deep, shuddering breath, she slowly inserts one of the dildos into her already abused pussy, the thickness stretching her beyond what she thought possible. She bites back a scream, her teeth sinking into her lower lip until she tastes blood. The other dildo is cold and unwieldy in her hand, but she knows what's expected. She reluctantly brings it closer to her asshole, the memory of their violent rape making her shiver.

The thugs leer at her, their cocks fully erect and bobbing with anticipation. The leader's hand is still wrapped around his shaft, stroking it with a leisurely pace. "Go on," he urges, his eyes gleaming with excitement. "You know what to do."

With a whimper, Isa braces herself and pushes the second dildo into her asshole, the thick head popping in with a wet sound. She can feel the cold plastic filling her up, the sensation both terrifying and oddly comforting in the face of the pain she's come to expect. She starts to rock back and forth, the dildos moving in tandem, filling her completely. The thugs cheer, their eyes glued to her stretched, gaping holes. The pain is intense, but she's learned to separate her mind from her body, focusing instead on the task at hand.

The leader steps closer, his cock now fully erect and pointing at her like an accusatory finger. "You like that, don't you?" he sneers, his hand reaching out to tweak her clit. The sudden contact sends a jolt of pain through her, and she gasps, her eyes squeezing shut. "Look at us," he commands, his grip on her chin brutal. "Look at us while you fuck yourself."

Isa's eyes fly open, and she looks into the camera, the dildos moving in and out of her in a macabre dance. The pain is unbearable, but she knows she has to keep going. She starts to rub her clit with frenzied strokes, her eyes never leaving the camera. The thugs cheer her on, their excitement feeding the darkness inside her. Her orgasm is a strange, twisted thing, born from pain and fear. Her body convulses around the dildos, her muscles clenching and releasing in a desperate bid for relief. She cums hard, the sensation a blend of agony and pleasure that makes her scream, her voice raw from days of abuse.

"Good girl," the leader says, his voice dripping with satisfaction. He steps closer, his cock now fully engorged. "Now, you're going to take us all again." The other thugs chuckle, eager for their turn. They unbind her from the chair, her limbs trembling from the effort of holding herself up for so long. The withdrawal pains are starting to creep back in, a persistent reminder of her dependence on them. They push her onto her hands and knees, her plump ass in the air, the dildos still lodged inside her. The leader steps up behind her, his cock nudging against her bruised asshole. She feels a fresh wave of terror, knowing what's coming next.

"Please," she whispers, her voice barely audible. "Please, no more. It's hurt so much."

CHAPTER 4 : THE TWO FACED CEO's

The leader's cock slams into Isa's ass, the thick dildo still lodged in her pussy. She feels like she's being split in two, the pain so intense she can't help but cry out. The thugs laugh and jeer, their excitement building as they watch the K-Pop star degrade herself for their amusement. The camera captures every moment of her anguish, the video feed streaming to the eager eyes of the old VVIPs on the dark web.

"Look at her, she's loving it," one of the thugs says, slapping her ass as the leader pumps into her. The CEOs of the K-Pop companies watch, their own hands working their cocks as they revel in her degradation. The thought of them watching, getting off to her pain, adds a new layer of horror to the situation.

Isa's body shakes with each brutal thrust, the dildo in her pussy slamming against her cervix with every thrust. The pain is unbearable, but she's learned to find a twisted sense of control in the chaos. If she can just endure this, if she can just make it through another round, then maybe, just maybe, she can find a way out of this hell. But the drug's grip is strong, and with each passing day, she feels herself slipping further and further away from reality.

"She's going to be a star," one of the thugs says, slapping her ass again. "The old fucks are going to pay a fortune for a piece of her."

Isa bites her lip to stifle her scream, but she opens them again, focusing on the camera as if it's a lifeline. The other two thugs move in, one holding her head still, forcing her to watch as they take turns with her.

The thugs, their excitement reaching a crescendo, pull Isa's limp body away from the metal chair. Her legs give out, unable to support her after the hours of abuse, but they catch her, their grips bruising her skin even more. They strip the dildos from her ravaged holes, tossing them aside with a wet slap. The leader steps back, zipping up his pants with a smirk. "Let's get you ready for your next performance," he says, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

The thugs, having struck a deal with the VVIPs on the dark web, begin to prepare Isa for her next ordeal. They strip her of any remaining dignity, cleaning her up as best as they can without showing any semblance of care for her wellbeing. Her body is a canvas of bruises and abrasions, a stark testament to the horrors she's endured. They tie her up in a new, more elaborate position, her thick thighs and curvy ass displayed prominently for the perverted gazes of their wealthy patrons. The anticipation of what's to come fills her with dread, but she's too broken to fight anymore.

"You're going to make us so much money, little slut," one of the thugs says, running his hands over her body, his fingers lingering on the swollen mounds of her breasts. "These old fucks are going to line up for a taste of you."

Isa's heart races with fear as she's hoisted back onto the chair, the ropes biting into her skin as they secure her in place. The knowledge that she's being sold to these high-profile perverts is almost too much to bear. She tries to keep her breathing steady, but her chest heaves with the effort of not breaking down completely.

Isa numbly stares at the array of skimpy, revealing clothes laid out before her. The thugs had brought in a selection of outfits that would make any self-respecting woman cringe - garments that screamed "slut" and "whore" with every thread. Her mind races with the thought of what fresh hell awaits her, but she knows that resisting is futile. With trembling hands, she picks out the least offensive of the bunch, a tiny bikini top made of nothing but a few strategically placed strips of shiny fabric and a pair of booty shorts that barely cover her ass cheeks.

The thugs watch with hungry eyes as she peels off the tattered remnants of her original outfit, her body on full display. They make lewd comments and whistle, their excitement palpable. One of them hands her a roll of duct tape. "Here, use this to keep those nipples hidden," he sneers, a hint of a smirk playing on his lips. Isa's cheeks burn with humiliation as she takes the tape, her eyes downcast. She carefully tapes her nipples, trying to maintain a semblance of modesty despite the futility of the gesture.

The thugs exchange glances, their grins widening as they watch her struggle to put on the flimsy bikini top. The fabric clings to her bruised and swollen breasts, the tape barely containing them. Her stomach churns at the thought of what the CEOs will do to her, but she forces herself to stand, the shorts barely hugging her thick thighs. They laugh as she wobbles, her legs still weak from the days of abuse. The leader steps forward, his gaze raking over her. "You clean up nicely," he says, his voice a sneer. "Now, let's get you ready for your clients."

Isa, dressed in the skimpy stripper-like attire, is led out of the abandoned house, the thugs' hands rough on her arms as they guide her through the dark streets. The cold air hits her bare skin, sending goosebumps rushing over her body, a stark contrast to the warm, stifling air inside. They throw her into the back of a van, the metal floor cold and unforgiving against her bruised knees. The vehicle lurches forward, the bumps in the road jostling her in her seat, the dull ache between her legs a constant reminder of her situation.

The drive seems to last an eternity, the only sounds the grumbling of the engine and the occasional lewd comment from the thugs up front. The van eventually stops, and Isa is pulled out into the dimly lit parking lot of what looks like an exclusive club. The thugs lead her through a back entrance, the heavy door slamming shut behind them, sealing her fate. The music thumps through the walls, the bass vibrating in her chest as they ascend a staircase to a private room. The anticipation of what's to come is suffocating, her heart racing in her chest.

The door to the room opens, revealing a dimly lit space filled with the thick scent of cigar smoke and the low murmur of male voices. The CEOs are seated around a large, circular table, their eyes lighting up at the sight of Isa. They're all dressed in expensive suits, their faces a mix of excitement and greed. The leader of the thugs shoves her into the center of the room, where she stands awkwardly, her legs trembling. "Gentlemen," he says, with a flourish of his hand. "Your entertainment for the evening is finally here."

Isa, trembling with fear and humiliation, steps into the center of the dimly lit, smoke-filled room. The old men's eyes are glued to her, their gazes greedy and predatory. She knows she has to go through with the dance, hoping it'll buy her time or at least some form of mercy. She takes a deep, shaky breath and starts to sway her hips, trying to remember the choreographed routines she's done countless times on stage. The music begins, a slow, sensual beat that seems to mock the horror of her situation. She moves her body in time with the rhythm, her bruises and sores screaming with each twirl and gyration.

The CEOs lean back in their chairs, smoking cigars and sipping on expensive whiskey, their eyes never leaving her. They murmur to each other, placing bets on how long she'll last before breaking down. Isa tries to ignore them, focusing instead on the task at hand. The shorts ride up, exposing more of her thick thighs and the upper swells of her plump ass, making the men's eyes bulge with lust. She reaches behind her, her hand slipping into her shorts to caress her ass cheek, eliciting a chorus of lewd cheers. Her movements are forced, the dance a twisted parody of the ones she's performed for her fans, but she's determined to maintain some semblance of control.

One of the CEOs, Mr. Kim saunters over to the stereo and cranks up the volume, the bass thumping louder, the beat faster. "Alright, slut, don't waste our time anymore" he says, his voice thick with excitement. "Now, you're going to strip for us, nice and slow." The room goes quiet, the CEOs leaning in, their anticipation palpable. Isa feels their eyes on her, the weight of their lust and greed a heavy burden. With trembling hands, she reaches behind her neck, her fingers fumbling with the strings of the bikini top. It's a struggle, her coordination impaired by fear and pain, but she finally manages to untie it. The top falls away, revealing her bruised and taped-covered breasts, the fabric clinging to her skin.

The CEOs let out a collective groan, their eyes glued to her chest. Isa can see their cocks straining against their pants, their faces flushing with desire. She takes a deep breath, trying to steady her trembling legs, and continues to dance. Her movements become more erratic as she fumbles with the strings of her shorts, the pressure building with each passing second. Finally, the shorts fall to the floor, pooling around her ankles, leaving only a g-string covering her pussy.

The thugs cheer, egging her on, while the CEOs lean back in their chairs, stroking their cocks through their pants. "Keep going," said Mr Han, his voice thick with lust. "Show us what you've got, what you hide underneath your idol stage outfits."

Isa's hands shake as she reaches for the strings of her g-string. The room seems to spin around her, the strobe lights flashing in time with her racing heartbeat. She pulls the string, the fabric slipping down her hips, revealing her plump, abused pussy to their eager gazes. The CEOs lean in closer, their breathing labored, their hunger for her degradation insatiable. She's never felt so exposed, so vulnerable. But she knows that she has to endure this. For the drug. For the hope of escape.

As Isa continues her erotic dance, her thick thighs jiggle with every move she makes. The CEOs' eyes are glued to her, their lust-filled gazes burning into her very soul. The room's temperature seems to rise, the heat of their desire melding with the smoke from their cigars. She starts to twerks, her plump ass bouncing to the beat of the music, the cheers and catcalls from the men spurring her on despite her fear. The leader of the thugs circles her, filming every move with a grin on his face, knowing the kind of money this footage will bring in. The sound of their zippers echoes through the room as the CEOs free their cocks, stroking themselves in time with her dance.

Mr. Han, a particularly portly man with a greasy combover, stands up and waddles closer to her. He grabs her by the hips, forcing her to grind against him. Isa tries to pull away, but he's too strong, his grip bruising her tender flesh. He whispers lewd things into her ear, his hot breath reeking of alcohol and cigars. Isa feels his cock, thick and hard, pressing against her stomach, and she can't help but gag. But she keeps dancing, her body moving on autopilot, her mind desperately searching for a way out of this nightmare.

Mr. Han's patience snaps, his lust overtaking his sense of decorum. He stands with a grunt, his grip on Isa's hips tightening. With a grin that's more a snarl, he hoists her into the air, the muscles in his arms bulging with the effort. Isa squeals in fear and surprise, her legs kicking wildly as she's held aloft. The room goes quiet, the other CEOs watching with rapt attention, their cocks in their hands, stroking in time with the music.

He slams Isa onto the table, the impact knocking the wind out of her. Her bruised body bounces slightly with the force, her taped-covered breasts jiggling from the impact. The table creaks under her weight, the surface sticky with the residue of previous debauchery. The thugs laugh, watching as she tries to push herself up, only for Mr. Han to slap her down, his hand leaving a red mark on her cheek. Her thick thighs spread wide, her pussy glistening with a mix of her own arousal and their previous abuse.

"Hold her down," he barks, his eyes wild with lust. The thugs move in, each grabbing an arm and a leg, spreading her out like a ragdoll for the CEOs' amusement. Mr. Han with the combover licks his lips, his hands fumbling with his belt buckle. "You're going to take us all, by turns" he says, his voice a low growl. "You're going to scream for us, and we're going to fuck you until you can't walk."

Isa's heart races as the Mr. Han unzips his pants, revealing a cock that's both terrifying and repulsive in its size. She tries to struggle, to fight, but the thugs' grip is too strong. The other CEOs crowd around the table, their eyes gleaming with excitement. One of them, a man with a cruel smile and a glint in his eye, reaches into his pocket and pulls out a marker pen. He starts to write on her body, his hand moving with a disturbing level of precision, leaving behind crude words that sting almost as much as the physical abuse. "Thigh Slut," he scrawls on her thigh, his breath hot against her skin. "Cheap Whore," on her stomach and "Bitch Korean Idol," on her ass cheeks. The others laugh, their hands reaching out to touch and grope her.

Mr. Han with the combover steps closer, his erection bobbing in the air. He grabs her face, turning it toward him, forcing her to look into his eyes. "You're going to scream for me," he says, his voice a mix of excitement and malice. "You're going to beg for it." He lines up his cock with her pussy, the head nudging against her swollen entrance. Isa's eyes widen with horror as she feels him push inside, the pain making her back arch off the table. She lets out a guttural scream, the sound echoing through the room.

Mr. Han grunts with satisfaction, his cock disappearing into her wetness. He starts to pound into her, his belly slapping against her bruised flesh. The thugs hold her down, their grips tightening as she bucks and struggles beneath them. The other CEOs lean in, their faces a mix of fascination and depravity as they watch the scene unfold. Mr. Kim then reaches down and slaps her ass, leaving a red handprint on her pale skin. "Take it, you little slut," he says, his voice gleeful. Isa's eyes fill with tears as she's used like a ragdoll, her body a plaything for their twisted desires.

"My turn," another CEO says, his voice a wheeze as he steps forward. The thug holding her leg releases it, and the old man takes his place, his cock already out and dripping with precum. He lines up behind her, his breath hot and sour in her ear. "You're going to take us all," he whispers, his hand reaching around to fondle her breasts. Isa tries to scream, but it's muffled by the gag that's been shoved into her mouth, the fabric biting into her tender flesh. She feels him push into her ass, the pain so intense she thinks she'll pass out. But she doesn't. She's too aware of what's happening, too present in the horror of her reality.

Mr. Han with the combover doesn't bother to hold back, his thrusts violent and erratic. He's not trying to pleasure her, just to satisfy his own twisted desires. Isa feels her insides stretch to the breaking point, the pain unlike anything she's ever felt. Mr. Han laughs, his hands squeezing her tits, his nails digging into her skin. The room spins around her, the faces of the old men a blur of lust and cruelty. They take turns, each one more brutal than the last, her cries muffled by the gag, her body a canvas for their depravity. They write on her, take photos, and even film their sick acts, sharing them with each other like trophies.

Isa feels herself slipping away, the pain and humiliation too much to bear. Her eyes glaze over, and she goes limp, the only indication of her consciousness the occasional whimper that escapes her gag. The CEOs don't seem to notice or care, passing her around the table like a toy to be used and discarded. The leader of the thugs, his eyes gleaming with greed, records everything, knowing the more degrading the content, the higher the price it'll fetch. Her mind drifts to the music she used to dance to, the lights, the fans' adoration. It feels like a lifetime ago, a world she'll never see again.

The CEOs take turns, their age not dampening their voracious appetites. Each one leaves his mark on her body, a grim testament to their power and control. The pain is constant, a never-ending crescendo that threatens to consume her. Her body is a battleground, her soul screaming for mercy. The room is a blur of movement and noise, the thud of flesh on flesh, the grunts of the CEOs, and the muffled sounds of her own pain. She feels a strange mix of anger and resignation, knowing that she's nothing but a commodity to them.

As the last of the CEOs pulls out, his cock slick with Isa's blood and tears, he grabs her by the hair and yanks her head back, forcing her to look at the group. "One last thing," he says with a sadistic smile. His cock still semi-hard, and starts to urinate on her. The warm stream of piss hits her face, mixing with her salty tears and running down her cheeks. She tries to turn away, but his grip is too strong. The other CEOs laugh, some of them standing up to get a better view, their own cocks still hard from the spectacle.

The CEOs, sated from their vile act, stand around the table, their cocks still out and glistening. They look at each other with a mix of disbelief and excitement, the reality of their depravity setting in. Mr.Kim nods, a grin spreading across his face. "Alright, let's not waste any more time," he says, his voice a mix of excitement and greed. "Line up." The other CEOs eagerly queue up, their urine flowing freely as they wait for their turn to add to Isa's degradation. The first CEO's stream of piss cascades down her face, mixing with her mascara and eyeliner, creating dark rivers that run down her neck and pool in the hollows of her collarbones.

Isa's body feels heavy and numb, the pain from their abuse and the humiliation of their bodily fluids on her a new level of hell. Each man takes his turn, their urine spattering her body, soaking her hair, and pooling around her on the table. The cold liquid runs down her back and into the cracks of her ass, making her shiver. Mr. Park, the CEO with the marker steps forward, his cock still semi-hard, and with a sadistic smirk, he writes another word across her forehead, "Public Property." The thugs laugh, their grip on her arms and legs never loosening.

As Isa feels the last drops of their urine hit her skin, she can't hold back the flood of emotions anymore. She starts to cry uncontrollably, her body shaking with sobs. The CEOs laugh and jeer, their amusement only growing at the sight of their property sobbing like a pathetic animal. The thugs, bored with the show, release her limbs, allowing her to collapse onto the table, her body sticky with their piss and sweat.

The leader of the thugs steps forward, his grin fading to a look of business-like indifference. "Alright, that's enough fun for now," he says, snapping his fingers. "Clean her up. We've got more...clients." The thugs begin to drag her off the table, her limbs limp and useless. One of them grabs a bucket and a sponge, tossing it in her direction. "Get to work, slut," he sneers. "You've got another show to put on."

THE END

[aspenmissing]

Heyyy, I just wanted to say that I really enjoy your writing!!! Also, I would love to see the way you write the arcane characters x chubby reader if it's possible? (Sorry if you have already done something like this) 💗

ʙᴜɪʟᴛ ꜰᴏʀ ᴡᴏʀꜱʜɪᴘ

ᴊᴀʏᴄᴇ | ᴠɪᴋᴛᴏʀ | ᴊᴀʏᴠɪᴋ | ᴠᴀɴᴅᴇʀ | ꜱɪʟᴄᴏ | ᴄʟᴀɢɢᴏʀ || ꜰʟᴜꜰꜰ || 4183 ᴡᴏʀᴅꜱ || ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: ꜱᴇʟꜰ-ᴄᴏɴꜱᴄɪᴏᴜꜱ, ᴛᴀʟᴋ ᴅᴏᴡɴ ᴛᴏ ᴏɴᴇꜱᴇʟꜰ, ʟɪɢʜᴛ ɪɴꜱᴜʟᴛ (ꜱɪʟᴄᴏ'ꜱ ᴘᴀʀᴛ), ꜱʟɪɢʜᴛʟʏ ꜱᴜɢɢᴇꜱᴛɪᴠᴇ/ɴᴜᴅɪᴛʏ (ᴊᴀʏᴠɪᴋ'ꜱ ᴘᴀʀᴛ)

ʀᴇQᴜᴇꜱᴛ ᴀɴꜱᴡᴇʀ: ɪ ᴡᴀꜱ ᴀᴄᴛᴜᴀʟʟʏ ᴛʜɪɴᴋɪɴɢ ᴀʙᴏᴜᴛ ᴅᴏɪɴɢ ᴏɴᴇ ʟɪᴋᴇ ᴛʜɪꜱ, ꜱᴏ ʏᴏᴜ ʀᴇᴀᴅ ᴍʏ ᴍɪɴᴅ! ɪ ᴀᴅᴏʀᴇ ᴛʜᴇ ɪᴅᴇᴀ ᴏꜰ ᴛʜᴇꜱᴇ ʙᴜꜰꜰ, ʟᴇᴀɴ ᴍᴇɴ ʜᴀᴠɪɴɢ ᴀ ᴄʜᴜʙʙʏ ꜱ/ᴏ, ᴀɴᴅ ɪ ᴊᴜꜱᴛ ᴋɴᴏᴡ ᴛʜᴇʏ ᴡᴏᴜʟᴅ ᴀᴅᴏʀᴇ ᴛʜᴇ ꜱʜɪᴛ ᴏᴜᴛ ᴏꜰ ᴛʜᴇᴍ. <3 <3

ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ | ᴊᴀʏᴄᴇ | ᴠɪᴋᴛᴏʀ | ᴠᴀɴᴅᴇʀ | ꜱɪʟᴄᴏ | ᴄʟᴀɢɢᴏʀ

JAYCE

Jayce had always been drawn to beauty. The sleekness of Hextech, the gleam of polished metal, the refined architecture of Piltover. But none of it, none of it, compared to you.

You, with your curves that seemed sculpted by the gods themselves, draped in fabric that hugged every soft dip and roll of your body. You had never been one to hide, never been one to shrink yourself down to fit into someone else’s mould. You knew exactly who you were, and you owned it.

And Jayce? Jayce adored it.

He watched from across the room as you adjusted your corset, pushing up your ample chest with a satisfied smirk. The deep burgundy fabric accentuated every inch of you, cinched at the waist, only to flare out around your full hips. You turned slightly, catching him staring in the mirror, and let out a teasing hum.

"Like what you see, Talis?"

Jayce set down the schematics he was pretending to study and leaned against his desk, arms crossed, but his eyes never left you. "You know I do. How could I not when you look like that?"

You sauntered over, hips swaying, reveling in the way his gaze darkened, how he practically devoured you without laying a single hand on you yet. Stopping in front of him, you placed a hand on his chest and tilted your chin up, an eyebrow raised.

"You should say it, you know," you teased. "A man of your intellect should be able to articulate what he wants."

Jayce let out a breathy chuckle, his hands finally finding your waist, his fingers pressing into the plush softness there. He had always been strong, always been powerful, but when it came to you? He was completely at your mercy.

"I want you," he murmured, pulling you flush against him. "I love all of you."

You grinned, satisfied, running your hands up his broad shoulders. "Damn right you do."

Jayce kissed you then, slow and deep, pouring every ounce of devotion into the press of his lips against yours. His hands roamed greedily, tracing every curve, every soft plane, revelling in the warmth of you beneath his fingertips. He didn’t just love you—he worshipped you.

His lips moved from yours, trailing down your jawline, along the sensitive skin of your neck, drawing a soft sigh from you. "You drive me insane, you know that?" he murmured against your skin, his breath warm and teasing.

You laughed, fingers tangling in his dark hair, tugging just enough to make him groan. "I know. That’s half the fun."

His grip on your waist tightened as he lifted you effortlessly, setting you down on his desk amidst scattered blueprints and tools. His hands slid along your thighs, his thumbs brushing teasingly over the tops of your stockings. "And what about you?" he asked, his voice husky. "Do you know what you do to me?"

Your legs wrapped around his hips, pulling him closer. "Oh, I have an idea," you purred. "But I’d love a demonstration."

Jayce let out a deep, satisfied chuckle before capturing your lips again, his hands roaming, exploring, savouring every inch of you. He wanted to make sure you felt just how much he adored you, how much he needed you. Every curve, every soft plane—everything about you drove him to the brink of madness.

And he had no intention of stopping.

VIKTOR

The hum of Piltover’s night buzzed softly beyond the lab’s windows, but inside, all was still. The only illumination came from the dim glow of Hextech crystals, their soft light casting a golden hue over Viktor’s form as he lounged on the small couch in his lab. He looked comfortable—one arm stretched over the back, the other resting against his chest, his ever-present cane propped against the side of the couch. His golden eyes gleamed with warmth as they traced over you, standing hesitantly by his side.

“Come,” he murmured, patting his chest invitingly. “Lay with me, moje láska.” (My Love)

Your heart clenched at the tenderness in his voice, but the moment you considered it, a flicker of hesitation crept in. You weren’t small, and Viktor—Viktor was delicate in ways you didn’t like to dwell on. His body bore the weight of his work, of years of overexertion and the creeping grasp of his illness. You didn’t want to risk making it worse.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” you admitted, arms crossing over your stomach instinctively. “I’m—”

“Soft?” Viktor finished for you, a teasing lilt to his voice. “Warm? Everything I could possibly want pressing into me?” He tilted his head, watching you with an expression you knew well—the one that told you he was about to be stubborn.

You scoffed, but your pulse quickened when he suddenly reached for you, strong fingers curling around your wrist. Before you could protest, he pulled, not with force, but with conviction, guiding you until you were straddling his lap. His hands settled at your hips, grounding you.

You froze. “Viktor—”

“Shh,” he soothed, slipping a hand up your back, pressing you down against him. “You will not break me, my love. I want you here.”

Your breath caught as his warmth seeped into you, his body firm beneath you despite his slender frame. His heartbeat thrummed steadily under your ear, and for a moment, all the worries melted away. His fingers traced absentminded patterns over your back, slow and tender, as if memorizing every curve of you.

"Perfect," he murmured, his voice thick with sleepiness and something deeper—something reverent. "I have dreamed of this. Of you, against me, without restraint."

You swallowed the lump in your throat. “I just—sometimes I worry that I’m too much.”

Viktor huffed a laugh, pressing a kiss to your hairline. “můj drahý, if you are too much, then let me be crushed beneath your love. It is the only weight I wish to bear.” (My Dear)

His words wrapped around your heart like silk, warm and unyielding. You let yourself exhale, sinking further into his embrace. Viktor hummed in approval, his hands smoothing over your back as though reassuring himself that you were finally giving in.

“See?” he whispered. “Not so bad, is it?”

You nuzzled into his shoulder, pressing a soft kiss against the junction of his neck and collarbone. “You’re warm,” you admitted.

Viktor chuckled, the sound deep and content. “I should hope so. You are quite the blanket.”

You groaned against his skin, giving his side a playful squeeze, and he laughed again—a real, genuine laugh, the kind that made your chest ache with love.

=

For a long moment, you simply lay there, tangled together. Viktor’s breathing was steady, a slow rise and fall beneath you, his hand trailing idly over your back. You felt the occasional twitch in his leg, the remnants of strain from a long day, but he never complained. If anything, he held you tighter, as though afraid you might slip away.

“You should rest,” you murmured after a while, shifting just enough to brush your fingers through his hair. It was soft, tousled from hours spent hunched over his workbench, and the urge to card through it further was impossible to resist.

Viktor hummed, tipping his head slightly into your touch. “I will. But only if you stay right here.”

Your lips curved into a small smile. “I think I can manage that.”

He smirked, but there was something softer beneath it. “Good,” he murmured, brushing a thumb over your cheek. “Because I do not plan to let you go.”

His voice had that low, certain weight to it, the kind that made your breath catch.

Viktor was many things—brilliant, stubborn, a man forever chasing the next great discovery—but above all, he was yours. And no matter how many doubts clouded your mind, no matter how often you worried about being too much, he always pulled you back to him.

Always.

You shifted slightly, just enough to press a lingering kiss to his jaw before settling against him once more. His arms wrapped around you with ease, and as the glow of the Hextech crystals flickered gently in the dim light, you felt it.

The quiet gravity of him. Of this. Of home.

JAYVIK

The door creaked open as Viktor and Jayce stepped into their shared room, voices low as they discussed the day’s work. The scent of metal and oil clung to them, remnants of long hours in the lab. They hadn’t expected to find Y/N standing before the full-length mirror, clad only in her underwear, fingers pinching harshly at the soft skin of her stomach.

Viktor stopped mid-step, his cane pressing into the floor. Jayce’s brows furrowed, his expression softening as he took in the scene. Y/N didn’t seem to notice them yet, lost in her own harsh assessment, a scowl pulling at her lips. The dim light cast shadows on her frame, accentuating every dip and curve she scrutinized so cruelly.

“What are you doing, darling?” Viktor’s voice was gentle but firm, enough to break her from her trance.

Y/N startled, arms moving instinctively to cover herself. “I—nothing. It’s nothing.”

Jayce sighed, stepping closer, his large hands reaching for hers. “That doesn’t look like nothing,” he said, guiding her arms away with deliberate care. He traced his fingers over the soft pouch of her stomach, his touch warm and grounding. “You know, this?” He pressed a kiss just above her navel. “This is where your body keeps you safe, keeps you healthy.”

Viktor moved to her side, his cane resting against the dresser as he cupped her cheek. “Did you know that this,” he murmured, his fingers skimming over the plush skin at her waist, “is a sign of warmth? Your body holds onto softness because it knows you deserve it.” He leaned in, lips brushing over the side of her stomach, reverent and slow.

Jayce’s fingers traced down her thighs, his lips following suit. “And these?” He murmured against the soft flesh. “These are strength. They carry you, support you, and they are beautiful.” He pressed a kiss against the plush skin, appreciating the warmth beneath his lips. “Soft, strong, and perfect.”

Viktor’s hands ghosted over her upper arms, his thumb rubbing circles over them. “These arms have held us, comforted us,” he said softly. “How could you think anything less of them?” He kissed her shoulder, letting his lips linger before whispering, “They are a gift.”

Jayce chuckled, tilting her chin up so he could brush his lips against the underside. “And this,” he murmured, pressing another kiss, “is just another part of you to love. It’s soft, and every time I see it, I think of how beautiful you are.”

Viktor’s lips curled into a soft smile as he kissed along her collarbone, then lower. His fingers traced the plush swell of her breasts, admiration shining in his eyes. “And these,” he breathed, voice laced with affection, “are perfect. They make the best pillows.” His lips brushed over them gently, reverently. “Soft, warm, and made to be cherished.”

Y/N swallowed hard, her earlier self-criticism wavering in the face of their tenderness. “I just…” she exhaled shakily. “I don’t always feel good about it.”

Jayce hummed, kneeling before her, his hands splaying over her hips. “Then let us remind you.” He pressed another kiss, this time to the inside of her thigh, his touch radiating nothing but admiration.

Viktor’s lips curled into a soft smile as he kissed along her shoulder. “We see every part of you, and we adore it. Every curve, every mark—” he kissed the soft skin of her upper arm, “—every inch of you is worthy of love.”

Y/N’s breath hitched, overwhelmed by the weight of their affection. Her self-doubt still lingered, but in this moment, with their hands and lips mapping her body with care, it was easier to believe that maybe—just maybe—they were right.

VANDER

The Last Drop had quieted for the night, its usual hum of raucous voices and the clink of glass replaced by the low crackling of the hearth. Vander leaned against the bar, his watchful gaze softening as he took in the sight before him.

There you were, curled up on the worn-out couch near the fire, with Vi and Powder nestled against you, their small forms tucked against your warmth. Mylo lay sprawled across your lap, his head resting on your plush thigh, while Claggor had somehow claimed a spot by your hip, one arm slung across your waist like a lifeline.

He huffed a quiet chuckle, shaking his head. They adored you—each of them, drawn to your kindness, your warmth, your presence.

Hell, how could they not?

You were the heart of this ragtag family, and Vander knew, deep in his bones, he was the luckiest bastard alive to have you.

"Think ya got enough room there, love?" he teased, approaching with that familiar smirk playing at his lips.

Your sleepy eyes met his, a smile tugging at the corner of your mouth. "Mmm, there's always room for you," you murmured, voice thick with drowsiness.

His heart damn near melted.

Crouching beside you, he reached out, his large, calloused hand running over the curve of your hip, giving it a firm, appreciative squeeze.

"That so?" he murmured, voice low, eyes glinting with something more.

Vi stirred, grumbling against your shoulder. "Ugh, get a room, you two…"

You laughed softly, fingers threading through Powder’s messy blue hair. "Shhh, just sleep, sweetheart."

Vander only grinned. "Girl’s got a point, though." His hand trailed lower, fingers ghosting over your thigh before he realized—his damn spot was taken.

Mylo, the little brat, was already sprawled across your lap, his head buried against the plush of your thigh like he had every right in the world to it.

Vander let out a deep sigh, shaking his head with a smirk as he lowered himself to the floor beside you. "Guess I’m gettin’ bumped to second place now, huh?"

You hummed, amused. "You saying you'd fight a kid for my thigh?"

His rough chuckle rumbled through his chest as he leaned in, resting his head just beside your other thigh, where your warmth radiated like a comforting embrace. "Depends. Think I got a chance?"

You carded your fingers through his thick hair, nails scratching lightly against his scalp. Vander sighed, completely boneless beneath your touch, his hand slipping up to squeeze at your hip, thumb tracing lazy circles against the soft flesh.

"Dunno how ya do it," he muttered, voice thick with something deep, something reverent. "Holdin’ all of us together like this."

You smiled, tilting your head down to press a soft kiss to his forehead. "Because I love you. All of you."

His grip on your hip tightened, just for a moment. "Yeah, love?" His voice was husky, filled with something raw. "Lucky me, then."

And with that, sleep claimed him, wrapped in your warmth, in your love, in the family you’d built together.

=

Morning came with the usual chaos—Vi trying to fight Mylo over breakfast, Powder accidentally knocking over a mug, Claggor just trying to keep the peace.

You were at the stove, flipping eggs onto plates, the rich scent of a hearty meal filling the room. A pot simmered nearby, steam curling up in lazy wisps. With a sigh, you crouched down to grab a skillet from the lower cabinet, shifting aside a few mismatched lids in the process.

And then—smack.

A sharp but playful sting echoed through the kitchen. You jolted, head nearly knocking against the counter as you whipped around with a glare. Vander stood there, utterly unapologetic, his arms crossed over his broad chest, a smirk tugging at his lips.

"Vander," you hissed, eyes narrowing.

"Morning, love," he rumbled, entirely too amused.

Your glare wavered when he leaned in, his calloused hands settling at your waist, fingers kneading into the plush curves with slow, familiar ease. His breath brushed your ear, warm and teasing. "Couldn't resist," he murmured, pressing a lazy kiss to your temple.

You huffed, fighting the warmth creeping up your neck. "You're impossible."

"Ya love it."

Before you could retort, Powder piped up from the table, "Y/N! Vi’s stealing Mylo’s toast again!"

You sighed, slipping out of Vander’s grasp as you turned back to the chaos of breakfast. "Vi, knock it off!"

Vander chuckled, watching you go with a look of pure devotion before finally joining the kids at the table—like he hadn’t just been caught red-handed.

Yeah. This was home.

SILCO

The Last Drop hummed with low chatter, the heavy bass of the music pulsing through the floor like a heartbeat. Smoke curled in lazy tendrils above the tables, the air thick with liquor and sin. But in your secluded corner—reserved only for you and Silco—the world felt quieter.

Silco’s hand rested possessively on your thigh, the leather of his glove warm against your skin. He was always touching you, always anchoring you to him in some way. A silent declaration. A warning.

You lifted your glass to your lips, savoring the burn of the whiskey. Across from you, Silco swirled his drink, his mismatched eyes half-lidded as he watched you. It was a rare thing, moments like this, where the chaos of Zaun could not touch you.

Then the peace shattered.

A drunken fool stumbled toward your table, glass sloshing in his grip. His eyes, bloodshot and unfocused, zeroed in on you.

“Didn’t know Silco had a thing for—” The man hiccuped, then laughed, his gaze dragging over your form. “—soft women.”

Your jaw tightened, irritation prickling beneath your skin. Before you could react, Silco’s fingers twitched against your thigh. The shift was minuscule, but you knew what it meant.

Danger.

Silco leaned back, exhaling slowly through his nose. “Do finish that sentence.” His voice was soft, almost inviting, but the undertone was razor-sharp.

The drunkard blinked, suddenly aware of the weight of his own words. “I—I just meant—”

Silco moved before the man could stumble out an excuse. His grip left your thigh, and in a blink, he had the fool by the collar, dragging him closer with deceptive ease.

“Tell me,” Silco murmured, his lips ghosting the man’s ear, “do you have a death wish, or are you simply too stupid to recognize one?”

The man stammered, sweat beading at his temple. “I—I didn’t—”

“You did,” Silco interrupted. His free hand—knife-sharp fingers wrapped in leather—came up to press against the drunk’s throat. Not hard. Not yet. Just enough to make the man’s breath hitch. “And now, you will pay for it.”

A sound like a whimper escaped the man’s lips. The Last Drop wasn’t silent, but the patrons nearby had stopped pretending not to watch. Everyone knew how this would end.

You exhaled slowly, setting your glass down with a quiet clink.

“Silco.” Your voice was calm, but it held weight.

His grip tightened for a fraction of a second before he sighed through his nose. His irritation was palpable. But he listened.

With a shove, he sent the man sprawling to the floor. “Crawl away,” he sneered. “Before I change my mind.”

The drunk scrambled backward, his face pale, and scuttled into the crowd.

Silco exhaled slowly, rolling his shoulders before turning back to you. He settled into his seat as if nothing had happened, his hand finding your thigh again, gripping it a little firmer this time.

You traced the rim of your glass, watching the whiskey catch the dim light before turning your gaze back to him. “You let him off easy.”

Silco hummed, swirling his drink before taking a slow sip. “Because you asked me to.”

You studied him for a moment, taking in the sharpness of his features, the tension still lingering in the line of his shoulders.

Then you leaned forward, resting your elbow on the table as you smirked. “He’s nothing but a drunken fool, love,” you murmured, voice warm with amusement. “Not worth the clean-up.”

Silco’s gaze flicked to you, that keen intelligence behind his mismatched eyes sharpening. He turned his glass slightly between his fingers, considering your words.

You continued, tone softer now. “A man like that… he doesn’t deserve the energy it would take to dispose of him. He’ll wake up tomorrow reeking of piss and regret, and he won’t even remember why.” You tilted your head, your smirk growing. “Now, that’s a fate worse than death, don’t you think?”

Silco chuckled, low and indulgent, his fingers tightening on your thigh. “You’re far too merciful.”

You arched a brow. “No, I just know the best way to make a man suffer.”

Silco let out a quiet hum of approval, his grip lingering as his thumb brushed absentmindedly over your skin. The warmth of his touch, the silent claim, was intoxicating.

He glanced at you, and for a moment, his expression softened, the hard edge of him melting just enough. “No one,” he murmured, voice like velvet, “speaks to you that way and walks away unscathed.”

Your fingers brushed against his jaw, tilting his face toward you. “I know.”

And when his lips curled into that knowing smirk, you knew—no matter how dangerous the world was, with Silco, you would always be safe.

CLAGGOR (AU)

The dim glow of Zaun’s flickering streetlights barely reached the small hideout where you and Claggor had tucked yourselves away for the night. The world outside was alive with the hum of machinery, the distant rumble of pipes, and the occasional shouts from a gang fight somewhere in the underbelly of the city. But none of it mattered. Not when Claggor had you wrapped up in his arms, his big hands roaming over your soft curves like he was memorizing every inch of you.

You lay sprawled on the bed, tucked against his broad chest, feeling the steady rise and fall of his breathing. The sheets were thin, but Claggor’s body was warm, his grip firm but gentle as he held you close. His scent—gunpowder, metal, and something faintly sweet—wrapped around you like a comfort you never wanted to leave.

“Damn, I love this,” he murmured against your hair, voice thick with contentment. His fingers trailed lazy circles over your stomach, kneading the soft flesh like he couldn’t get enough. “Love how soft you are.”

Your cheeks burned at the way he said it—gruff, reverent, like it was a secret only for him to cherish.

“You say that every time we cuddle.”

“That’s ‘cause it’s true every time,” he rumbled, a lazy grin spreading across his face. He dipped his head to press a lingering kiss to your temple, the heat of his lips lingering as he nuzzled into the crook of your neck. His arms tightened around you, his fingers wandering over the dips and curves of your body, mapping them out with slow, appreciative touches.

There was something about the way he touched you—like he was fascinated, obsessed with how perfectly you fit into him. His hands never stayed in one place for long, tracing along your waist, dipping lower just to squeeze at your plush thighs before drifting back up. His fingertips skimmed the underside of your belly, then up to your sides, his palms pressing into every soft part of you as if reassuring himself you were really there.

“I swear you’re ridiculous,” you muttered, trying to suppress a smile as he gave your hip a playful squeeze.

Claggor chuckled, the deep sound vibrating through your entire body. “Maybe,” he admitted, shifting slightly so he could press his forehead against yours, “but I got the best spot in Zaun right here. Ain’t nothing better than holding my girl.”

Your heart clenched at the pure adoration in his voice. He meant it. No hesitation, no second-guessing—just Claggor and his unwavering love.

You sighed, melting further into him, and let yourself relax. “You’re such a sap.”

“Only for you,” he murmured, his lips brushing against yours in a slow, deliberate kiss. His hands didn’t stop exploring, sliding up your back, fingertips ghosting over your spine before traveling down to squeeze at the plushness of your hips. His thumbs stroked along your skin absentmindedly, as if every inch of you was something to be adored.

Outside, the city rumbled on—pipes hissing, gears grinding, neon signs buzzing faintly in the distance. But inside this little hideout, it was just the two of you. His warmth, his touch, his whispered words grounding you in a way nothing else could.

“Stay with me,” he murmured, lips brushing against your cheek, voice hushed like he was afraid saying it too loud might shatter the moment.

You buried your face against his chest, inhaling the familiar scent of oil and iron, of home.

“Always.”

And with the steady heartbeat of the only person who ever made you feel truly safe, you drifted off to sleep in his arms.

[hanasnx]

life in technicolor.

MINORS DNI 18+ WARNINGS: not edited mb | f!reader | sex tape | sexual content | established relationship | riding. NOTES: dedicated to @murdrdocs. credit for the cam idea

ABED NADIR had rented out that clunky camera from the film department ages ago. It sits in his living room precariously balanced on a stack of books on a shelf, and you cannot stop staring at it. It draws you in like a moth to flame, constantly staring into its lens. One part of you is paranoid it’s recording because it’s like Abed to leave it on to capture life as it exists, and the other part secretly daydreams he left it on to capture something else. Regardless of any fantasies, you know he wouldn’t just leave it on on purpose, right?

You chew your lower lip as you watch it and wonder what it would be like if he’d planned to make a movie with you. One without inhibitions or clothes. That kind of spontaneity isn’t within his peripheral, but you still hold out hope.

“What are you looking at?” his question snaps you out of your stupor, jumping in place before meeting his expectant gaze. The noises of the movie playing come into focus as your mouth parts only to expel silence. “You were looking over there so I just thought there was something to look at.” Abed answers your hesitance as if he anticipated your confusion, gesturing with a finger in the direction of the camera while his hand is still wrapped around the spoon in his cereal bowl.

“Oh!” you exclaim, glancing between him and the lens, shaking your head. “It’s nothing.” Uncomfortably, you shift in your seat, stuffing your clasped hands between your thighs. He notes that with a twitch to his brow. “I was just staring off into space.”

He continues to test the waters, adjusting the point of his finger towards the TV, “Is the movie boring?”

“Mm-mm.” You press your lips together and shake your head again. When you sigh, you visibly relax, sinking into his couch.

“You’re doing that thing you do.”

You hum in inquiry, frowning at him.

“The deflection.” He’s not a stranger to getting lost in thought, but you sure do get lost the most when you’re watching that camera. Regardless of his inexperience in the physical intimacy facet of a relationship, he knows how to read people, and he certainly knows what cameras are used for. He recognizes that flush in your cheeks. “You wanna try it out?”

At first he kept experimenting, showing you the buttons to press, demonstrating how to hold it, observing your reactions. You aren’t interested in being a film major, he knows that, but now that you’ve learned how to use it, who’s to decide what you’ll use it on? It’s easy to deduce where it’s headed, and it gets real dirty real fast.

“Point it down- between us.” Those breathless words send shivers down your spine, especially because he’s usually so silent when he’s inside you. You do as he says, recording where your bodies conjoin: his ruts up into you, your hole swallowing him up, the ring of cream forming at his base. It’s not often he gets to indulge you in the physical side of sensuality, this is his way of appeasing you. He’ll trim it up, edit it, make it pretty, and let you have a copy of the sex tape he has a hand in making right now. He doesn’t mind, his face isn’t in it anyway. Nobody’ll know it’s his tan dick fucking your insides. “I like you… like this.” he confesses, and a grin stretches onto your lips when you feel his hands squeeze your hips.

“You mean when I’m on top?”

“Yes,” he grunts, and a sting shoots through your abdomen. “I like what you look like. You look really pretty. Up there.” Broken phrases are interrupted by his sounds of effort, lithe body bucking into you as you struggle to keep the camera steady.

“Do I feel good?” you whisper, and Abed’s head tilts back. It defines his adam’s apple, and if this camera wasn’t in your way you’d lean down to lick it.

Your question does not go unheeded for he knows intimately how important verbal praise is to you, so he tries to be vocal. This is for you. He sucks in a breath, “Yes. Yes, very.”

[weirdgenetic-fuckup]

Lunch Break

Warnings: age gap, smut, belly bulge, cam girl reader, if you think I missed anything let me know otherwise enjoy!

You’d been working for James for about three months now. He needed an assistant and you needed a job, you didn’t realize you’d be working for the James Hetfield but he made it easy to get used to.

James loved having you as his assistant. You helped him around the house, helped him with band stuff, money stuff. Anything and everything he needed help with you were there.

However, you had a lunch break everyday. This wouldn’t be an issue, it’s not really an issue anyway, though it does confuse James.

Instead of just sticking around and ordering food like he figured you would since he lives in a fairly remote area you hurry off somewhere and he doesn’t see you until your lunch is over.

If you asked for more time he’d happily let you have longer but you never seemed to need it, never asked.

One day he decided to follow you, just to see what you were really doing.

You went through the day as per usual, talking and helping, doing what you can and what he asked and when the clock hit 12:00pm you went for lunch.

You snuck out the back, there was a small porch out there and James figured you’d just sit down but you didn’t. You went down the stairs and started on your way across the field. James made sure to keep his distance so as not to alarm you and followed you all the way to the forested area surrounding a nearby creek.

With the trees it was easier to hide.

James watched as you set yourself up. You’d brought a bag out here which seemed to hold a lot. A blanket, tripod and what looked to be toys. Obviously this intrigued James.

You set up your phone and soon started filming yourself. Starting off more vanilla and just looking around. Then your top came off, revealing your smooth chest, plush and supple skin free in the wind.

It was when you revealed what was under your skirt, or rather what wasn’t under your skirt, that James decided to make his presence known.

“Well what do we have here?” He came out into the open and smiled when you scrambled to cover yourself.

“I-I’m sorry, I didn’t-“

“Didn’t what?” He interrupted. “Didn’t mean to? Didn’t think I’d find out?” You but your lip, thighs helplessly squeezing together. “Needy, are we?” He sat next to you, tilting the camera down so no one could see his face. “Could’ve just asked, you know” he said, sliding his hand up and down your thigh before spreading your legs, giving him full view of your glistening cunt. “I would’ve been more than happy to help you out” he slid a thick finger between your folds, teasing your clit.

You gasped softly. “I didn’t know-“ you were cut off by a moan as he push his finger into you. “It-it’s live…” you said, giving him a warning.

James shrugged. “I’ve done worse than fuck my assistant on camera.” Without warning he started roughly fucking you with his fingers, pushing in a second and then a third, poking and prodding at your gummy insides until your back arched and your eyes rolled back, loud noises ripping from your throat out into the openness.

“That’s a good girl” he praised. “No need for silicone when you’ve got me, right?” You looked up at him with big eyes as he took his belt off.

James held his belt in his hands for a moment. He stared at you, thinking of his next move before taking your hands and tying them together with the leather strap.

Once you were properly restrained he stripped and held himself over you. “Aren’t you just the sweetest thing, hm? Thinking I wouldn’t find out about your little videos” he teased your hole with his cock, his big tip already stretching you out so perfectly.

“Fuck~ gimme more” you gleamed, grinning up at him. James didn’t wait to give you what you wanted, eagerly filling you to the brim, going balls deep in you with one thrust. Your eyes crossed and your belly bulged.

James hips snapped ruthlessly in and out of you, drawing more noises than you knew you could make out of you. He had your knees by your ears and your ass in the air, his big hands holding your hips in a bruising grip, occasionally smacking your ass. “Dirty fucking slut, recording yourself getting fucked on my property? This is what you wanted all along, you wanted me to come out here and find you and fuck you good and hard, huh?”

“Fuck! Please, feels s’good” you cried.

“Oh, fuck, what is it?” He grunted, smacking your ass again and causing you to yelp. “Bitch wants to cum?” You nodded, hands twitching in their restraints as his hips continuously rammed into you.

Your eyes rolled back again and you came. James pulled out and rubbed his tip on your clit, helping you ride out your high and reaching his own along the way, hot, white liquid spurting onto your stomach.

You reached for the camera but James got it first. He held it to show you, running his hand over your stomach and spreading his cum around. “Look at that, wish that was inside of you, huh?” He smiled down at you.

He gave your phone back and your turned it off. When you weren’t looking James started licking you clean, shamelessly hitting your clit over and over again.

[albatmobile]

would you ever write manslut jason ,something about him being stupid for pussy is mmmh 🤤🤤

i got you!! (see also this ask included in this chap :p)

parent teacher conferences and other places to meet a pornstar pt. 3

[1] [2] [3] [4] || ao3

𓅪 Rated: E | 8k includes: cam girl AU, teacher AU, misunderstandings, confessions, identity reveal, miscommunication, fingering, pussy eating, anal sex, threesome, degradation, praise, spanking, choking, hair pulling, creampie

𓅪 cam girl fem!reader x jason todd, cam girl fem!reader x roy harper, cam girl fem!reader x jason todd x roy harper

You feel like you’ve fallen right into a trap.

He obviously knows who you are, but you didn’t know who he was fully until last night. 

You feel entirely deceived and were honestly just thanking your lucky stars that he hadn’t ended up being some serial killer stalker. 

Now you’re left to fret over how to go about this. After all, Lian’s still in your class and you’ll have to face him come Monday.

After thinking on it further, you realize he hasn’t been in your stream since before the parent teacher conference. This fact alone makes you feel a bit better, but you can’t deny the whole situation still has you feeling weird. 

However, it’s not like he’d be comfortable enough to tell you he’s your top fan within a week of talking to you…

Ugh.

Why did this have to get so complicated?

You don’t think he’s dangerous and you can’t deny you were starting to have feelings for the redhead, but this all convoluted everything. Well, more so than it already was with you being Lian’s teacher… And your cam job… 

Okay, yes, so, the whole thing basically.

You need to figure out how you’re going to handle the situation going forward, or if there’ll even be a situation going forward.

It’s going to be a long weekend.

➸💋➸

You go into Monday with your head held high. 

Though you feel confident with your decision, as the end of the day nears you can’t help but feel anxiety at the impending confrontation. 

Spring finally begins to show, with bees and birds emerging from their winter cocoons. The warmer temperatures allow you to keep your windows open during the lesson, something the kids have really appreciated. When your fellow teacher mentioned she was going out to the playground with her class and offered to take yours, you agreed.

It allows you more time to ready yourself and you’re grateful for the distraction it brings as summer and, coincidentally, the end of school draws nearer.

After the final bell rings, all of the kids continue to play on the playground, leaving the parents to come in and grab their kids' school supplies. It makes it easier when Roy- Mr. Harper, you correct yourself, lingers ever so slightly. 

He seems like he’s being respectful of your distance, which only cements your decision further. 

You ask him to hang back, something he complies with anxiously. Surprisingly, his nervousness only makes you feel more confident. You definitely made the right choice.

The hallways are empty and a quick look outside proves just how busy the playground is today. It’s the hottest day of the year and, so far, everyone’s taking full advantage of it. Well, everyone except for you and Mr. Harper.

How do you even start this conversation?

Part of you hopes that he’ll start babbling and save you from the pain of your own. Instead, he takes a back seat, letting you take complete control of the situation. He’s leaning stiffly against one of the desks in front of your own, so you move to lean loosely against the front of your desk. This position leaves maybe two feet of space between the two of you, something he seems to notice with an absentminded lick of his lips.

You cross your arms with a sigh, noticing how he carefully observes your every minuscule movement. 

“I’m sorry for leaving like I did,” you finally build up the courage to say.

The redheaded dad mimics your crossed arms briefly, then uncrosses them and goes back to tapping anxiously against the desk with his freckled fingers. Then, he exhales with a light laugh. His head falls forward, hiding his eyes from your view through his long, orange locks, though the smile is evident on his face even as he subconsciously moves his hand over it pensively.

“Fire escape is a new low,” he drawls, with mirth evident as his light green eyes finally reach yours again. “Jason will never let me live that down, you know?”

You can’t help but laugh lightly, your arms unfolding as you do. You grip the edge of the desk exactly as Roy had during your first confrontation with him, back when he’d first shook your world. 

“I did swear him to secrecy, in all fairness, so that’s on him,” you jest lightly. 

At this point, he stops leaning on the desk and takes a step closer to you as if to test the waters. 

You allow it.

He reaches out for your hands.

Once again, you allow it. 

“I wanted to reach out so badly,” Roy says as he stares down at your intertwined hands. “I promise nothing happened after the movie. Hand to god, babe.” To cement his point, he moves his hand with yours to press the back of your hand against his beating heart. 

“That’s not even what this is about, Roy- Mr. Harper.”

He hardly notices the correction, brow knit together in confusion. “Then, what was it about?” he asks in confusion.

It’s your turn to throw his username at him. “Arsenal,” you reply simply.

Your one word leaves his mouth to drops and, subsequently, for him to drop your hands. “Holy shit,” he spouts as he starts pacing, not even looking at you. Now you’re the confused one. “How did you figure it out?!”

“It’s nothing to be embarrassed about, I promise,” you reassure him, not understanding the large reaction he’s having.

“Soo,” he trails off uncomfortably, “you were cool with that one night?”

When he randomly gave you the $200 tip?

“It was a little weird, but yeah,” you reply genuinely. Having one of your student’s parents be subbed to you is one thing, them being your top fan before ever knowing you? Whole different ballgame.

He exhales deeply, with it going the rest of his worries, “Sick. Okay, cool.” You watch as he rubs sheepishly at the back of his head, while a crimson blush burns across his freckled cheeks. “So, where do we go from here? Can I even ask that?” he hurriedly tacks on at the end with wide eyes. “I just mean I don’t expect anything from you and I don’t want you to feel like you have to-"

There’s the signature rambling you’ve been missing. 

“Roy,” you say, your amused tone effectively cuts him off. His eyes snap to yours in an instant as if he’s ready to drink in any and every word you give him. Good. You can’t afford to mess anything up. “I really like spending time with you; that’s not the issue. Regardless of all of all of this shit, we need to take all of this slow until the end of the year.”

He nods earnestly. “I can do that.”

“Good,” you smile, “it’s just a few months away, anyway.”

“Does this mean we can hang out before then?” 

You laugh, though it comes out breathier than you’d meant it, something Roy notices with hungry eyes.

“Are you asking me out on a date?” you ask slyly.

He just shakes his head with a cheeky smile. “Trust me, you’ll know when I’m asking you on a date.”

➸💋➸

After this confrontation, you start hanging out with Roy every chance you get.

It only makes sense that, after a few weeks of constantly hanging out, Roy gets to see the real side of you. 

You can only hide your nerdiness from him for a day as your conversations soon center around all the Batman comics you’ve read. Another few days and Roy figures out you like cat memes. It’s something he lets you know is ‘the stupidest shit ever,’ but it doesn’t stop him from spamming your phone with them while you’re at work.

It’s only so long before your Red Hood rants spill out of you as if you’re sitting on Wonder Woman’s lasso. You’re out at coffee with him while Lian’s at dance practice when it comes out, much to Roy’s obvious chagrin.

“He’s like, god-like hot, you know? Like I’d lick his combat boots the same way I’d lick the filth ring in his bathtub,” you admit, then stop and shake your head when you realize it doesn’t cover it. “I’d fucking suck on his sweaty jockstrap. I’m not even kidding, Roy.”

He nearly spits out his coffee, choking and pounding at his chest after your remark. “Oh?”

You nod your head. “Deadass,” you say.

You might think his quiet to mean that he was jealous, you know, if only you hadn’t been talking about Black Canary in much of the same way last week. If anything, it seems more like he’s thinking hard about something, but what, you’re not quite sure.

“What do you know about him?” Roy asks.

You sip at your drink as you think back to what you know of the vigilante—if he can even be called that.

“I haven’t really been paying much attention anymore to be honest, I’ve been really focused on work. This being said, I know it’s been a few years since Red Hood’s even been in Gotham,” you say, pushing your glasses further up the bridge of your nose as you try to piece together a timeline. “But I think I saw something in the news recently that sounded like his work. Maybe around the time school started this year?” Roy seems impressed, though he trains his expression before you can question it. “Either way, I don’t know much about him. No,” you trail off with a light blush.

“You’re cute, you know that?” he teases you, sipping with a pointed smirk.

Your blush intensifies as it so often does when you go on your nerd rants and he calls you out on it. “Shut up, Harper.”

After the coffee shop, comic book references and photos of Red Hood you’d never seen also get sent to you during work. Each pic of Hood is signed off with Roy’s signature ‘;p.’

➸💋➸

After another month of getting to know each other and the final two weeks of school are steadfast approaching. You’ll definitely miss seeing Lian and her dopey dad every weekday but can’t deny that it might just lead the way for other, better things to come to fruition. 

This weekend, Lian’s with her grandparents in Aruba.

“Why didn’t you go?” you ask as you sit on his kitchen counter.

He’s cooking something, but you still can’t tell what the mess is going to be.

The redhead looks over his shoulder as he addresses you from the stove in front of you, “Not on the best of terms right now. Haven’t been for a while, to be honest, but I’m not gonna let the kid miss out on experiences because of it.”

“Oh,” you say, not knowing how else to respond.

He brings a spoon over for you to taste something, but your hair keeps getting in the way. You use the hair tie you have around your wrist to tie it up, but falter when the look behind Roy’s eyes changes. 

“You look good,” he says, his voice deeper than it’s been all day. Roy gently guides the spoon between your pliant lips when you feel it.

“Roy!” you sputter through the hotness of the sauce in your mouth. You glance down and see that, yes, this man is hard as fuck. For what, though, you honestly have no idea.

“Sorry, babe,” he apologizes as he wipes at stray sauce on the corner of your mouth with a wicked glint flickering behind his green eyes. “Watching you put your hair up does things to me. Don’t hold it against me.”

You raise a brow at the obvious joke he’s setting you up for, but don’t bite.

“So, that’s what happened in the classroom that one day,” you trail off in amusement. 

He throws his head back and laughs, “Fuck. I totally forgot about that shit.” Roy goes back to the stove, shaking his head as he does. “You know, I’m surprised you didn’t kick me out right then and there.”

“I thought about it,” you retort easily. “I like you too much, though.”

You’ve yet to really disclose your feelings to him. 

Like, yes, you’d had sex, but in the months of you hanging out after, you’d hardly done much beyond cuddling and hand holding. It was almost elementary the way the two of you courted and it’s unlike anything you’ve ever had before. It makes you appreciate Roy even more that he’s willing to go at your pace without pushing. 

“I don’t think I asked you how your day was,” he says, still facing away from you.

You groan, thinking back on your long Friday, “It was long and hard.”

Roy turns around, pretending to be stabbed in the heart. “How will I ever compare?”

You snort, “I meant with the kids, dumbass.”

“Oh, thank god,” he says. You laugh again, reveling in how he looks over your curves before turning back around to shut off the stove. “Thought I might have to break our end of the year rules.”

You bite slightly at your bottom lip, eyes trailing over his strong shoulders and rippling arms that fly with each movement he makes. You’ve often thought of breaking the rule, too, but you can’t. 

There was one night you came close, literally. 

You’d spent the night, but only a few times and only ever if Lian wasn’t going to be there.

That particular night, you’d been on a walk together and stopped at a place for dinner that he’d heard good things about. 

“This isn’t a date?” you’d asked.

“No,” Roy had responded cheekily. “I told you you’d know when it happens, baby.”

After dinner, you cuddled in his bed while you watched a movie. One thing led to another and the two of you ended up making out, groping and humping each other through the rest of it. It was entirely juvenile and yet it felt so much better than the usual sex you were used to. 

The rest of the night was spent jacking off in front of each other.  It became a competition to who could make the other come faster, a skill you were obviously better equipped to handle. The entire situation reminded you of your private sessions with him, however this time it was no longer anonymously. 

You’d absolutely loved it.

Roy takes the pot off the stove just as Jason comes in.

“What’s up,” Jason greets. He looks over the two of you in feigned disinterest as he takes off his coat and sets down a large, black duffle bag. 

By now, the Jason was used to your presence in their shared apartment. Half the time he’d join the two of you cuddling on the couch, the other half he’d lay in Roy’s bed kick the two of your asses at Mario Kart.

Roy always cooks enough for an army and always sets aside a plate for Jason. You’d become used to eating with the both of them when you were over here, so it’s no surprise when Roy sets out three bowls.

“Just finished up dinner, chatting about her day,” Roy replies and starts plating the pasta as Jason leans against the counter beside you.

“Oh?”

“Yeah.” You blush under the raven’s sudden attention, clearing your throat all while hoping he doesn’t see how much his presence alone throws you off. “It was announced that they’re making another round of budget cuts this year. I don’t know how much more of my other paycheck I can forfeit over for classroom supplies,” you sigh, forgetting your previous abashedness. “The kids deserve so much better and I know they learn a lot from the activities I create, but I’m running dry. With the cuts, I just don’t see how my lesson plans, at least as they are now, can stand.”

The rest of dinner goes smoothly with the conversation flowing easily among the three of you.

You’ve never met two people you bonded with more, let alone how fast you’ve grown attached to both of them. It’s honestly a bit scary, but you feel as if you can trust both of them. You definitely trust that you’ve made the right decision to hang around.

After helping with the dishes, you allow them to lead you out to the infamous balcony where all the previous misunderstandings had originated at. Jason lights up a Marlboro while Roy lights up a blunt.

The wind tangles your hair and sputters smoke in your face, but you can’t help but laugh. Your heart flutters as the three of you stand shoulder to shoulder, watching as the sun drenches the ugly Gotham skyscrapers in dreamy oranges and pinks. 

➸💋➸

Monday, the school holds an impromptu celebration in the auditorium after a generous donation from the Wayne Foundation. You have to do a double take when you realize that Jason himself has shown up to deliver the huge check in his father’s honor. 

Afterward, you watch as he meets your eyes before slipping into the hallway. The same teacher who helped you out last time sees this and offers to take your class back to the room before shooing you off with waggling brows.

School’s been dismissed ever since the end of the ceremony, so most kids are rushing to get their things to go play outside.

“I really appreciate it,” you tell her as you make to follow the raven-haired man. “I’ll just be a second, I promise.”

This particular hallway is deserted aside from Jason who’s loosened his tie.

“No kids?” he asks when he sees you.

You laugh at his odd greeting, “They’re on their way back to the classroom with the other class. I was just coming out here to see if you’d want to come back to my classroom with me.”

His brows raise, though his expression remains the same as ever. “Alright.”

You lead him down the hallway, turning around to shoot him a questioning gaze as he follows behind you instead of beside you. 

“I don’t bite,” you jest when you spot the tell-tale sign of a smirk forming across is pale face.

He finally cracks a smile as he sidles up beside you, dwarfing you with his height. 

“Darling, we both know that’s a lie.”

You giggle at the new nickname and try not to let him see how much it’s affecting you. Luckily, you round the corner and find your classroom nearly vacated. Most parents have already stopped through and now only Lian remains.

“Uncle Jason!” The little girl jumps on the man. He spins her around in his arms a few times before putting her down with a small smile. “My friends are all outside. Can I go?” she begs, looking between the two of you with puppy dog eyes you just know Roy’s taught her. “Please!”

“Sure, kid.” 

With Jason’s blessing, she’s off. 

You don’t have to wait long before you spot Lian running around with two other girls on the playground through your classroom window. Though there are parents and teachers out there keeping an eye on everything, you still pay attention to her out of habit.

Your phone vibrates on your desk, something Jason picks up to hand to you. He looks down and huffs in amusement as he flips your screen around to show you the cat meme Roy’s sent you with the note ‘almost there.’ 

“You guys are so fucking lame,” he says, though you can see the clear amusement behind his emerald eyes.

You blush and adjust your glasses a bit. “Definitely a long way from the fire escape,” you jest. Jason laughs at your joke, but you can see there’s something else on his mind. “What’s wrong?” you ask.

“Just that, you don’t mind me being hanging out when,” he clears his throat, looking around, then back down at you. “I’m not interrupting the two of you, am I?”

You definitely aren’t expecting that. 

You had meet Jason first, well, at least, you’d fucked him first, but neither of you had ever discussed making it more official. Then the gala with the three of you to now hanging out with both of them. Jason was a closed book, never one to wear his emotions on his sleeve, so you never expected it to go much beyond sex, yet here he is, asking something that bares all.

Does this mean he wants something more from you? You know you wouldn’t mind it in the slightest, though it could complicate things with Roy. You’ve never detected any jealously between the two of them, but that didn’t mean the threesome was more than a one-off thing.

You can’t help but wonder: would he mind it being the three of you? If he didn’t mind, how would this even work? 

At the very least, Jason seems just as confused with the situation as you are. 

You blush as you reply, “I don’t think so.” After this, you mention something about not knowing if Roy minds, but Jason’s quick to assuage your worries. 

“I don’t think so,” Jason repeats your statement.

You fill with relief. “I guess we’ll just have to ask him, then.” 

Jason’s eyes flash with something you think, no, hope, is respect as Roy waltzes in.

“Ask who what?” Roy asks as he walks over to Jason to do their dumb handshake thing they always do when they greet each other.  

“Speak of the devil,” Jason tones monotonously as he daps him up.

“Talkin’ about lil ol’ me, Jay?” he says in an off-country accent that makes you laugh and Jason rolls his eyes at the whole ordeal. “All good things, I hope,” Roy says, suddenly looking around the empty classroom. “Wait, where’s the stinker?” You smile as you point her out on the monkey bars. “God, she’s getting so big,” he sighs.

Roy’s obviously distracted by Lian’s cuteness, however you and Jason both seem fixated on him. You catch his emerald eyes and glance away quickly, feeling your cheeks heat up as you do. 

Maybe Jason likes Roy just as much as you do.

Maybe all three of you really could…

You clear your throat, “Jason and I were just talking about the three of us.”

Roy’s eyes tear away from the open windows to face you with raised brows. It seems like he knows exactly what you’re insinuating. After all, how could he not? Regardless, he plays dumb.

“Oh?”

You bite at your lower lip, wishing Jason would say something, anything, but he seems content to have you make an ass of yourself. Either that, or he’s surprised you’d even bothered to bring it up. 

There’s a shift in the air, an electrification of each and every particle of air as the three of you take each other in. 

“Well, don’t leave me in suspense, babe. I mean-” Roy sputters to correct himself, realizing you’re in the classroom, but you’re hardly paying attention to that. No, you’re too busy looking at the way that Jason’s looking at the two of you.

 “We’re all good, right?” Is what ends up coming out of your mouth. “What we have?”

His eyes glint knowingly. However, he continues to feign some semblance of ignorance as he won’t fully address what you’re really asking, “Of course. Right, Jay?”

Jason stiffens slightly before crossing his arms. “Right,” he agrees.

The sexual tension is palpable, giving you the answer to at least one of your questions. The threesome definitely wasn’t a one-off thing, then. 

Though certain questions linger, you allow time to grace you with their answers. 

For now, at least. 

➸💋➸

A week later, Roy asks you out on your first official date when the two of you take Lian to celebrate the last day of school. You’re wiping Lian’s chin and trying to get her to lick where her Superman ice cream is dripping down the cone when he asks.

Your mouth opens, then shuts as a smile overtakes your face. “About time,” you joke.

“See,” he laughs and helps you wipe Lian up, "I told you you’d know when I asked you out.”

This is how you end up outside the new restaurant in Gotham that Roy had been boasting about.

You’re dressed in your comfiest V-neck sweater. It’s tucked partially into a form-fitting skirt, and you're wearing knee-high, heeled boots to match. Together with your recent clutch purchase, you look effortless yet completely classy. Though it’s technically summer, it’s been cloudy all day and the temperatures are still decently low for this time of year, making your outfit the perfect choice.

Filled with anxiety, you end up arriving ten minutes earlier than you’d planned to meet up, so you stand outside. 

At first, you don’t mind watching as cars speed by and cut each other off in the downtown traffic, but soon you grow restless. A quick glance at your phone proves there’s only a few minutes left before the agreed upon time arrives. 

Your leg bounces as you watch couple after couple enter the joint and wonder if you should go in as well. 

Then, it starts to sprinkle. 

Your leg bounces harder.

It’s as cliche as a 2000s chick flick, but not even a minute later, it honest to god starts pouring.

You seek shelter under the awning of the restaurant, but the spattering of the rain still manages to dust your outfit in dew. Coupled with the angry Gotham drivers who seem content to hit every rain-filled pothole, you’re soaked by the time Roy’s running twenty minutes late.

Not a single fucking text either, the cunt. 

After all these months, have you really been reading it all wrong?

“The fuck are you doing?” You jump, turning to the deep voice from behind you. Jason’s standing there, much less drenched than you are, though still drenched nonetheless. “You trying to catch a cold?” he asks. Though his words are blunt, his tone is entirely gentle as he addresses you.

You don’t know why, but you start to sniffle. Soon, your tears join the chilling rain that’s dripping down your cooled cheeks.

“Sorry,” you say pathetically as he wraps you into a warm hug. 

When he pulls back, you notice the concern on his face. He keeps his hands on your upper arms and begins to rub up and down to heat you back up. 

“Did someone hurt you?” he growls, looking at you with a sternness that challenges you to dare lie to his face. 

“No,” you sniffle again. “Well, not physically. No.” You shake your head, looking around in hopes that what you think is happening isn’t happening, but it is. Roy’s still nowhere to be found. “Roy stood me up,” you finally breathe out.

At this, he seems lost for words if only briefly.

“I’m sure it’s a mistake,” he says. At your admission, his dark brows knit together in confusion, looking around as if Roy will somehow appear out of thin air. “You sure you’re okay?” he asks, looking deeply into your eyes.

The way your stomach flips at the intimate action assures you that, yes, you’ll be fine. Through the pang of disappointment, you manage a smile.

“Yeah, I’ll be good.”

“You know,” Jason trails off suddenly, shoving his hands into the pockets of his leather jacket, “I haven’t eaten yet.”

He’s about as soaked as you are now. Together, the two of you look like you’d been dunked in the harbor a few feet away and, for some reason, it ends up making you feel less like shit.

“Oh?” you question. Your smile becomes genuine as you watch him blush.

He kicks lightly at the sidewalk. “And I was the one who recommended this joint to Roy.”

“Were you, now?” you ask coquettishly. 

He pushes up your raindrop-covered glasses that have fallen down the bridge of your nose. 

Suddenly, you don’t feel so cold.

“Have dinner with me?” he asks finally.

“I can do that.”

➸💋➸

Dinner goes perfectly. 

So perfect that you end up back at his and Roy’s apartment after.

Your lips mash against his smooth ones as soon as you’re through the threshold of the door. Jason quickly rids you of your still damp clothes as the two of you tangle together. He pushes you down onto the couch before unbuttoning his button-up shirt.

“Should I leave the doors to the balcony open for you?” he teases easily.

You laugh, flinging the last of your clothes off as you draw him onto the couch with you. The two of you meld together perfectly as if you’ve known each other’s bodies for years.

It starts off with a deep kiss that soon turns sloppy as you arch against him, begging for friction that he keeps denying. 

He settles his girth right in front of your entrance before, ultimately, dragging it lazily across your already slick folds. The two of you watch as if mesmerized by the salacious action. His tip catches on your clit, forcing a breathy sigh from you as you chase after his member desperately. 

“You’re so fucking wet for me,” he mutters as he sits back to get a better view of you.

You bite at your bottom lip, wriggling down in hopes that he’ll finally give in and give you what you’ve been so patient for, but he doesn’t. Instead, his calloused fingers make practiced work against your clit and entrance.

“Jason,” you sigh shakily as he teases a finger closer and closer to your slit. “Please, I can’t take much more of this teasing. I need your cock, Jay- fuck!”

He smirks down at your flushed form, lowering himself so that he’s face to face with your twitching cunt. “Beg me, then,” your name is a sin rolling off his tongue as it makes brief contact with your pussy.

“So fucking good,” you whimper, wriggling your hips for more. “Please, I need you. Give it to me,” you beg. 

He chuckles lowly with his breath, warming your inner thighs, “Good girl.”

The tip of his tongue strokes up and down the length of your cunt before flattening and granting you one slow, delicious lick that ends with him teasing at your clit.

Your hips arch upward against his mouth, granting him better access as his tongue and finger work in tandem on your leaking cunt. He’s too fucking good and you’re already feeling the iciness of an orgasm blooming from your lower stomach.

You need him in you, like, now, preferably.

The heat behind your eyes must convey this because he doesn’t have it within himself to continue teasing as he has been. He’s finally lining himself up with you, ready to stick it in while you squirm under him in anticipation.

Before he can, however, there’s a loud ‘thump’ before the front door bursts open.

You nearly jump out of your skin as the two of you turn around to see-

“She’s never gonna talk to me again, bro,” the costumed man from the alley laments. He’s too busy taking off his mud-covered, red boots to notice the two naked forms on the couch. “I fucked up the fucking date so fucking hard, dude. I got caught up in all this dumb shit and I totally lost track of time and I just know she fucking hates me for leaving her hanging-” You clear your throat, finally drawing his attention to you. “Oh, shit,” he curses, looking over your naked body in surprise before turning to Jason. “Oh, shit,” he finally looks down at his attire, “fuck me.”

There was no other person that voice could belong to, but…

“Roy?!”

The dude from the alley? Holy shit. The random tip and his rambling in the day that followed make so much more fucking sense now. Still naked, you get up and begin to check out his uniform.  

“I thought you already knew?” He seems entirely confused and somewhat on edge.

So, that day in the classroom, he thought you’d been referring to his vigilantism? 

“I guess I do now,” you trail off as you come upon him. 

When you were in the alley, you do recall Jason calling him Arsenal… When you’d confronted him about his cam profile, inmyarsenal, you hadn’t known it’d been based off of a vigilante persona, let alone that Roy’s an actual vigilante.

Jason seems calm enough by all the recent revelations that you assume Jason knows about Roy’s alias, but does he know how you and Roy actually met, then?

“You know, most people would be devastated to find their date fucking their roommate,” Roy’s deep voice tickles at your ears as your hands come up to gently stroke his familiar, freckled arms. 

You remove his mask as final confirmation that, yes, this is Roy. 

“You’ve watched me fuck multiple guys at this point,” you counter, still trying to add everything up in your head. “I was pissed,” you admit, referencing his earlier rambling about you.

“Was?” Roy asks hopefully.

You nod. “But now I understand why you couldn’t be there.”

You watch as he breathes a sigh of relief, but the moment is short-lived.

“Now I’m lost,” Jason says.

So, Roy hadn’t told him about how you’d met.

You turn to him, then at Roy. “You didn’t tell him?” you ask, feeling entirely confused.

Roy seems abashed. “Why would I tell him?’ 

You shrug, completely surprised he never mentioned to his friend that he’s your #1 fan.

Jason, however, completely misreads the conversation entirely. “You’re a vigilante like us?”

“Like you?” you question, squinting your eyes at him, adjusting your glasses to get a better look at him. Is Jason really a vigilante, too? You guess it would make more sense why Jason seems so calm to live with a vigilante, but who is he? It’s not long before your brain trickles back to Roy’s odd questioning over your Red Hood obsession and, now that you think about it, Jason is his height. It comes to you instantly, like a lightbulb’s gone off in your brain. Jason seems to realize this, too, because he suddenly stands up from the couch and crosses the minimal distance between the two of you. “Red Hood?” you try.

You’re now sandwiched between two tall, strong men who are, you know, fucking vigilantes. If you hadn’t fucked both of them already and been hanging around them for months, you might be a little more scared by your predicament. Okay, no, even still, you feel pretty fucking scared.

“What are we doing, Roy?” Jason asks, his deep voice stirring every fibre of your being. 

It’s like you’re not even there sandwiched between the two of them as they begin a nonverbal conversation through the intensity of their green eyes alone. 

“You tell me,” he responds.

You’re still very much naked, so is Jason, as your head bounces from side to side as you follow along with their seemingly private conversation.

“Wait,” you interject both of them, “we are talking about the two of you fucking me and not killing me, right?”

Their vibrant eyes finally glance down at you. Before you can blink, both of them take one of your arms to pin you against the wall.

“You tell no one,” Jason’s voice is somehow even deeper than it’d been not even seconds prior as he threatens you. Though it’s obviously meant to intimidate, you feel completely at ease in their hold. 

“Promise,” you answer with an easy laugh. “You do know that Roy let me talk about you, like, the entire time on our date.”

“It wasn’t a date!” Roy exclaims, loosening his grip around your wrist as he does so.

“You got a boner,” you counter easily.

Roy’s hands completely leave you as they motion to your nude form. “Because you’re hot as fuck!” he says it like it explains everything that’s going down. 

It seems like Jason’s content to watch the two of you bicker as one of his calloused hands trails along the expanse of your soft skin. 

“I guess that explains why you were my #1 fan ever since the start,” you joke lightly.

“Still am, babe.”

“#1 fan,” Jason’s eyebrows furrow together as he trails off in confusion as he trails off. “You knew about her streams?”

“You knew about them?” Roy asks back, sounding equally as confused.

Now, no one’s hands are on you.

“I walked in on one,” Jason responds through a smirk.

Roy’s jaw drops. “You’re fucking lying. Say ‘cap,’ bro.” 

Do your ears deceive you, or does Roy actually sound, dare you say, jealous?

“You got an in-person private show, Roy. All Jason saw was me squirting. Right, Jay?” you try to console him, but it doesn’t work. It seems, instead, that your words have only made things worse.

“She squirted for you?!” Roy’s voice cracks around his disbelief.

“Pretty sure she squirted for both of us in Bruce’s office,” Jason points out. The raven doesn’t seem to understand his friend’s reaction, but it doesn’t mean he isn’t going to be an asshole to him because of it. “Maybe I’m mixing this shit up, though,” he says coyly, smirking when Roy damn near whimpers.

“Jay,” he trails off pathetically. 

You think he’s about to cry or, perhaps, attempt to beat the shit out of Jason, but all he does is clash his chapped lips against Jason’s soft ones. The raven’s lips are still wet and plump from when you’d stained them with your red lipstick not even minutes prior. Now, Roy’s spit works against yours and Jason’s as he cups his friend’s inky, curly hair in between his freckled fingers.

Roy bites down on Jason’s already abused lips, earning a well-deserved, guttural moan from the man. 

Watching the two of them devour each other so wholeheartedly stirs butterflies in your stomach until you’re no longer able to contain them. Your hand easily slips down the expanse of your stomach as it’s done many times before as it slowly slinks towards where your clit twitches in anticipation. No, you can’t deny yourself for any longer. Your finger flicks lightly at your clit, watching as Jason starts to take off Roy’s gear as if he’s done it many times before and, you suppose he has. It only turns you on even more. 

Roy breaks away from Jason, but Jason continues to mouth lewdly at Roy’s pale neck. All the while, Roy’s eyes trail over your flushed form as you work at your wet pussy. 

Finally, Roy’s as bare as you and Jason.

Roy moans like a bitch under Jason’s care. The tantalizing noise alone sends an exhilarating heat down your stomach to the point you have to stop rubbing at your clit so you don’t come prematurely. 

You let out a small moan, but it’s loud enough for them to hear over their panting. 

Both of their eyes fall on you, then to your clenched fist right above your cunt. Apparently, this won’t do. Suddenly, you’re being lifted up by Roy. Your legs wrap around his torso as he draws you in for a deep, sloppy kiss. Meanwhile, Jason looms behind you, biting and sucking loving marks against your skin as they lead you into Jason’s bedroom.

You don’t have time to take in the lackluster decor, nor the edgy posters he has partially unfurled on the walls. No, your attention is solely on the two god-like men in front of you. 

“I was in the middle of eating her out before you got home,” Jason supplies as he sinks to his knees, settling in between your thighs. You can’t contain your gasp when he pulls your sitting form closer to the edge of his mattress to get a better angle. “Feel free to join in.”

He descends upon you with greater fervor than earlier, as if weaponizing your moans purely to make Roy feel like shit for ditching you. Jason slurps lewdly against your dripping cunt, lapping and sucking as obnoxiously as he can. 

It works. Roy groans as he palms at his bobbing erection, watching as you throw your head back. You swear he nearly comes right then and there from the noises, Jason’s eager mouth is producing, coupled with your unrestrained gasps of pleasure. Before you can get too close, they switch.

Roy’s tongue rigidly runs along your folds before flicking teasingly at your entrance. You can’t help but buck against his chapped lips for more, but he moves back to prevent it.

He smirks at you. “Am I forgiven, baby?” the redhead asks, voice filled with amusement.

“Fuck you, Harper,” you hiss, attempting to glare, but it’s ruined when he finally flicks at your clit. “Ah!” you exclaim. With this, you arch up into his face, grasping at his fiery locks to draw him nearer to your aching cunt. “So fucking good.”

“I’ll take that as a yes,” he responds cheekily.

Jason trails light kisses along your spread thighs before dragging Roy by a fistful of hair over to his mouth so he can taste you again. Once Jason’s had his fill, he forces Roy back down on your cunt, rubbing his eager tongue against your throbbing pussy.

It feels insane.

You’re shaking as you watch them make out with each other in between your thighs. Their tongues purposefully trickle out to include you in their sloppy session, causing you to unleash a sexy moan that stops both of them in their tracks.

They meet your half-lidded eyes with hated, hungry looks.

Thus starts the second act of the night.

Roy joins you on the mattress, scooping you up into his lap while Jason rummages around in his nightstand. 

“Roy,” you whimper.

He leans his forehead against yours with a sinful grin. “I love it when you say my name like that, baby.”

You hear a pop, then feel Jason join the two of you on the bed, but you’re entirely preoccupied with Roy’s chapped lips. His sturdy arms gently guide you to lay flat on the bed as he straddles you and pins you against the mattress with an unrelenting grip. Meanwhile, his other hand travels lower, only stopping when he finally comes into contact with your slick folds.

You slurp your slick and Jason’s spit as your mouth glides salaciously against the redhead’s, only stopping when he abruptly gasps. You pull away quickly, afraid you’ve done something wrong when you see Jason’s thick, lube-covered index finger slipping in and out of Roy’s ass.

“Oh, shit,” you breathe, taking in the erotic scene.

Not only are they putting on a show for you tonight, but it’s clear that Roy’s putting in overtime to make up for missing the date. You don’t get to watch for long, however, before the pad of Roy’s finger teases your twitching entrance.

Roy stretches you while Jason stretches him from behind until, after what seems like forever, Jason’s finally lining up behind him.

“Jay, I swear I’m stretched enough,” Roy begs, looking behind him with a slight pout that Jason rolls his eyes at. “I need you to fill me up with your cock. It’s been so fucking long, Jay,” he whines.

You can’t help but touch yourself as you watch Roy become accustomed to Jason’s impressive girth.

“Still good?” Jason asks.

You swear Roy’s drooling.

“Mmm,” he says in lieu of a response. “You’re so fucking good to me-” Cue Roy’s usual sex babbling. You can’t help but smile as you watch Jason pick up the pace with each praise Roy sings.

“You gonna leave her hanging?”

Roy’s eyes snap into focus, locking onto your gaze that’s taking in the scene in front of you greedily.

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he says. The redhead winks down at you before shuffling around a bit to line up with your entrance. Roy rubs the tip of his cock against your wet entrance before slowly pushing in with a groan, “I don’t think I’m ever gonna get used to this shit, princess.”

You blush at the nickname, recalling the night at the Wayne Gala when he’d first bestowed it upon you.

It takes a few moments, but the three of you finally nail down the perfect rhythm. Once you do, the three of you can’t stop the cries of pleasure that it produces.

Jason fucks into Roy, who uses the momentum to fuck into you. When the redhead retreats, his ass arches further onto Jason’s cock, only to be fucked into again.  

After a few minutes, Jason makes a show of fucking Roy for you, choking him. Eventually, he forces Roy’s head upward by pulling his long red locks so their lips can clash upside down and finishes the kiss by spitting in Roy’s expectant mouth. It’s almost too much. You feel like this is hotter than any stream you’ve ever done. The raven stares him down with his sex-hazed eyes before they darkly fall across your blushing form.

“Look,” Jason forces Roy’s flushed face forward to focus on you, “she likes it when I use you like the whore you are, Roy.”

The freckled man groans, eyebrows furrowing as if he’s about to come, but Jason won’t allow it. His calloused palm captures Roy’s leaking cock as it slickly pulls out of your cunt. “Jay, please,” Roy begs with his voice cracking. Jason spanks him once on each cheek, something Roy takes greedily. “Fuck!” Roy moans. “I wanna come. I wanna come so bad- yes!” 

Jason finally releases his cock, allowing him to pump into you again before picking up his own pace with Roy’s ass.

Your nails scratch down his freckled back as he starts thrusting. It’s desperate now, like he’s primally fucking into you, completely lost in the pleasure of it all. He’s hitting all the right places inside of you, milking out slick noises in tandem with the ones Jason’s producing from Roy’s wrecked hole. It’s so fucking hot, you can hardly believe that you’re actually a part of this.

“So fucking tight,” Jason says through gritted teeth, smacking Roy’s ass once again. “Tell me you want my shit,” he practically growls as he once again picks up the pace.

You moan. Apparently, this is exactly what Roy wants as he then decides to amp it up for you.

“Please, Jay,” Roy begs easily, coy eyes never leaving you as he dirty talks Jason behind him. “I need you to fill me up with your come. I want your shit leaking out of my sore little hole, baby.”

Jason comes first. His breathing hitches and he releases inside of Roy with three brutal snaps of his hips. 

“Shit,” he groans as he pulls out of Roy with a lewd squelch.

You don’t get to catch your breath, however. No, Roy continues to give you everything he’s got.

“‘M gonna fuck you so good, baby,” Roy prattles on from above you. “You’re gonna come all over my dick like the slut you are, aren’t you?”

You bite at your lower lip as you nod. In all honesty, you’re surprised you haven’t come already. “Only if you promise to come all over me, too,” you moan.

“I can do that,” he responds with a fucked-out smirk.

Meanwhile, Jason moves to lay beside you on his side so that he can play with your nipples. He gently leans in to draw your lips against his. They move together fluidly, only disrupted momentarily by the force of Roy’s hips as he fucks into you. Soon, Jason's fingers trail lower until you can’t contain your pleasure any longer.

You’re gasping loudly at this point, unable to hold back your vocal response to Roy’s onslaught against your dripping cunt. Jason drinks the pathetic noises in as his tongue tangles lewdly with your own.

Roy whimpers as Jason’s come leaks out of his abused hole and onto his thighs. 

You feel the sticky substance wetting your inner thighs as Roy expertly thrusts into you. He leaves you writhing against the sheets and crying out their names as you climax on Roy’s pink-tipped cock.

Call it post-orgasm haze, call it stupidity, but you need his come fucked inside of you.

“Come in me,” you say airily, still coming down from your high. “Fuck it all into me, Roy,” you gasp as another icy wave wracks over your body. “I’m such a fucking come slut for you, baby. I-" You don’t even get the chance to finish your sentence before Roy’s face twists up salaciously as he fills your cunt with his warm want.

Roy collapses on your other side as the three of you catch your breath.

The rest of the night ends with sugary snacks, horror movie reruns and snuggles. 

It’s… perfect.

A/N: so glad to see you guys enjoying this au so much! last chap is outlined but not yet written soo, in the meantime, be sure to check out my pinned post for my other fics!

[next] || masterlist || pinned || ways to support

[margo-mania]

heres EVERYONE in a beautiful big post (with all my design notes rambles and reasonings) for your (and my) reblogging pleasure

From left to right top row then bottom row

Jane Doe: the biggest notes i have on Jane is that her bubble braids are inspired by @/lauren-t-lampe 's Jane Doe, she's so freaking cute. i like to think my jane is very baby jane

Mischa Bachinski: i didnt really have a plan for mischa other than well mullet so heres the ukrainian bad boy in all his glory

Noel Gruber: noel is extremely gender, i wanted him to be the tallest out of everyone because why not.

Ocean O'Connell Rosenberg: i gave her glasses cause i feel like she'd constantly push them up before saying "um acshually.." I always see Ocean as Asexual tbh

Ricky Potts: Nothing much here, i guess i just wanted to give him glasses. it was my first time drawing crutches so i'm always going to try to improve on them

Constance Blackwood: i wanted to make her chubbier than the others like in the 2016 slime tut, but it's definitely something i have to work on improving imo. i feel like if she had more confidence in herself she'd wear the stickers on her face all the time

Penny Lamb: main reason for the short hair? i wanted to be unique since i always see penny with braids and also i gave Jane bubble braids and i kind of wanted to seperate the designs. lesser reason? dont come for me but alice from twilights hair is cool af (tysm to @/cam-stopped-eating-candles for the explaination on penny's hair in legoland!)

(Na)Talia: screw you she's real and i love her. had a lot of free reign since the only detail Mischa mentions is her hair (which i had to google lol). Talia is my absolute favourite rtc song so i wanted to keep the flowey skirts from the 2016 choreography but gave her a bit of an edge because she canonically listens to (and presumably enjoys) rap

Vergil: he's a lil rat in a t-shirt

Monique Gibeou: no notes on this design no need to change anything imo UwU

Space Age Bachelor Man: i like to think what he wears is covered in sparkles and the glitter on his face is a nice touch. I wanted to make something on him colourful so i made the hair/tail colourful uwu

The Amazing Karnak: still a bit....eh on his design but i'm liking it a lot more after sleeping on it. love his coat the most

and thats all of them!! i really want to make keychains/stickers one day so if you have ideas for it let me know! :3

[charlesjosephwrites]

Find the Word Tag

Thanks for the tag @oh-no-another-idea!

My words were welcome, wander, wish, and will!

Without any further ado, here are some snippets from The Snap That Changed Everything!

welcome [Bianca's pov]

The town of Snickerdale greeted Bianca with an unholy combination of sweltering July heat and blindingly sparkly Christmas decorations the moment she drove past the Welcome to Snickerdale sign. She navigated around so many tinsel-covered street light poles and giant gingerbread figurines on her way to the motel she was starting to question whether coming here was going to take a tole on her sanity, but she knew better than to question her father’s orders.

wander [Cam's pov]

Cam bounced down the sidewalk with her attention locked on her phone and a golden brown Australian Shepard following closely at her heels. She hummed a cheerful tune to herself as she scrolled through camera filters, looking for the one that gave her blue eyes just a hint of sparkle. The dog barked, drawing Cam’s attention away from her phone just as she was about to wander mindlessly into the street. “Thank you, Churro.” She scratched the top of the dog’s head. “You’re such a good girl.”

wish [Cam's pov]

“Sweetheart.” Margot sighed. “I wish there was something more I could do for you, but I’ve given you all the time the bank policy allows.” “But the fundraising is finally starting to take off,” Cam protested. “And the festival should make it go even faster. With any luck, it should only take a couple more days.” Margot frowned. “I’m sorry, but luck isn’t exactly a sound financial plan.” “Please.”

will [Cam's pov]

“You at least confirmed that she’s actually into women, right?” Darren asked. Cam shifted uncomfortably in her seat. “I mean… she seems really interested in getting to know me.” “Do you want a repeat of what happened with that biker lady?” Cam slapped the arm of the couch. “I didn’t know straight women did their nails like that!” Darren held up his hands in surrender. “I just want to make sure you don’t get too ahead of yourself.” "I will be fine," Cam insisted.

I will tag @vsnotresponding, @space-writes, @samplewriting, @rivenantiqnerd, @rjcopeseethemald, and anyone else who sees this and wants an excuse to share some snippets from their WIPs.

Your words are dream, funny, wrong, and feel.

[augment-techs]

Top ten side characters in power rangers. Not necessarily comedy duo characters just characters who aren’t the main characters but have some presence 💕

Oh, we're really in it now. Fortunately they don't change all that often recently, so here we go:

Eugene "Skull" Skullovitch; my precious child that I will continue to physically and emotionally whump until I feel like cleaning up the blood to feed and water and provide a relationship.

Farkas "Bulk" Bulkmeier; whom I will forever and always build up and cherish and defend from the haters. HE WAS HERE LONGER THAN ANYONE ELSE, he DESERVES respect!

Andrea of Promethea. I am still SO angry she doesn't have a canon last name, but this woman deserves infinite respect for dealing with Grace and Terona--especially during The Void arc post-Shattered Grid. This woman is a saint.

Violet Arias. Who was given so many opportunities to be built up into a full character, but the comic writers bitched out of everything after GGPR ended.

Marah. From the very beginning I felt like she could have been more than what she seemed, and when crumbs were dropped at my feet telling me I was right, I ate that shit up and never looked back. I would KILL to see her and her sister in a daily dynamic with Cam in Ninja Academy.

Betty Burke. Don't get me wrong, I love her and Ben together in their dynamics, but she is infinitely Orange coded as well as...implicitly more active in her want to be of use to the Rangers.

Fran. This woman in a goddess and she should have been told so by the Rangers ON THEIR KNEES with how many times she bailed them out of Jungle Karma failing, their not TALKING to her to APOLOGIZE properly, keeping R.J. from going fully feral, and getting in a fight with a Darkside Lily even though she's so small.

Devin Del Valle. This young man is a jack of all trades with the patience of someone WELL beyond his years. I'm still pissed about his being passed over for something more because the producers found out that Conner's secondary Ranger outfit wasn't a separate entity, but as a background character, he draws a lot of my attention anyway.

Phineas. I really don't consider him to count as a comedy character. He provides a kind of mentorship that Daggeron and Udonna can't, and his attempted team-up with both Clare and Leelee was the HEIGHT of his career. He's a badass.

Ernie. I maintain forever and always that he KNOWS who the Rangers are, but keeps it to himself because they're good kids and need help, not more pressure. But I maintain even MORE that he's the only adult in Bulk and Skull's lives that actually care about them and wants them to succeed in life. The comics were kind enough to give me a lot more evidence than in live action and I'm quite pleased about it.

[thehotelpod]

ONE MORE WEEK OF DOUBLE STUFF OCTOBER LETS DO SEASON 5 OF IZZY'S EPISODE ART

5.1 Merp and Burble

Our first Big Named Event arc! "BEHIND THE CURTAIN" which I'm almost certain I picked because we could do this cool ass curtain frame device. Izzy continues to bring the pain here with photo bashed curtains, a modified Madam Hotel horrifyingly cartooning about like bugs bunny to reveal our almost Trevor Henderson-like trail cam timelapse photo of Merp. He also gave me a number of color options on this one, maybe we'll have a section in The Guestbook Vol. II of bts sketches? I'll ask Izzy. This one holds a special place in my heart because Merp is, as devotees will recall, just Scary Slar.

rest of the season under the cut! (it's long, you've been warned)

5.2 It Watches and It Smiles

look! The curtain connects at the top! It's gonna be one long picture!

This monster was actually based on a 3 foot tall hard foam statue we had in our house growing up. It is actually scarier looking than you are imagining, made every one of my cousins cry, and is not only something I had nightmares about but also one of the main reasons so much of my horror is "something weird is Over There but looking at you". Full disclosure, one of the reasons I put this monster in this episode was so that Izzy would have to draw a postcard of it and maybe someone would recognize it and tell me what the hell it is because I have not so much as a single photograph of it. BUT then Izzy showed me this drawing, which almost completely hides the monster but it's just so so good I couldn't pass it up. The implied shape and DYNAMITE bloody palm fronds make this look so much like a 90s book cover I fell in love right away. We always try to keep those season and episode numbers in the postcards now too, but I think we forget sometimes?

5.2 Nothing Can Kill That Which Glowers

LOOK AT THIS ONE. Madam Hotel rotting in the reflection of the bubble (she was supposed to show up more in those episodes and sort of be in the process of rotting but she ended up being a single light instead.), I'm crazy about the Owner here, Izzy loves to always keep a little monster in the mix when he draws the Staff. And miss Manager POPS like an 80s music video. Lot's of subtle layers and textures here that can get overlooked, but just like the lake the Owner sinks into, it deepens the longer you linger (did you find the episode number?)

I also like to remind everyone that 'That Which Glowers' is the Grimace and this episode title is a reference to the Clerks cartoon.

5.4 We Are...Watching You...

But are you really LOOKING at it? Do you SEE Izzy's MIND? Lined up you get back to back Managers mirroring each other as well as Madam Hotel in the wings of the now completed curtains--these doubles ALSO frame what is hopefully implied to be the Lobby Boy's hand reaching for his Manager. All of this duality and connection not only reinforces what we know about the characters and show already but set up beautifully the new mirrors about to arrive...

5.5 The Bellhop

THERE SHE IS! There's my goblin girl. You get the bloody vision of the Hotel as Hop sees it as well as the framing for a triptych of the New Crew, each on their own floor. The New Crew stands apart from the Staff in that they have canonical designs immediately, so there tends to be less variation on their fan designs. However there was like ONE WEEK or so before this episode dropped where people were drawing Hop ALL KINDS OF ways. She's one of my favorite designs Izzy's done for the show and I think it's partially because she looks a little like ET.

5.6 The Concierge

Shut up. Shut UP. Look at those colors. Look at that face. Look at those shoulders. Look at those colors! THE COLORS DUKE! THE COLORS!!!! and those printing spots breaking up the lines, all layered over starlight?! It should be, at this point, very hard for Izzy to outdo himself but...he just keeps on outdoing it. We jump down a floor here and the Concierge has slightly more brick surrounding him than the Bellhop did so my pattern recognizers in the crowd can probably guess what's coming next--

5.6 The Auditor

It's been pointed out that Aud has gotten the most detailed description of the main characters on the show. I try to always keep it vague so everyone can imagine whatever they like , but the Auditor is so weird I just wanted to play a little. I saw this scary looking, lonely monster begging to be seen in all white surrounded by nothing. Even the brick and mortar of the Hotel doesn't seem to want to be around her much. One thing I love about Izzy's work is how well he combines whimsy and fun with actual scary imagery. She looks really scary. That is a scary looking monster he drew.

I also think she kind of looks like this alien from Star Trek IV (hey look Star Trek showed up)

5.9 Tenaj Druh - 004 Moor

Oh how I wish I could have a full set of New Crew postcards from Izzy seeing season 1 from a different perspective (for that matter I'd love a full set of season 1 from Izzy, but one thing at a time). Getting to not only see Janet Hurd, but see the NEW CREW checking her in is so so exciting. And the Manager's TV's re-imagined as giant bloody eyeballs is expressed to it's grossest perfection here. Even the Goosebumps frame is tinted sickly green. (the rest of the season also has Goosebumps frames but I'm trying to show off Izzy's art I want you all to have a good look)

5.10 Tnurb Yrrah - 002 Moor

this one's bonkers. The Hubble's ultra deep field on the left, brains on the right but both halves of one face with the broken illusion between them that is just the building of the Hotel herself?? It's got poster folds and teeth for doors! This is a really stunning one that I feel like deserves a little more attention than it gets. Also maybe I spoke too soon on the Goosebumps frame, I don't...this one doesn't have one but maybe I just saved that file somewhere weird.

5.11 IT'S NEW YEARS EVE, JUDY BLASHY!

This is i think the first one we did that had a Goosebumps frame baked in. You can see the 5 and 11 on the clock give us our season and episode number, but that gets a little lost on the printed version so here it is in all it's glory. Love to get to see Judy here her FACE is so EXPRESSIVE and sharp. Notice how Izzy does NOT draw her with a gap tooth. Is that gap battle damage, or some aesthetic flourish the Hotel likes for her bodies? You'd have to ask Izzy. Also love getting to see him draw the things in her furnace room, which are like huge and imply a much larger elevator inside the box. Always reinforcing that boundaries and rules do not apply at the Hotel

they are also based on the family from Mac and Me

what the fuuuck?? why are they so scary??? why are they like that?? why did they make this movie this way?? I was a child!

5.12 The Reaper's Envy

Finishing up the season is this gorgeous party poster that would be right at home in the 90s. Other than the colors (THE COLOR!) I want to point out the confetti that breaks out of the border that also quietly includes some vermin (all up top, letting your eye drift down to the New Crew being reflected in what hopefully everyone assumed was Judy Blashy's eye. Of course we know now who's eye that is and what it's connected to (nothing its nothing it got cut out)

And that's season 5. Now we have entered the @filthyguts desert and must wait once again for the rains to return. I've got new ideas for season 6 that are gonna completely change how we do the art for the show and maybe we can even squeeze some button designs out of him when we launch the next wave of stuff we're launching.

I've said it before and I'll say it again and again and 100 more times, but Izzy's art is a hugely important part of the show, a source of inspiration not only to the fans who listen but to me myself (especially in my lower moments) and I am so so happy that his art and his style has come to define the show.

[lost-creatures]

"Hot Cougars in your area". She'd seen the ads a hundred times before, they were probably the only motherfuckers willing to advertise on these piece of shit message boards, and most of them were just scams anyway. This time though:

Reader Discretion Advised: Eaten Alive, hard vore, snuff, vomit, musk, yuri, t4t

So I do as I'm told and walk away from my campsite in the middle of the night without telling anyone. We didn't have to go far— just some state park in the mountains above the suburbs. An arid montane scrubland echoed across the rolling surface, its reds and yellows muted to grey and blue in the winter moonlight. Three ridgelines deep into the mountains already. Just the hike to the backcountry campsite beat my ass, so my legs are screaming as I walk into the cold.

/

it was an unlicensed app, right? but you know the website seemed normal enough and i figured that if this worked, i wouldn't really care what they did with whatever got left behind. enough debt to buy a house i guess? i thought i'd been fucked anyway, made a profile and went 2 weeks without a response or message. they're just gonna rob me, huh? this is even better than Lex.

i really needed a girl to pin me down and start tearing into me, nobody ever goes hard enough goddammit. if you want something done right i guess you need to find the real deal.

i almost deleted the app, told myself two days in a row that i should. then, a photo, a mass, the clash of textures between corded muscle and gelatinous organ, heaped onto the dust at night. the kind of thing you'd see on a trail cam, but the angle was wrong.

how can i reply? i can't just hit her with the keysmash, how many women like her can even admit they'd want to do this to you. prey have to stand out a bit more these days, predator populations are way down.

"hey um, is that your work? i really liek it ;3"

fuck goddammit its over im fucking blowing it

"thnk u for noticing meeeee!~"

i'll just kms i'm cooked

"sorry i, the composition of the piece is very strong. the way the textures of the corpse contrast with the dusty landscape, acts to draw your focus as much as the border of the spot lighting and surrounding darkness. the off center lighting creates an almost sfumato effect along the massing, creating beautiful shadow shapes. would you want a new subject? ;3"

"Hahaha, you're cute aren't you?"

my rizz is unlimited

"We should meet. Do you know Henry Coe?"

/

Going back down the 22% grade is harder than climbing it and made even worse by the loose gravelly surface and the too many gin and tonics I had after we made camp. My boot catches a rock as I leave the trail and my knees hit the rocks. It hurts, but I'm having trouble finding the meeting spot, maybe some blood on the trail will help her find me. It feels like she's already on top of me. There's a pressure in the air and it makes every crack and shift in the earth reverberate across the slope. In that moment I can hear every motion every breath under the scrub. There's nothing, just wind howling over the crest of Mount Sizer. But I can feel her boring into me. I keep waiting for her to collide with me, knock me to the ground. I want her I want her inside me.

I want to be ready so I strip my torn clothing from my body.

This has to be the spot, the singular tree matches the photo she sent. I sit, bare ass shivering on the stone under the tree and wipe the fresh beads of blood down my knees, only managing to make a big red smear reaching halfway down my shins. The premix gin and tonics from the campsite start to fight their way back up my throat.

"I didn't think you were gonna show." she's smiling. Her stare pierces through me like I'm not even there. Its entrancing.

Her amber felid form followed my same path along the mountainside and into this depression. A little bit of my blood already stains her muzzle.

"You're Eloise? You know you shouldn't give your real name out to strangers on the internet, right?" She stretches the last word out, lilting, like she's trying hard not to laugh.

I'm struggling to respond through the boozy haze, the biting wind, and the nerves I get just looking at her. "i didn't really think it mattered" I uncurl a bit and she finally gets a look at my face. "can i know yours?"

She jumps, pounces, closing the distance between us faster than I can react. The full weight of her body hits me square between the breasts. Between her body and the rocks beneath every last wisp of air is pressed from my lungs. Her scent hits me all once as I gasp for air, she's actually wild, fuck. Her stink is acrid, acidic, astringent, its the kind of smell that sucks the moisture out of the air and dries out your mouth. I don't gag so much as start panting and straining towards her. "Its Tiffany." Planted on my sternum she makes every breath a labor and I barely manage to whisper a reply.

"i… i…"

I've wanted this for so long but I never thought I'd get this far. I have no idea what to say.

She shifts her weight into my guts and the sick I've been holding back overtops the lump in my throat and pours weakly down my chin. I gag into my chest as my entire body contracts and the waves of my vomit splash flecks of evidence into the fur of her breast and forelegs.

"Its okay kiddo, you don't have to say anything"

"please," I'm coughing up the heavier stragglers stuck in my throat, "you're beautiful" It just burns now. "i need you to take everything from me"

She laughs and looks down, guiding my eye to her massive paws pressing into the plush of my abdomen. To the contents of my stomach emptied over my still flat chest and softening waistline, dripping off in chunks. The tips of her claws poke from their cuticle in their round furred sheath. Fully deployed, each one looks like a karambit, sharpened just for me. She runs her paws gently over my belly, the touch imperceptable over that of the scouring wind, and still, red and black beads follow in the trail she leaves. The roughness of her underpaw brushes past my aching nipples. I can't help but gasp at the burst of sensation attacking my touch starved corpus. She cups her mouth over my breast and gently rolls the small lump of fat around with her tongue, punctuating herself by flicking the tensed tip against my nipples. I can barely process how desperately horny I am. Between my love life sequestered behind a screen and my newly sensitive flesh, I was unprepared. Warmth spreads where my cunt should be and I can't help but grind weakly against her soft underbelly. The first hardon I've had in weeks, I'm almost crying. She pauses a moment and grins down at my weak erection to let me frot against her own growing studded clit. She pins my wrists against the stony ground and puts her hips into it. I'm screaming, the feeling is so intense it almost edges into painful. She's growling feral in my ear, gravel infiltrating her saccharine valley accent. God Fuck please I need it its fucking happening. I shoot; I didn't even know I could do that anymore. The thin mucus spraying from my tip coats the gap between us and she thrusts harder against my pelvis. When she shoots, it hits me in the chin so hard I yelp.

"You really are cute. I hope I can keep you." Her voice trails off and she looks down at me with pity or maybe resignation.

Held down by her impossible strength, she pulls open the soft flesh of my belly like a ripe persimmon. I scream and the sound is deadened and hurried away by the gusts up the windward side of the mountain. Her snout pushes into the freshly wet cleft and I feel her buried deep inside my guts. She works her way underneath my ribs, my chest swelling at the foreign addition. There is a new pressure in me as she nibbles at my liver, the taut wet bulge of organ fills her mouth. I feel her tugging at me with suction at the back her her throat. Her teeth sink into me and the shifting cords of her stiff neck pull with enough force to tear the dark mass free. I sit in a howling void, fully part of that world. I am pure energy bursting forth from a charred vessel. Steam rises around the internal heat bleeding external, a pocket in our frigid night. Spread thin over the earth, I hope she makes eye contact with me while she chews at the choice cuts. She looks back at me, almost bashful at the intimacy held in our stares.

She lays by my side devouring me. Her cum pools in my jugular notch, stained pink with flecks of blood. A tongue like a wave of sand cleans my blood from my outstretched hand. She works her way between each of my fingers all the way down to the webbing. Rolling them over and over with that wet muscle. She knows exactly what she's doing, she's still finding ways to tease me back to ecstasy. In one smooth motion she pulls the hand into her mouth, laying the wrist perfectly along her incisors, canines neatly out of the way. And she bites, gently at first, and then the muscles in her jaw tighten and contract. Blood oozes forth and then sprays from the base of the bite. The radiocarpal ligaments snap apart in suddenly relived tension and her teeth smash themselves between my many carpal bones. My hand spasms, articulated by pain, and she rolls her bite just enough. The back of my hand hits the wet of her hard palate and every nerve in my hand screams as it comes away in her mouth. She pins the arm under her while she sucks at the meat of my hand.

its too much its everything im scared i cant

I come to and the wind's died down a little, the moon's not quite where it used to be. I guess you can live a pretty long time with your guts out and no liver. Longer than I'd have thought anyway. A stump of a wrist bounces off a rock as she drags me. The edges are black with either dried blood or frostbite. I'm not sure how much longer I have left, but every second I get with her is an eternity.

[saintalectoshomeforwaywardgirls]

11/13/2023: Everyone, please meet Camilla Hect!

Camilla here was originally Just Like You #62. I was absolutely dead-set on finding this exact doll for Cam because of the following logic: I personally use the actress Ariela Barer as a drawing reference for Cam. Ariela Barer, coincidentally, played Sonali in the American Girl movie Chrissa Stands Strong. While the Sonali mold is used by a variety of dolls, #62 is much closer to Ariela Barer's actual skin tone (and the skin tone a lot of fan art uses for Camilla) than the Sonali doll proper (and Sonali is extremely hard to find for prices I'd pay, especially for a doll I'm modding). #62 also has what are described as "amber-brown" eyes, but look passably grey-brown in person, so I'm not going to have to eye-swap her!

#62, however, came with some beautiful, glossy, very un-Camilla hair.

Lovely, right? But very not her.

(Also, look at her face, she is so cute. All of the dolls are cute, but I am particularly delighted by the Sonali mold dolls, I think because that was one of the molds that wasn't released until after my original childhood dolls phase so it's new to me.)

Luckily, this provided a very convenient solution for another problem here at Saint Alecto's: Abigail's poor coiffure.

As you can see, the hair our dear Lady Pent came to us with has seen better days. To say nothing of the frizziness (which we would gladly treat if that were the only problem!) there's that inconvenient case of back-of-head bangs she had going there.

So!

As I have done several times now, I set about removing the girls' wigs. (I get my advice, as I'm sure many of us do, from @desertdollranch's rewigging post.) This is a significantly more stressful process when you're trying to maintain the integrity of one of the wigs you're working with! (And okay, Gideon's wig actually came on Harrow's doll so I have reused before... but it didn't matter if Gideon's hair got a little messed up in the process. It adds character.)

My beloved wife and fellow... uh, guardian (I guess? God, we're not their moms, that would be so weird!) of the dolls @incomprehensiblelentils was, as often she is, ready with the Magic Eraser for sudden trouble spots; she also provided support (literally: holding the girls as I worked) and company.

And lo and behold!

Abigail Pent now has a beautiful new hairdo! (And I am more convinced than ever that she's going to need some lipstick. Nothing crazy, just a bit of color. That's for another day.)

More importantly, Camilla now has her trademark bob, as seen above. It's the Hoshi in chocolate brown by PurplePlumWigs (and yes, it is kind of gay* that Cam and Dulcie's wigs came from the same shop! This is part of why we can't be their moms: so many of these kids are in lesbians* with each other!) Her overalls are by StarBriteDoll on Etsy; the boots and tank top are harvested from eBay outfits.

(Abigail's outfit is also from eBay: glasses, sweater, skirt, shoes.)

[nezuswritingdesk]

“Alright, Mephie. Don’t let her climb the pantry again.”

The golden retriever let out a soft woof in acknowledgment, tail wagging as Sylus double-checked the angle of the dog-cam attached to Mephie’s harness. Shu—his mute, sparkle-obsessed youngest—sat patiently on the floor nearby, her sock full of shiny treasures hugged to her chest.

Sylus clipped a tiny cam to the front of Shu’s overalls, right above the glitter sticker she’d stuck there this morning.

“This one’s for the fans,” he whispered with a conspiratorial grin.

Nezu, stirring tea in the background, didn’t even blink. “You’re vlogging her again?”

“She’s viral,” he shrugged. “The world deserves Shu content. I’m just the curator.”

“You mean the spy.”

“She’s adorable. It’s art.”

“Mm-hm. I’m sure the internet needs another video of her organizing rocks by shininess and growling at her brothers.”

Sylus smirked. “Fifty thousand likes in six hours says otherwise.”

[CAMERA FEED — SYLUS’ LAPTOP | “Shu Cam + Mephie Cam” LIVESTREAM MONITORING ON SCREEN]

09:00 AM – The Great Kitchen Heist Shu wanders into the kitchen with stealth unmatched by mortal children. Her feet are silent. Her mission is clear: the Top Shelf Snack Drawer.

Mephie follows dutifully, camera bobbing gently.

From Sylus’ screen, he watches as Shu pulls a step stool from thin air like some toddler magician, stacks it onto a chair, and begins her ascent.

Daniel appears, chewing a breadstick. “You’re gonna fall.”

Shu signs something that seems to be a mixture of “snack justice” and “my destiny.”

She nearly tips the entire tower. Mephie barks once.

Nezu swoops in like a mountain goddess mid-battle. “Down.”

The stack is confiscated. Shu pouts. Camera captures full betrayal.

09:15 AM – The Sparkle Sort Shu sits in the hallway, surrounded by shiny things she’s definitely stolen from everyone in the house. Mephie places a bottle cap at her feet like a loyal soldier offering tribute.

Shu nods solemnly. The cap is accepted.

Luke walks by. “Hey, that’s my—”

Shu hisses.

Luke flees.

Sylus snorts into his mug.

12:00 PM – Royal Duties Amelia demands a coronation.

Shu is appointed “Silent Queen of the North Hallway.” Mephie is knighted with a wooden spoon.

The dog-cam catches the moment Shu raises her sock of shinies high like a royal decree.

Daniel attempts a coup by trying to swap out a button for a gold coin.

Shu responds by putting glitter in his shoes.

“Karmic justice,” Sylus mumbles to himself proudly.

02:00 PM – Science With Kieran Kieran tries to test whether Shu can identify edible mushrooms by scent.

Mephie immediately sits in front of the mushrooms.

Kieran sighs. “She’s better than my charts.”

Shu gives him a thumbs-up and continues drawing a frog in chalk on the floor.

03:30 PM – The Nap Rebellion Nezu calls for nap time.

Amelia crashes on the couch mid-lecture to Luke about fairy taxes.

The twins begrudgingly settle down with comic books.

Shu disappears.

Mephie-cam shows her wedged behind the couch, surrounded by her shiny stash, eyes wide and alert like a squirrel refusing capture.

Sylus types a caption for the screenshot: “The resistance lives on. #BabyShu #NapWarrior #ShuCam”

06:00 PM – End of Broadcast Shu, now dressed in an oversized sweater and wearing three hair clips and a pipe cleaner crown, toddles into the living room and throws herself dramatically onto Sylus’ tail.

He pretends to faint. “My heart! I’ve been blessed by royalty!”

She signs: Dramatic.

He winks. “Wonder where you got that from.”

Mephie curls up beside her.

Nezu hands Sylus the camera. “Are you actually posting this?”

He lifts the Shu footage lovingly. “I’m editing a ‘Day in the Life of Baby Shu’ compilation. Her fanbase demands quality.”

“Are you going to show the glitter trap she left for the twins?”

He taps a button. “It’s the thumbnail.”

Later That Night – Instagram Post:

📹 @sylus_drgn | “Shu Cam Ep. 1: The Chaos Queen Rises 👑✨🐾”

She’s mute. She sparkles. She rules. Featuring: loyal knight Mephie, noble siblings, and one extremely patient father. #BabyShu #ServiceDogMephie #DragonDadChronicles #LifeInTheCottage

Top Comment: @nezu.heals: “Please note she glitter-bombed the teapot. Again.” @kieran.twinscience: “That mushroom part was not peer-reviewed.” @daniel.doodle: “My shoes still sparkle.” @amelia.royal: “She took my crown. I want it back.” @shu.official (managed by Sylus): [silent sparkle emoji trail]

Help baby shu is so cutie patootie🥹 I love her so much shes such a little icon

[obsidiancreates]

One Undead To Another (Chapter 17)

Henry feels like an idiot.

He examines Shawn’s broken apartment window. It took him until after leaving the voicemail to finally realize what he’d seen a whole day before. Broken apartment window, oh, Shawn might’ve just broken it with some dumb stunt, cracked door is because it’s a crappy old yoga studio or whatever it was. 

Except this is a case. And Shawn is hiding something.

There’s blood on one of the shards of glass still in the windowpane, dried and probably useless– no way they can match the DNA to any of the bodies as burnt as they are. 

He could still write it off as Shawn having done something dumb and shattered the window. But as Henry opens Shawn’s broken door, a much more worrying picture starts to paint itself in Henry’s mind.

Part of the state of the place is just how Shawn lives, but Henry sees disturbances in the carpet in front of the couch– flattened, pressed-down fibers, in an imprint about the size of a body.

Shawn’s bedroom door is cracked. Shawn’s bathroom door is cracked. His sink is cracked! Someone tore through this place like a hurricane and left a message.

… And Shawn slept in the Psych office. With Gus, Juliet, and Lassiter all there too.

Henry checks the bed, and– yes. There. A little bit of dried blood, just a little, on top of the covers.

Broken window, cracked doors, blood on the covers, all of them sleeping in one place, the detectives being more defensive of Shawn than usual, Shawn’s empty eyes–

“Aw, kid.” Henry steps back. Maybe he won’t find anything damning about Shawn’s bike after all. “You got kidnapped again, didn’t you?”

—-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Pain in his neck. Held, cradled, pressed against freezing skin. His blood clings to the inside of his veins as it’s sucked out. He feels every last dreg being dragged out of his body. The cold seeps in as the blood seeps out. Pain, pain, pain–

He bites deeper into the warm flesh in his mouth. Relief, such incredible relief. No more pain, no more pain, no more pain…

No more pain. Nothing when Lassie hits him, nothing when he dives away from the car, nothing when he cracks his sink with a frustrated slam of his hand… it’s fun. It’s nice. It’s good.

—-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“It’s all good.” Shawn wakes up with a start, tumbling off the couch and looking up as Gus, phone stuck between his shoulder and his face, closes the office door. He has a black vinyl bag in one hand, the office keys in the other. He moves right through the office to the back door, locking it like he locked the front. Shawn didn’t see Gus lock the front. He just knows he did. God, being Psychic is subtle sometimes. It’s like that thing where you hear about a type of car, and then start noticing it everywhere– but instead of cars it’s supernaturally gained knowledge.

His mouth waters as he hears faint sloshing in the bag. Gus comes back into the main room, and Shawn sees the logo stuck onto the vinyl– a pair of lips with fangs and a drop of blood hanging off the mouth corner. Cliche, tacky, and he thinks he’s in the right considering it to be a little bit offensive to him.

“Just, forget about it. Pretend I was never even there.” Gus hangs up the phone, blushing– Shawn could swear he hears the blood rush up into Gus’s cheeks, and his vision tunnels. His mouth waters and his lips part and he can see the pulse of the veins in Gus’s neck.

The bag is shoved into his hands. It makes him blink, the tunnel vision falling away and shifting.

Flash, film grain, shaky cam from a downward angle, Gus is awkwardly flirting with a woman in a tight leather harness who pulls her own blood drawing supplies out. 

“If you’re really curious, I’m an attentive teacher. I used to be in nursing school so I can totally guide you on drawing blood.”

Shawn blinks. “Please tell me you didn’t force yourself to draw someone’s blood all on your own.”

“I don’t wanna talk about it, Shawn, just drink it so you don’t drink me.”

“I’m literally in your debt forever.” Shawn pulls out the bag and just– bites. He doesn’t even know what happens in the moments between grabbing it, still warm as it is, and it being already halfway empty.

Gus gags.

As soon as the bag is empty, which is in only seconds, Shawn looks up at Gus. He tries to ignore the almost transcendent euphoria slowly soaking through him, forcing himself to focus on the outside– namely, the fact that Gus might be about to vomit on the little carpet they recently added to the sitting area. “Dude! Why did you watch?!”

“You didn’t give me time to leave the room!”

“You could’ve turned your head or, just closed your eyes, man!”

Gus tsks. “Look, are you feeling better now?”

Shawn licks his lips. Gus stifles a gag.

The euphoria is fading, slowly, and even still god it feels good. He feels fantastic, unstoppable, top of the world– 

“I think so. My voice is fixed up, at least.”

“Thank go– uh, gosh. It was terrifying before!”

“I don’t know that it was that bad.” It was. It is. Gus saying it outright hurts.

“It absolutely was! You sounded like a demon Shaw–” Gus looks Shawn in the eyes and sags a little. “Sorry.”

“No, it’s fine–”

“No, Shawn, it’s not. If this happened to me–”

Flash, grain, footraces so fast you miss them if you blink and stupid contests trying to lift the Blueberry and years passing and passing but the two of them never changing–

“–I would hate you pointing it out all the time.” Gus’s brow creases. “Shawn?”

Shawn’s mouth parts, awareness trickling back. His face feels like it’s showing confusion. He’ll run with that. Confusion and a joke, anything to ignore that vision and how fun it all seemed. “Gus, if you were a vampire you’d never leave your apartment again.”

“Honestly, I might ask you to stake me. After I ask Father Wesley about if that disqualifies my soul from Heaven.”

“Dude, I could never stake you. How can you even suggest that?”

“You’d have to, Shawn! I’m not built to be a vampire!”

“No-one is, man! That’s why it’s a curse or whatever!”

“You know what I mean!”

“Gus, you and I both know that just because we understand each other, doesn’t mean we’re making sense."

“Tsk!”

—-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Karen really shouldn’t be going through her Head Detective’s desk. And she isn’t, technically. She’s just… looking over the evidence box McNab put there before Lassiter and O’Hara went to the scene of the drowning.

“What are you looking for, Detective?” 

She’s not ignorant. Her best detectives calling out sick the day after a group of suspects are found dead in their own burnt-down mansion, Henry going on some little ‘quest’ of his own flashing his badge around at shops on the way to said mansion according to a series of complaints, Shawn being mysteriously absent the last few days except for a surprise drop-off of a kidnapper…

Something suspicious is obviously going on. This is why she always hesitates sending anyone from this particular unit on undercover operations. 

The journals Lassiter is holding onto look like little more than charcoal at first glance, but as she snaps on a pair of gloves and carefully opens one, there’s a shocking amount still legible towards the spine and center of the pages. They’re all handwritten, and the yellowing going so deep into the pages means they’re all old. She checks the stability of each one first, making sure none of them will crumble in her hands, and when none do she tries to make out the writing.

The penmanship is sloppy, the ink is faded, and the writer is using some kind of shorthand. It’d take days at the least to decipher this notebook, and based on her brief overview of the others they aren’t much more promising. As far as she can piece together in this moment, it’s mostly a travel log of some kind, but an old one- older any of the suspects were. Something that belonged to other victims in other areas, maybe?

… Other victims. Of course. 

She puts the notebooks away. She has some calls about cold cases to make.

[mpregfantasies]

The Visit II

Ed slowly pulled my shorts down further, something I did not complain about at all, grinning back up at me. "Well... What do we have here?"

"W-What...?"

His hands rested gently on my thighs. "You're so wet..."

Somewhere in my mind I knew I should feel embarrassed, but all I could think about was how bad I wanted his hands on my pussy, how bad I needed him to make me come.

"For you two..." I admitted, blushing red down to my tits. "I get so horny when people touch my belly now..."

This made Carol grin, and squeeze more lotion into her hands. "Like this?" She placed her hands on either side of my belly, rubbing gentle, slow circles into my stretched skin, gradually applying more and more pressure to it. I felt the babies kick against her hands, and they both must have seen it or felt it themselves, because I heard matching gasps.

"They're kickers, aren't they...?" Ed said as he gently brushed his fingers over my folds, which made me moan.

"Y-Yeah..." My hips bucked against his hand. "I need it, please..."

As Carol rubbed my belly, Ed began rubbing my pussy in time.

"You really don’t know how gorgeous you are all filled up like this..." She breathed, tracing my linea nigra with her thumbs.

"I love it, I love being gorgeous and pregnant..." I was too far gone to hide it. I wanted to stay like this, with them, forever.

"We'll keep you that way..." Ed growled, slowly pressing one finger into my needy pussy.

I felt my cunt clench against him. "Thank you..."

"You're welcome, honey..." Carol said, dipping her head down to kiss the apex of my huge tummy, just behind my popped out belly button.

That made me come hard, completely unexpectedly. I writhed and arched my back on the couch, gushing all over Ed's hand with a low moan.

"Good, good boy..." Ed murmured as he added a second, then third finger for me to fuck back on. The whole time, Carol's hands rubbed across my belly, tweaking my belly button every so often. That was guaranteed to draw a horny whine out of me without fail.

Eventually the orgasm stopped, down to a few sparse aftershocks. I was breathing hard, panting with my limited lung capacity, and sweat coated my pregnant body.

Carol and Ed's touches grew lighter and lighter, until they turned to steady, comforting hands on my shoulder and calf.

"How'd that feel, Cam...?" Carol asked softly. Her hand crept down to press against the top of my belly, like she couldn't help herself, she had to touch it.

"S-So good..." I slurred, laying there limp. I hadn't felt this happy or this relaxed since, well, since I was a lot less pregnant. I forgot how much I missed them, how alone I had felt, despite the two extra passengers in my round belly.

"Good, we want you to feel good..." Ed's voice rumbled low as he leaned forward to kiss the underside of it.

"Are you comfortable out here? Or do you want to go lay down in bed?" Her voice was so gentle, with all the hormones coursing through me, I almost teared up.

"Bed? And can you come with?" I wasn't surprised at how shaky my voice was, given my emotions and- more importantly- how hard I had come.

"Of course." Ed agreed, and he and Carol worked together to guide me off the couch. Immediately my legs spread again, one hand on my back, but Carol and Ed immediately moved to my sides to support my bulging gut.

With their help, we navigated to the master bedroom with their large, California King sized bed. It had more than enough room for the three of us, even accommodating my belly.

"On my side, please, my left side..." I said as they helped me up onto the mattress. Carol slid a pillow between my legs and laid near my front, while Ed spooned me from behind, laying their hands on my massive, still-naked tummy.

"Go to sleep now..." Ed said, and I felt his voice rumble against my back.

"Yeah, we'll be right here when you wake up..."

I drifted off as I laid in their bed- our bed now- with both pairs of hands on my swollen belly, and finally knew I was going to be okay.