#just woke up and it's already hard to put this into proper words

[subskz]

go easy - h.js

note: this is a reupload from my old blog

content: sub jisung, dom reader, masturbation (m), brief voyeurism, a bit of degradation, reader calls jisung a slut once, use of traffic light system, stopping during a scene, crying, slight angst, hurt/comfort, pegging, lots of praise

word count: 6.6k

The scent of your cooking wafted through the kitchen as you turned the knob on your stove to lower its heat to a simmer. You gave the eggs you’d scrambled a few more tentative pokes with your utensil before deciding that you were satisfied, shutting off the fire beneath the pan at last.

Jisung was still sound asleep in the other room—or at least, you assumed he was given that he hadn’t yet been lured into the kitchen by the mouthwatering aroma. You set the sizzling pan down on the counter and glanced at your phone to check the time. It was nearly noon, and as much as you wanted Jisung to get proper rest, especially knowing that he’d gone to bed thoroughly exhausted the night prior, you figured it’d be better to wake him up before his whole day was thrown off. A part of you wanted him awake so he could have the chance to eat his breakfast before it got cold, but the other half—the more selfish one—simply missed him. No matter how groggy he might be when he first woke up; mumbling to himself for minutes, ruffling his unruly hair and rubbing the sleep out of his eyes before he could get a proper sentence out, he always brightened your mornings with his slurred jokes and lazy giggles.

The thought alone was enough to stir fondness in your chest, bringing an involuntary smile to your face as if you could hear his raspy voice already. You made quick work of setting the rest of the table and headed out of the kitchen, making your way down the hall towards your bedroom. In retrospect, shutting the door so that the clatter of your cooking wouldn’t disturb Jisung hadn’t really been necessary, considering how deep of a sleeper he was.

A small, muffled noise coming from the other side of the wall captured your attention, bringing you to a halt as you reached for the door handle. You stayed put for a moment, not even having the chance to question whether you’d imagined it or not when it was soon followed by another, just audible enough for you to catch. It wasn’t the first time you’d heard Jisung talk in his sleep, but the nature of the sounds you were hearing—stifled, swallowed down, like he was having trouble getting them out—had you wondering if he might be experiencing a nightmare of some kind. 

You listened long enough for your curiosity to begin morphing into concern. A noise almost akin to a gasp met your ears, cut short as soon as it came, just barely allowing you to catch it. With a frown, you turned the door handle and tiptoed into your bedroom, completely unprepared for the scene that awaited you inside.

Jisung was awake, very much so.

Your comforter had been bunched up and tossed to the side, giving you a clear view of exactly what had been drawing out all those strange, breathless noises from him. He was hunched over, eyes squeezed shut, messy hair falling into his face, teeth sinking into his bottom lip. His shorts and underwear were pushed down just far enough for his hand to move freely, like he’d been in too much of a rush to even bother removing them properly. Given how fast he was stroking himself, that was probably the case.

You blinked a few times, processing the scene unfolding before you in stunned silence. He hadn’t yet noticed that you’d slipped into the room, still fully consumed by the feeling of his hand sliding up and down his length at a frantic pace, working himself to his high with a shameless lack of control. The noises he made were hushed, but deliciously desperate, and judging by the obvious flush on his cheeks, you could tell just how hard he was trying to hold his breath and restrain himself so they wouldn’t ring out too loud.

Any remaining shock you’d felt was quickly overtaken by a wave of arousal when you heard Jisung call out your name—so soft, so broken, you might have thought you’d misheard if he didn’t buck up into his fist especially hard as he uttered it, like the mere thought of you was just what he needed to send him over the edge right then and there. He slowed his pumping to flatten his palm and roll it over the head of his cock, cursing under his breath. You knew better than anyone how crazy the move drove him—you were the one who’d discovered it in the first place, gotten him hooked on it. It ignited a strange heat in your stomach, to realize that you were the only thing on his mind in that moment.

You’d never quite seen Jisung like this before. Curled in on himself, forcing back his moans in a relentless chase for pleasure from hands other than yours. He was typically so vocal about his desires with you, rarely shying away from demanding all your attention and begging you to take care of him when his need became too much to contain any longer. The fact that he was trying to keep it all a secret from you, like he was doing something wrong, had you more excited than you’d like to admit.

He clamped his jaws shut to suppress what was sure to have been a particularly loud cry, throwing his head back in a fit of pleasure. As he did, his half-lidded eyes finally caught a glimpse of you. Arms crossed, leaning lazily against the doorframe with an expression on your face that made his stomach flip.

He stiffened, hand freezing around his dick. A choked noise escaped him as his stare met yours, the remaining traces of his moan instantly dying out in his throat.

“Morning,” you hummed.

Jisung’s eyes grew wide as moons; a deer caught in headlights, a look far too innocent considering what he’d just been doing. With a mortified squeak, his hand scrambled for the nearest pillow, flinging it over himself in a pointless attempt to cover up the dripping mess of arousal peeking from his half-discarded shorts. Embarrassingly enough, the softness pressing suddenly against his most sensitive spot made him jolt, so hard that he was positive you wouldn’t miss it.

Your lips twitched into the beginnings of a smile, and you made your way over to the bed, flopping down on it casually across from him. “Don’t be shy, Hannie,” your voice was calm for the most part, but it was difficult to contain the delight creeping into it. “Nothing I haven’t seen before, right?”

At that, Jisung’s face heated up impossibly more, creating a pretty blush against his tan skin that you couldn’t get enough of.

“I...I thought you were busy,” he stammered out, gripping the pillow tighter. “I didn’t mean...um, I mean, I wasn’t trying to—”

His rambling was cut off when you leaned forward to cup his face in your hands, smile curving to completion when you felt for yourself how much his skin was burning under your palms. You gave his full cheeks a squeeze, gentle enough for him to relax into your touch. “Weren’t trying to get yourself off?” you finished for him. “It’s alright, baby. Why don’t you show me what you were doing?”

Jisung swallowed hard. “You’re not mad?” 

“Mm...not mad,” you began, rubbing your thumbs along his flushed face, feeling his pulse race under them. “Just a little hurt that you didn’t call for me to help you out.”

He cast his eyes down, unable to turn his head away in shame like every instinct told him to. You were only teasing him, no signs of disappointment lacing your tone, but it crashed a heavy guilt over him all the same. To not only do something so pathetic, so shameful, but to be caught by you in the process. You, the one he wanted to be good for, the one he did everything with your approval in mind.

“Sorry, ‘m sorry,” he mumbled. “It’s way too early for me to be so…ah.”

He squeezed his eyes shut, wishing he could fade into the sheets and escape your watchful eyes before he died of pure humiliation right there—or worse, before the fresh rush of adrenaline it sent through his body to be found like this made his situation infinitely more embarrassing. He could already feel it, creeping up his neck, making his cock throb against the soft fabric of the pillow.

“Just…didn’t wanna bother you for something like this.”

With the exception of an occasional,  overly-eager misstep, Jisung always tried his best to be as well-behaved as possible for you. It was a rare occurrence for you to scold him over anything—he didn’t give you much of a reason to, nor a desire to. Not when his doe eyes gleamed up at you in a constant search for praise and his voice rang out so sweetly with every word of adoration you gave him. Though he hadn’t necessarily broken any rules, it still felt strangely thrilling to you to have caught him like this. Working himself up without your knowledge, seeking relief without your touch. You wondered what he’d been thinking about to even reach that point, what had made him so desperate that he didn’t even think to come find you first.

You slid your hands from his face to grab the pillow he’d used to shield himself. Jisung tensed up as you tugged it out of his hold, but he made no effort to try and stop you, obediently releasing it from his fidgeting fingers. Your heart skipped a beat as his cock sprang back into view, still fully hard and leaking at its tip, practically begging for release after the sudden loss in stimulation. Clearly, Jisung’s embarrassment had done little to ebb his arousal—if anything, it’d only strengthened it.

“Poor baby. So needy with no one around to take care of him,” you pouted, ghosting your hand over his length. “What’s got you like this first thing in the morning?”

It took him a moment to muster up a response, not finding it in him to speak properly when your fingers were dancing mere centimeters over his aching tip, taunting him. “H-had a dream about you.”

“Yeah?” you cooed. “Was I touching you like that?”

A soft noise of frustration met your ears. His gaze was locked on your hand, in a trance. So preoccupied with how badly he longed for you to close the distance that he almost forgot to give a strained nod.

“Cute.” You followed Jisung’s pleading stare to admire his twitching cock, curling your hand playfully around nothing. His breath hitched in his throat, bracing himself for your touch. But it never came. 

Instead, you scooted back, settling comfortably in a spot near the edge of the bed that gave you the perfect view of him—his bewildered face, his ridden up shirt, his dick peeking up from the elastic of his shorts. “Well, don’t let me ruin your fun.”

His mouth fell open, big, anxious eyes darting up to meet yours again. Adorably expressive as ever. You could see every emotion he was feeling written out in the curve of his eyebrows and the repeated parting and closing of his lips as he struggled to make sense of what you were implying.

“Ah…” he chuckled nervously. “What?”

“It must’ve felt good, right? Better than anything I could do,” you teased. “Let me see how my baby plays with himself when I’m not around.”

Your tone was light, but Jisung nearly shuddered all the same, like he couldn’t shake the feeling that some sort of punishment had to be awaiting him. There was a strange, hungry glint in your eyes that added a tinge of apprehension to the excitement fluttering his chest.

Despite himself, he followed through without question, half out of a determination to prove his discipline to you, half out of a pathetic need to relieve the pressure still coiled tight in his abdomen. He brought his hand back to his length, a tiny whine escaping him as he wrapped his fingers around it, handling it with far more timidity than the relentless pace he’d set earlier. He glanced up at you with a hopeful stare to ask for permission, such an obvious attempt to appeal to you that you could’ve laughed. But you simply nodded, encouraging him to start moving.

Tentatively, Jisung began stroking himself, thighs trembling the instant his pleasure picked up where he’d left off. You marveled at the way his cock pulsed in his hand as he pumped it with an amount of delicacy that he wasn’t used to treating himself with, slowly finding his rhythm. Even with his languid strokes, it wasn’t long before soft vocalizations began to build in his throat, heard loud and clear through the bedroom.

“Is that how fast you were going earlier?” you asked. It seemed like an innocent question, but he knew right away what you were really getting at; an order to go faster, to match his feverish speed from before.

“No,” he admitted.

“Don’t hold back, Jisungie,” you urged. “You were so into it before. Do it just like that, make yourself feel so good that you don’t even notice me.”

A breathless, awkward mewl slipped out of him, but he tightened his grip nonetheless. You cooed in approval, growing more aroused with each passing second over the sight of him so flustered, fumbling helplessly with his cock like he’d never touched it before. Any traces of how shameless he could be with you were nowhere to be found, now. No cries for your attention, no sinful expressions on full display, no begging to be adored. It willed you to take things a step further, to make the most of his shyness.

His hushed sounds quickly escalated into less controlled ones, still tinged with that sleepy rasp. His free hand gripped the bedsheets as he picked up the pace of his stroking, a cute, concentrated look forming on his face.

“There we go. Does that feel good, Hannie?”

The boy’s eyebrows furrowed as he slid his thumb along the head of his cock, passing over his wet slit and making his breath stutter. “M-mhm,” he hesitated before continuing. “It’d feel—ah—better if it was you.”

“Yeah?” you cooed. “It could’ve been. All you had to do was come to me like a good boy.”

He whined at that, averting his guilt-ridden gaze. Even with his head ducked, he could still feel you watching him, taking in each flex of his muscles and jolt of his hips. It made the touch of his hand feel completely foreign to him, like the effects of your observant eyes stimulated his nerve endings with a new intensity. You knew well by now that Jisung thrived on your praise more than anything else, but the prospect of talking down to him with no affectionate words to ease the sting was oddly exhilarating to you. You wanted to be a little meaner, to satiate your curiosity. 

“Is this what you do behind my back, baby?” you faked a pout. “Always touching your needy cock ‘cause you can’t even wait for me? Are you that dirty?”

Jisung tensed up, nearly choking in his haste to get his protest out. “No! I’m good, ‘m a good boy.”

His reaction made your spine tingle with satisfaction, enough for you to continue testing the waters. “I thought so too,” you said wistfully. “But now I’m not so sure. What kind of good boy would do something so gross?”

He whimpered. It came unexpectedly louder than the rest of his sweet little sounds, even as the pace of his pumps slowed down significantly. 

“Maybe you were just pretending to be good for me?” You cocked your head to the side. “Maybe you’re really just a little slut who will do anything to get off.”

Your tone took on an unnatural harshness, unlike any of your usual teasing, your familiar, playful lilt that pulled him into a happy haze with each word you spoke. Jisung shuddered. His face turned beet red, half-hearted strokes coming to a full stop. For a brief moment, you thought his reaction was one of enjoyment. But a few seconds passed, and the boy stayed that way—quiet, frozen in place, save for a faint twitch in his lips. 

“Jisung?” you asked cautiously. “Are you okay?”

His spell of silence stretched out longer than you’d anticipated, making alarm rise in your chest. 

“Jisung, what’s your color?” 

There was a newfound urgency to the question, one that he couldn’t ignore no matter how badly he wished he could brush it off, to pretend like he was fine so he wouldn’t disappoint you any further. But you noticed it all without anything said, from his tensed posture to the way his hand quivered as he unwrapped it from around his length. Reluctantly, he lifted his head to look at you, watery gaze coming into view.

“Green,” he said at last. The crack in his voice did little to reassure you—in fact, all it did was shoot your worry through the roof.

“Are you sure?” you pressed. “I need you to be honest with me, baby.”

Jisung’s breathing grew more rapid, heart hammering in his chest for reasons he couldn’t fully explain. It had all felt so good, so right, up until just a moment ago. Now, it was all wrong—he was all wrong. He couldn’t find it in him to be his own comfort, to tell himself that your words held no real weight. He’d upset you, he’d disappointed you, and on top of that he couldn’t even take his punishment properly. The sting in his eyes grew stronger. He’d already let you down by doing something so indecent, he didn’t want to do it again by being too weak to face the consequences. 

Even with Jisung’s face obscured by his messy curtain of hair, you could see the flurry of emotions crossing it, twisting his features, and your heart along with it. He was lying, you were certain of it.

“Hannie,” you softened your voice. The nickname was feather-light on your tongue, enough to soothe the inhibitions that were threatening to take over his mind and force him quiet. “Talk to me. Are you sure?”

Jisung swallowed hard, but the lump in his throat couldn’t be pushed down. You already knew how pathetic he was, anyway. There was no point in denying it.

All at once, the tears that had glazed his wide eyes spilled over. He pulled his knees up to his chest, shrinking into himself, looking smaller than ever. 

“Ah…this is s-so stupid,” he attempted a weak chuckle, but it fell flat into a sob instead, one that made your chest positively ache. “Sorry,” he choked out. “I tried to hold it in, ‘m sorry.”

A wave of guilt crashed over you, flooding all your senses. You rose from your spot slowly to make your way over to Jisung and settle down next to where he was curled up on the bed. It took all of your self-control to push back every protective instinct that told you to pull him into a hug when you saw how fragile he looked, trying and failing to ease himself as he cried into his elbow. Just as you were mulling over whether or not it’d be okay to touch him, he leaned into you like a reflex, and like a reflex, you wrapped your arms securely around him.

“Shh...it’s okay. Don’t apologize, baby,” you did your best to speak steadily, even if the broken sounds that slipped out as he fully let himself go made it difficult to control your voice. “It’s not your fault. You did nothing wrong.”

Jisung buried his face into your chest, hot tears seeping through your shirt and churning your stomach with sympathy. “Did...did you really mean that?” he hiccuped, digging his fingers into your clothes. “Am I that gross?”

“No, Jisung, never,” you could barely contain your own distress. Still, you had to stay composed, for his sake. Knowing Jisung, your guilt would feed into his; it would only make him feel worse when he already thought he’d ruined things for you. “I didn’t mean any of it, angel. It was all play.”

“But you’re right, I did something so disgusting behind your back. ‘M so pathetic. Gross,” he babbled, just short of incoherent with the way he was nestled into you. “You shouldn’t t-touch me. I don’t deserve it.”

You made a sound of pure disbelief, tightening your hold around him instead, rocking gently from side to side in an effort to calm him down. Jisung trembled against you as stifled gasps racked his body, but he followed your movements nonetheless, swaying along. “You’re not gross, Hannie. Please don’t believe that for even a second, okay?” You ran your hand up his quivering back to cradle his head, holding him close and massaging his scalp lightly with your fingers. “I went too far today, huh? I’m so sorry.”

“N-no, I’m—” he sniffled out. “Sorry for being like this. So sensitive.”

“You’re not too sensitive,” you murmured. “It’s my fault, baby. I should’ve checked before saying those things to you.”

You continued playing with his hair as he tried to get ahold of himself, feeling a tinge of relief when his breathing grew a little less erratic the more you soothed him, shaky sobs evening out with each inhale. 

“I’m sorry,” he sniffled into your shirt. “Just thought I disappointed you.”

He tensed again, nearly panicking when you loosened your iron grip on his body to pull back and look him in the eye. Your heart broke even further when you saw the state he was in. His eyes—usually so bright—were red and puffy, glassy in a way that was far different from their natural glint. Dried tears stained his face, with fresh ones still brimming in the corners of his eyes and trickling down his cheeks. You wiped them away as tenderly as you could, not wanting to irritate his sensitive skin any further.

“Why did you think that, Hannie?” 

“Cause I—,” he cut himself off with another soft hiccup, still struggling to get his emotions under control. “I messed up and couldn’t even take your scolding.”

“You didn’t disappoint me,” you said firmly. “You’re my good boy. So good you can’t even stand the thought of doing something wrong, right?”

He blinked droplets of tears out of his eyes, looking like he wanted nothing more than to bury his face right back into the comfort of your neck. Even so, he managed a tiny nod. 

“There we go. I love you no matter what. Don’t ever forget that, okay?”

Your gaze bore intently into his, and Jisung forced himself to fight back the remnants of his self-deprecating thoughts before nodding again. “Okay,” he said softly. “I love you, too. So love me lots, please.”

The affection that gripped you nearly made you coo out loud. You pressed a kiss to his head the moment he leaned back into you, hoping to alleviate any leftover doubts he might have. 

“Can I make it up to you?” you whispered. “Wanna show my baby just how loved he is.”

Jisung let out a shy hum, nuzzling his nose into your neck. You weren’t sure what made you giggle more, the ticklish sensation of his soft hair brushing your skin, or how easily his demeanor shifted. Your question had been innocent enough, you’d expected him to want to be held a bit longer, maybe even going to wash up together, but it seemed like he had something else in mind. His lips puckered against your skin in a wet kiss, taking in your scent, then releasing it with a sweet sigh. 

“Just tell me what you want and we can do it,” you promised, petting his head, easing his mind back to that comforting haze with every stroke. “Does that sound good to you?”

“Mhm,” he murmured into you. What he said next was hard to make out with his lips squished against you, not quite ready to pull away. “Can we…go easy?”

The question tugged at your heartstrings. “Of course, we’ll go easy, angel. Anything you want.”

Jisung hesitated before deciding on his answer, still keeping his head tucked away into your shoulder. “Want your strap, please,” he breathed. It fanned out against your skin, making goosebumps rise to its surface. The plea was so different from his usual begging. Not shamelessly needy—but rather, timid and uncertain.

“Yeah? You wanna be spoiled?” You stopped playing with the hair at his nape to brush your index finger along his neck, relishing in how that alone was enough to make him shudder against you. “Good boys like you deserve to be treated good, too.”

It was Jisung’s turn to giggle, tinged with the slightest whine. You couldn’t deny the relief you felt hearing that familiar sound again. Reluctantly, he unlatched himself from you at last, already craving to feel your warmth again the instant you slipped off the bed. 

“I’ll be right back, okay? Get yourself ready for me.”

Jisung nodded eagerly, some of the liveliness returning to his red eyes. You ruffled his hair, then headed towards your closet, pushing away the final traces of guilt from your mind and replacing them with a determination to make it up to him instead. As you rummaged through your belongings to retrieve your strap-on, it wasn’t long before soft, needy whimpers began to reach you from the bedroom, even sweeter than when you’d first caught him, completely unrestrained this time. As much as they set off a fire in you, you remained patient, taking your time in preparing the toy while his noises grew progressively louder.

Then, a call of your name met your ears. So raspy with need, so weak with desperation, it made your core clench. You tried not to rush yourself, but your composure effectively crumbled when you heard Jisung cry out for you again, loud and clear through the wall. You could’ve laughed—he knew exactly what he was doing, but you were content to let it work, today. With a deep breath, you gathered up your things and returned to the other room.

There, you found Jisung with his shorts completely discarded and his legs spread out, pushing two fingers—slick with the lube he’d taken from the nightstand—in and out of himself obediently. The sight, coupled with the wet sounds each sloppy, uncoordinated pump of his hand created, was enough to cloud your mind entirely with arousal all over again. He looked so perfect, like it was exactly where he belonged; parting his thighs wider as soon as he spotted you, giving you a full view of how well he was fucking himself open for you.

You adjusted the strap’s harness around your waist and settled in between Jisung’s thighs. He pulled his fingers out of himself with a low keen, doe eyes gazing up at you intently as you took over for him, lathering your fingers with lube to slip them inside his twitching hole. A gasp caught in his throat as you did, your angle allowing you to reach even deeper inside of him than his own fingers could, loosening him up further. He tightened around you instantly, sucking you in like his body was begging for anything it could get.

“Look at that,” you gave an appreciative hum. “Already stretched out so perfectly for me. Good boy.”

Jisung barely had the chance to react before you spread your fingers out in a scissor-like motion a few times, sending sparks through his body each time you pressed into his walls. Then, you pulled out of him all at once, leaving him squirming and fluttering around nothing. Despite his best efforts, he couldn’t help his whine of disappointment, even when he knew what was to come. You gave his nose an affectionate tap with your clean hand before squeezing some lube onto your palm, spreading it along the length of your strap-on until it was thoroughly coated.

“Get comfortable, baby,” you ordered gently. 

There was a brief pause as Jisung propped himself up on his elbows, and you faltered for a moment, wondering if he might have changed his mind. He pressed his lips together like he was lost in thought, cheeks squishing adorably in the process.

“Ah, do you think...” he cut himself off with that cute, breathy laugh of his. “Can I—?” Another chuckle. “Can I ride you?”

The sheepish question came as a surprise to you, as did the sharp tingle it sent down your spine. You quirked an eyebrow, barely fighting back your smile when Jisung shied away, bangs falling into his eyes. “I wanna show you what I can do,” he mumbled, almost to himself. “Wanna be your good boy.”

“Jisungie,” you sang, tilting his chin up to make sure your words got through to him. “You don’t have to prove anything to me. You’re already my best boy, let me treat you like it.”

His eyes gleamed, but even as your praise eased his anxious mind, his resolve still didn’t waver. He needed this, you realized. His gaze searched yours for some sign of approval—so hopeful, so hungry, it was all it took for you to understand. 

“But...if that’s what my baby wants, then of course you can.” 

Jisung perked up at that, every soft, sleepy feature on his face brightening back up. “Thank you!” he chirped. “I’ll be good, I swear!”

You weren’t sure if it was his pure earnesty, or that infectious, heart-shaped grin, but you couldn’t hold back a smile of your own. It was impossible not to be overtaken with fondness, not when he was so grateful for just the chance to have your eyes on him as he ruined himself, all without you having to lift a finger. Shifting from your spot on the mattress, you settled back against the headboard of the bed, patting your thighs to beckon him over. He wasted no time before scrambling into your lap, straddling you so that he hovered mere centimeters above the toy’s head. 

“Whenever you’re ready,” you told him, taking the shaft into your hand to line it up with his entrance. “You’ll take it all, won’t you? Just like your pretty hole took my fingers so well.”

Jisung shuddered as you swirled your strap’s slick tip around his rim, bracing himself with a deep inhale before sinking down on it. His breath spilled out in a long, shaky moan as you filled him up bit by bit, his walls instantly tightening around the delicious thickness he’d been aching for. He dug his teeth into his bottom lip, willing himself to push against the friction until every last inch of the toy had disappeared inside of him.

“That’s it, Hannie. Good boy, you make it look so easy.”

Your sweet whispers made it difficult for Jisung to control his breathing as he adjusted to the sensation of being filled to the brim. All he could manage was a weak gasp in response, eyes squeezing shut and insides clenching wildly. Your hands found their way to his hips, sliding your fingers along his tan skin to help soothe him while you waited, once again blown away by how ridiculously small his waist was.

“Pretty boy,” you hummed. Unable to resist, you pressed the pads of your thumbs deep into his flesh, delighted by the way his stomach contracted. “You look so perfect like this, just made to be filled up.”

The boy let out a flustered squeak, hands flying up to cover his face. It was almost amusing how much of a contrast there was in how Jisung vied for your compliments versus how he responded to them. There was no need for false bravado here, no need to fulfill any role when he was already the subject of your adoration. 

He squirmed above you slightly, letting out a tiny grunt as the ridges of your strap pressed snugly against his walls. When he finally collected himself enough to speak, his voice came meek, muffled by his palms. “C-can I move?” 

“Mm,” you urged, giving his waist another squeeze. “Show me how a good boy does it, Hannie.”

His hands dropped reluctantly from his flushed face and down to your shoulders, gripping them tight to steady himself. With a huff of effort, he lifted his body off your lap, sliding tortuously slow up the toy’s length before landing back down with a sharp smack. He relished in the relief it brought him for a moment before repeating the action, eyebrows furrowing as he tried to find his rhythm.

Jisung’s moans began slipping out of him in no time, rising in pitch and volume each time he sank down all the way to your strap’s hilt, building up a delicious pressure in your core. You ran your hands up and down his sides, feeling up his slender waist and stomach, puffing out with every gasp. “Are you feeling good, baby boy?” 

Jisung dug his fingernails into your skin with a whimper, already finding it difficult to string together a coherent sentence. “Yes—ngh—so good,” he choked out. “So full.”

“Cause you’re taking it all so well. Every inch of me,” you praised. “Keep moving just like that, angel. I wanna see your cute little face when you cum all over yourself.”

Jisung mewled out your name, whether it was in shy protest of your words or a plea for more, even he wasn’t sure. You tightened your hold on his waist, hands following his every bounce to help keep him from faltering. The sight of him rocking his hips against yours was nothing short of breathtaking—small beads of sweat glistening on his forehead, tousled hair bouncing cutely, tongue peeking out between his swelling lips. His cock left drops of precum all over his skin each time it slapped against his stomach, crying for release after being denied for so long.

You could tell Jisung’s movements were starting to take a toll on him. He grasped frantically at your shoulders for purchase, trying his best to stay grounded just long enough to bring himself to a climax. His thighs began to tremble, pace growing sloppy both from the repeated strain on his muscles, and from the pleasure making it increasingly difficult for him to focus. You decided to help him out when you caught the frustrated pout forming on his face, lifting yourself to push into him with a newfound force and making him cry out sharply. 

“It’s getting rough, huh, baby? Hannie’s working so hard for me. Such a good boy.”

“Hah...th-thank you,” Jisung swallowed down the saliva pooling in his mouth before it could trickle out, leaning in to slump his body against yours, no longer able to stay upright on his own. “Your good boy, ‘m your g’boy. Again. Say it—ah—again, please.”

You softened, indulging him without hesitation when you knew how badly he needed to hear it. “Good boy, Jisungie. My good boy.”

“Yours. Wanna be good for y-you.” He threw his head back suddenly as you hit a perfectly angled thrust. “There!” he gasped, voice cracking into a near-wail. “Right there, please, please, please.”

“There?” you echoed in amusement when he could only writhe around pathetically, all sense of rhythm lost. Your giggle masked just how much it affected you to see him falling apart in your lap like that—his blissed out face, his shameless moans, all tightening the coil in your stomach like his own pleasure was feeding into yours. “You like it there? Keep it up, then, baby.”

Amidst all his begging, your words pierced through Jisung’s foggy brain. They seemed to remind him that he still had some shred of control over the pace, because he picked up the speed of his bouncing again, rolling his body sinfully each time you bottomed out inside him so that your strap grinded against his prostate just right. 

“You fucked yourself into such a cute little mess,” you crooned. Jisung whined above you, too far gone to decide if he should hide away from your attention, or bask in it. “Such a little pleaser. You like putting on a show for me?”

You tilted your hips so that your strap brushed against his sweet spot once more, earning a long drawn-out groan from the boy. His mouth hung open, tongue lolling as sound after filthy sound poured out of him nonstop. “Love it...hah...love it s’ much. Watch me, look at me, please.”

His head began thrashing from side to side, the muscles in his stomach clenching and unclenching as his high crept up on him. You hissed softly when he sank his fingernails deep into your flesh, so caught up in his fit of pleasure that he didn’t even process his how hard he was gripping you. All he could make sense of anymore was the heat that seared through his abdomen each time he sank down on your strap. 

“You’re so good, baby. So good for me. Are you close?” you purred, rubbing small circles into his hips with your thumbs. Your voice was so gentle in contrast to the harsh smacking of his thighs against yours, it made him dizzy. 

“Ah, yeah, yeah. Gonna cum. P-please, ‘m so close. Please—” 

You jerked up to meet him halfway, burying your strap so deep inside him that he swore he saw stars. “Cum for me, baby boy. You’ve earned it.” 

You took his bouncing cock into your grasp, feeling it throb in your palm as you began to stroke him. With just a few glides of your hand, Jisung was sent over the edge. He let out a choked sob as his orgasm hit him at last, his seed shooting onto his stomach in hot spurts, more intensely than usual after being pent up for so long. You milked him through his high, admiring the way the white ropes of cum decorated his tan skin as you pumped out every drop.

Jisung panted heavily above you, jaw still slack, quivering in place as the aftershocks rippled through his body. When the last of his seed had dribbled out from his tip, you carefully released his length from your hold, allowing it to fall limp. The rise and fall of his chest gradually began to slow, and he leaned into your hand the instant you rested it on his cheek, regardless of the fluids coating it. Your touch washed away the last of the hot adrenaline pumping through his system, replacing it with an overwhelming sense of calm; safety. 

“My Hannie,” you murmured. “My sweet boy. You did so well for me.”

Jisung’s eyes fluttered open at last, still a bit hazy, but just as full of adoration for you as your gaze was for him. He managed a lazy, lopsided grin before collapsing forward to nuzzle into you, pressing his nose to your neck and breathing in. With your warmth enveloping him, your scent surrounding him, and the fullness of your strap still nestled inside him, you knew as well as he did that there was no chance of him getting up any time soon. The sticky feeling of his release seeping through your clothes was uncomfortable, but you wrapped your arms around him nonetheless. It was worth all the clean laundry in the world, to hold him like this.

Jisung pressed his lips against your neck in a chaste kiss, catching you by surprise. When he pulled his head back with a sigh of pure bliss, that familiar gleam was back in his eyes, and you knew that he had fully recovered from earlier.

You leaned forward to give him a kiss of your own, smiling into it when you heard the faint sound of his stomach growling, followed by a cute, muffled giggle of embarrassment spilling from his mouth to yours.

“By the way,” you brushed your lips against his. “I made breakfast.”

[fakesimp]

Mr. Wolfman — ft. Wriothesley

Crack? ; Fluff ; Unintentional indirect confession ; Unestablished Relationship ; Wolf Hybrid! Wrio

How? What did he drink? Did sigewinne put something in his tea? No.. there's no way right?

Then why is he having this, weird fluffy tail and ears on him? What is happening?

He stood by his own reflection, quite literally trying to figure out what's going on with him. That's one of the reason why he's, quite. Late upon arriving at the office, it's, unusual for him to be late.

And so when you heard hushed whispers amongst the fortress about Wriothesley's new appearance, your interest was piqued.

Afterall, you're his assistant. It's okay to pay him a visit outside scheduled meetings right?

And so here you are, standing before the door to his office, you knocked twice, you then heard a muffled 'come in' from behind the closed doors. You pushed them open, "it's me, your grace." You announced yourself, it was quite at first, there's no sound coming from upstairs. For a good minute at least before you heard shuffling from above, "Your grace.. are you, okay?" You asked as you enter, walking upstairs. Oh so, slowly, scared that the man you're visiting is, afraid of your sudden appearance.

The moment you reached upstairs, he stood there, back facing to you, him pinching the bridge of his nose, his fluffy tail sway behind him ever so slightly, his ears twitching above his head.

Oh.

Oh, Archons.

"Oh— Y, Your grace— so it's true.." You owlishly stared at him, "I thought.." "Excuse me for a minute, please be quiet. Just. For a minute." He cuts you off, his ear folded back as he slowly turn to you. "First of all, no, this is not a costume, I have no idea what happened, but one thing for sure is that, I woke up and already have these. Ears, and tail. So don't ask what happened."

. . .

That was the day you saw him so, defeated, confused, yet also, intruiged. Now it's the 4th day of him having those animal ears, everytime you visit him, you cannot miss how his ears that previously folded down just a bit, to fully up whenever he sees you. And his tail? It definitely wags. He literally had to hold it down. Trying to save his dignity.

Seems like his tail is way more honest than the man himself, sometimes you wonder what's going through his mind whenever he sees you to the point his tail wags like so.

Right now you're on your way to visit him again, with another pile of paper works, poor man couldn't catch a break. You knocked and excused yourself to enter, your shoes echoed throughout the office as you go up the stairs. As soon as you reach the upper floor he is making a cup of tea for himself, "Oh, hey." He turned, his ear twitched, his tail wags behind him. "Your grace, I.. have another papers for you to.. sign.." No matter how hard you're trying to not pay attention, you couldn't help it when that fluff behind him is swaying from left to right. Completely the opposite from his face, he didn't say anything at first as he followed your gaze.

"Spare me, do not ask why it wags, it just happens whenever you're around." He sighed, averting his eyes, letting out a sigh as he sip his tea. His tail sways behind him as he heard you let out a chuckle, "Funny huh?" "I'm sorry.. it's just that, your tail seemed to be more honest than you, your grace."

Wriothesley looked at the tail wagging behind him, "I guess so, at least now you know that I'm, always fond to be in your presence. To be with you." You blinked, he didn't look at you and just casually strides over to you and grabbed the papers off your hands. "Thank...s...? I—.." "Hm?" "Nevermind."

Wriothesley sat on the chair, putting away the cup of tea and stared at you, raising a brow,

"What? Did I say something wrong?"

"No, but your words, just now. It almost sounded like a confession."

"...Oh.

Well, do you want a proper one then?.."

— ©fakesimp . 2024 ; do not copy/translate/use for ai

[exhaslo]

Puzzle Pieces Ch.9

(Mafia!Miguel x Shy!Reader)

Ch.1, Ch.2, Ch.3, Ch.4, Ch.5, Ch6, Ch7, Ch8

Warning: Smut so Minors DNI, mentions of abuse, blood, murder, language, fluff, bullying, mentions of sex, masturbating, praise

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

There was something about waking up after a night of passionate sex that made the morning better. Miguel inhaled deeply as he woke up first. Your head was nuzzling against his chest with his arm wrapped around your body. This was the most relaxed he had ever felt. That and this was the first time he had woken up with a woman in his arms.

Humming lowly as he checked his messages, Miguel hoped for some good news. His smile turned into a disgruntled scowl as he saw no news from Miles and a stupid party night video from Hobie. This was why Miguel had them do missions separately. They were fools and childish together.

"Mhm, Mig..." You mumbled tiredly.

Miguel put his phone down to stroke your head. The smile you had on your face was worth the trouble. Hearing your phone buzz, Miguel quickly reached for it and shut off the alarm. You had a notification for work under the alarm. Chuckling softly, Miguel quickly called out for you.

There was no need for you to work if you were going to be with him. Glancing at the time, Miguel let out a grunt as he got off the bed. While you got to stay home and relax, Miguel needed to take care of both of his businesses.

"I'll be back later," Miguel whispered as he kissed your head.

--------

Hearing your phone go off, you yawned before lazily reaching for it. Remembering that you were at Miguel's you squeaked and buried your face into the pillow. Last night was amazing. Never had you felt that good. Never had you gone through so many orgasms. Everything about last night was a whole new experience.

"Miguel?" You whispered, calling out for him.

Not hearing a response, you went to reach for your phone again. A small whimper came out since you could not feel your legs and your arms were weak. Who would have thought that such slow and intense sex could make your body feel like jello?

"Ah! Work!" You gasped, looking at the time, "H-How can-Hm? H-Huh, M-Miguel called out for me??"

You finally noticed a text from Miguel. Not only had he called out of work for you, but he even told you to stay and rest at his place. Your cheeks warmed up at the gesture. You had already overstayed, but Miguel did not mind at all.

Pressing the phone to your chest, you laid on your back and stared at the ceiling. This was happening. You were entering a healthy relationship. Wincing, you attempted to sit up. Your lower back hurt, but you were so willing to do it again.

"Hm, I wonder...if he would...like a good...morning message?" You whispered.

--------

Miguel tapped his finger against his desk as he listened to a boring explanation for a fuck up at Alchemax. His scowl was more prominent that usual, causing his associate to sweat. It was hard, but Miguel had a reputation to keep at Alchemax. He could not do his usual tactics that he would in his mafia.

"Dios Mio (My god), would you cut to the chase? I need to know if I have to prepare for a lawsuit." Miguel huffed.

"N-No sir! I made sure that there was a proper apology and-"

Miguel tuned the man out once he heard the magic word, 'no'. Normally, Miguel would just buy out of the lawsuit, but he couldn't do that here. Once his associate finished speaking, Miguel had him leave. The day was starting to drag.

"Hm?" Feeling his phone buzz, Miguel checked his phone and saw your name, "(Y/N), good morning, mi amor (my love). How are you feeling?"

"A-Ah, g-good. I'm...a little s-sore, but um, l-last night was amazing. Um, I-I hope...I...I was okay for-"

"You were more than amazing," Miguel leaned back in his seat, smiling to your shy voice, "I wasn't too rough with you, was it?"

"N-No,"

Miguel smirked, already knowing that he was going to get rougher. He had this urge to make you melt under him. You already came undone by his touches alone. Miguel winced as he felt his dick harden at the memory of your moans.

"Amor, don't feel shy to treat my place as yours. I am more than willing to take care of you." He hummed, pressing a button to lock his door.

"Y-You don't h-have too. I...I don't want...to be a burden." Your voice was trembling.

"You're not a burden. You're my girl,"

Miguel inhaled to the sound of your happy hums. He stroked his dick, requesting that you simply say his name. It was cute how confused you sounded, but did so willingly. You were just perfect. Miguel was ready to burn both heaven and hell for you.

"Miguel."

"Nh, Una vez más, cariño. Oh, cómo desearía que estuvieras aquí rebotando en mi polla, conejito. (Once more, baby. Oh, how I wish you were here bouncing on my dick instead, little bunny)" Miguel groaned as he cam against his desk.

"Um, M-Miguel...do...do you think...if it's not...t-too much trouble, c-could you teach me...S-Spanish?" You asked. Miguel inhaled deeply to your request as he cleaned his desk,

"Of course,"

"Yai!" You chirped and giggled over the line, "A-Anyway, I d-didn't mean to keep you so long. I-I'll see you later~"

"Mhm, later."

Miguel held his phone as you hung up. Miguel could not tell you no. He should have. Now you were going to be able to understand all of the dirty things he wished about you. All of the fucked up and cruel things he said to his men and associates. Shit, you'd be able to understand everything.

"Ah, (Y/N), you take away my strength."

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

It took a few hours, but you finally regained your strength. You decided to explore Miguel's place. It was huge! Miguel had a few things of value, which made you wonder what Miguel liked. He did mention that he had no reason to go home.

You wanted to change that. Pressing your puzzle to your lips, you smiled after finding an empty bookshelf. You placed your puzzle facing forward and giggled to yourself.

You wanted to feel weird being in such a fancy place. You wanted to feel like a stranger, but since it was Miguel...You felt right at home. Just the thought of him made you feel like you belonged. It was different and comforting.

"I wonder what he likes?" You mumble as you stepped into the kitchen.

You wanted to thank Miguel and make him a home cooked meal. He had a decent amount of food in his fridge to cook. That and all of his pots and pans looked like they had never been used. It made you wonder if Miguel ever cooked for himself.

"I hope he likes what I make~"

---------

"What do you mean he isn't there? I want that fucker brought to my knees!" Miguel yelled over the phone, all of his men quietly waiting for his order.

"Hah, much have fled. But how would he know?" Lyla scoffed, filing her nails. Miguel threw his burner across the room,

"Miguel, calm down." Jessica added, standing beside Lyla. Miguel shot a glare towards the both of him,

"Let me get a run down about what happened last night, again!" Miguel demanded as he leaned over his desk.

"Yes, sir. A new group calling themselves Venom appeared overnight and ransacked one of our ports. Our men were overwhelmed, but we did manage to take back the base after a rough fight." Another Peter said.

Honestly, Miguel tried to ignore how many men he had with the same name.

"So, on top of a new threat knocking on our door, our scouts could not find one man whom needs a lesson." Miguel hissed lowly. He pinched the bridge of his nose, thinking about you, "Lyla, tell those fools to get any information as to where (Y/N)'s ex went. They won't be allowed back until I know where he is."

"Yes, sir."

"Everyone else, find out whatever we can on this new group. We won't forgive anyone who disrupts this family."

"Yes, sir!" Everyone yelled in unison.

Miguel kept his brows furrowed as he thought about what happened last night. He knew that Halloween was always a bad night, but for a new group to appear and attack his wares. This only angered Miguel more. Depending on how this went, Miguel might have to prepare for war.

"Jessica, Lyla, I'm leaving for the day. Inform me of any changes."

"Sure thing, boss man." Lyla popped her bubblegum and turned to Jessica, "Let's go."

Miguel sighed once more, needing to destress. Thinking about you, Miguel grunted. That ex of yours was a pest. The bugger flew off who knows where. Miguel was determined to find and kill him. He would love to bring that fucker's head to you as a trophy, but you would freak out.

A finger might be good enough?

Maybe not.

Miguel was going to find something for you as proof of his revenge for you. Rubbing the back of his neck, Miguel decided to get back home for the day. He didn't want to leave you waiting too long.

---------

Once Miguel opened the door, a new and interesting scent caught his nose. Kicking his shoes off, Miguel made his way to the kitchen quietly. His eyes widen as you hummed to yourself, making dinner. Miguel licked his lips, seeing that you were wearing one of his shirts as a pajama.

"I can get used to this," Miguel whispered as he wrapped his arms around your body. You jumped slightly,

"M-Miguel! W-Welcome home," You stuttered.

Miguel rested his head in the crook of your neck. You smelled so good. Just showered. This was what Miguel wanted. You to get comfortable at his place-with him. It was still too early to ask you to move in with him, but Miguel was tempted.

"You made dinner, how thoughtful. I could have taken you out to eat," Miguel kissed your neck. You grew flustered, turning around to face him,

"B-But...I wanted to t-thank you. T-The best I can do...is c-cook you a meal,"

"You do so much more than that," Miguel held your hips close to his as he brought you in for a kiss.

-------

If this were a cartoon, hearts would be popping up all over your head. You gripped onto Miguel's jacket, happily returning the kiss. This felt like a dream. Feeling Miguel's hand snake around your ass, you whimpered, wanting to finish making dinner.

"Haha, alright. That can wait until later," Miguel whispered after breaking the kiss, "I'll go shower."

Watching Miguel leave, you could only hold your cheeks in awe. You could only wonder how you manage to snag a man like him. Especially with how you were. Shaking the thought away, you hurried back to dinner, wanting to finish.

Once it was done, you and Miguel shared the meal together. It made you happy as he enjoyed your food. It made you happy as you asked about his day and him actually answering you. Everything brought your heart to flutter.

"Now then," Miguel placed the dishes in his dishwasher before turning towards you, "Time for my dessert."

"D-Dessert? O-Oh, um...I...I didn't make any-"

Miguel resisted a chuckle as he silenced you with a kiss. Lifting you up with ease, Miguel carried you to the bedroom for another night of passionate sex.

---------

"Aight, only one place left to check," Hobie said as he stuffed his hands in his pockets, "Bet we can't go ruff on em, can't we?"

"No. They are still our business partners." Peter said as he followed the small group. Gwen and Miles were chatting with each other while Pavitar gasped,

"Ohhhhhh, but what if they don't anything and then we won't be able to go home? That would be such a bummer, but I suppose my calculus test can wait."

"Shit, I forgot about that." Gwen groaned. Miles chuckled lowly as they stopped in front of a supermarket,

"That's why I brought my notes to study. Might let you borrow them, Gwen, if you can get the manager to talk."

"Uh, guuuuys?"

"That's an easy bet." Gwen snorted.

"Guuuuuuys!"

"What's wrong, Pav?" Peter asked. Pav pointed towards Hobie's direction as the tall man started to cause havoc,

"We're in soooo much trouble."

"Hobie!!!"

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next chapter

@migueloharacumslut @18lkpeters @deputy-videogamer @leahnicole1219 @synamonthy @thedevax @jolynesposts @thraetor @freehentai @2099hitmylineyline @vvampir3s @dontfollowmepleaseitsannoying @secretadmirerisnowonline @jadeloverxd @bunnibitez @oharasfilipinawife @randomgoosegame @lilbanas @daisy-artfield @axi-moore @mimiemie @darkfairy102190 @jazzyj1011 @mcmiracles @innercreationflower @spoderssimp @thel0velykey190 @moonvoidpng @yougavemeyourheartyouknow @scaleniusrm @love4saturn @nyxgoddessofchaos13 @slutty-chronicles @ghstypaint @migueloharastruelove @brainmatterdump @a060403 @trendyharold @yannauauau @kimivixen @angel-xx-1 @nxrdamp @miguelzslvtz @lynxslokley @wafflefries786 @pochapo @what-the-jams @flaps200 @ii-angelsrolltheireyes-ii @nakimushiohime @tojishugetiddies @aya-world @supercowgirl04 @mysteris-things @daisy-artfield @mcmiracles @alexa4040 @llama--drama @kpopscoups17130000 @havkjhdecs @ruexvn @tojishugetiddi @openup-yourmind @black-swan-blog27 @xstarsdiary @kiddisquacking @gachagator @yujyujj @emmyrxx @blackteamint @sockears @black-swan-blog27 @soraya-daydreams @byjessicalotufo @nanoinn @bunnibitez @aockskcw @l3laze @dimitri-needs-therapy

[drluvsick]

Hello, can you write about shinobu overworking herself in her lab and the reader finding her asleep on her desk? They just sit down in a chair next to her, drape their haori over her shoulders, and then press their forehead against hers, and falling asleep with her? Then shinobu wakes up after a few hours.

𝐓𝐀𝐊𝐄 𝐀 𝐁𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑 — 𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐨𝐛𝐮 𝐤𝐨𝐜𝐡𝐨

shinobu’s always been dedicated; in her work, job, and taking care of others. but overworking yourself can always backfire, especially if you don’t take a break to take care of yourself. luckily, shinobu has you. 📝 gn! reader. i was reading shinobu fanfics the other day and was reminded of this, sorry this took so long to get out, hope you enjoy regardless!

word count : 500+

oh, shinobu…

you sighed, worry etched on your face. you could see the dark circles under her eyes, papers scattered unceremoniously, and her experiments and equipment on tables with notes scribbled down along with them.

you pull out the chair next to her, some books with more papers sticking out of them put aside as you sat down next to her. it must’ve been tiring… (obviously)

the lab was cold, most likely due to the temperatures needed for some of her tests. cold, lonely, and surrounded by mountain loads of work.

you leave a kiss on her head, taking off your haori and draping it over her shoulders and arms. subconsciously, she shifts and grips at it. even while asleep, it seems her senses have grown accustomed to your scent. if you focus hard enough, you’ll see a small smile start to tug at her lips.

you lay your head against hers before resting it on her shoulder, your arms wrapping around her near lower torso as best you could. it wasn’t the most comfortable arrangement, but the fact that she was nearby made it a little more bearable.

yawning, you closed your eyes and went to sleep.

shinobu awoke mid afternoon, immediately seeing your haori and better yet you. you were always so gorgeous to her, but basked in the sunlight through the meager windows she had—well, she couldn’t help but lean in and leave her signature butterfly kisses and small pecks of affection on your face after she’d propped it up just right.

of course, you eventually woke up. “good morning, dear!” she immediately greeted, leaving one last kiss to your lips.

you rubbed your eyes, a weary smile appearing before initiating another kiss with her. your arms moved to reside around her shoulders.

���you’ve got to stop doing this,” you said once you both pulled away. “overworking yourself and falling asleep here, i mean.”

“i know,” she softly said in return, “i’ll try harder to return to you so that we can get some proper sleep together again.”

you hummed in satisfaction with her answer, putting your arms around her and pulling her closer.

“did you eat the bentos i sent you?” you questioned, your head resting just above her chest.

“i did. they certainly helped me through the day.” shinobu said as she twirled a strand of your hair with her finger, remembering the taste of the food and the boost of energy she got afterwards.

“ ‘m sorry i couldn’t send more on earlier days, i was on a mission.” you apologized, even though an apology wasn’t needed. “you did keep yourself well fed while i was gone though, right?”

“so-so. well enough.” she admitted.

“we’re getting lunch, th—” before you could jump out of your seat, shinobu brought you back down.

“ten more minutes.”

you sighed. “… fine, ten more minutes.”

“my, my. are you that eager to escape my arms already?”

“no.” you emphasized against the tease, earning yourself a giggle from her.

in the comfortable silence of the lab, shinobu breathed deeply, fluttering her eyes to a close. “i love you.”

you did the same as you lightly kissed her neck. “i love you too.”

overluvsick | please do not repost, translate, and/or claim my works as yours !!

[capslocked]

DECAF

male reader x chou tzuyu

5k words

"Figured you should know," Tzuyu says, appearing in the bathroom mirror behind you, "you’re all out of coffee."

This unfortunate revelation comes as you’re halfway into brushing your teeth. Comes when her warm arm reaches around your waist, fingers splaying out across your stomach before they decide to slip past the waistband of your pajamas.

"Did you—" You raise an eyebrow at her before leaning over the sink to spit, and the mouthful of toothpaste no longer muddles the question, "check the cupboard above the fridge?"

"And the pantry." Tzuyu gives your cock an experimental pump. "And the hall closet."

As you eye her reflection, Tzuyu is already distracted, trading one vice for another: dragging her lips against the side of your neck. Of all the places she loved to be—at your side, in your arms, on the end of your cock—the pucker-shaped bruises shadowing in across your throat were beginning to indicate something of a clear favorite.

"Hey." You drag the toothbrush out of your mouth, minty foam nearly drooling off your lip as you let out a dry laugh at the fingers wrapping your cock. "Can you, like, give me a minute?"

Tzuyu looks up over your shoulder, straight into the mirror and blinks a few times. Caffeine conundrum aside, it’s not a sleepy kind of blink, rather the kind that might buy one but a moment to think, get their thoughts in order. She rolls her eyes, because she likes getting what she wants, especially when you’re involved, but you like her better when she’s a little riled up, after the suspense of waiting has caught up with her. Chipped away at that prim and proper outer layer of perfection.

"No," she says finally in a surprisingly steady voice, and squeezes her fingers tighter around you. Gets a couple of gentle pumps going under your shorts. "I don’t think I will."

It’s not through any fault of her own, but she looks an ounce less put together than when you both staggered through the front door of your apartment the night before—you’d gotten your hands into the delicately styled waves in her hair and as a result, all those primly smooth toffee-brown locks either tightly curled or straightened stiff to their own volition. Then it’s your sweatshirt thrown over her shoulders, she’s absolute swimming in it. Perhaps impossible to not find it endearing. And her cheeks, still flush (because oh, had you just done a real number on her) are smoldering and probably hot to the touch. You usually have no problem getting out of bed in the morning, but the fact that she’d woken you up with her ass in your hips made it hard not pick up where you’d left off the night before.

That fact that she’s all bundled lust and sin in your arms, playfully teasing your cock between her fingers and looking at you like you’re the one who’s at fault is en route to the same outcome again.

By the time the two of you are out of the bathroom and stumbling down the hall, it’s all hot kisses and heavy hands, working toward a common goal one moment, tugging gently at your hair, lined firm beneath her jaw, faces pressed together in this sloppy, consuming kiss—and antagonistic the next, silencing the loud smacks between your lips as Tzuyu begins to tug your shirt up over head.

Tzuyu pushes you down the hallway which is every bit as ludicrous as it sounds, presses your back against drywall with a hand at your waist, and gets her fingertip tracing a lazy circle over your chest. "Hey," she says, and her voice comes out cool and composed like she isn’t standing there in her underwear, the long lines of her legs getting tangled up with yours. "Do you think it’s bad?"

"Gotta be more specific, beautiful," you tell her, snaking a hand up her sweatshirt. Still no shirt. No bra. The same as how she woke up.

As she leans her body against you, all gentle angles and immaculate curves that would make Euclid roll in his grave, you’ve got a handful of incredible ass to knead and a second sinking fingers into her chest that makes her question come across all that much more ridiculous:

"That the two of us are always together, you know, like this." And even as she considers—however seriously—that the two of you might spend too much time behind closed doors and under fitted sheets making each other cum over and over and over until you’re gasping and red in the face, she begins to rut her hips gently against you, finds a circle of motion that brushes your stiff cock between her legs in just the right way.

"Well," you say, voice trailing while your thumb skates beneath her lip, admiring how much better she looks in your hands than on TV, in magazines, all glitzed up in studio lighting and digital effect.

And psychologically, you think you understand it. How this is the only way the two of you can put any part of yourselves—the joint self, the you and Tzuyu, the combined unit—first. You can’t do what regular couples do; you can’t indulge in everything that Tzuyu so desperately wants to do. You want to as well. Of course, you don’t whine about it as much as Tzuyu, but in reality, there’s nothing more than you’d like than to hold Tzuyu’s hand in the middle of a crowded street or kiss her passionately in an airport terminal, in front of a tourist attraction, get an indulgent makeout going at a concert or a bar like you see of so many other couples. You see them all the time, so happy, so wrapped up in each other, so oblivious to what they get to enjoy that you don’t.

So you’re both lenient about the going-ons in the privacy of your own home. To a degree.

Doesn’t mean you can’t say you try to be responsible about it, keep the way you two go at each other in check, under control. You know better than to let Tzuyu have access to you where her name is up in lights, where cameras are flashing and under all those prying eyes, where the two of you could turn a mistake into calamity.

But still you like to test those limits.

"How do you figure?" You nuzzle your lips into Tzuyu’s neck. Her response is exactly like what you expect: a heavy sigh and a tilt of her chin that tells you to kiss her more, touch her more, get your mouth all over her and make her feel good. When you get closer to her ear, you whisper, "where’s the harm?"

"I just think we really have to be more careful," Tzuyu has to tell you. Frequently. "You know you drive me crazy. But if someone were to find us—"

"Tzuyu," you start, and the sound of her name on your voice, coming out low and austere, always brings her to heel. Quickly. "No one’s going to find out. So tell me. What do you want me to do to you? Right now."

Her cheeks burn brighter with that beautiful rosy shade of pink, a flush heat that travels across the bridge of her nose—eyes flicking down to where you can’t see them, suddenly bashful like she wasn’t the one who jumped you in the bathroom, gotten you hard and ready—like she wasn’t the one who woke you up with her thighs sandwiching your cock and silently demanding you fuck her right there.

"I’m just saying—"

"Tzuyu," you say again, and this time she all but shudders. Starts to quietly whine as your fingers get closer to where they can have her absolutely creaming and whimpering and coming undone; teasing at elastic, tracing the wide form of her hips; only closer without ever arriving. "Tell me what you want."

You watch the usual suspects: the swell of her lip twisted between her teeth, eyelids lidding and dusky irises glinting with thoughts of you. It’s all there, and it’s not going anywhere anytime soon. The Want. The need.

Tzuyu’s mouth falls open in a whiny moan as you realize there’s not a lot keeping you from simply shoving her across the hallway, turning the tables and getting your weight on top of her. She bites back a needy sound as you pin her in place. Normally, the proud smirk on your face would be enough to make Tzuyu groan and roll her eyes, but it’s hard to muster up the resolve required to send you a piercing glare when her current expression is as far from intimidating as it could ever be.

"Tzuyu," you say a third time, after a long pause, breathing slowly and keeping your voice even. You don’t need her knowing that seeing her like this gets your heartbeat going rabbit-fast. Don’t need her knowing how bad you want to turn her around in your hands and fuck her senseless.

"What are you doing?" Tzuyu asks, and the muscles in her body are coiling so tight they’re practically screaming. "I’m not a little girl. Stop teasing me."

You’ve got your free hand running a thumb down Tzuyu’s chest, along her stomach and sliding it across the smooth pale skin that stretches over her ribs, until in one quick delivery, you’re pulling her soft cotton panties down around her thighs. When your pointer finger makes contact with where she’s hot and fidgeting between her legs, Tzuyu’s throat clicks with a swallow.

"Just tell me what you really want," you repeat, gliding your finger across the surface of her cunt’s aching lips, "or I’ll stop." It’s possible you’d never be able to help yourself, you have to tease, playfully nudge her. The real fun is when you could get her to start cussing and swearing and begging—that’s how you knew you’re giving it to her good, that toe-curling, mind-blowing sex that everyone dreams of, when that delicately maintained veneer started to show cracks and rough edges. "Let me make this easier. Do you want me to hold you down?"

It’s not a surprise that you’re hitting the nail on the head. She’s yours. You know Tzuyu, and her eyes go wide. She nods, because it’s what she’s only ever wanted—filled her nighttime fantasies and daydreams for months before she’d ever truly seen it, truly felt you over her and fucking her with your tongue, your fingers, your cock. She’ll later swear up and down that you’re the one always dragging things to the bedroom, getting her so worked up she can’t help but ride out her own frustration. The way she sees it, you’re the one who’s corrupted her. Not that it’s even half the truth.

"Do you want me to get you wet?" You ask, even lower now, like a growl at her throat, and Tzuyu lets out a delightful sound at the mere mention of it.

She spreads her legs wider as you continue to finger her, wriggles her hips desperately on your hand to find some sort of friction that might set her loose, but you bring a grip down hard onto her waist, pressing her firmly into the wall to keep her from shifting.

"I want—" Her words become cut off and unintelligible when your fingers find purchase inside her, find her immediately soaked and dripping around you. She gets that adorably needy tone in her voice the moment your thumb comes to rest on her clit, prodding at the bud just light enough to make her shiver. "Please."

It seems to take a special kind of awful to look down at Tzuyu’s desperate expression and find it nothing other than charming and adorable, but much to her impatient displeasure, you’re that exact kind of awful.

"Speak up," you say, even though rationally, everything is clear to you—the fact that you can get Tzuyu begging for it a whole separate matter. "Wanna hear your lovely voice, Tzuyu."

She sighs. It’s anxious. It’s needy. It’s a perfect honesty: "want to feel you in me."

"Want me to fuck you," you amend, kissing her once, hot and hard, and when you pull yourself off her mouth, you make sure she’s listening. "Want me to cum in you."

She nods. Swallows. Rolls her lips between her teeth.

"Want it." Tzuyu’s chest heaves to shoot out a hot, pointed breath, and she preens the misplaced hair off her cheek and back behind her ear before returning to a moment more composed. "Want you now."

"Oh, I think we all have all the time in the world, darling," you breathe into the hollow of her throat, and the two of you don’t stop kissing this time, your lips always on each others, the smiles growing at the corners of your mouths giving way to something more heated and intense. More urgent.

Tzuyu’s arousal is like a living thing, fighting for control, getting her furious and blotchy and burning up to the roots of her hair. When you draw your fingers out of her throbbing cunt, she doesn’t even stop to think; takes them between her lips and starts sucking. She doesn’t decide to do it, you figure, it just happens, as if she’s meant to. She’s perfect for everyone, and then she’s flawless for you.

"Gonna make you cum now," you growl against her cheek, and she coos the moment you sink to your knees. Starts slipping her hands through your hair in anticipation. Gets your face between her legs where you’ve got wet kisses trailing down her inner thighs. It’s so close to where she needs you, has her rocking and circling her hips in the hope she might reach your mouth, the pleasure she might only realize at the end of your tongue.

And finally, you slide your mouth upward. Tongue flattened, lips hot and loose, you let her find it.

"Fuck!"

Between her legs, you grin, pull back enough to murmur, "there’s my girl." And with that you’re hooking a hand behind her thighs and diving back in.

Tzuyu’s eyes are all docile gleams and innocent glimmers, watching from above as you push her legs open wider for you—sharp draws of air as you eat her pussy with delicate and calculated approach: the tip of your tongue against her clit is just the right amount of hot and wet and firm to get her dizzy, voice flooding full of lust and want. She yearns for nothing more than the way you pull at her swollen lips, masking her cunt with these hot, hungry kisses that cover your chin in her slick, fill your mouth and your thoughts with her.

"Oh, my god," she says behind the knuckle worrying her teeth, crying out in such obvious satisfaction that it has you nearly laughing—so smug and self-satisfied that you push your face into her hot pussy harder to hide the expression. Like flicking a switch, you’re tapping, teasing, torturing that button that makes her feel all of that pure concentrated relief. Makes her feel like you’re pulling her apart and tearing her to pieces—makes her desperate and choke back moans, ones that cry for more.

"God," Tzuyu curses, and your name on her lips becomes a wish, a prayer, begging, "fuck, what are you doing, that’s so—that’s so good, you’re so good, please, please don’t stop, don’t stop, don’t stop."

Even if you consider keeping her on that precipice, nudging her closer and closer until she physically can’t take anymore, Tzuyu’s cunt is so warm and sweet, and even her cum tastes incredible, all strange and familiar at once—gets you bearing down to kiss deeper, harder. You know the basic principle of what you’re seeing: that Tzuyu’s body is reacting, that you’re reducing her to instinct, bringing her to the edge and fucking her earnest.

"C’mon princess, you can cum for me, I want you to cum," you rasp, and the pet name—one that you’re sure would in any other context make her wince—gets her heating up even more. When you lower your mouth again, you swirl your tongue around her clit and then suck.

"Yeah," she says, nodding, "Yeah, yeah." The word becoming all she can manage between hot, shuddering breaths that you can feel coil in her distinctly tight stomach, only releasing in the violent jerks of her hips, each spasm more uncontrolled, less predictable than the last.

It’s a concerted effort: the wet touch of your mouth, the two fingers—three now—that you have fucking her dripping cunt get her needy cries echoing through your apartment and her throat hoarse. The pressure must be just perfect because Tzuyu flies right over the edge into everything. She’s all broken moans and stutters and hiccups—all you find between her thighs is hot and wet and pulsing and quivering and perfect. The beginning of the end, and she’s pleading, begging for release.

"You’re going to make me—" she pants, twice, holding tight to your shoulders, nails sharpening like claws into your skin, and her legs aching into quakes and tremors around you.

That’s your Tzuyu.

"Cumming—I’m cumming," she cries out, almost silently, and then it’s your name and curses all sputtered out across these keening moans that almost see her young, tight body collapse and spill all over you. "I can’t—You’re making me cum."

"Good girl," you murmur, your mouth still dragging across her stomach, and it’s the praise that all but kills her, gets her breath arriving in fits and starts, wrestling against you for control, but it’s far, far too much. Far too gone in her own orgasm to realize she’s fucking soaking you in her slick. Of course, you’re kneeling there, just grinning like the devil himself, pushing your fingers in and out of her slowly to ensure that Tzuyu’s fucked right through the apex of her high; curling against the way she throbs; feeling the way she quivers.

She’s the girl whose name is on everyone’s lips, and she’s practically drenching you—oh, what a heartthrob, you think, and then immediately remind her: "you’re so fucking pretty Tzuyu. Love when you cum for me."

Her fingers thread through yours, and she finally lets her lips twist out that million dollar smile, laughing all abashed and flushed and red in the face until finally giving you that look: an expression that lets you know she has only one thing on her mind, and that she wants for nothing more than to get filled by your cock, mend the empty feeling knotting in her stomach, the utterly foundational need.

And after kissing you, melting into you and getting her own taste off your lips, she brings her mouth against your ear, breath still hot and haggard, tells you, "get on the bed, baby."

And but so, you arrive at a familiar crossroads, those four corners of your bed. You’re sprawled with your head at the base and feet at the pillows because that’s simply how you two managed to tumble, Tzuyu controlling the fall. When she peels the sweatshirt from up and over her lithe frame, your cock jumps, twitching in her hands, because the image is nothing less than perfection. The fact that a girl could have a face like hers, and a body like that is some sort of error, a cosmic mix up—one to which finds you the sole beneficiary.

"Maybe I should tease you," she says, licking her palm and getting both hands around you, pumping you languidly to full attention. "Look how bad you want it."

"You’re in charge, princess." you say, laughing out loud.

Tzuyu rolls her eyes. Gets her elbows on either side of your face so you’re looking at nothing other than just her. There’s a story here, and sure, it’s novel and unique. Right up until the point it isn’t; there’s never been a different ending beyond your cock buried deep inside her until she’s panting and whimpering.

"Is that right?" she asks, leaning in so close you can feel her warm breath tickle your neck.

"I mean, I might be lying; decide to get you underneath me if you go too slow."

"I’ll keep that in mind." Tzuyu chuckles, her laugh echoing against your chest as her lips curve up into a toothy grin. If that isn’t a look perfected. She grabs you by the jaw and kisses you, so thoroughly that you really haven’t the shadow of a doubt in your mind that she will be every bit the challenge you could ever hope for—and when she pulls away, her tongue licks across your lower lip, before gently biting down and whispering, "I’m gonna ride you now, baby."

The look on her face is careful, more determined, as she lines herself up against your body, straddles your hips and rubs the head of your cock through her heat, kissing it to where you’d made her soaked and wanting; there’s a deep breath between you, and then Tzuyu slides closer in your lap. Sinks down.

And then you feel her—all of her—as she takes the full length of your cock into her hot, tight cunt. Neither of you even move. Simply sit there and look on all teary eyed and so wracked in pleasure to the point your mouths just hang, frozen, because apparently she was discovering the answer to every question in the universe, and all of them were you.

"Move your hips for me, Tzuyu," you say, and you’re guiding her, urging her, making haphazard grips out of the beautiful curve beneath her tiny waist, a makeshift reign where her hips flare and that ass smacks down hard against your thighs. "There you go; fuck yourself on my cock."

Actually it’s more like she slams down. It’s a lofty goal of hers, to get you so fucked and bothered and reduced to smithereens. That, or get you so close to the edge, get you so needy for your own release that you’ll simply throw her off you and pin her to the mattress and fuck her like she really wants.

"It’s so fucking good," Tzuyu gasps, raising her hips. The sound that comes out of you is indescribable when she lowers them again. That’s the reaction she’s looking for, that you—ever indomitable you—are shuddering under her hips, that every time she drags her pussy along your length, gets you aching inside her tight, hot cunt, she has you absolutely struggling, hanging on by a thread.

"Tzuyu," you choke, and you’re gathering all these smirks and haughty looks; she throws her head back because apparently that vice-like grip she has around you, a glove to your cock, all velvety smooth and addictive is just as good for her as it is for you. "I just love how this pretty little body looks when it’s bouncing up and down on my cock."

"Oh my god," she curses, moaning at how good you feel inside her, voice finding a familiar tremble as each bounce on your cock gets her hot cunt that much more fucked, more soaked, more perfect, and you’re both whimpering mindless. Her body stretches to accommodate you as she squeezes up so tight around you that you’re joining her groans with a lazy smirk. She nods, slapping her hips roughly against you, fucking you with all the energy she can muster, and she rasps, smiling in silent laughter, "ugh, I can feel you filling me so deep. Love fucking you like this. Could do this all day."

The sounds coming out of you—fucked out of you each time her thighs land flat against yours, each swivel of her hips in a rhythm that doesn’t falter even once—are driving Tzuyu up the wall. Every last moan and sigh only spurs her to ride harder and harder until she realizes she’s better off lifting herself onto her feet, crouching over and using every muscle of her toned legs to fuck your aching shaft. With her beautiful form above you, tight young body glistening with sweat and whimpering at the bottom of every rut, you hold tight to her waist, carelessly marking bruises under your fingertips, grasping hard as you’re fraught with the utterly perfect, tight, wet cunt wrapping your cock.

"It’s good," Tzuyu gasps, on repeat, and her cheeks begin to flush again, fill so unbelievably pink. "It’s so fucking good, baby."

On the basic, thrust by thrust level, it’s kind of her trademark—what you’ve come to expect from her. She’s all toned muscle and coiled lust around you, merciless, truly fucking you, taking you up and down while her curves ripple in place: small, perfect tits shaking each time she crashes onto you, and her ass against you waist feeling incredible.

It’s fast and heavy and hot and you’re nearing everything dangerous, nerves on fire and holding your breath right up until the moment Tzuyu cums all over your cock. She slows to a near crawl, hips still circling against you, and then, overcome by the sensitivity of another orgasm, freezes. This time, it comes with no warning, just the writhing and wracked look of a girl who can’t believe how good your cock feels deep in her pussy, making her feel so full and complete.

"Tzuyu, you’re gorgeous," you reaffirm, reaching a hand against her chest, sinking your fingers hard into her perfectly sculpted breasts. You know how this goes, the fact that she never knows how to ask for what she wants, that when she’s like this, she needs you to take control. There’s always such sweet fun to be had in grappling her hands behind her back, get her ready to be fucked and used like she craves. Shift your hips downwards and prime yourself at the perfect angle, and get her cumming over and over until she’s a hot, fucked mess. "You look so good cumming for me. I’m going to fuck you through it sweetheart. I’ll take care of you. I always do."

"Mnppph." Tzuyu moans into your neck, as you start to glide upward into her hot, fucked hole. She’s so massively drenched that the sound of it, you thrusting fast into her cunt, is absolutely filthy. If the sheets were in bad condition from your romp before, they’re approaching new levels of fucked, completely beyond repair.

Tzuyu grins. She loves this. She loves whittling down your arrogance and repurposing it into an unabashed lust, the kind of raw emotion that will hammer at her cunt until she’s mewling, keening, and simply falling apart. Until she’s recovered enough from losing herself on your cock, and she’s whispering in your ear, "want your cum, want to feel you fucking burst."

You consider it. All with Tzuyu’s lips on your throat, kissing your face and punching out tiny breaths every time your cock buries into her, it’s a pretty real possibility. It was taking some amount of self-control to hold back before with Tzuyu’s pussy being the hottest, tightest, wettest you’ve ever known—only growing more unbearably immaculate with every inch you bore into her—and here you are, fucking her with such strong, hard strokes that slide so easily from base to tip of your cock that you’re approaching it all. Dangerously fast.

Yours, Tzuyu croons in your ear, crying out in heavy desperation with a voice so crushed and gravelly it’s near irreconcilable—she’s so wracked that the only thing she can do is beg for you to unload in her cunt. "I’m yours. Want you to cum in me so bad, fucking own this pussy baby, fill me and make me yours."

"Tzuyu, you—" Holy shit. You’ve got it all twisted, explosion imminent. Nerves and muscles acting together and without your permission. "—feel so fucking good."

"I know," she says, thumb rubbing at your cheek while she barely holds herself above you—eyelashes fluttering each time you bottom your cock out in her cunt. "You can cum. Go ahead. Cum for me, baby."

Your teeth grit, and you take a final gasp of air between your teeth, "Tzuyu, fuck."

You’ve got your hands clamping down on her ass, pulling her into the end of each thrust, and as you bury yourself deep into her cunt again, you cum. 

"Amazing," Tzuyu breathes against you, ignoring the groans and sighs still billowing out of your lips. "You’re perfect." She clenches down on you, tightening around you to wring you dry with each shallow thrust you make to fuck your cum deeper into her. It’s hot and wet and fucking unbelievable.

It takes all your remaining energy—those last waning vestiges—to shift Tzuyu’s body aside you. Your cock falls out of her well-fucked pussy and onto the sheets before you feel her ass snuggle again into the crook of her hips, as good a way to start as it is a way to finish, and the exhaustion of your own orgasm has your breath short and unsteady.

"Hate to say it," Tzuyu says, wiggling her ass against you, which is truly a dangerous game, regardless of your condition, "but I’m really hoping you’d go get more coffee."

[thought--bubble]

There Is Still Hope... Isn't there? Pt.6 (Final)

Tom Bennett X (Best friend's sister reader)

Warnings Below

Word Count: 2,534

There is still hope masterlist

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Banners & Dividers by @arcielee

Warnings::: oral sex female receiving, teasing, edging, orgasm denial, unprotected (P in V) sex.

When you woke up, you decided not to get dressed and neat like you had been doing every morning for weeks since Tom had moved in. What was the point?

As you walk into the kitchen hair a mess in just your oldest nightgown, you find Josh and Tom already seated at the table.

You grumble a quiet "Mornin" as you move to get your tea.

"Already got you sorted, love," Tom says as he gestures to a steaming cup of tea already placed in front of the seat across from him.

You squint your eyes at him briefly before sliding the cup down one seat so you're sitting across from Josh.

Josh does his best to stifle a laugh, bringing the paper he is reading up over his face to hide it from view.

"Right. Ummm.... so it seems like it will be a nice day, " Tom awkwardly states, running his finger around the rim of his cup.

"Hmmm" you hum before sipping your tea. You quickly spit it out disgusted.

"How much sugar did you put in this?!"

Josh pulls the paper up close to his face, basically laughing directly into it.

Tom looks over at him, frustration lining his chiseled features.

"Sorry, I made it as I made my own" he says sheepishly "I can make you another"

"No, please don't." You get up quickly and head over to the counter. "You know, the war may be over, but sugar is still expensive and hard to come by"

"I like my things, sweet. Not bitter." Tom states curtly.

Josh pulls the paper down from in front of his face, just his eyes peering over the top, shifting back and forth between the two of you.

"Hmmm. Well, it's wasteful. I, for one, choose not to be wasteful. I don't waste sugar -" you round the table sitting down with your new cup of tea "nor my time"

Tom scoffs, "Your time, eh?" He leans forward on the table using his forearms for balance. "You think you've been wasting your time recently?"

"I don't think. I know, " you quip back before taking a sip of tea haughtily.

"You should have stopped your sentence at "I don't think" woulda been more accurate." Tom snaps back.

"RIGHT." Josh states loudly, thumping his paper down on the table. "I'm off to work then. Uhhh..... you two have fun bickering"

"We're not bickering. Just a nice morning conversation over tea. " You lean your head to the side, giving Josh an obviously forced smile.

Tom runs his hand down the front of his face as Josh pats him on the shoulder. "Good luck, mate."

Josh grabs his bag and walks out the front door. The kitchen falling into an almost eerie silence as soon as the door slams shut.

You sip your tea glaring at Tom just to find him glaring right back at you.

"Do you plan to keep this up?" He gestures toward you flippantly.

"No. I have errands to run today. Won't be here much longer, " you smirk towards him before quickly finishing your cup of tea.

Tom sighs and watches you as you deposit your cup into the sink. As you go to leave the kitchen, he springs up from his chair and blocks the doorway.

"Would you be so kind as to move, please?" You ask him sarcasm dripping from every syllable.

"Nah, don't think I will love." he leans his shoulder against the doorframe staring back at you with that signature Tom cheeky grin.

You walk up close to him and slightly push against his chest "I said move"

Tom chuckles lightly, "and I said no. Not until we've had a proper chat"

You roll your eyes and back up slowly. "About what exactly?"

"Bout us," he pushes himself off the door frame and steps forward towards you.

You back up towards the counter. "Not much to talk about is there? We're fine. Same as we ever were"

Tom chuckles and continues to advance on you. "No. It's changed, love. You know that."

You clear your throat as you continue to take steps back, attempting to maintain the small distance between the two of you.

"Nothing has changed," you attempt to say with conviction, the shake to your voice betraying your true feelings.

"I should have kissed you. That night out front. I know that now, " he says softly, his bright blue eyes trained on your face.

You feel the heat rise to your cheeks before looking back at him indignantly. "Well, you can't force what you don't want."

"Is that what you think? I didn't want it?" He takes two large steps towards you, as you back up more you feel your bum hit the counter, and a sly smirk creeps up the corners of his mouth.

"No where left to run, darlin." he steps just a bit closer, the gap between you nearly non-existent.

He puts his hands on the edge of the counter on either side of your hips, effectively boxing you in. "Now we're gonna have a quick chat yeah?"

"Doesn't look like I have much of a choice." You push slightly against one of his wrists.

"Why are you so cross with me?" He asks bluntly.

"I'm not," you deny. You turn your head to the side, looking down at his large hand as it flexes around the edge of the counter.

"That so?" He asks, a teasing lilt to his voice, "So you've just been unpleasant all morning for no reason then?"

You grit your teeth as you look up at this annoyingly beautiful man. You could see the smile behind his eyes, and it left you momentarily speechless.

"I didn't go home with her." He lifts his hands and cups your cheeks, pulling your face up towards him. "I didn't, so no more being cross with me, yeah?"

"I don't care about that." You know it's obvious that you do, though you can't bring yourself to admit it.

"Aye," he smirks, pressing his forehead to yours. "Course not, must be something else that's got your knickers all twisted up"

"Maybe you're just frustrated?" He suddenly brings his hands to your thighs and grips tight, lifting you up onto the counter.

Your breath catches in your throat as he slots himself between your thighs, his hands sliding down your back, before they rest just over the curve of your ass.

"Ahhh, look at that? Much more friendly now. " He pulls you toward him, bringing you to the edge of the counter pushing his hips against yours.

"We're gonna make up now." He leans down and nibbles your earlobe before pulling back to look at you.

"I..... I....." You stutter back at him, unable to form a coherent thought.

He chuckles lightly before dipping his head again, gently nipping at the sensitive skin of your neck.

You gasp at the feeling, your back arching slightly. All of the things you wanted to yell at him about, complain about all slide out of your thoughts, the only thing left a pleasant buzzing.

He pulls you tighter to him, bringing his hands back to your thighs and lifting them up around his hips, and subtly grinds himself against your clothed heat.

"Tom....." you whisper hardly loud enough for him to hear. You're not sure what else you meant to say, but you felt like you had to say something.

He buries his face in your neck and takes a deep breath. "Don't know why I waited so long," he exhales slowly while his fingers spiderwalk down the back of your thighs toward your bum. "Forgive me"

"I... there's... I.." You stutter the feel of his hands inching ever closer to your panties leaves you without thought.

"Shhhh love." He ghosts his lips up the side on your neck before pressing them tenderly along your jaw line, his fingers reaching their intended destination.

"Let's get these off, yeah?" He whispers against your neck, curling his fingers around the waistband of your panties.

You unconsciously lift your bottom slightly off the counter to assist him in removing them. As he slides them down your legs, he pushes your nightgown up.

He slides them down your legs slowly, kissing and nipping at the sensitive skin of your upper thigh. Until he gets them down to your ankles and slides them completely off.

Your hands tightly grip the edge if the counter. There is heat and a chill simultaneously running through and over you. the sensations overwhelming but in a way that is also satisfying.

He pushes your thighs apart, each nibble and each lick to your inner thighs sending bolts of electricity through your entire frame.

Every nibble brings his head closer to where you want him, your body instinctually spreading your legs wider without a conscious thought.

"Please," you whisper, your self-control placed behind the burning need in your core.

Tom chuckles against your skin. "Please, what love?" He teases, bringing his head to the apex of where your thighs meet your center.

"Please!" You whimper before grasping at his hair, pulling him towards the space you needed him most.

He places just one gentle kiss on your clit, Your eyes immediately roll back at the sensation, your fingers tightening around the sandy blonde locks in your hands.

"Please, what?" He asks again as he places another two kisses on the sensitive nub, each time pressing just a little harder.

"Please, touch me," you huff out your legs, spread so wide you begin to feel the strain in your muscles.

"Touch you? Hmm" Tom traces his fingers over your thighs while breathing directly onto your clit, your body jolting with each breath.

"Tom.... please, I need you. " You whimper, rocking your hips towards him in your desperation for contact. He brings his hands to your heat, using them to spread you open for him before licking a strip from your dripping entrance to your swollen nub.

"Ahhh!" Your legs shake at the heat of his tongue against your sensitive burning flesh.

"Don't stop!" You whine as he again pulls his head back.

"Ask me for it, darling." he lightly blows over your pearl, causing your legs to twitch. You claw at his shoulders and pull at his hair, trying to get him closer. Your mind is a muddled mess. You want him to touch you. No, you need him to touch you every fiber of your being vibrating with desire.

"Please, Tom," you pant between whimpers, "please make me feel good."

Tom smiles before attacking your swollen nub with renewed vigor. Gripping your hips tightly. His nails just barely digging into the soft flesh.

"Oh god, oh god," you whimper above him as you pull your legs apart as far as they will go.

"It's just me, love." Tom chuckles, his face still buried between your thighs as you teater precariously at the edge of bliss.

Once again he pulls back slightly and blows cool air against your clit, your body convulsing.

"TOM!" At this point, all rationality has left you, and all that is left is a primal need. You pull his head forward by his hair and move yourself closer to him.

He chuckles before giving into your wanton pleas. It takes very little to send you hurdling into oblivion a few quick strokes of the tongue, and you're left spent, panting heavily the back of your head resting against the cabinets.

Tom stands, wiping his face with his forearm, an almost predatory gleam in his eyes.

"Now you're ready for me, love." He grips your hips and pulls you to him, leaving your bum resting just at the edge of the counter.

He fumbles with his belt and trousers, trying to get them undone as quickly as possible, his chest heaving with anticipation.

You can feel your heart blasting in your chest as he grips your left thigh lifting it to his hip and using his other hand to rub the tip of his cock up against your wet slit.

The growl he makes once your skin makes contact has you clenching around nothing, reigniting that fire in your belly.

He pushes into you slowly at first but quickly increases his speed until he bottoms out.

"Fuck" he breathes into the crook of your neck. "You feel so good, darling," his hips snap, meeting yours with a hurried rhythm, the room silent other than the sound of his skin against yours and the labored breaths of both of you.

You lull your head back and look up at the ceiling above you, the feeling of Tom's hot breath wrapping around your neck like a warm scarf. All the times you had dreamt of this moment did not compare to the reality of it. His calloused fingertips on your thighs, the pleasure in his sighs. Every thrust left you reeling. You wanted more. More of him. As much as you could get, no matter how long this moment was, you knew it could never be long enough.

"Look at me." He huffs into your ear, his pace never slowing for a moment. You bring your head back down so your eyes are level and take in his beautiful face. His jaw is slack, and there are beads of sweat sitting gently atop his brow. His eyes are dark with lust with a thin ring of that sharp blue that's been able to slice through you for as long as you can remember.

He brings his lips to yours in a sloppy kiss. The heat and the wetness all help tighten that coil in your belly once again. Every joke, every sideways glance. Every time the heat bubbled to your face as you giggled at one of his silly jokes has led to this moment. It was so obvious to you now.

You were always meant to end up right here, at the edge of oblivion with Tom panting between your legs.

As the coil in your lower belly snaps yet again and your face contorts in pleasure, you keep your eyes locked on Tom's.

See me. Watch me. This is for you

Tom groans and throws his head back at the feeling of you clenching around him, his fingernails digging into the soft flesh of your thighs one last time as he fights himself to pull out of you and release onto your inner thighs his heavy panting felt like a love song of sorts.

"You're mine now." Tom slides his fingers into your hair, pulling you closer, leaning his forehead against yours as he still fights for air.

"I thought my family was gone. My life over, just death and heartache left." He gently kisses your lips before pulling back and looking into your eyes.

"But when I'm looking at you I just can't help but think..... there is still hope .... isn't there?"

You bring your hands to his cheeks, sliding your thumbs gently over his cheekbones. "There is still hope, Tom. For you, for me. For happiness, " You gently nuzzle your nose against his as an unfamiliar warmth travels through your entire body.

"There was always hope"

To be added to taglists see HERE

[stillarandom-radfem]

I am so sick of all of this "be kind" shit from the genderist crowd. Not only is it definitely playing hard into the hands of female socialization to always appear nurturing and sweet and never make men mad under any circumstances, but also... I mean, let's be honest, here. These people are not kind. There is nothing kind about allowing gay, autistic, and/or sexually traumatized children to be medically experimented on for profit after only one, one hour-long psych session, or letting them be sexually groomed by various adult men with neither the knowledge nor the approval of their parents. There is nothing kind about enforcing sexist stereotypes, and scaring people into unnecessary medical procedures because you've lied and told them that they will kill themselves if they don't get them in order to conform. There is nothing kind about using self-ID laws to rob women of safety from predatory men because you think that men's feelings are more important than making sure women aren't traumatized by them in their own private spaces that are supposed to be women-only. There is nothing kind about robbing women of scholarships, awards, and medals meant for women because, again, you believe that men's feelings matter more than anything, including women's ability to have proper livelihoods and role models of the same sex. And there is nothing kind about telling LGB people that they are evil bigots if they don't want to date/fuck trans people of the opposite sex. You don't know that they haven't already spent a good chunk of their lives being ridiculed for their same-sex attraction, and now you want to call them evil because of an innate attraction that they can't control?!

Nothing about any of this is kind, because at the core of real, genuine kindness is genuine empathy and concern for other people and a desire to ensure that they don't come into harm's way. Supporting things that hurt other people or sitting back and watching them self-harm isn't kindness. Even if you're doing it for social approval. Even if they put on a big show about how they supposedly like it, but their faces betray a sadness that they refuse to convey in words and you can't help but get the feeling while talking to them that something is eating them up inside. Continuing to promote it in order to look good or get them to like you isn't kindness, it's acquiescence, and that's not remotely the same thing. Because genuinely kind people are concerned with actions that show genuine concern for other people. They want to do right by them because they care about them. It's all about actually being kind, not just presenting the veneer of it for woke points. The trans crowd are such hard-core individualists that they wouldn't know anything about that.

[caramel-maveeato]

ᴀ ᴍɪᴅɴɪɢʜᴛ'ꜱ ᴅᴏꜱᴇ ᴏꜰ ᴄᴀꜰꜰᴇɪɴᴇ ♡˚₊。。。

❧❤ SYNOPSIS: pre-exam stress… (same) ♡ Pairings/Love interest: So Mun x GN!reader ♡ Genre: fluff, hurt/comfort ♡ TW: implications of stress, overworking, anxiety, slight cursing, crying. ♡ word count: 1.3k

Note: All characters originated from “The Uncanny Counter/Amazing Rumor” except for Y/n.

English is not my first language!!! Sorry in advance if I make any grammar and vocabulary mistakes.

Another all-nighter. 

Papers and half-finished cups of coffee cluttered on your desk, too-brightened laptop's screen amplified the urge you have to collapse. 

Studying was never your weakness. Most of the time, you were always able to ace any tests or quizzes perfectly with the proper amount of effort. But recently, all things appeared to be pointing a spear at you and whatever tasks failed miserably when they reached your hands. Everything merely fueled the raw chaos of strain and frustration you put yourself through. 

“What the fuck is this supposed to mean?”

Neatly printed words wobbled into a mess when your gaze scanned through them, suddenly the language you’ve known by heart sounded like some incomprehensible nonsense, entering this ear and leaving through the other ear. At this point, you didn’t even remember what your last name was; the only thing that repeated itself in your head was how disastrously you were going to fuck this upcoming exam up. 

Pathetic.

You glanced at the clock, your vision blurry at the number it showcased. It wasn’t the weariness that clouded your eyesight, but a layer of fog had ragingly obscured it. 

This isn’t the time to cry, all of these stupid crammings have already dragged you through hell and back. But under the influence of pent-up stress and exhaustion, aggravation kept gushing out from your tired eyes like downpours no matter how hard you fought it back.

No game was played, yet you still felt like a loser, sobbing helplessly at your desk in the dead of night.  

Caught in the whirling tempest of your vulnerabilities, your guards dismantled completely, rendering the abrupt sound of your door open powerless to distract you.

“Love…”

Like a soothing note of a melody or a lifeline thrown into the abyss, you instantly recognized this voice among the piteous snuffles you were unloosing. And the next thing you knew, the owner of that voice had slightly spun your chair around so that you both directly met.

“Mun.” The face of your beloved muddled through your tears, so as a reflex, you forcefully wiped them away to see him clearer: “Sorry, I didn’t mean to act like this… it’s just…”

“Shh, it’s alright, why are you apologizing?” So Mun crouched down in front of you, one hand on your thigh and the other brushed against your tear-stained cheek. His touch approached you like an anchor in the void, solacing the burning trails your tears left behind.

You didn’t know why you apologized either, but it felt like the only right thing to say at the moment. Not wanting to push your already-overwhelmed mind, So Mun ignored a worried sigh he unconsciously let out and enveloped your hand in his, carefully unfolding your anxious grip: “Why didn’t you call me if you’re tired?”

Apart from his extraordinary counter abilities, So Mun must’ve possessed some kind of sixth sense because how on earth did he catch you like this in the middle of the night? But apart from the bitter taste of guilt and shame you drown yourself in, there was no other reason you should be complaining about his presence: “It’s already 2 a.m., and I don’t want to be a burden.”

“Love… what are you talking about?” So Mun’s heart shattered just from the sound of your broken sniffles. His loving gaze carried the weight of shared despair, defining a wordless language that spoke volumes: “You’re never a burden to me. If anything, I should be feeling like a burden for not being able to help you.” 

You shook your head. Half-dried tears once again woke up at their agitation, drenching the tip of your boyfriend’s fingers upon hearing he blamed himself for your breakdown: “No, don’t say that… How are you supposed to—”

“Alright, alright, my bad. I shouldn’t have said that.” So Mun cupped your face, whispering through a reassuring kiss he planted on your lips: “Neither of us is a burden, we’ve got each other, yeah?”

Prompting a reluctant nod from you, his calloused fingertips lovingly consoled the dull, duskened crescents beneath your tired eyes. There wasn’t much he could do, yet he didn’t want to stop trying either: “If so, is there anything I can do for you, sweetheart?”

Silence fell for a split second before you carefully extended your arms, and So Mun spared no time in granting your wish. 

The outer world proceeded at a furious pace. Yet, as soon as you sank into the inviting comfort of his embrace, everything seemed to cease. 

“There we go.” His protective embrace wove a shield that concealed you from exterior chaos, the barrier of defense you constructed for days disintegrated and you surrendered all of the remaining tension, finally handing over the bottled-up exhaustion as you sobbed into his chest: “It’s all good now, baby. I’ve got you.”

Encountered by the familiar strokes on your back, you couldn’t help but press yourself further into the tranquility you’d been missing ever since the weight of responsibilities overgrew, instinctively muttering his name like a prayer song: “So Mun-ah…”

“Yes, I’m here, your So Mun is here.” Every caress of his mended the torn edges of your frayed emotions. You reflexively snuggled up to him while your boyfriend kept kissing your ear and whispering words of comfort, knowing how badly you needed to hear them: “It’s going to be fine, you know you’re doing so great, right? I’m proud of you, baby, so so proud.”

The hug was only broken when you slowly drew away first, otherwise he would’ve had no issue holding you forever. A stain of your tears stood visible on his shirt, bedewing the fabric while simultaneously sprinkling your cheeks with embarrassment: “Sorry, I ruined your shirt.” 

“You’re so silly, stop apologizing.” So Mun pinched your cheek playfully before laying another kiss on your forehead: “Let’s go to sleep, shall we?” 

You know damn well that, aside from the comfort of your boyfriend, sleep is the second most essential thing you need right now. However, work came first; you couldn’t risk blowing this final test which determined whether or not you'd pass the class. The sound of your voice appeared barely louder than a worn-out whistle of the wind, physically and emotionally aching from tremendous overwork: “I can’t. I’m not done studying yet.”

A pout settled on So Mun’s face as worry draped itself over the warm color of his irises. Seeing stress etched lines of anxiety on your face was never a sight of his favor, but he couldn’t bring himself to persuade you to quit since you’ve made it clear how important this exam was to you. Plus, he was endlessly proud of how hard you were working, and he was sure that this profound effort would wonderfully pay off.  

So, with a sigh, your boyfriend patted your head gently: “Just a little bit more, okay? I’ll stay with you.”

You nodded against your boyfriend's hand, grinning. The brilliance of your smile never waned, sending tiny swings into his chest like chaotic ripples on the surface of a pond. And so he gave in to what his heart told him, cradling your face in between his palms once more and peppering delicate kisses all over you. 

Shared touches of laughter penetrated through the eerie shadows of nightfall, and suddenly midnight itself no longer felt cold. 

Finishing the last kiss on your lips, So Mun carefully spun your chair back to the desk, grabbing one of your half-drunk cups that caught his attention: “Coffee at night is a no, but I guess today is an exception for you. I’ll go refill this and be back.”

[Tag List]✿⌦ @slytherinshua (feel free to notify me if you want to be on the tag list)

Dedicated to every So Mun simp out there but explicitly to students because finals are coming and i (we) am dying. WE GOT THIS PEOPLE💪😭!! (also this is like a sorry gift for the angsty fic i know it wasn't that angsty but)

[thewailingbells]

Can I request Bubba Sawyer not really understanding what his female S/O period is. All he knows is that he saw blood on the sheets and thinks there's an emergency. Maybe he gets very protective when Y/N explains the whole thing.

A Bit of Blood

AN: Sorry this took so long! I had a very busy month but everything has finally started to calm down.

Warnings: This entire fic is about periods, so if that grosses you out, don’t read!

The sun is brightly shown through the thin curtains, gently nudging you awake. The persistent morning light became too much to bear. You let out an annoyed groan and rolled over on your side. You sought refuge from the persistent morning sun in your lover’s chest. Today was a rare day in the Sawyer household; it was quiet and calm. From the limited amount of time you had spent with the family, you concluded that they knew very little about those two concepts.

Nubbins was out in town taking photographs for his collection, Drayton was at the gas station working hard to get everything set up for the week, and Chop-Top was still in Vietnam.

That left only you and Bubba at home. He slept soundly in bed beside you. Despite his imposing size, there was a gentle calmness about him as he slept. You couldn't help but admire your big, gentle, manly lover, asleep and vulnerable, whose features softened in repose rather than the stern, concerned look he usually expresses.

Bubba’s eyes fluttered open. A smile appeared on his face when he realized you were right in front of him. He let out a squeal of happiness and pulled you into his chest. You giggled and hugged him back, enjoying his tight embrace. Despite the lovely moment you were having, Bubba was a morning person. Once he woke up, he was filled with energy. Bubba said something you couldn’t quite understand before wiggling out of your grasp. You sighed and rolled over to lay on your stomach.

Bubba began to follow his usual routine. Pull the blankets down, get out of bed, pull the blankets back up to cover you, and give you a kiss. Except this time, he let out an animalistic squeal. You quickly shot up in bed and turned to face him.

“Bubba! What’s wrong? What happened.”

He continued to make concerned noises. Bubba pointed to the bed. You jumped out of the bed to see what was wrong with it. Your heart sank. There was blood. Bubba began to cry. He gently patted the bottom of your butt, and you could only assume there was a blood mark there too.

You looked at him with loving eyes. You grabbed his rough hands with your soft ones. “Bubba, I’ll be okay. Don’t worry.”

He shook his head. You obviously weren’t okay! You are bleeding! That means you are hurt! Bubba started sobbing. “I’m sorry I hurt you I didn’t mean it I want to help you but I don’t know how to do that and I don’t want you to die so please don’t die,” he said. While the words weren’t exactly spoken in proper English, you were able to get the gist of what he was trying to say.

You squeezed his hands. “Listen to me. I am not going to die. This is normal for me. I need you to calm down. Can you do that for me?"

He nodded. You smiled at him and sat down on the bloodstained bed. If you bleed more, it doesn’t matter; the sheets are already ruined. Bubba stayed standing up. He was too concerned to sit.

You used the most gentle tone you could. “Bubba. As you know, I am a woman. That means I have a different body than you. You’ve seen me naked many times. Whether we were showering together, having sex, or you just walked in on me changing, remember how I told you not to cum inside me?"

He nodded. Of course he remembered, but that didn’t explain why you were bleeding! There is no time to waste! If he waits too long to tend to the wound, you could bleed out. Despite his inner thoughts, he stayed put and listened. Bubba played with his bracelet to calm himself.

“There was a reason why I told you that. Bubba. If you cum inside me, I have a baby. Once a month, when I don’t have a baby, I bleed out of my vagina.”

Before you can continue, Bubba is pulling down his pants. You quickly stopped him. “Bubba! That doesn’t mean I want a baby! We’re too young for that.”

He whines. “The baby will stop the bleeding you need a baby now!”

You shake your head. “It doesn’t work like that. Not exactly, at least. The bleeding does hurt, but I would rather bleed than have a baby. Usually I just have cramps, headaches, dizziness, fatigue, mood swings, and a few other things.”

Bubba started crying again. You have to go through all of that? Once a month? He loves you! He doesn’t want you to be in pain. Bubba pats your head gently.

You were about to say something but were interrupted by a sharp pain in your lower abdomen. You quickly hunched over and grabbed your stomach.

You felt a pair of strong arms pick you up and place you on the bed. “Bubba. I’m fine, real-“

“Nu uh,” Bubba said. You tried to sit up, but he pushed you down onto your back.

He grabbed the waistband of your pajama pants and pulled them off you. He took your top off as well. Bubba looked into your eyes for a brief moment before gently taking off your underwear.

You groaned. “Sweetie, what are you doing? I’m going to bleed on the sheets more than I already have. It’s gonna make a mess.”

Bubba climbed into bed next to you. He made shushing sounds to shut you up. His rough, calloused hand began to gently rub your uterus. He continued to make sad sounds, like those of an injured puppy.

You felt disgusting. Like an animal free bleeding all over the place you slept.

“Bubba, isn’t this gross to you?”

He shook his head. Figures: After chopping up animals and people, blood must start to mean nothing to you.

“I’m going to need feminine products, Bubba. I can’t spend a whole week in bed because I’m bleeding.”

Your love whined. There was something about this that he liked. It was domestic, in an odd sense. You were sprawled out in the bed naked. Yet there were no feelings of sexual desire. Only a desire to nurture.

“Rest,” Bubba said. “I will take care of you. We can get you everything you want later. I love you so much please feel better.”

“Thank you,” you said weakly. This was certainly something you thought you would never do. To anyone else, their girlfriend bleeding all over their bed would make them want to vomit. Not for Bubba though, he loved everything about you, and he would be with you through everything. Everything.

[quinloki]

Valentine's Drive

Marco x fem!Reader

9,303 words

summary: Marco wants to do something special for Valentine's, and so he decides to take you with him on one of his longer country drives.

CW: bondage, dom/sub, reader calls Marco master, mean-ish Marco (he is trying to be nice), dildo, anal plug, bullet vibes, overstimulation, forced orgasms, edging, orgasm control, outdoor sex, temperature play, gag, risking being caught/seen, prep, anal sex, vaginal sex, close enough to proper procedures for safety and sanity - I didn't have to, but I did enjoy grounding it, begging, crying, mdni

TL;DR - I did not hold back, enjoy.

It was your first Valentine’s together. Neither you nor Marco put a lot of stock in the holiday itself, but he said it was a good excuse to have fun since you were both off from work that day. The night before you’d packed an overnight bag, and gone over to Marco’s townhouse. It was closer to his job, and unlike his family’s home, it wasn’t constantly packed to the gills with dozens of brothers.

You’d both taken it easy that evening. Marco had made an easy dinner and you’d snuggled on the couch for a few hours watching campy movies before going to bed.

One of the things that prompted the two of you to start dating was that you were both into kink and bdsm. Outside of a session he was sweet, tender, and attentive. During a session he was firm, controlling, even more attentive, and terribly, terribly mean. His sadistic streak matched your masochistic one almost perfectly.

The first time you begged him to go harder than he’d ever been able to go before he’d made you cum so many times he had to call off work for both of you and take care of you the next day. It was intense, but by that point you trusted him implicitly. He wasn’t afraid to push your limits, you weren’t afraid to communicate them, and spring, into summer, autumn, and now winter.

When you woke up on Valentine’s day, Marco brought you breakfast in bed. He sat and talked with you about light topics so comfortably you weren’t sure it wasn’t his plan to do so all day. Once you were done with breakfast he’d finally admitted to the scope of his plans for the day.

For the next hour or so he got you ready for what he had planned. Prep was clinical, and after having gone through it a few times with him, it was automatic for you. The first few times it had been terribly embarrassing, and Marco had even done it “in scene” to help ease you through it. It was, after all, much easier to obey than volunteer when someone wanted to give you enemas.

Adventurous as you both were, the dynamics of your relationship were dictated by a choker style necklace you both referred to as ‘the agreement’. The black band with it’s small silver bird was simple enough to go with pretty much anything, and understated enough to not be immediately obvious as a collar in public. Though, you did have a few of those.

Outside of a scene you were equals. Partners in crime. There was give and take, and compromise, and hard conversations. Everything that life had on offer.

Within a scene it was different. The agreement was that Marco was the authority, and the balance to his absolute authority was your ability to determine when you were in agreement or out of it. In a way, you had all the control, because it was your trust that conferred that authority over to him.

Clean inside and out, Marco dried you off, brushed your hair, kissed your skin, praised anything and everything about you he seemingly could, and pulled you into a hug while on his knees before you. His chin was between your breasts, his hands on your back, and the warm smile on his face was already making your body heat up.

“I feel like you’re trying to butter me up,” you admit with a smile, brushing his hair back before kissing his forehead.

“It’s going to be a long session, yoi.  I just wanted to make sure you were in a good place before we even started.” He hums, kissing your tummy before looking back up at you. “I want to take you on one of my country drives.”

“Three hours along the back roads during winter? There won’t be many cows or horses out to pasture.”

“Nope, not too many other people either. The roads are clear, but most people don’t do the long drive unless it’s nice enough to roll the windows down, yoi.” He smiles, kissing between your breasts. “Though you might ask me to roll them down anyway.”

“What do you have planned, Ma~aster?” You sing the word, taking a step back.

Marco doesn’t let you get far, his hands pulling you back to him, turning you around so you’re facing the mirror while he talks. His hands are firm and almost rough against your skin. You’re both pushing the edges of a session without having officially started it yet.

“I’m going to stuff my sweet bird full of toys,” he begins, his middle finger slipping between your labia and teasing your folds. “Wrap her up in ropes, and let her wear a coat if she behaves, before I set her in my passenger seat and go on a nice long drive, yoi.”

You put your hands over your face, widening your stance to give his finger better access as the heat rolls through you.

“Oh that sounds wonderful,” you try to say the words with confidence, but the idea of it, and his finger are already making your voice shiver.

“Go put on the agreement, and sit pretty for me, and we’ll get started.” He says, pulling his hands away from you and swatting your ass gently.

You head off into the bedroom with a little more pep in your step than you think Marco needed to see, and pull the simple black choker from the box on your dresser. After getting it clasped into place you get down on your knees on the floor, setting them open with your feet together and tucked under your ass. Leaning back you put your hands on your heels.

The position put you almost fully on display. The only way you’d be more exposed would be if you laid on your back and pulled your ankles up to your shoulders. As Marco would say, something that revealing wasn’t for you to control, so of the different ways you could sit - proper, pretty, humble, or apologetic - that just wasn’t one of them.

Proper was similar to pretty, except your knees were kept together and you put your hands in your lap, instead of behind you. Humble was face down, ass up, with your hands on your ankles. It was uncomfortable if you stayed that way too long, and since it was usually a punishment you often stayed that way for long stretches of time while Marco did as he pleased.

Apologetic was a full and proper kowtow, and if you had time whatever you were wearing was folded neatly around you. You’d only done that one a couple times as practice.

After a couple minutes Marco comes into the room with a box. You can see the coiled rope peeking out over the side and press your lips together in anticipation.

“Good girl,” he hums and you feel your body throb. It wasn’t fair the effect he could have on you so easily. Setting the box neaby he crouches down in front of you. His hand at the back of your neck steadies you as he presses two fingers into your pussy.

Whining you rock into the action and help him get deeper. His thumb presses into your clit as his fingers scissor inside you. You were wet before he really even started, and it barely took a minute for him to make messy sounds with his fingers. You kept your hands on your heels, opening your mouth just before he pulls his fingers out of you.

“Look at you.” The smile on his face is dangerous. “Needy, but you’re trying so hard not to be greedy.” He pushes the wet fingers against your tongue and you clean them up happily. “Well, I suppose I could be… nice, for today.”

“Maybe.” He adds quietly, moving his fingers away and pulling you into a kiss. His wet hand teases your nipple while he dominates your mouth. You can barely keep yourself in place, moaning into the kiss, your body trembling from the attention. Even unbound you felt helpless when he did things like this. It was divine.

Leaning back, he holds you in place for a moment, giving you a chance to steady yourself before standing up.

“Up.” He commands, and you get yourself up onto shaky legs. Your knees are a little red from having knelt on the floor, but he didn’t leave you that way for long, so they’d clear up. “Put your hands on the bed and your ass in the air. I’m going to get the plug in first.”

You do as instructed, and Marco comes up behind you working lube into your ass before you have time to anticipate the action. It’s cold, and you gasp, but you don’t squirm away.

“You’re darling little pussy is dripping, so I’ll get the rope harness started before I stuff that hole, yoi.” He explains, working your ass open as you try to stay quiet. He is being nice, he’s not teasing you and edging you, he’s almost being clinical like he was with prep.

You weren’t entirely sure if that was a good sign or not, as yet.

“Alright, talk to me pretty bird, let me know if it hurts.” Marco pushes the tip of a plug into your ass, and you nod. It stretches, eases up, stretches more, eases up, and you realize he’s working the big, long, bubbly plug that wriggles and vibrates into your ass.

“Oh gods.” You murmur the words as it stretches again.

“Too much?”

Shaking your head you push back against the toy. “No, no, sorry sir. I just… realized what it was.”

“Ah.” Marco pushes it in a little faster, getting two bumps in at once and making you moan despite your efforts. “Thinking about it wriggling around for a two hour drive, hm?”

You nod as the last bump is pushed in and the flared flange rests against your ass cheeks. The full feeling was already a lot and you were just getting started.

“Alright, straighten up, put your feet apart wide enough I can reach for the ropes, yoi.” He commands.

You straighten up slowly, it always feels weird with the toy inside you, and put your feet a little more than shoulder-width apart. Marco works quickly and quietly. Sometimes when he ties you up the process of tying you up is the point, and he can easily spend nearly an hour or longer if he gets into really intricate work and poses. Today, however, the tying was functional, and not the main focus, and so he worked quickly.

He folds your arms under your breasts, tying them in place and checking to make sure the tension is right as he works. Even though he’s being efficient, he’s still so close, his breath breaking against your skin, the heat of his fingers trailing over you. It was hard not to get worked up.

Marco tugs on the ropes between your thighs, pulling them loose when he’s getting close to being done.

“Alright, now I can put this in and you won’t drop it a dozen times, yoi.” He teases, holding up a vibrator you’ve had inside you for nearly a full day before. Even with the plug it should be fine to use during the car ride without getting uncomfortable.

He gets it lined up, pushing it in slow and steady.

“You’re so wet it’s already dripping off the bottom.”

“Haaa, don’t… don’t say that, it’s -!!” Your shivering voice is cut short as he shoves it the rest of the way in. Letting out a shallow quavering breath you thank your own lucky stars you didn’t cum from that. One of the fastest ways to get punished was orgasming without permission. Something Marco definitely abused, and you happily let him.

“Mmm, a little less good girl, and a little more lucky bird.” He muses, putting the crotch ropes back into place and tightening the lines, keeping the plug and dildo neatly in place. You nod, your face goes red as he begins to tie your thighs together, just above your knees.

“Now we get you dressed enough you won’t freeze during the stops.”

“We’re… not staying in the car?”

Marco smiles his dangerous smile. “It’s going to be a long drive, you’ll need to stretch a couple times at least, pretty bird.”

That’s complete bullshit. Marco wrapped you up like a mummy and left you immobile for six hours one day. A couple hours in the car was going to be nothing, but you weren’t stupid enough to risk your “nice Marco” possibilities by asking bratty questions right now.

He got you into some thigh highs, pulling them up under the ropes and letting those hold them in place since you weren’t wearing a garter belt. He put thicker socks on over those, and boots on after that. You were a little worried he was going to just trot you outside and to the car in nothing but snow boots, but he only stopped dressing you because he “forgot” some of the accessories.

“These little guys can be taped here.” He hums, putting small bullet vibrators on either side of your nipples, taping two against each one. “And this one,” Marco pulls a larger, almost egg-sized, vibrator out and nestles it against your clit, letting the crotch rope from the harness hold it in place. The added size of the egg pulled the harness a little more snug, but not uncomfortably so.

You were certain Marco had made accommodations for the added mass while tying you up at the start of things.

He then puts your winter coat on you, draping it around your shoulders and buttoning it up. He put the sleeves in the pockets, and it almost looked like you had your hands in your pockets, and were wearing, possibly, a knee-length skirt. The interior of the coat was silk-lined and was cold against your skin for the moment, but it was already warming up.

Marco tilts your face up with just a finger under your chin, and you can feel the heat in your face.

“How’re you doing, pretty bird?”

“Gah-green, I’m…” You take a moment to collect yourself as the vibrators on your chest come to life. “Green!”

“I think you really like where this is going, yoi.”

Nodding slightly, you look away. It’s almost dizzying the blood rushing to your face. “Little nervous, but… I know I’ll be safe with you.”

“Good girl,” he praises quietly, leaning down and kissing you. This kiss is gentle, a soft pressure against your lips as the vibrators against your nipples stop. “Alright, let’s get you in the car. How well can you walk?”

You test your range of motion carefully, taking very tiny steps at first until you sort out how much range of motion you have. You smile sheepishly, and realize Marco’s doing his best not to laugh at you. Even at the best you look like you have to pee.

“Well, if someone asks, you took a fall and are worried about falling a second time, yoi.”

“If-.” You pause. It wasn’t that Marco was intentionally going to parade you around people, but you were going to be outside, and people were also outside. Better to have a story now. No one wants to deal with the police because some concerned, well-meaning, citizen worries your partner is abusing you. “That works.”

Smiling, he sticks his thumb out toward the garage. “Start waddling your way to the car, pretty bird, and I’ll get my coat and the remotes.”

“Yessir.” You almost grumble the words, holding back your tone as you carefully walk toward the garage. You get about halfway there before Marco scoops you up and over his shoulder. You moan as the movement makes the toys inside you shift, and his hand squeezes your ass in response.

He opens the car door and carefully sets you inside, watching to make sure that the toys inside you don’t poke anything uncomfortably as your position changes.

“Good?”

“Yeah, uh, mostly. Not back - eep!” You were explaining you weren’t back in the seat enough when Marco adjusted you.

“Better?”

“Y-yes,” you did appreciate his powers of observation, but sometimes you wished you could keep up. He checks a couple more things, making sure you’re settling in well, and then buckles you in.

Marco gets settled into the driver’s seat, checking on you one last time before he turns all the toys on low.

“Still good?”

Letting out a shaky breath you nod your head. Everything is wriggling or vibrating, but nothing is pinching or causing discomfort.

“Perfect. Ah, one more thing.” Marco pulls a gag out of his pocket. It’s about as thick as a standard ball gag, but it’s got three inches of length shaped like a dick. Just long enough to press against your tongue, just short enough to avoid risk of you gagging on it. After he gets it clipped into place he puts a single use flu-mask over it.

“There, now you’re all tucked in.” Starting the car he pulls out of the garage and onto the road. Once he gets rolling he puts his hand on your knee. You’re acutely aware of the heat of his hand, the texture of his palm against your skin, and the fact that his hand is sliding up.

It doesn’t take much to expose the ropes around your thighs, since they begin just above your knee. Objectively, you know no one can see into the car at that angle. Certainly not on most of the roads you’ll be on, since country roads are barely ever more than one lane on each side. But you can’t deny that your heart is beating faster.

For a few minutes he just leaves his hand there, rubbing your thigh, squeezing it reassuringly as he drives you both out of the city. The vibrators meander to the background of your mind, Marco’s hand occupying the forefront. When you stop at traffic lights he slides his hand up your thigh far enough to loop a finger through the crotch rope, tugging at it a little and watching you struggle to keep your composure with cars nearby.

You know no one is paying attention to you, but it feels like everyone knows. You’re sure the people next to you know you’ve got a gag in your mouth, that you have ropes against your skin. You’re certain some trucker will come along and realize you’re naked under your coat.

Once you clear the city and get onto the country roads, you realize that Marco’s hand was much safer on your thigh than not. When he moves it away the vibrators start to shift.

The little bullet vibes against your nipples get stronger and start fluttering in different patterns. More than the vibrations themselves it’s the way that the difference in patterns makes it feel random. It’s hard to know which side is going to do what, and that uncertainty makes the teasing even better.

“Mmfh,” you squeak against the gag, trying to stay quiet.

“We’ve barely gotten into the country and we’re already picking up my favorite radio station,” Marco hums. The bumpy plug in your ass starts to shift and you tense, moaning again. You’re grateful for the cloth mask, even more than hiding your gag from the passing traffic, it was helping to hide the expressions on your face.

“Almost there, just a couple more adjustments, yoi.” The dildo in your vagina vibrates on a low frequency and starts to shimmy slowly inside you. You’ve barely adjusted to the plug in your ass and before you can even settle with the dildo the egg against your clit hits a fever pitch.

The powerful vibrations against your soaking clit surprises you, and you nearly scream, moaning loudly against the gag. The strong vibrations retreat to a low setting, and Marco sets them to a rhythm different from the two settings teasing your chest. Whimpering, you shift in your seat, trying to get comfortable despite the sensations.

His hand’s back on your thigh, pushing your coat’s hem up and rubbing just above where the thigh high stockings stop. You’re not moaning, but the toys have you breathing heavy against the gag, the odd muffled sound breaking against the gag when something sends a shiver through you.

“There we go.” He hums, eyes on the road. “Be careful not to cum without permission, pretty bird.” Marco warns, rubbing your thigh. “Would be a shame if I took that mask off, or revoked your coat privileges.”

The threat goes straight to your core, and suddenly all the toys are bothering you even more than before. It was difficult to say if Marco’s threats were empty or not. You knew he wouldn’t get the two of you arrested, but he probably would risk an awkward conversation with police if people filed reports.

Every stop light or stop sign, Marco’s hand would leave your thigh and change the settings of one or more of the vibes. If you stopped struggling, he’d adjust the toys. If you managed to shift in a way that gave you relief from something he’d tug on the ropes and readjust how things were settled. He didn’t hurl you toward an orgasm without giving you permission, but he didn’t let you have a moment’s peace.

As mean as he could be, he was still possessive and careful. One of the traffic lights put you next to a big long-haul truck. They were rare on the country roads, but even farms needed large deliveries or pickups. The trucker’s elevated position could give him a view into the sedan, and Marco had pulled your coat back over the ropes on your thighs, and made sure the coat was snug around your neck.

Once the truck was gone he unbuttoned the top buttons of your coat, and put his hand between your thighs, pressing the egg vibrator into your clit.

“Mmmfffh! Mmpphh!” Marco had unbuttoned enough to expose the rope harness at your neck and chest, but nothing truly indecent. The sudden exposure and the pressure of the egg vibrator made your heart race after almost thirty minutes of edging. “-‘ease, eeeaaaase,” you whine the garbled word, desperate for either permission or mercy. Shifting in your seat you moan and whine, letting the broken begging words out as Marco made no move to give you permission, or to show you mercy.

By the time he eases up on the vibe the lack of tension is almost worse. The vibrator is tickling your throbbing clit and you’re nearly in tears trying not to cum. Without his hand on your thigh you can adjust a little bit more and find some relief before you can’t take it anymore, but your body is on edge.

“We’re at the first stop.” He announces, pulling into a small park. The parking area is plowed, but between the empty lot and pristine snow it’s obvious no one else is there.

After parking and turning off the toys, he comes over and gets you out of the car. Standing you near it he has you move and stretch, helping you bend back and just having you stomp your feet. He checks that nothing’s going numb, the ropes aren’t biting anywhere, and once he’s sure you’re okay he picks you up princess style.

If anyone else were around you’d be worried about how the position has your privates almost on display, but you feel like Marco would keep you from being spotted even if the place was practically packed. He kisses your forehead as he carries you through the snow. It’s barely two or three inches, just enough to make a soft crunch and leave footprints with each step.

When he gets to a picnic bench he sweeps the snow off and sets you on it. Your coat is keeping you from sitting directly on the frozen wood, but you can feel the cold starting to creep in.

“I bet the reception here is perfect.” Marco hums, looking down at you as the vibes on your nipples whir back to life. “Don’t you think so, little radio?” He questions, the egg against your clit starting to shiver harder and harder. You moan softly, the break you got was enough that you’re not at the edge anymore, but you’re still riled up.

The vibes in your ass and pussy come to life, and the vibrations are loud - or louder than they were in the car. They’re vibrating against the wooden picnic table and it sounds louder than you expected. You look up at Marco in concern but he just turns them up. It only takes him a moment to have everything going. Different patterns for the ones on your chest, the dildos making a racket against the table are squirming inside you on top of vibrating, and the one at your clit is going as hard as it can.

“Sing well, little bird,” he commands, unbuttoning another button on your coat. You’re moaning and whining, squirming as he does as he pleases. Despite the cold you’re warm, the blood rushing through you at all the stimulation. “There you go.”

Marco’s eyes linger on you, but you see him looking around as well, ensuring you’re as alone as you thought you were. He unzips his pants, and starts palming his erect cock. Every minute or so he unbuttons another button on your coat, working himself up and reminding you not to cum without permission.

You aren’t sure which is more embarrassing, your own moans that are getting louder and more desperate as your body starts to tense, or the sounds of the vibrators beating against the picnic table. It felt like everyone in the county knew what you were doing.

Undoing the rest of your coat buttons he opens it wide, and you squeak, shaking your head. He takes the cloth mask off and pulls the gag out of your mouth, leaving the saliva-slicked device against your neck. Grabbing the back of your head he pulls you close, almost kissing you, but not quite.

“Please, Master-.”

“Color,” he husks, his own voice coming out in a breathy command.

“Green-yellow, green,” you say, moaning as the toys make your body shiver.

“You can cum after I cum on you.” Marco instructs, kissing you deeply for a second. Leaning back he looks into your eyes. “Don’t you dare stifle your song, pretty bird.”

You nod, eyes transfixed on the leaky tip he’s pumping with his hand. You wanted it inside you. Your mouth, your ass, your pussy, you didn’t care. You were hungry for him, and it was terribly cruel of him to show you what you wanted and not even let you touch him.

“Please, please,” you beg, you can feel yourself getting close, but you’re not even begging for your own release. “Cum on me, please, sir, please.”

“You want me to mark you, pretty bird?”

“Yes, please, cover me, master, please.” You beg, your mouth open, your tongue out. He’s not even going to finish on your face, but you can’t help yourself. The toys are hazing your mind, your own orgasm drawing near and you need more of him.

“That’s my girl,” he praises, hot spend splashing on your chest and stomach. Milking himself he cums on you as much as he can, and then grabs the coat, pulling it down and leaving you exposed before he grabs the back of your head and presses the egg into your clit.

“Cum.” He commands. “Sing for me right now little snow bird.” He growls the command, kissing your neck and holding you still as the orgasm races toward its peak.

Your body shivers against the rush of pleasure far more than the brisk cold. The vibrators against your nipples are almost biting against the stiff flesh, the vibrators buried inside you are sloshing wetly from your arousal, battering against one another and competing with the egg that pushes you quickly over the edge. Marco holds your head back so you can’t bury your lips into his shoulder, forcing you to wail your whorish moans out into the air.

You couldn’t hold them back if you wanted to, and you didn’t want to. You wanted to sing for him like he commanded. The keening cries turns into desperate shivering gasps, the sweet rush of release chased relentlessly by the manic toys beating against your body. Marco nearly pushes you into a second orgasm, bringing the vibrations down slowly as he watches your trembling body carefully.

“Much more and you’ll cry, yoi.” He hums, turning each toy off before pulling the coat back up and buttoning it in place. “Can’t do that on the first stop.”

“Haaa, that’s… this is… fuck.” You gasp, your voice shivering from the adrenaline. A nervous laugh dots your broken words and you smile at Marco before he pulls you in for a sweet kiss.

“We’re just getting started.” He promises you. “Hang in there, sweet little bird.”

You nod, and he picks you up, carrying you back to the car. Once he gets you settled into your seat he puts the gag back in place, and the cloth mask over that. After he buckles you in he turns all the toys back on and turns them up to full. The brief break was enough to take the edge off of the earlier almost-overstimulation, but that’s kind of the problem.

Your whole body is tingling and there’s no rhythm or break. You want to ride the dildos inside you and cum, just to get it over with, because the vibrations are keeping you wound so tightly, but as Marco gets in the driver’s seat and puts the car back on the road, he doesn’t turn the vibrators down.

Moaning and panting through the gag, you wiggle and squirm and beg and plead as best you can for him to turn something down, anything. You’re going to cum and you’re not going to be able to stop it, but all he does is tap the tip of your nose and remind you not to cum without permission.

“Ah don’ ‘anna ‘um!” You beg, throwing your head back and trying to shake off the building pleasure.

“Then don’t cum.” Marco says easily, and you growl in frustration. You catch the smirk on his lips and whimper. “If you can make it to the next stop you’ll be rewarded.” He says.

“Ow ‘ong?” You ask, trying to shift enough to at least get the damn egg off your clit. The rest can almost be relaxing, especially since there’s no random pulses from the vibes teasing your nipples.

“Mmm, about twenty minutes.”

“’ENTY ‘INUTES?!” You weren’t expecting him to pull into the next empty lot, but that was a lot longer than you thought you could last.

“Well, now it’s forty. Want to complain more?” His face is smiling, but his tone is warning. You don’t play the brat with Marco much at all. Every once in a blue moon you like to push back, but more than anything you love to just fold in his hands, whatever shape it is he’s going to put you into.

“… ‘orry.”

His hand is on your thigh. “Hang in there, yoi.” Marco hums the words reassuringly, but his hand’s off your thigh within a couple minutes and all four of the bullet vibes against your nipples are set to different patterns. Even worse than the first time.

You try not to growl at the new predicament, but you can’t suppress the strained whimper. On top of all the sensations, his cum is drying on your skin, itching and catching against the cool smooth silky interior of the coat. It’s a new sensation on top of everything else and the more there is the less you can defend against.

Fifteen minutes and you’re doing good - or were. There’s a new problem.

Stopped at the train tracks there’s a long shipping train going by. It’s been a good two minutes already and there’s no end in sight.

“Just not your lucky day, is it, pretty bird?” Marco questions, and the rest of the vibrators start to writhe and shiver in patterns. Whimpering you try to shake the building pleasure away, but his hand on your thigh is limiting your motion, and pressing the egg into your clit more than the ropes do by themselves.

“Ease ‘emme ‘um!” You beg, tears pricking the corners of your eyes. He’s watching the train as you thrash in the seat, completely unconcerned with the car behind you. “’Eeeeeaaase!”

“It’s not a matter of permission,” Marco says, turning to look at you. He wipes the tear out of the corner of your eye and gives you an apologetic look. “You have to make it to the next stop, pretty bird.”

“Ah, but this might be prudent.” He reaches over, taking the gag out, and pulling the mask back up over your nose. “This way if you need to call out a color it won’t get lost in the gag.”

“Please, Marco, please I’m gonna - I’m not going to be able to hold it back! Mercy!”

“Using my name, pretty bird?” He says icily.

“Master! Master, I’m sorry, please, I’m - shit, shit, I’m not going to be able to! It’s too much!” You whine, trying to wriggle away from his hand on your thigh, but it’s no use. You can’t leave the car in the first place, even if you weren’t tied up, Marco’s hand would be able to reach whatever it wanted.

“Maybe you’re overdue for a proper punishment.” He hums.

You don’t really hear him over your own struggle. “Fuck, fuck, I’m gonna - I can’t!” Your body tenses and you shudder against the vibrators, cumming hard. Biting your lip you growl, squirming inside your ropes as the orgasm you fought against claws through your body.

“Sorry,” you gasp, panting heavily as you start to come down from your high. “Sorry, I’m sorry, I couldn’t - hnnngh! - please, I cah-can’t.”

“Shhh, shhh, you’re alright pretty bird. Just because you’re going to be punished doesn’t mean you’re doing bad.” He says soothingly, getting you to nod. “Hang in there, yoi.”

“Haa- yeah, I… please, the toys, Mar— Master, please, fuck!” You squirm, the relentless toys sending thrills into your sensitive skin harshly on the heels of the orgasm. At this rate you’re going to cum again.

“Oh, well, since you couldn’t hold it, now you get to cum until we get to the next stop. Over and over.” Marco puts the car into drive as the last car of the train passes by and the barriers lift, letting you continue on your way.

When he drives over the tracks your eyes roll back and you nearly orgasm again. You’re trying to desperately control your breathing so you’re not getting lost in too many orgasms, but it only takes five minutes for the next one to rock your world. Marco is relentless in keeping the egg against your clit, changing up the patterns and intensities as he drives, keeping you from being able to get used to any one particular set up.

At the third orgasm you’re sobbing, drooling, nearly growling swears as the pleasure circles around your bones. He’s made you cum back to back before, but never during a long session like this. It was cool in the car but you were starting to sweat from the exertion. There’s no pretense of trying to hide what’s going on, and if you weren’t tied up as much as you were you’d probably look like you were possessed.

“Gods-Fucking-Ass! Again, not again, shit, shit,” you squirm, hips bucking into his hand. “My ass, my ass, hhnnnnnnngh- it’s not-from-my-cunt-it’s-my-ass!” Growling you clench your teeth for a second as your body tenses from the anal orgasm and you start grinding into Marco’s hand. “Good, I’m good, I’m good,” you gasp the words because Marco was checking in on you between orgasms.

Your hair was sticking to your skin from the sweat and exertion. Your sounds were coarse and thick, pleading whines were more directed at yourself since Marco had already told you he wasn’t going to show you mercy until you reached the destination. If you really couldn’t take it you’d give him a color, but as much of a trial as it was, the orgasms were melting your mind and it felt amazing.

You were going to pay for them, you were sure, but you also knew that Marco loved the sounds you made. Whether you were begging, crying, or cumming at the top of your lungs. As long as your sounds, concerns, discomforts, pleasures and pains were his fault he was satisfied.

By the time Marco pulled into the next destination you were at the end of what you think you could take. The toys had been turned off, but your body was still twitching. Tears were drying on your face and you weren’t entirely sure how many times you’d cum, but you knew Marco kept watch over you, even while he’d been driving.

“How are you doing, my love?” Marco asks softly, his big warm hand cupping your cheek and pulling your gaze over to his.

“Good, m’good.” You mumble in response, nuzzling into his hand. “Lil’ yellow, maybe gimme a minute.”

“Of course. You need anything untied or removed?” He questions and you shake your head.

“Nah… no,” licking your lips you give him a weak, but genuine smile. “How long have you been planning this?”

Pink tinges Marco’s cheeks as his expression softens even more. “Years. Just…  needed the right person to come into my life, yoi.” He explains, brushing sweaty hair off your face.

You can feel the heat rushing into your face, turning enough to hide in his hand. You hear him chuckle before he leans over and kisses the side of your face, getting you to stop hiding in his hand and letting him kiss your lips again. The sweet action sends the heat in your face back down into the rest of your body, warming you through and through.

“Ready?” His hooded gaze feels like it’s diving into your soul, and you nod shyly. “Good.” He kisses you deeply, tongue pinning you to the car seat, hand against your shoulder until you’re moaning into the kiss.

Getting out of the car, Marco gets you out again, this time putting you over his shoulder after removing the gag and mask from around your neck entirely and leaving them in the car.

“Oh no this is Whiskey Point.” You whine and Marco squeezes your ass.

“It is.”

Whimpering, you have a pretty good idea of what he’s going to do. Whiskey Point is notorious for the echo that rings out from it. School kids, usually at the start and end of the semester when the weather is really nice, come through as part of class field trips and shout their echoes into the air, giggling over all sorts of shenanigans.

To mark the best spot for this phenomenon, there’s a sturdy wooden lectern with a plaque on top that explains the point’s pleasures.

“No one’s going to know it’s you.” He says in what you suppose is meant to be a reassuring tone, as he sets you down by the lectern. He sweeps the snow off the stand completely, before taking your coat off of you entirely. Laying the silky interior of it down on the snow, you fidget and whimper, but now’s not the time to be asking questions or complaining.

Lifting you up he sets you, face down, on the cold stand.

“Cold!” You cry out involuntarily, flushing as you hear your voice flit over the landscape.

“We won’t be long, yoi.” He promises. “Count, pretty bird, loud as you can after each one. If you don’t give me your best shout I’ll have to come up with an additional punishment.”

“Yuh-yes sir.” Your breasts are cold, and so are your arms, your back, your ass, your legs - even the parts of you that aren’t pressed into the lectern are exposed to the cold air. You’re not sure if you’re shivering in nerves, anticipation, or because of the cold directly.

Marco’s hand lands sharply against your ass and the resounding clap almost sounds like a gunshot. You wait just a second for the echo to give you space and shout after it as loud as you can.

“One!” the word bounces around like the slap and you’re not as cold as you were before, embarrassment heating your body a little.

Another sharp crack, this time on the other cheek and you shout a count after it. Anyone within hearing distance is going to start putting two and two together, and anyone who knows will know what’s going on.

The third slap already stings, Marco’s not being gentle because time’s limited. By the tenth slap you know your ass is red, you can feel the sharpness of the sting, and the heat of your own skin from the strikes, but the whole situation is an intense turn on.

You moan. Loudly.

“Oh?”

“T-TEN!” You stammer, squeaking as Marco turns you over on the lectern. The cold wood feels wonderful against your heated ass, and you sigh in relief as he pulls the knot loose that’s holding your thighs closed.

Tucking the egg vibe into his pocket he cuts the crotch rope, and tosses the dildo into the snow. He takes a quick minute to work the anal plug out of your ass, tossing that into the snow too. You moan, softer this time, from the sensation, gasping as he grabs one of your ankles and forces your legs open wide.

“Wh-what are you doing?” There’s a focused look on his face, and while you trust him, you aren’t sure what he’s planning to do.

“Testing something, yoi.” With a practiced movement, he swings back and slaps your soaked pussy the same way he’d been slapping your ass.

The sharp clap isn’t as loud, and you’re sure he held back at least a little bit, but the snappy sting, the weight behind it drives right into your body. It hurts, sure, but the pain is nothing compared to the pleasure that rolls in behind it. The impact might not have echoed nearly as loud, but you moan in a way that more than makes up for it.

“Fuck,” you husk, body shivering for reasons that have nothing to do with the cold. “D-do that again, please.”

Marco’s brows raise and he smiles. “Not out here, yoi.”

Pulling you off the lectern he picks up your coat, shakes it once to dislodge any actual snow and puts it back on you. The interior has been made frigid, and you gasp at the sharp cold, whining and wiggling as he buttons you up. It’s part of the punishment, but also the cold does feel nice against your backside at least.

With your legs untied, he gathers the toys he tossed in the snow, the discarded bits of rope, and puts one hand on your shoulder to help you stay steady as you both walk back to the car.

“How’re you holding up? Still yellow?”

Shaking your head you smile as you get situated into the car seat. “Nah, I’m green. That was… unexpectedly invigorating.”

“Not much of a punishment then?”

“I did not say that.” You pout. “Feeling like someone had to have heard all that just… turned me on more than I thought.”

“Mm, well, we can even things out another day, and see just how much that pretty pussy of yours likes being slapped.” He declares, stealing a kiss as he buckles you into your seat and shuts you in. You’re already warming up the coat again, and you’re starting to get more comfortably warm.

Marco pops the trunk, tossing the items that are out of play into the back before getting into the driver’s seat. Without your thighs tied together, Marco’s fingers play in your wet folds ruthlessly. Anyone who can see his arm probably knows what he’s doing, and without the mask and gag there’s no way for you to hide your face entirely.

After your punishment you don’t dare to close your legs, you’re just grateful your coat is on and buttoned up fully at this point. Moaning and pleading with him within the confines of the car feels more private after you were screaming your head off at the echo point, and while other traffic is in the back of your mind you don’t really care about it.

“So nervous at the start, and look at you now.” Marco hums the words before plunging his fingers inside you, making you buck and cry out. “Being such a good whore.”

“For-for you,” you husk, rutting your hips into his fingers, your eyes are closed and you’re focused on the hot pleasure of his fingers.. “Juh-just for you, Muh-master, just a whore for you.”

“No one else.”

“No one else,” you repeat. “Un…. Unless you…” You can feel your face heating up, embarrassment rolling down your shoulders as you shrink into the seat. Marco’s fingers have stopped, and you don’t need him to tell you what it means. “I’d let you, you know, share me, if you wanted.”

He’s quiet for a long moment, and you aren’t sure if you said something that was going to kill the rest of the session, but his fingers start moving again.

“You trust me that much, yoi?” You nod in response and he pulls his fingers out of you, putting them in your mouth. Licking his fingers clean as you drove down the road was the right kind of embarrassing. “Mm, maybe when the weather’s warm we’ll go back to that park bench. Can tie your pretty ass up on the table, face down on the bench and let any brave passerbys that approach use you.”

The idea makes you clench and you moan against his fingers. The warm chuckle you hear from him is a good sign and while you’re sure you’ll be talking details and limits later on, right now it’s fun to just sink into the fantasy.

You lick up the length of his index finger. “I don’t need anyone else but you, just so we’re clear.”

“I know, pretty bird.” He hums in response. “I do like the idea of getting to watch you.” He turns your head toward your passenger window and you see a young, wide-eyed guy at the wheel, face flushed red, looking back at you. Opening your mouth, you stick your tongue out as the light turns green and Marco turns down a different road.

“His friends are never gonna believe him.” You muse with a grin.

Marco smiles, rubbing your thigh. “Ready for the last stop, pretty bird?”

“As I’ll ever be,” you reply, opening your legs and letting his hand wander where ever he wanted it to.

Marco drives for another half hour. When he asked his question you thought he was close to the stop, but as time carries on you can feel the anticipation knotting inside your stomach. He teases you, turning the vibes on your breasts off and on, fingering your pussy randomly, making you sit so it’s obvious that your legs are open, even if no one else can see inside.

By the time he pulls into a place you’re nearly in a trance, desperate for release, frayed from the length of the session and tense from trying to figure out what he’s going to do. Marco talks to you when he opens your door and it takes you a moment to focus on his words more than just his voice.

“With me yet, pretty bird?”

“Y-yeah,” you hum, leaning forward and nuzzling against his face.

“Good girl.” He praises quietly, kissing your cheek while helping you out of the car. “This is going to be intense, so don’t be afraid to call a color, even if you need to jump straight to red. I won’t be mad.”

“I know.” You answer as Marco presses your chest to his, reaching around and spreading your ass cheeks. You’re standing in the cold with him, but your backside is still to the car. You’re a little more aware now, but nuzzled into his chest you don’t know where you are.

He fingers your ass, adding more lube to what was already there from the toy. The action is sweet and pleasurable and you moan and whine softly into his chest. The toy’s been out for a while, but it had you loose and warmed up for long enough it doesn’t take him long to get you back there.

Marco undoes your coat again, this time setting it in the car before grabbing you by your rope harness and pulling you away from the car with ease, especially since your arms are bound he tosses you face-first into a pile of snow. You yelp in surprise from the action, and then cry out from the sudden cold of the snow against your bare skin.

Before you can do anything Marco’s on top of you, pushing his rock-hard cock into your ass roughly. It stings, despite the prep, but the stretch, the heat of him against you, the desperate need that had been building in your body since he started prepping you that morning was coming to a head.

You moan deeply, and Marco’s hands are on your shoulders, pushing you into the snow as he sets a heavy pace, fucking your ass for his pleasure more than yours.

“Cold it’s cold!” You cry, breath being shoved from your lungs with each slap of his hips into your ass. “C-cold, but- but it feels - Ah! ♥ - good! So fucking good!”

“Cum if you can,” he husks, grinding into you. His pace has slowed a little and he’s hitting all the places he knows you like. As harsh as the cold is, it’s nothing compared to what the situation and Marco are doing to you. “You’re clenching down so sweetly, pretty bird.”

“Don’t say that, don’t it’s - hah - embarrassing! I’m,” Marco grabs your hair, lifting your face away from the snow. You still can’t see anything but snow, and you moan as the vibes on your chest turn on. “Fuck, fuck, Maaaa-aster, I’m-.”

“Cum for me,” Marco commands, nipping at your ear. “I’m going to stuff ice cubes up your cunt and fuck you, look at you, loving this cold so much. Fill the tub full of ice and leave you in there until you start to turn blue, let you get to shivering so bad my touch feels like fire.”

“Gods, hnnnnnngh, no, no, please, I-!!” Your feet kick in the snow as your body tenses and you cum. Your pussy flutters against nothing, ass throbbing against his cock, the initial rush stole the air from your lungs, but you breathe in and cry out. The sound is desperate and guttural, clawing its way up from your lungs only to be shattered between your teeth as they clench against Marco’s continued thrusting.

You’d be clawing at the snow if your arms were free, but in a few more thrusts he’s driving you into the snow again pounding heavy in your ass. He feels hot, unbelievably hot and is throbbing deep in your ass, and the contrast is driving you mad.

“Hang in there, pretty bird.” He says, pulling out of you and rolling you over. Marco switches condoms so fast you wondered idly if he practiced just for this, or if he was always so quick and you just never had the focus to notice. The sharp cold of the snow on your back, however, was keeping your mind focused in the here and now, despite the lingering euphoria of your earlier orgasm.

He grabs your ankles and presses the back, folding you in half as he pushes easily, and deeply, into your pussy. Gasping, you moan, throwing your head back into the snow as he presses you down and hilts inside you. Soundly pinned all you can do is whine and moan with each deep thrust.

Every time you try to speak he kisses you. If you needed to call out a color you could scream it into his mouth, but you let his tongue shatter your words as his cock melts your mind. You’re going to cum again, your throbbing cunt was hungry for something after he made you orgasm from your ass and you were already sensitive from all the teasing and spanking of the day.

The only sounds you made that escaped Marco were your moans. There could be a crowd for all you knew, but you didn’t care, let them hear what he did to you.

The building pleasure is soft despite everything surrounding it. The build is inevitable, but your body is too tired for much more at this point. Garbled thanks bubble up in your mouth only to be devoured by Marco as your eyes roll back, and you spasm against him. He lets the babbling moans go, licking and nipping at your neck and collarbone. He fucks you through the orgasm, heavy, bruising thrusts pushing the air out of you and keeping you on the edge of pleasure until you’re whining and squirming beneath him in overstimulation.

You can’t stop the sob as your addled and abused body begins to overload.

“Please, please I can’t - can’t cum again, please, I’m begging,” you sob. Your tears are hot against your cheeks, more so because of how cold your body was. “Please, master, please.”

“One more, pretty bird,” he commands, words and lips sinking into your skin. “You’re doing so good for me.”

“Can’t,” you sob even though you can feel the tension in your thighs again. “Can’t, please, please just use me, and c-cum, please.” Your voice cracks between sobs and Marco kisses you, grinding into your clit and bullying himself as deep as he can.

“Fuck,” he husks, breaking the kiss and putting his forehead against yours. “Just like that, you’re so perfect for me,” he practically growls the words. “Crying so beautifully, you’re making me cum, pretty bird.”

His words go straight to your cunt and you cry. “No, no, I’m gonna - gonna!”

Marco grunts, snapping his hips roughly a few times as you cum with him. “Just like that, good girl.” His words sink into you with the euphoria of the forced orgasm and you can’t really hear or feel anything except for him.

-:-

-:-

The last orgasm had all but shattered your senses, and you were only vaguely aware of the ride home. Marco took care of you, talking to you the whole drive back home, which was short, since he’d been slowly circling back toward it the whole time.

He sat and soaked in the tub with you until you were both pruny, after he’d gotten you warmed up thoroughly and washed. You’d come around entirely by the time he was showering with you, and were able to lean against him and relax in the tub. You two talked about the session, things you definitely wanted to do again, new things you wanted to be able to try, and when Marco teased suspending you from a tree and leaving you in the snow you didn’t argue against it.

The most embarrassing part of the entire thing was the next day, when Marco brought you the newspaper during breakfast, pointing to something he’d circled.

MISSED CONNECTIONS: To the girl good at counting on the peak during Valentine’s; I’da given you ten more at least ~_^

[greyias]

22. playful teasing from the blossoming romance prompts?

Pairing: Gale x Tav (pre-relationship) Words: ~4600 Notes: More self-indulgent fluff, takes place the first morning/second day. A follow-up to this previous piece, but can be read on its own.

Gale woke with a crick in his neck, an ache in his back, and an all-too familiar gnawing deep within his chest. A groan escaped him as every bone and muscle protested the hard ground that had been his bed. He had a few choice words for the many scribes who extolled the virtues of sleeping under the stars, nestled in the ample bosom of nature’s beauty. He would take a proper mattress any day.

The sun was just beginning to peak over the horizon, its golden rays starting to chase away twilight’s dim gray hold over their camp. He’d never been much of an early riser, candles usually burning low into the night as he’d get lost in one text or another — and the comfort of his tower back in Waterdeep afforded him the luxury of the simple things: an actual bed, linens, and the ability to snooze well into the morning hours. A twinge of protest in his lower back chased any thoughts of trying to close his eyes and catch a little more sleep, so he resigned himself to face the day.

Pushing himself to a half-upright position, that unnatural, ever-present hunger churned with a renewed vengeance. It hadn’t been sated in days, and it certainly wouldn’t be assuaged by any worldly meal. Absently, he brushed his hand against the ache, only for his traitorous stomach to voice complaints of its own with an insistent gurgle. Well, it seemed everything was just going to complain today.

Scrubbing the grit of sleep from his eyes, he slowly shuffled toward the campfire. Despite the late summer date, a chill still clung to the pre-dawn air and the warmth of the fire beckoned now that he’d abandoned his bedroll. It had burned low overnight, and Gale could make out the silhouette of one of his newfound companions tending to the dying embers. Faint light danced off scale mail, glinting underneath the deep blue and silver tabard embroidered with the tenets of a paladin’s oath to devotion. It seemed Aravyn had risen early enough to change from the fine yet travel-worn sleep attire she’d worn in the evening. If she’d managed to change into her armor already, he had to wonder exactly how early she’d woken up.

She glanced over her shoulder at his approach, and he suspected the keen sense from her elven lineage had picked up the sound of his footsteps in the quiet of the morning — not that he’d been trying to be particularly stealthy. In the dim light, he could just make out her quirking a brow in amusement at his approach, but she kept her voice pitched lower, likely in deference to their still slumbering companions. “That is quite the windswept scholar look you have going on today?”

Gale blinked, trying to parse that statement before raking a hand through his hair and encountering a wild tuft sticking straight up in the air. He attempted to smooth it with his fingers and hoped the slight reddening of his cheeks could be blamed on the morning chill. “Yes well… not all of us can wake up looking freshly groomed and put together, can we?”

“Contrary to popular belief, not all of elven descent awake fresh and pure as morning dew.” She gently stoked the fading embers, trying to prod the struggling flame back to life. “Even we must contend with bedhead and morning breath.”

“I will respectfully keep my distance in that case.” Despite his jest, he still shuffled closer to the sputtering flames, although the embers did little to provide much warmth. “So if you do not wake up perfectly composed and dressed for battle, I take that to mean you’ve been up for a while then?”

Aravyn gave a small shrug as the returned her focus to the struggling flames. “My sleep was a little restless. Too many thoughts swimming about, not to mention our unwanted guests.”

“I was going to blame our accommodations, but that is a valid point.”

“Not used to roughing it?”

“I’ve camped among the elements many a time,” Gale insisted, “but sleeping on rocks have never done my back any favors.”

She wrinkled her nose, glancing back at him. “You set your bedroll up over some rocks?”

An exasperated sigh escaped him. “I was intending a broader condemnation of the unyielding nature of the earth itself, rather than implying I selected the most jagged plot to sleep.”

“I don’t really think the ground is going to listen to any constructive criticism you offer.” From the suspicious way her lips quivered as she pressed them together tightly, Gale gathered he was being teased. 

“Perhaps not.” He eyed the way she continued to gently prod the logs with her stick, and while there was nothing wrong with a light touch — certainly a clumsy oaf could push the smoldering logs apart and smother the flame, but there was a far quicker and more effective way to achieve this particular goal. “Here, allow me.”

With a murmured incantation, he conjured a small bolt of fire and let it loose at the embers she was still trying to coax a proper flame out of. The kindling popped and crackled before the fire roared back to life. There was once a time that he could have made the whole thing come alive, take a shape of a dragon that would roar in delight. And maybe even would have, just for a little extra show. 

“I could have done that,” she protested.

“Why didn’t you then?”A small huff escaped her, and he just managed to keep from smirking in response.

“Not every problem needs to be solved with a magical solution, you know.”

“Yes, but now we have a nice fire.”

“We still would have if you’d been a little more patient.” Another huff, and this time he couldn’t stop the smirk from blossoming, or adding a little poking of his own.

“But this allowed us to reach the desired outcome much more expediently.” The gnawing void in his chest may have spoken to at least some of the wisdom of her statement. Still, old habits died hard, and it was easier to feign exaggerated indignance than to indulge in too much self-reflection before the sun had even fully risen. “Honestly, wasting time poking it with sticks is borderline arcane masochism.”

Her brow arched as she quietly echoed, “Arcane masochism?”

“There’s no reason to abstain from magic merely for some misbegotten sense of character building?”

“Are you about to tell me to go to hell again?” For a moment he thought the question might be serious, but the glitter of mirth in her eyes gave her away.

Despite himself, the corner of Gale’s mouth twitched at the reminder of his darker musings from the previous night. “I wasn’t really planning on it — but perhaps that’s just my hunger talking. Clearly sustenance is in order before my temperament grows any darker.”

“I’ve got just the thing.” She held up a finger, as if telling him to wait, before delving into one of the nearby bags where they’d gathered all of the provisions from their group’s scrounging the day before. After a few moments of rustling around with some quiet mutterings, she produced a plain strip of dried meat for him, with the flair of a subject presenting a prize catch to their lord. “Here. You’re not you when you’re hungry.”

“Hilarious.” Gale eyed the meager rations with the air of a man facing his imminent demise. 

He wouldn’t have to deal with such indignities if he still had the power to summon an extradimensional space with a fully-stocked larder that could even put the one in his tower to shame. Even a Heroes' Feast wouldn’t go awry — not that particular spell had ever been part of his domain of magic. And would disappear in an hour. He really was desperate, wasn’t he?

Gale was stalling. Out loud he added, “I seem to recall us having a conversation just yesterday about you not inflicting your culinary masterpieces on others.”

“Yes, but this is different,” Aravyn insisted.

“How?”

“I haven’t boiled this piece of jerky.”

“That statement is not nearly as comforting as you mean it to be.”

 “Just trying to be helpful.”

"Yes, your generosity truly knows no bounds.” His tone was as dry as the piece of jerky he accepted with great trepidation. Rather than eating it right away, he just stared at it glumly. “What I wouldn’t give for a proper Waterdhavian breakfast right now. Almond cakes, buttered buns, oh, gods — some strong coffee would not go amiss either.”

“Oh, coffee…” A wistful, borderline indecent sigh escaped the half-elf. “What I wouldn’t give for a mug of the Smilin’ Boar’s finest roast.”

“The Smilin’ Boar?” It was Gale’s turn to quirk an eyebrow.

“Oh, it was this old tavern that got turned into a cafe back in Baldur’s Gate. The menu took, let’s say, some creative liberties when naming their dishes, but they served the best coffee inside of these cute little mugs shaped like a pig’s head. Or at least it was the best coffee in the Bloomridge District.”

The Bloomridge District — now that was interesting. If memory served, that was one of the wealthier neighborhoods in the Lower City, with some of the estates there threatening to rival the opulence of the Upper City itself. If he factored in the fine leather and golden embroidery from her sleepwear the night before, Gale was starting to suspect that whatever her past, their troupe’s little paladin hadn’t been born to the life of pauper.

It was an intriguing puzzle these little details presented, and it just a little too tempting for him to resist plucking those loose threads and trying to weave them into a larger fabric of knowledge. He peered past the thoroughly unappetizing slab to appraise her with renewed curiosity, an investigator sizing up an intriguing conundrum. Breakfast (if it could even be called that) could wait — this enigma required his full concentration.

“Aren’t you going to eat that?” she asked.

“I’m looking for inspiration.” He waved the desiccated mystery meat product absently in the air. “Tell me more about this creative menu.”

“Oh, you know. They had things like ’Sow’s Delight’ and ‘Three Pigs in a Blanket’. It’s all a little raunchy for such an upscale cafe, but considering they reused the signboard from the old tavern…” She trailed off, as if hoping that maybe his attention had wandered, then seeing it had not, cleared her throat. “Well, the original tavern incarnation didn’t cater to quite the same clientele.”

“You’re really building this up,” teased Gale.

“The sign featured a smiling boar.”

“I had gathered that much.”

“…mounted atop a sow.”

The loud guffaw that erupted from Gale took them both by surprise, and he quickly glanced around the camp to see if he had accidentally woken any of the late risers. Mindful of his manners, he lowered his voice once he managed to contain himself. “That is positively delightful. If by some happenstance our merry little band winds up in your hometown, we must visit this charming little cafe.”

“That’s a long way to go for a cup of coffee.” Aravyn pointed out. “If you just need something bitter to sip on, I could try boiling some tree bark or mushrooms.”

“You do know that there are other ways to prepare food and drink than merely boiling everything into an unpalatable pulp?” Gale countered, still holding the unconsumed jerky almost at arms’ length. “Although at this point, I can’t say whether that would help or hurt this allegedly edible morsel.”

“I’m beginning to think you’re seeking distraction from that rather than inspiration.” Her teasing lilt was as sweet as honeyed wine but contained just a little too much levity to be believed as completely innocent. “Go on, just pretend it’s a Sow’s Delight.”

He wasn’t sure how, but she’d managed to make the bland piece of meat even more unappetizing. His lip curled involuntarily as he valiantly tried to banish the image of said sow’s delight and its causes, and took the daintiest of nibbles from the edge — and nearly gagged.

Aravyn beamed at him with the widest and most innocent of smiles. “Inspired yet?”

“Thoroughly.” Face contorting, he forced himself to swallow the salt-cured leather. “However, I do think we need to fill our larder with something of a bit more sustenance.” And flavor. Never forget flavor.

“We do have quite a few mouths to feed.” She tapped her chin, considering. “I’m not sure how far we’ll be able to stretch our current rations.”

“Well, perhaps if you ask everyone else to picture two pigs rutting, it should give us a few more days.”

Aravyn’s cheeks flushed a deep scarlet, as if only now realizing her perhaps unintentional double entendre, before her lips curled in a smile that was caught somewhere between apology, mischief, and mirth. “I don’t know. It somehow got you to take a bite.”

“I… you—” Gale sputtered. While not for the first time in his life, it had been a long, long while since someone had rendered him at a loss for words.

Dawn chose that moment to crest the horizon, its warm glow highlighting the faint spray of freckles across her nose and cheeks. The deep flush there lingered, spreading all the way to the tips of her ears. The image had a certain endearing, almost innocent charm that was captivating. An unexpected stirring in his chest skipped just a single beat, but it was enough proof there was maybe something in there beyond the rot chipping away at him.

The impishness edge of her grin softened, hovering on the edge of something warmer. That moment, that stirring, lingered with a tension that seemed to crackle like the kindling had.

“I guess I need work on my sales pitch.” Aravyn rubbed the back of her neck, a little flustered.

“Maybe start by avoiding porcine copulation.” Gale said, though his gaze lingered on her smile a beat too long before he redirected it to the sparking flames. Clearing his throat, he grasped for a fresh conversational thread. “You know, while scavenging yesterday, I couldn’t help but notice those ruins up on the cliffs.”

“Yes, they did look rather… crumbly.”

“That is a way to describe them, I suppose.” He stole a glance back in her direction to see her lips pressed together, whether in amusement or deep thought, he couldn’t tell. “Their structural integrity aside, I can’t help but wonder what sort of secrets they might hold.”

Aravyn tilted her head, considering yet also dubious. “I doubt we’ll find any coffee there.”

“I have other needs aside from coffee.” His tone was light even as the dark, necrotic orb in his chest twinged once more. He resisted the urge to massage it — best to not draw attention to his condition, especially with a group of strangers he’d not even known a full twenty-four hours. “The whole place has an air of mystery to it, don’t you think?”

“I mean, a little.” She slid a considering glance in the far distance where said ruin lay. “Although I think it it may just be a chapel. I’m not sure what you’d expect to find there.”

“Yes, but a chapel to who? Aren’t you curious?”

From the furtive way she averted her gaze, he could tell that her curiosity had been piqued. “I thought you were eager to find a cure before the ‘wee ones’ got too hungry. I think we’re more likely to find that at the druid’s grove those tie flings mentioned. Or at the every least some fresh vegetables.”

Gale tried not to make too much of a face that that, but some adding some roughage to their diet was probably not entirely uncalled for. “Yes, yes, fresh produce is nice and all. But it’s hard to resist a good mystery, is it not? Just think of the secrets those old walls could hold, magical relics even.”

Perhaps that was giving away his true intentions too strongly, but as she began to chew her lip in consideration, he could tell she was losing the war. “You could say they’re almost on the way we were being directed. It would only be a little detour.”

“That’s the spirit! Besides, how long would it really take to poke our heads into an old church?” He waggled his eyebrows with a conspiratorial flourish. “Who knows, it might even shake loose some ideas rattling around in our skulls about what to do about our larger problem. Give the ol’ noggin something to do besides house our new guests.”

Aravyn scrunched up her nose in distaste at the description. “I’d rather not be reminded on how much they're.... squirming up there."

“Ah come now, just imagine them as hairless spiders giving your mind a massage.”

“Is this revenge for the Sow's Delight?”

“Perhaps.” To his credit, he managed to not sound too smug, but they were rapidly getting off topic. Time to veer the subject back around, although bury the lede lest he come across overeager for the expedition. A spot more innocuous chatter should do the trick. “But regardless, those ruins don’t look too massive. Should be a quick in and out. And even if we don’t find any fun arcane toys to play with, there might be some dusty tomes in there to add to my collection. My personal traveling library is rather paltry at the moment.”

The indelicate snort that escaped her echoed nearly as loud as his earlier burst of laughter. “I thought you said last night you already had enough books to fill a shelf or two.”

“If I’m being completely honest,” he was certainly threading the needle on that particular phrasology, but no matter, “I may have embellished slightly the amount of reading material on my person. It was only a satchel’s worth when I was snatched up by that ship.”

“You only had a satchel filled to the brim with books on your person when you were unexpectedly kidnapped by mindflayers?” There was just enough dubious sarcasm laced in her tone, he wasn’t sure if he should take offense. Probably best to forge past it.

“Well, should our luck prevail, we’ll find a veritable enchanted horde, but barring that, I’ll settle for uncovering a few tomes. Never been much for religious reading, but you never know what knowledge you may find.” Ever a hand talker, Gale instinctually went to rub his hands together in eagerness, but the feeling of dried meat smushed between his palms gave him pause, making him glance down in confusion at the half-flattened jerky. With a small huff, he futilely tried to reshape the pulverized snack as he forged on. “And you never know, perhaps we’ll find a musical score or hymn to expand your own repertoire?”

Aravyn tilted her head in that unique way of hers, as if she were trying to examine him from a different angle. “I’m not sure why I would need that.”

“Apologies, I just assumed after your performance last even—”

Gale caught himself as she flushed again, this time a deeper shade of scarlet as she averted her gaze once more. “Ah. I… guess you heard that.”

Sensing that he might have stepped into a sore subject, a bit of diplomacy was probably in order. “I may have caught a few notes.”

Her gaze was still firmly fixed on the campfire, the glow from it and the dawn seeming to accentuate the color in her cheeks. “Yes, well… it was the first time I had played since I was a child. I’m afraid it showed.”

“I was under the impression that the lute was a difficult instrument to master.” The smile he offered was meant to be encouraging, but the sentiment was likely lost as her eyes were firmly fixed on anywhere but him. “That you had done so as a child speaks volumes.”

“I wouldn’t—I wasn’t a master by any means.” She gave a small, awkward half-shrug. “Certainly not talented enough to pursue it beyond a hobby. Scholarly pursuits are far more practical and likely to pay the bills.”

A nearly imperceptible undercurrent of bitterness ran underneath that confession. None of the details shared quite meshed with the reality before Gale, and once again those frayed threads just begged to be picked apart a little more. A rounded education made sense for a privileged upbringing, but in his experience, rote book learning was rarely a sure path to fortune. Probably not best to lead with that, though.

“I would be the last person to discourage the pursuit of knowledge,” Gale said, “although it seems a shame your creative passion had to fall to the wayside because of it.”

The embarrassed, almost shuttered expression gave way to surprise and her startled gaze finally met his, before flitting away once more. “That is kind of you to say but… I’m not sure I’d count yesterday’s attempt as anything particularly creative.”

“Come now, it wasn’t that bad. You certainly seemed to be enjoying it before, well…”

“Someone suggested a violent and gruesome end to the performance?”

“Pshh,” he waved a dismissive hand in the direction of Lae’zel’s tent, “a little culture won’t hurt this lot.”

“It’s more than a little generous to call that noise ‘culture’.” A dry humor laced those words. “We should probably let yesterday’s mistakes be erased by the dawn.”

The urge to prod, poke further and try to trace those threads to their source was strong. Just as a careless hand could smother the fledgling flame of a dying fire, so too could a clumsy nudge undo delicately laid social groundwork. Trying to wrest secrets not meant to be thrust into the light of day was a recipe for disaster. Of that, he knew far too well. 

 It would be far wiser to let matters lie. For now.

“I feel like you are being a little too harsh,” he said, “but I can also tell when a subject changed is required.”

“Thank you.” The words came out almost as a breath, but they still rang with gratitude. A small victory, but well earned.

“However, I do admit that you have piqued my curiosity.”

Her brow crinkled. “I thought you were changing the subject.”

“I am — to you, my friend.” He meant to emphasize his point by pointing directly at her, but once again forgot he was holding his inedible breakfast, and wound up using the desiccated meat product as an impromptu pointer.

Unintentional as it was, the absurdity of the visual was apparently what was needed to deflate the remaining tension, and she tried to cover her smile with her hand. “Me?”

“You have to admit, you present an intriguing conundrum. You claim education took precedence for you for financial reasons, and yet now walk the path of a paladin.” He tactfully left out the part about her musical proclivities. “That’s a curious progression.”

“I never claimed I was a good scholar.” The breath of laughter that escaped her had a hint of that same self-consciousness from before. “I was always a little better at wielding a sword.”

“That can be very lucrative work itself.”

“Depends on who you ask.” Something in her inflection gave him pause. Her expression darkened for a fraction of a second, and then melted back into a pleasantly neutral facade so quickly he wondered if he’d imagined it.

“And yet something brought you here,” he tried once more.

“Oh, you know that one already.” The glint in her eye and that impish curl to her smile let him know he’d walked right into something again. “Same as you: mindflayers.”

“Very funny.”

Her eyes crinkled as her smile blossomed further. “I like to think I have my moments.”

“You do realize this is not diminishing any of the intrigue.” As Gale shifted to steeple his fingers for emphasis, he once again had to catch himself mid-gesture, still holding that thrice-damned scrap of petrified mystery meat. He resisted the rising urge to hurl the horrid thing away in favor of making his point. A point he most definitely had.

“I think you’re building up more mystery to the situation than there really is. My life has been pretty mundane, especially when you look at the rest of our motley crew. I’m afraid I’m very boring in comparison.”

“I’m starting to suspect your self-assessments might be more than a bit biased.” He shook his head. “But! Our acquaintance has been brief. So, who am I to judge?”

A particularly bright beam of sunlight forced them both to squint, and the dawn’s growing light crept over the rest of camp. Around them, the first stirrings of life broke the relative quiet — a loud moan about someone needing to turn off the sun, shuffling footsteps, and a murmured curse or three.

Aravyn looked at the untouched jerky still pinched between Gale’s fingers. “Well, go on then. Might as well eat up before the others descend. Can’t imagine you want more of an audience for choking that down.”

“Ah, yes.” He grimaced at the fate he had managed to put off until now. “Sustenance.”

As she watched expectantly, that endearingly elfin grin threatening to spill over, Gale steeled himself. He endeavored to banish the lingering images of phantom hooves and porcine faces in flagrante delicto, and shoved the entire strip of jerky in his mouth. He chewed valiantly through what now tasted distinctly like old saddle leather, with about the same consistency. With visible effort, he managed to swallow it down and fixed her with the most aggrieved expression he could summon.

She returned it with a grin radiating playful delight. “As they say, ‘waste not, want not’.” 

“The eponymous ‘they’ may want to rethink that particular axiom,” he rasped, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. It did nothing for the lingering aftertaste. He wasn’t sure even the highest proof alcohol would get rid of that.

“Must you both make such an insufferable racket so early in the morning?” Lae’zel grumbled as she stalked over with a scowl. “You sound like a pair of foo dogs with a bad case of interplanar indigestion.”

Gale was extremely proud of himself for managing to keep a straight face. “Apologies. You must forgive our zeal, as we were just discussing the merits of the local cuisine.”

“That is far more enthusiasm than I can bear at this hour.” She rubbed at her eyes irritably. “Especially over something as pointless as a culinary debate.”

There were a few more choice gith words uttered Lae’zel’s breath before Aravyn oh-so-helpfully produced another piece of jerky for her complaining companion. The friendly effort at first seemed to yield only a withering look, before the offering was accepted with far more grace than Gale had been able to muster.

The githyanki seemed much less bothered by the meager fare, and chewed it in contemplative silence as the other two members of their merry band roused and joined them at the campfire. Gale tracked Aravyn as she cheerfully inflicted more of the tasteless rations on a bleary and unsuspecting Astarion and Shadowheart. Their grumbling complaints echoed his own, but somehow that relentless cheer managed to win over in the end. Astarion’s exaggerated eye rolls, Shadowheart trying to hide spitting out the jerky, only for Lae’zel to loudly call her out.

It was an unremarkable, entirely mundane moment, yet something still stirred within him. A resonance that touched beyond even the ever present void behind his ribs. Like he was witnessing another kind of dawn, and they were all on the cusp of cresting a brand new, unseen horizon.

[ase-trollplays]

Points For Trying

==> Thiomi: Finish the last of your commissions

You wish. You still have three illustrations and two short stories to do. You're making great progress, though. You're also back in your hive for the first time since the business with Joclyn and the kidnapping. Mousemom is by your side watching you work and to help you feel a little less anxious.

You pull up trollian on your husktop and frown. Corali is still offline. She said she would check on you at some point tonight, but you haven't heard anything from her. You could always call her. It's not like she's busy nowanights after what happened with her job. However, you feel like you're always the one reaching out. You shouldn't have to chase h--

--resilientRust [RR] began trolling chronicallyMousey [CM]--

RR: Howdy, Miss Ma'am. How's your night going? You feeling okay being in your hive?

RR: Sorry for taking so long. I got into a little scuffle while I was out.

You breathe a sigh of relief and feel a little guilty for doubting her. You're concerned about her getting into a fight, though. She's supposed to be keeping a low profile while her case is still ongoing and she could be caught.

CM: ...its okay... ...im just glad to hear from you...

CM: ...are you okay?... ...are you at the hospital still?...

RR: Nah, I'm at my hiveblock. I just went to a local clinic and got a few stitches on the back of my head. Got the other troll fixed up, too.

CM: ...you helped the person you fought?... ...thats really thoughtful and considerate...

RR: Thanks. The fucker didn't make it easy. I had to beat him and taze him unconscious or he would've ran off.

CM: ...YOU DID WHAT!!!...

What the hell. What the hell!!? WHAT THE HELL--

RR: It ain't as bad as it sounds! I couldn't let him just fuck off!

RR: His eye was busted like a grape. If I let him go, it would've probably killed him eventually.

RR: I was doing him a favor, believe me.

CM: ...oh my god...

CM: ...corali... you cant do that!... ...if s-someone doesnt want to be helped... just let them go!... ...what happens afterwards isnt your fault or your business!...

That's real rich coming from you who compulsively sticks your neck out for anyone and everyone who seems like they need help or someone in their corner. You're getting a lot better at not doing that anymore at your therapist's and your friends' behest, though.

RR: I just wanted to get him more help since the fight didn't help as much as I thought it would.

CM: ...what do you mean?...

RR: He's a lot like I was. I could see it when I talked to him and really looked at him. He's a strong kickass survivor of a troll who lost his spark.

RR: Seeing as I know what it's like when the fire inside you gets blown out, I wanted to try and relight it.

CM: ...s-so... the fight was your idea... and you destroyed his eye on the process... then beat him up even more and tazed him until he lost consciousness s-so you could get him medical help...

You're going to rip your hair out. You're going to facepalm so hard it leaves a bruise. You're going to completely lose your entire mind. This is a level of ridiculousness you can't put into proper words. You swear you can feel your hair graying.

RR: In my defense, his eye was already fucked something fierce. A strong breeze would've popped it.

CM: ...that doesnt make it better!... ...did you at least pay for him?...

RR: Of course I did. I'm not that big of an asshole.

RR: I planned on taking him with me so he wouldn't murder everyone when he woke up.

CM: ...they were going to release him to you???... ... did you tell them that youre the reason he had to be there?!...

RR: I lied and said he's my kismesis.

CM: ...oh my god... ...this is unbelievable...

CM: ...and why did you think he would kill everyone in the clinic when he woke up?...

RR: You gotta promise me you'll believe me. I swear on my life I'm telling you the truth.

CM: ...?...

RR: He's a werewolf.

... What. The fuck. He's a werewolf. He's a werewolf!? She can't possibly be serious. There's no way she expects you to believe that. This whole conversation is a trainwreck that won't stop piling up.

You have to walk away. You need some air and something to drink. You step around your lusus and walk downstairs to the kitchen to pour yourself a glass of water. Actually, you need more than water. You need a cup of hot tea. Instead of using the kettle on the stove, you heat the water in the microwave and grab a bag of citrus tea to steep.

By the time you go back upstairs, you've gotten yourself together somewhat.

RR: I dunno anything specific, but according to him he can't completely control when he changes and what he does when he transforms.

RR: If he's someplace with a bunch of people around, he'll probably maim and kill them on account of having no control over himself.

RR: I know it sounds like a crock of shit, believe me. If I hadn't seen him turn into the fucking wolf man in the middle of our fight, I wouldn't believe it either.

RR: And you know I wouldn't lie to you. Especially not a stupid fucking lie that sounds this crazy.

RR: Are you still there?

RR: Thiomi, come on. Say something. I promise you I ain't bullshitting!

CM: ...where did you take him?... ...is he with you?...

You're so done with this conversation. You guess you can't entirely fault her for this nonsense looney tunes story. Fighting someone to (somehow???????) make him feel better, hurt him too much, then force him to get medical treatment against his will definitely sounds like an extremely Corali thing to do. She wouldn't be her if she didn't take a sledgehammer to every problem despite her good intentions.

RR: No.

CM: ...s-so where is he?... ...did you s-somehow find his hive?...

RR: Didn't have to. He woke up just fine.

RR: The medicullers couldn't help him much, though. His face is too swollen ta take out his eye, so they referred him to another clinic.

RR: An' I know damn well he ain't gonna go. I figured I already did what I could, an' I ain't gonna follow after him like his moirail or his lusus.

CM: ...i need to think...

CM: ...were continuing this conversation tomorrow...

--chronicallyMousey [CM] gave up trolling resilientRust [RR]--

You log out of trollian before she can message you again, and you put your phone on do not disturb before loudly making a noise somewhere between a groan and a sigh and dragging your hands down your face.

You love Corali. God knows you love her to death. You love her like you love Dan and Varoll. But sometimes... You slam down half of your tea, ignoring the burning in your mouth and throat, and get back to work.

Well, at least she had good intentions.

[smolkiwi98]

I'm so soft for Steve watching out for his girl, loved that story about him being a caregiver. Could you write something about him in a relationship like the onefrom your imagine with Eddie munson and non sexual domination? The one with rules and consequences and all but just to help the girlfriend work on things she wants to improve and because she thinks having structure like this is helpful and asks for a relationship like this, things like if she struggles sleeping at reasonable hours, she has a bed time for example. If you think it's repetitive because you wrote something like that for another character it's alright, feel free to just ignore it

Thank you! I'm happy you enjoyed it! I apologize if this isn't as good, it's late and I'm kinda tired lol. But I hope you enjoy!

WARNING!! Mentions of spanking (one time if you squint), mentions of a dom/sub Dynamic, um not proofread, I think that's it.

masterlist

make a request here!

Saying you’re a night owl is an understatement. For some reason you loved the night and there’s nothing wrong with that, but sometimes it just gets bad. It gets to the point where you’ll stay up a whole night, stay up all day, and not go to bed until later that night around two or three in the morning. When you started to date Steve he didn’t know about this. He just thought you liked staying up late to talk with him sometimes, but he didn’t know you would stay up all night and watch movies when he fell asleep. It surprised you how long it took him to notice this. He just thought you went to bed with him and woke up before him.

Steve started to notice this little routine when you moved in with him. That’s when he sat you down and discussed a solution, “Okay, I know we do some dom/sub things in the bedroom, but I think it would be a good idea to bring into our normal everyday life.” The words that just left his mouth shocked you. He wanted to bring that dynamic outside the bedroom? A blush made its way across your face and you fumbled with your fingers “So…so you mean like…” You started feeling shy. Steve looked at you confused at first and then quickly shook his head “No, Baby. What I mean is to bring some rules into our everyday lives. Maybe that way you’ll get your sleep and eat properly.” He explained. You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding, “I thought you meant something completely different.” You said with a small chuckle.

~ A Month Later ~

It’s been exactly one month since you’ve brought the rules into play and it’s honestly changed you a lot…in a good way of course. You were getting proper meals and had a somewhat good sleeping schedule. You and Steve agreed that if you broke any rules you’d be put in timeout since spankings well…that gives you a completely different feeling. Last night you had gone to bed around eleven thirty which is early for you and you also got up this morning around eight! It’s simple, but it made you proud of yourself and Steve was definitely proud of you. Every time you accomplished a task or followed any kind of rule he’d give you some praise which motivated you to get a lot of things done.

Tonight you planned on cleaning the kitchen and finishing the dishes, which shouldn’t be too hard. It’s about ten o’clock now, Steve had gone to bed early since he was exhausted. You had gotten in the shower before touching anything in the kitchen, which was kind of a mistake. Once you were showered and had the relaxed warm feeling you made your way to the couch to just sit for a little bit before cleaning. But that small sit turned into flipping through your book that you’ve been meaning to finish and sitting there for an hour or two. When you got the book you only read one chapter and just got busy with other things, but you felt like reading. By the time you decided to put the book down you noticed it was already one in the morning. You just looked at the clock and sighed, feeling a bit sad for not cleaning the kitchen and staying up past your bedtime. You stood up from your spot and stretched before making your way into the kitchen, if you were already up might as well finish what you were supposed to be doing.

The next morning you had finished the kitchen. Dishes were clean, counters were, floor was mopped, everything was clean. The only issue is waiting for Steve to wake up and come downstairs. It was only nine in the morning and you were still awake. You did feel a bit tired, but not enough to actually fall asleep. As you watched the morning cartoons you heard footsteps come from the hall, “Baby?” Steve called out. You cleared your throat before speaking “In the living room.” You answered. Steve walked around the corner, hair messy and his sleep pants hanging on his hips low, “What time did you get up?” He asked coming over to give your head a kiss before going to make some coffee. You stood up to follow him into the kitchen “I um…I didn’t go to sleep.” You said quietly. Steve stopped what he was doing and turned around “Oh?” He said before walking over to you “What time were you supposed to go to bed?” He questioned “Eleven?” You answered in a question. Your bedtimes were different during the week and weekends. Steve nodded his head “So why didn’t you go to bed?” You sighed softly and started to fiddle with your fingers. “I took my shower too late and got distracted.” You admitted. You learned that lying or not telling every detail made you sit in the corner longer than your normal timeout time.

After your confession Steve took your hand and made you follow him into the bedroom, “This is what’s going to happen.” He said while sitting you on the bed. You looked up at him from your spot on the bed. “You’re going to sleep and when you wake up you’ll have some lunch and then you go into timeout.” He explained. A frown made its way on your face “But why? I’ll be getting my sleep anyway.” You whined. Steve shook his head “You broke a rule.” He stated simply, “Now lay down and sleep.” He said as he pushed some of the covers down. Your pout never left your face, but you laid down anyway and let him cover you up and tuck you in. “I’ll wake you up in a bit.” He said before kissing your head and leaving the room, shutting the door behind him. You didn’t realize how tired you were until you actually settled in and closed your eyes. You were asleep in seconds.

You don’t know how long you were asleep, but you woke up on your own and you could hear talking coming from the living room. You quietly got up and put your ear to the door. You were still tired, but you were curious. You could hear Steve and from what else you could hear Robin and Eddie were over. Your eyes widened slightly and made your way back to bed and cover back up. There is no way in hell you were going to sit in timeout while those two were here. You started to hear footsteps come closer to the room, so you closed your eyes and pretended you were asleep. The door slowly opened “Baby?” Steve said softly as he walked closer to you. You ignored him and continued your fake sleeping. Steve looked over you and pulled the covers over you some more. He leaned down and kissed your cheek “I know you’re awake.” He whispered in your ear. Your heart started to race, but you kept your eyes closed “I won’t make you come out since we have company. But once they leave you’re getting up.” He finished and got back up walking out to continue chatting with his friends.

When you heard the door close you sighed out and rubbed your face. Even when you’re “sleeping” he still discreetly reminds you of what you have to do, but in the end….it’s for your well being and you appreciated Steve so much.

[mixedmindhypnosis]

Hypnosis: Negotiation

What is Negotiation?

Negotiation is the process of agreeing on the outlines and boundaries of a scene or relationship.

Example 1

With most of the people I play with I haven't started immediately with playing with hypnosis. I like to know what else they are interested in and what things I might be able to combine hypnosis with once I bring it up.

I also realized that until now I've been the one knowing most about hypnosis and so a great part of negotiation has been explaining to people what hypnosis is and how it works.

A proper negotiation can only happen if both people have a basic understanding of the topic they are talking about. This is why I put emphasis on sharing knowledge and learning from each other.

Discussion

Just with any other kink, before doing hypnosis all people involved should talk about what they expect from it, what they like and what their boundaries are.

There are three fundamental ways how you can play with hypnosis and it's important to know which of those are of interest for you and your play partner(s):

dream journeys playing in trance, everything happens in the subject’s mind

suggestions while in trance subject is in trance, but able to interact with the world around them

post-hypnotic suggestions the subject is given suggestions that take effect when they are out of trance

No matter the way you play with hypnosis it will involve feelings, so it's important to talk which of them you like to experience or see in others and which you want to avoid. Some examples could be:

Happiness

Arousal

Excitement

Fear

Humiliation

Embarrassment

....

This is also a great moment to ask about the nature of the play. Do you prefer it to be or become sexual or do you want to keep it non-sexual?

When playing with hypnosis it is important to know if there are themes, topics or words that could trigger unwanted negative reactions. To learn about those, talk to your partner about possible landmines and how to avoid them.

Example 2

A while ago I tried to give a play partner an amnesia suggestion, but as soon as I worded it out, they shook out of trance instantly. The experience was not very pleasant for them as they told me.

Talking about it later we didn't really find a clear cause for why they suddenly woke up, except for us not really discussing if amnesia was okay for them.

They told me that they would like to try it another time, but that they were probably so surprised by it that their brain just pulled the breaks and made them wake up.

Since then, I don't surprise people with new things, but rather surprise them with things I already know that they are okay with if we do a scene without long negotiation beforehand.

Many people that are into hypnosis do like it because of the reactions they have or get from their partner. Not every person is equally reactive or can do the same things during trance. If you already have some trance experience tell your hypnotist how it feels for you and how your usual reaction to trance is. Do you:

get floppy and need support to avoid getting a stiff neck

start to drool

find it easy or hard to give vocal responses during trance

...

Discuss these points with your hypnotist and talk about if they are desired or if you want to learn how to lessen or heighten them.

As a hypnotist talk to your subject and tell them what you like about hypnosis and what you gain from it. If you are into it because of reactions and you want to see a lot of them, say it and encourage your subject to show them, maybe even praising them for being responsive to strengthen it even more.

Should you play with post-hypnotic suggestions and triggers it's important to talk about what you are planning to do. While it can be a lot of fun to surprise someone, it's rarely worth-it compared to the potential of steering someone into a drop or having someone not playing with you in the future because you tried to do something they don't want.

Playing without explicitly discussing what you do is something you can do with people you have been playing for a while and who’s likes and limits you know very well. When playing with someone you don't know for long or someone new it's safer to go for opt-in play. Opt-in meaning you rather play within the bounds of the things you agreed upon than playing with everything you didn't rule out.

As there are many different things you can do with post-hypnotic suggestions, I won’t give a list of examples but rather link to a good negotiation checklist which also covers a spectrum of hypnotic suggestions for discussion.

Another thing to talk about is the restrictions of triggers. Do you want the to stick after the scene and who can use the triggers and under what circumstances should they work.

Remember that any kind of kink list or questionnaire does not replace negotiation but can be a good way to find common interest and to start a conversation.

One last note: The text above is not meant to be something you do just once, but it's meant to show you what you can talk about and eventually should know about when doing negotiation and talking about hypnosis with someone again and again.

You can find an overview of the post series here.

Also feel free to follow me on FetLife for more kinky content.

[feilien]

       A small sticky note is left on the bedside lampshade for Matt to see, whether or not he decides to turn it on. The words are written in English, clearly with a black sharpie.

Check the coffee table.

       In the living room, a simple hardbound spiral sketchbook has been set atop the coffee table. Next to it are two rectangular tins; one that contains four graphite pencils of varying hardness, a small sharpener, an eraser and a paper stump for smudging. The next one is wider and inside is an array of colored pencils, thirty-six in all. The sketchbook has a piece of lined paper loosely taped to the front — it's a proper note written in English as well, but this one is wtitten with a ballpoint pen.

Matt,

I had to take care of some Fox clan business nearby, and I thought it best to let you sleep. I didn't want to leave you with nothing to occupy your time while I'm out, though. I don't know if you still like to draw, or when the last time you were able to was. I hope you still do — but I assume this will get you started again. I no longer have the things you'd sketched for me back then, but honestly ... I'd studied them so often that I have them memorized. Still, I wish I hadn't been forced to leave them behind.

Anyway, have some fun with it. A little smiley face is drawn here

Text me later if you have dinner preferences. In the meantime, there's food in the fridge whenever you're hungry.

Love, Z.

 Finally having the opportunity to get as much sleep as he desired was a double edged sword. On one hand, it felt amazing. On the other, it made Long Zhi feel guilty. Given how limited their time together was, he felt as though he was wasting so much of it on sleep he didn't strictly need. 

 So when he woke up, alone in the bed, he couldn't help but feel panic. 

 Had Zane left, because he was tired of him sleeping their time away? Or had he left, because he'd finally seen reason, and realized that this wasn't what he wanted for his future? A half-assed relationship that could never be more than that, because they were on opposing sides and would have to sneak around for the rest of their lives. 

 But, before Long Zhi could spiral too far down that rabbit hole, he noticed the sticky note on the lampshade and felt the tension leave his body. Exhaling shakily, he ran his fingers through his hair and slowly sat up, before he made his way over to the living room. 

 The moment he saw the supplies, Long Zhi had to fight back tears. Not only because Zane remembered—of course, he did; why was he so surprised?—but because Long Zhi hadn't touched a pen, let alone a sketchbook in... far too long. He'd never lost the passion for it, of course, but there just hadn't been any time, and the risk of hiding it just hadn't been worth it, considering how much he was in hot water already. 

 For a while, he just stood there, staring at them, and occasionally running his fingers along the rough surface of the pages. For a while, he debated if it was a good idea to sit down and pick up a pen. He wanted to. Oh god, he wanted to. But he knew the craving it would leave behind. The need. 

 Long Zhi tried to distract himself by eating instead. Then laying back down, hoping sleep would grab him again until Zane returned from his clan business. But, in the end, he caved. And he didn't put the pen down until the front door opened and the light turned on.

[idkwhattitlevsblognamemeans]

November 28th babeyy

copy writing workshop yesterday, learnt about Word Tonic. Doing that i guess Novermeber 30th babeyyyy I think I def got the date wrong, or maybe that was on thursday. I'ts Saturday now though, 9:39 am. Woke up in a weird mood but then I find I always do when Iactually just need to poop bu the poop doesn't come until an hour or two after waking. To want something is to experience a desire for a specific joy. And when that joy is not fulfilled, as just in that moment it is the strongest, is frustrating feeling. That is why quitting smoking is a fucking bitch. But when you get so tired of experiencing that feeling (with smoking at least, I think this is how I got over it all: first of all, its not that hard if you just never smoke another cigarette... like thats what you sign up for when you decide to quit something. To never do it again. therefore, you are not a quitter if you do it even once again.) December 1st is tomorrow, I think its been a bit over a month and a half of no nicotine for me. SO much has happened. I can't process with my mom because I have to sensor myself in Russian with her, and also maybe I am disrespecting the language. I need Russian Adult fiction. I am now listening to Lolita.

Woke up at 7:45, made a smoothie, maybe I need to spend less time thinking and more time doing. What is the proper balance there though. I start to wonder what I do everyday and what my thoughts are bout.

It turns out when I feel like I want to get high, that I acctually just want to have some time to think and process. I think I used to do all of my processing in the running. Maybe I should go for another run. I am uncertain if I am about to slip into a whole other ED. cycle or if the behaviour of wanting to for a run rn despite the already incredible physical pressure I am putting my body under is normal. I have found myself asking a lot of questions about what is normal at the moment. I don't think anything is. You can really do anything and one side judges the other. I think the division in political opinions is stupid (2 party system? we can barely handle the mere notion of us all being in the spectrum. (mic drop?))

I also want to go for a run though because I love running. I do all my processing. I am debating what I'm going to do with the rest of my life (omigosh I am dreaming I guess) and this would be a nice life:

I am a copywriter, I take the course at my own time, do the little practice exercises, keep training to be a circus acrobat? Or at least a very strong yoga/calisthenics girl. I am actually in awe that I have gotten as far as I have. I am no where near the strong I need to be but I am so much more powerful than a past version of me.

My values:

lesniche -> a whole person!!! gift Ideas: High Peaks Adirondack sticker book -> I could DIY Algonquin and Anishnabe patches and one for wolf trail

I tend to remember my thoughts more when thought #2 is about #1. I try to plan the next couple thoughts I will express and don't therefore try to reprogram or explore thought #1 at all, and the more thoughts you can have in a row, the more of them you skip over and don't spend any time on. by the time you get to thought #7 you've glossed over a whole #6,#5,#4,#3,#2,#1.

I have been discovering new genres/new very specific niches. I think as music has evolved, we have gained more niches of music. Like it all started with drum circles and singing, maybe some stomping. and then that expanded to throat singing, and choirs and shit and people singing together. People plucking strings, earlier made out of animal sinew, now horsehair and shit.

And by the time you get to the orchestra, you've bent wood in ways it that send a shiver down my spine and a section of humanity is playing bethoven on some newfangled instruments. You can't have a violin without Anyone else feel like we haven't had any new instruments recently?

I want to learn about history by learning about when the different instruments came into play and how that correlated to emerging technologies at the time. And how that in turn had an effect on culture. Then I could use what little data analytics knowledge I have to run correlation vs causation on opinion stats regarding this??? IDK or somehow creat a weighting system. I am thinking like a data person but the correlation between technologies and instruments and culture might not make sense, culture is comprised of both art and technology. Art is going to be what keeps us as alive as it give you a reason to live. I iwant to paint, I want to create I want to build, I want to make beauty. I haven't stopped thinking about how much performance art is about conveying a feeling, telling a story. Art. Or making you feel stuff. I want to do everything in an artful way. Yoga is body being art.

Anyways back to classical music... as technology progresses, our capbilities for making different noises has expanded and thats how we now have EDM. But like you can't make EDM music with non edm equipment, and you can't have an EDM software without a computer, computers wouldn't have existed without the need for a more sophisticated calculator. and we needed math for doing fair trades and coexisting? We just keep extending, exploring, and acting on new facets of thoughts and fantasys (dreams?) towards every new facet of need we have that sparks innovation on how to connect the two. Innovation therefore comes out of a primal need to fulfill our needs. These are my raw thoughts. unfiltered. Is this waht everyone else thinks about.

efficiency. If I just think In the way I'd prefer to write, that makes this whole thing super easy. It's method acting.

I feel like I need to write otherwise my head will explode. I'm uncertain what is going on but I want to write. like have been dying to. I've signed up for a copywriters course. (And paid for a $275 course about it. but they offered 6 months free access to the discord thooo -> imagine running that, remote job, super fun I bet)

I think that the key to my personal humor is to understand the key to the way my brain works. And maybe people can just laugh at the situations my character ends up in.

I shouldn't be deciding how much time things take. I should just start doing them and then be ok with not finishing the task. Packing for Henry:

outfit for dinner

outfit for going outside

What will I wear to the parttyyy tnn

blacck underwear/ assless chaps

Lolita: rationalizing what you are feeling

from the r/Grimes surbrettig:

Sometimes I think Grimes is the girl they describe in the book of Revelation. There’s a section about a harlot and a dragon. The harlot pours out all the wickedness that was sewn unto her by evil men and it rots everything. :):):) https://www.reddit.com/r/Grimes/comments/1h2x3pz/am_i_crazy/