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[fashionableinnerwear]

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[snarkythewoecrow]

Humans are the best, we are getting a big tree cut down in the front yard, and the gruff looking guys are all cool with their saws, but then when the final piece falls, in a child like excited voice the dude goes, "hey it looks like Australia! Guys come here and look at Australia" and for the next 5 minutes, this group of men were like children and it was damn cutest shit I've seen in a awhile, I'll update later when they are done, with a picture of what I'm excitedly hoping looks like Australia

[damenschapparel]

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[sarasharma007]

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[totalcomfortmen]

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[mydear-corinthian]

welcome to burlesque

synopsis - tommy attends to this new burlesque club and he didn't expect to see you there

pairing - tommy shelby x reader (dancer!)

warnings - SMUT +18, breeding kink, creampie, p in v, unprotected sex.

notes - rushed, this is my favourite song and movie ><, divider by saradika-graphics

main masterlist | peaky blinders masterlist | cillian murphy masterlist

After the first World War, the inner-city of Small Heath, Birmingham is not lively that it used to. Loads of soldiers coming home from the war were traumatized; only finding comfort in whores, cocaine, alcohol, and betting.

With lots of men now drinking and snorting on their snows, alcohol businesses, betting shops, and cocaine distributors are now on their peak of their business like the well-known gangster, the man himself, Thomas Shelby.

It was the usual day for the gangster. His family running their businesses and sorting out gangster fights. Tommy is miserable in a way that he has no one to talk to or engage something with. Sure, he has his family but all he can talk about to them is business. With women, he still cannot find the right women for him.

As Tommy walked on the bland streets of Small Heath, inhaling his cigarette, he was approached by his friend, Johnny Dogs and his other workers. As Johnny walked to catch up with Tommy, he placed his shoulders on the gangster's shoulders.

"What ya up to, Tom?" Johnny Dogs asked, a smile planted on his face.

"The usual, John, business," Tommy sighed before he replied, continuing to inhale the cancerous stick.

"You should go to this club, Tommy! There's a lot of women in there, I heard. Just recently opened," Curly joined the conversation.

Tommy's eyes began to look at them. Recently opened? A club? In Birmingham?

He began to be interested and curious at the same time.

"Curly's right, Tom." John said. "Maybe you'll find someone there, eh? Or maybe just loosen up."

"There's nothing new with that, Johnny. There's whores everywhere. What's so special about this club," the older Shelby replied.

"Heard the women there are.. unique. Dancers."

Strip clubs in Small Heath isn't new for Tommy. But it's a bit confusing for him to see why his friend is very invested in this club. Maybe there's something more and special about these women and dancers. He cannot help but think.

"What ya say, Tom?"

After a few minutes of deciding, he exhaled.

"8:00 PM."

The boys cheered and clapped, playfully hitting each other's shoulders with their elbows as they cheered. A huge smile were planted on their faces

• • •

It was finally 7 in the evening. Tommy Shelby was already dressed for the man's night. A velvet red tie decorated his grey suit. His long black trench coat keeping him warm. The golden pocket watch with the engraved 'Shelby' name on the back hanged on the small pocket of his charcoal vest.

"Where are you going, Tom?" Polly asked as he saw his nephew exiting the manor.

Tommy placed his newsboy hat on his head, styling it properly as he replied to his aunt,

"Night with me boys. We'll be back by morning."

"Hope you're not plotting something again, Thomas."

"Yeah, no, aunt Pol." he coldly replied before finally shutting the door.

• • •

The ride was a little long, especially how this club is in the Northern part of Birmingham. The Blinders have finally arrived. Getting off their cars and entering the club like they owned it. The entrance fee lady didn't even bother asking them to pay since, well, they're the Peaky Blinders. Other customers hurriedly gave way and emptied the tables for them.

The club was lit in a red color. Circular tables with lamps were placed everywhere in front of the medium sized stage. Renaissance paintings were hanged all over the walls of the club. Tommy was suprised by this new club, it shows how the owner definitely has a budget for this.

The gangsters finally sat on their chairs just near the stage, ordering up a few drinks before the lights turned off, only focusing on the stage.

"This club is a Burlesque?" Tommy asked as he sipped a glass of whiskey he ordered.

"Yeah. Can't you believe it? The first every Burlesque club after a decade!"

The small band on the side of the stage started to play a jazz-like original song. A woman with a black top hat decorated on her (h/c) hair, a combination of black and white colour painted her tight corset while a pair of black fishnet stockings kept her warm appeared on the stage with a few dancers.

As the song started, you began to sing. Swaying your body seductively to the melody of the song, you looked at the guests. There were a lot of people in the club making you nervous but you decided to brush the anxiety away.

Tommy was widened by the performance but it wasn't the first time that he witnessed it; it's just that he haven't seen this kind of performance in years. His baby blue eyes followed you as you sang, mesmerized by the shift looks on your face. He kept a close eye on your legs as they moved fluidly and elegantly to the music. His eyes lingered on the way the tight corset tightened in your curves and making your form seem more beautiful with each breath. He was lost in focus, taking in each detail of your performance.

You looked at the audience again and now your eyes caught him.

Thomas Shelby.

The man himself.

You felt your heart drop, you know that one day he will visit the club but you didn't expect that it will be today. It was like a faraway memory coming to life the first time you saw him since the war. You remembered the moment that ignited everything between you, helping him with his broken arm in that dark tunnel. You can still feel the warmth of that kiss you had under the sycamore tree, and the letters you wrote one other later that carried shards of your hearts. That gentle kiss represented the silent relationship that has become stronger with every written word and every memory exchanged.

The way he looked at you felt the same: soft and genuine.

Tom had already shown many signs of trauma during the war, but he always felt safe and well while he was with you in the medic tent or on walks. You ended the gazing exchange between you two by continuing to dance.

You got a lot of "woo" and "yeah" remarks from the crowd as you went on singing and dancing sensually with your girls.

Tom began to be curious. You seem so familiar to him but he's not sure where you guys met.

"Who's the singer, Charlie?" Tom began to ask, leaning, his mouth just behind Charlie's ear.

"Oh her? That's (Y/n) (L/n). I heard she served in the war as a medic. Lovely ain't she?"

Oh.

Now Tom can recall who you were.

It was you, the nurse, who saved his arm after a bullet struck him in that tunnel. His memories of the war flashed back, and for the first time he wasn't afraid. Rather, he was somewhat happy. He recalled how you carefully applied a white bandage on his arm with your soft, delicate hands. She asked about how he was while exchanging life stories with him. How you kissed each other beneath the sycamore tree.

"Welcome to Burlesque!" The dance finally ended. A huge smile plastered on your face as you bowed, the big curtains coming down the stage. Loads of men including Tom's gang stood up and cheered, their claps echoed the club.

As you went backstage and sat on your vanity, you cannot help but recall who you just saw. His eyes were still the same; his blue eyes shining as his eyes locked yours. Memories of you and him talking, kissing, walking together flashed on your mind, making you frown at the memory that you hope you can still experience it again.

Meanwhile, Tommy excused himself, telling his gang that he'll be visiting the backstage to talk to someone. They didn't interfere nor asked who and why.

Tom finally arrived at the backstage, seeing women changing to their next-performance clothes. The dancers gasp at the sight of the notorious gangster, immediately covering up their bodies with their clothes. He cleared his throat due to the awkward moment, starting to ask where you were. "

Where can I find (Y/n) (L/n)?" Tom asked.

"B-back room, Mr. Shelby."

As Tommy walked towards the wooden door of your own vanity room, his heart raced. He felt his muscle goes numb every step he took. He doesn't know how you will react if he saw you. Will you be mad for him leaving you all of a sudden after the war? Will you be sad? Will you be happy? He doesn't know and he cares about that.

Taking a deep breath, his pale palms twisted the door knob, opening the door. He finally saw you. Sitting on a circular chair in front of your well-lit vanity mirror, loads and loads of make-up scattered on your table. You were wearing your long black corset only.

As you noticed the door opening, you looked at who it was while trying to remove your earrings. Finally looking at the person, your heart instantly dropped. You finally saw him up close after years of having no contact.

"Thomas..?" You stood up, feeling every electricity in your body flinched.

"(Y/n)."

A part of you wants to run up to him and give him the tightest hug and another part of you wants to scream at him for leaving you just like that.

"Why are you here?" you answered coldly but your voice softy broke, trying not to cry.

"I'm sorry," he spoke up. "..for leaving you just like that. I didn't mean to. I-It's just that - I didn't knew what to do."

As a former medic, it's understandable due to his mental state during the war. But as his lover, you just wished he stayed.

"Where were you, Tommy.."

"I'm so sorry, my love," Tom apologized, slowly walking towards you, cupping your cheek with his palms, stroking your chin.

"I missed you, Tommy. I thought you were gone." you whispered, holding his palms that were cupping on your cheeks, a tear finally fell from your sad eyes.

You tried finding him during and after the war but you failed. You forced yourself to move on, thinking that it was just for his comfort that time and you mean nothing to him now.

Slowly, his lips met yours. Allowing himself to be reunite with you. Tom's hand gripped your side hip as the kiss began to deepen. And there it is, you felt the same feeling when the both of you kissed under that sycamore tree.

He gently pushed you on the door, continuing the make-out session as his fingers locked the doorknob.

"Fuck, I missed you.."

"..so much," Tommy whispered in between kisses.

Your spine tingled with electric shocks as he sucked and kissed your neck, causing you to gasp and sigh with a mixture of pleasure and excitement. With an ache that made it seem as though he hadn't tasted anything like this in years, his lips finally discovered that sweet spot he had been longing for.

Every kiss was intense, every suck a confession of his insatiable appetite, making you insanely addicted. You got caught up in the moment, losing yourself in the heat of the moment as your fingers became tangled in his hair and gripped harder with every pleasure pulse.

"You taste so sweet, my love," he said.

You began to undo your black corset, leaving you with your black lacey bra and underwear, and your fishnet stockings. Trying to undo the stockings, Tom interfered.

"Leave the stockings on."

Nodding, your lips and his met each other again. Tommy's lips were stained with your red lipstick. The two of you ran to the vanity table, your hands removing all the items and make-up that was placed there while Tom began to unbutton his trousers and then his underwear.

You felt so aroused as your black panties were soaked wet. Your hole aching for Tommy inside.

"So wet already?" his deep voice made you wetter.

"Please, Tom. I need you.."

His cock sprung free out of his boxers, revealing how hard he was. He pumped it first with his hand before he moved your panties to the side instead of fully taking it off, allowing him to enter you.

You gasped aloud as his long, thick length began to gently and deeply penetrate you, each inch sending waves of powerful pleasure through your entire body. Tom, at the same time, moaned lightly as he enjoyed the way your close warmth surrounded him, the closeness sparking a fire between you both. His movements had a steady, deliberate pace, and your bodies seemed to melt together as each thrust was delivered with delicate passion. Your in unison breathing and softly spoken confessions of love filled the room, each one increasing the sensual, romantic connection between you.

Your body faced the mirror so he was fucking behind you. After a few minutes of you adjusting to his length, he began to thrust slowly.

"Oh fuck," you moaned.

"You feel so good — fuck!"

Your breasts bounced in time to every thrust he made, and your moans got louder and stronger. Euphoria rushes over you, bringing you closer to the brink with each move. You realized how much you had missed his presence and the way he filled you up entirely because of the pace of that moment. The overwhelming happiness served as a clear reminder of the intense touch and need you had experienced while he was away.

Your head lowered and your palms gripped the side of the bright vanity table. Your head was messy, a few strands of hair covered your face.

You can hear the breathy moans that Tommy let out. His rough fingers gripping your waist as his lower body jerked up, his head rolled back.

As he noticed your head looking down, his right palm gripped your jaw, making you look up and look at the mirror forcely.

"Look at yourself while I'm fucking you, honey."

Nothing but your shared moans, grunts, and skin slapping echoed the whole room. You didn't care how loud you guys were, you just want to think of him and him alone.

Feeling your orgasm build up, you began to let out a louder series of moans and gripped his arm.

"Tom—fuck! I'm close.."

"Yeah? Go on, cum on my cock."

"Yes Tommy, yes! Oh my god!"

"I'm gonna fill you up, yeah? Put a baby inside you. Gonna be the mother of our children, mhm?" he whispered on your ear as his pace quickened.

Finally, your orgasm came, making a mess on his massive dick. After a few more thrusts from Tommy, he came inside you, filling your walls with his sticky white cum.

The both of you panted, catching your breaths. Tom finally pulled out, making your aching hole leak out your shared juices. He let out a satisfied groan.

"Fuck, that was hot," he said, giving you a passionate kiss.

"I love you, Thomas Shelby."

"I love you, (Y/n) (L/n)."

[dragonnarrative-writes]

Transferrable Skills Part 2

Transferrable Skills Masterlist

You don’t often use your MyFet beyond finding a group or conference to attend. You periodically clear out your messages, just in case an acquaintance wants to reach out. So you almost delete the message from the anonymous profile on autopilot, but the subject line intrigues you.

Interested in Distance Play, No Punishments - 14 Hrs Ago

Intrigued, you open it because… at least they read a little bit of your profile.

I noticed your profile because of your self-rope pictures. The rest of your profile is very interesting to me - specifically your engagement in solo play and dislike of punishment. I liked the post you made about obedience as an ongoing active choice.

I’m a man in my 30s with a classified job. I travel a lot, and I’m looking for someone to have a strictly long-distance arrangement with. I’m interested in: non-restrictive rope, obedience, behavior modification, praise. I’m sure there’s more, but I’ve written this message six times. Please let me know if you’re interested in discussing.

Well, that’s refreshingly straightforward and devoid of unsolicited smut. You read the message again, then click into his profile. G_987654321_ It’s… pretty bare. But if he’s got a classified job, that makes sense, right? Location: Antarctica. His age is listed as 33, and he’s listed himself as dominant and seeking acquaintances and play partners. Not interested in hookups, interested in casual nudity, obedience, praise. Hard limits of degradation and humiliation.

It’s not much more information than the message itself, but it’s more than some of the men who have asked if you want to meet up in private. You review his original message and bite your knuckle. Worst case scenario, he’s some troll who will call you a range of slurs and waste your time, and then you’ll block him. Best case scenario… he means what he says.

What are you looking for? Who, What, When, Where, and Why?

You send the message and log out of the app before you can chicken out. Your inner voice is grumbling (stupid stupid stupid), but that’s normal. You let yourself watch two and a half episodes of your latest show, and then make a hearty dinner.

You’re surprised when you pick your phone back up. One new message.

The whole time you’re cursing the app for glitching and logging you out and forgetting your password, you’re sure it’s not him. Most likely, it’s an event announcement from a friend or a bot. But you like going to events, so it’s worth it.

It’s a message. It’s from him.

Who: You and Me What: Praise-based, goal-oriented obedience play When: Twice weekly when we’re both available, but I won’t always be available. Sometimes weekly, sometimes a greater time between meet ups. Where: Virtual meetings. Video preferred, audio-only acceptable. First couple of discussions will be text based until I can get secure video set up. Why: Mutual relaxation and well being. Sexual connection preferred, but obviously not required.

Having a guide was helpful. Thank you.

Well… That’s something.

—

You follow Simon towards the fighting, which is not where you wanted to go. When you point this out, he barely acknowledges except to say “You don’t want to go the other way.” So you keep low and stay quiet and breathe like he told you to.

He leads you down a few halls and you don’t bother trying to remember the route. He seems to know where he’s going. One or twice he has you stop while he checks around a corner, but eventually, he herds you into a small conference room. You freeze when you see three men, but Simon drops the muzzle of his gun to the floor, so you must not be in too much danger.

“Who’s this then?” A man in tactical vest and boonie hat steps forward, and you sidle behind Simon before you know your feet are moving. He gives you a considering look before looking to Simon.

The man in question fishes you out from behind his and plants you in front of him with a heavy hand on your shoulder. “Found Bambi wandering the halls.”

Boonie Hat’s eyebrows pop up. “Bambi?”

“’Bout scared the piss out o’me,” Simon confirms.

“Well, that throws a wrench in things,” the other man says. “But there’s nothing for it. Stow her for now, we’ll keep her safe.”

Simon’s hand guides you to the other side of the large table and pushes you gently into a plush rolling chair. He puts his huge body between you and the others, who look at you curiously,

“Eyes up, li’l fawn,” he intones.

You aren’t sure how well you hide the flinch when you see the skull covering his face, again. He’s quiet as you look between his eyes, clasps his gloved hands in his lap so you can see them when you look over him.

There’s a lot of him to look over.

Now that you’re not moving, you can see the brown spots on the edge of his mask, flecked on his tactical vest. His thighs spread a bit beneath his black pants where they meet the table. His biceps bulge, which is a whole different experience in person than it is online. Theres a gun on his hip, and a knife. Two knives. Three. How many knives does a man need?

Enough for everyone’s throats. You have to bite back terrified giggles.

“You’re gonna stay ‘ere,” Simon tells you, interrupting your musing. Your horror must be plain on your face because he shushes you, again. “Shhh. Easy. This wing’s secure. Can’t keep you safe if I’m wonderin’ where you’ve wandered to. Acknowledge.”

“What if something goes wrong?” you blurt.

“You follow Price if you can't see or ‘ear me. ‘e's the Captain, outranks me,” Simon answers. He points to Boonie Hat, then to the black man, who smiles at you, and a white man with a mohawk, who looks at you like you’re the most fascinating thing he’s seen all day. “This is Gaz, that's Soap. You can't find the Captain, you sit tight and wait for one of them to retrieve you."

“But-!”

“Acknowledge, Bambi.”

You swallow back tears. “Please don’t leave me alone.”

“’M goin’ where the guns are,” he answers. “’S my job to take care of you, right? Acknowledge.”

It’s hard to get the words out, but you do. “Acknowledged. You have to take care of me.”

“’M not always going to be able to do that the way you want. Acknowledge.”

“Acknowledged. Not always the way I want.”

“’M gonna keep you safe as I can,” he says. “’Nd it’s okay that you’re scared. But this is my job. ‘S not a scene. So I can’t negotiate. Acknowledge.”

“It’s your job,” you say, taking a deep breath and letting it out. Unfortunately, you can feel the day catching up with you, and your eyes start to prickle. “It’s not a scene, we can’t negotiate right now. Acknowledged.”

The one called Gaz approaches from the other side of the table. “Ghost, we’ve got to get moving.”

Before you can integrate the realization that Simon is apparently called Ghost, the other one, Soap, peeks around Simon’s shoulder with a raised eyebrow. “This your bird, LT? Le’s get her tucked away, aye?”

Something about the way he asks if you are Simon’s bird, his girl, flips a switch in your brain. Because you’re not Simon’s girl. You’re not even supposed to have ever met in person. You’re an online sub, a weird, awkward, anxious person who couldn’t find an in person connection. And yeah, Simon-Also-Called-Ghost is an online Dom but apparently that’s because he’s running around Europe rescuing people from hostage situations!

It’s a little much.

You suck in a breath through your mouth as everything gets blurry with tears. Your whole body shakes with the sob that you try not to let out. You simultaneously want to lock every muscle in place and curl up on the ground to die.

A hiccup shakes you hard enough that you almost fall out of your chair.

Simon’s gloved hand grips the back of your head, and you’re guided to press your forehead against his thigh.

"Shhhhh," he whispers, and you can almost pretend that you’re listening to him in your ear from thousands of miles away. His pants are tough and scratchy, nothing like your pillow, but the steady pressure of his hand is so steadying. "It's okay. I know this isn't a scene, but the same rules apply. You feel overwhelmed, don’t know what to say, you hold up 4 fingers. No punishments for feeling something. Show me."

Holding up 4 fingers feels familiar. The way his hand cups the back of your skull doesn't. But it's still nice.

Sooner than you’d like, Simon guides you down off the chair and under the table. You can’t pay attention to the others, though you can see their boots on the other side of the room. Instead, you keep your eyes on his his right hand, stuck on the inane detail of skeleton themed gloves. Your dom wears skeleton gear to work. His work is killing some people and saving others.

That hand cups your chin and makes you look up into his face. His eyes are dark, piercing. His voice, when he speaks, sends shiver down your spine. “Stay. Acknowledge.”

You’re already about as low down as you can get, but you still duck your head as much as you can while keeping eye contact. “Acknowledged. Stay.”

His thumb caresses your cheek for a long moment. And then he’s standing. Chairs are pushed in to surround you, and four pairs of heavy boots dash from the room.

You curl up, hug yourself, and let the tears fall.

You wake up with a start. Your whole body hurts, shoulder and neck and hips tight like they haven’t been in a long time. And of course they are. You’re on the ground, lying under a conference table. Why the hell are you under a conference table? You’re not in college anymore, you’re too old for this shit.

And then you see a pair of huge boots round the edge of the table and remember.

Your heart is in your throat as two chairs are shifted away and a huge form drops into a crouch. A part of you flinches back from the mask, the tactical clothing, the blood you almost can’t see shining on his boot. But then you see those eyes and think, Oh. You came back for me.

[bigassmoonchild]

Maple Syrup

Pairing: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x Reader

Word Count: 2.2k

Summary: All you needed was to contain the aphrodisiac, make an antidote just in case, and go home. But working with the 141 was never that simple, and now you and Ghost would find out how it worked. Up close and personal.

Content Tags: Vague kidnapping near the beginning, Sex Pollen, Smut, PiV Sex, Fingering, Fuck or Die, Mild Dubious Consent (consent is gained after pollen gets inhaled), No use of Y/N, Alpha/Beta/Omega dynamics, Alpha! Ghost

A/N: Honest to god, I've been trying to write a story based on this thought alone. I can't even get it started but maybe this will get me. There also needs to be more Omegaverse written for COD, there can be some interesting stuff from it. Lmk if you want more of this, i'm exhausted <3 (p.s. I've changed the summary like, 10 times and idk how to feel about it)

Next, Headcannons, Masterlist

"Gaz, are we clear to enter?" Ghost asked into the comms. Gaz had gone into the building first, alongside Soap, to clear out the path you and Ghost would take. It was almost a straight shot, it felt too easy to get to the weapon you were there for. Maple Syrup, they had called it, even though it was an airborne weapon. You could hear a few shouts of a language, it sounded Russian but you weren't entirely sure, but you didn't have long to dwell on it as they stopped with a few gunshots.

Another few grunts came through before Gaz finally responded. "We're all clear in here, we still need to sweep a few rooms closer to Docs target, but you should be good to enter," he answered. Ghost nodded at you and led the way in, gun resting on his shoulder as he looked every which way. You knew it was a safety precaution, but you trusted Gaz.

You always trusted easily, it was in your nature. You were an Omega, and having trust in the people meant to protect you felt natural. You trusted your pack, even if you hadn't been a part of it for too long.

Maybe you shouldn't trust as easily.

Ghost shoved you into the wall next to you and started firing, bullets whistling past your ears as you ducked low. It reeked of sex, of Alphas and Omegas in heat or rut. Even through the military grade suppressant you could smell it, and it hurt. Ghost ducked around the corner, more gunshots echoing before a grunt came from him, and you heard the sound of a body dropping.

You didn't think before rounding that corner, seeing Ghost on the ground unmoving shook you. You ran your hands over him to feel for blood, but you couldn't see or feel anything. By the time you got to his shoulders, you found a needle trapped between his vest and arm, right in the meaty part of his inner-most shoulder. You plucked it off of him without thinking, tossing it to the side before pressing to feel for anything left inside.

You hadn't noticed the people advancing behind you, had ignored the calling from the comms or footsteps coming from the same direction Gaz and Soap were supposed to be in, but you felt the prick of the needle on your back. With a shout, you fell forwards, catching yourself from falling face first into the ground. You attempted to crawl forwards, get away from the men approaching from the back, but the medication they pumped into you caught up quicker than you could move.

It was with a groan that you sat up, swallowing thickly at the sickly sweet taste in your mouth. You tried wiping your face, but your hands moved slower than they felt, missing twice before wiping the area around your mouth. Pulling your hand back, a thin, dark red coating came back on them. You blinked hard, trying to remember what you had come here for.

The Maple Syrup mist. You couldn't remember much else about it, your mind moving at about the same speed as the namesake for the pollen-like substance. It was airborne. You knew that. There was something especially dangerous about it that a lot of the countries who knew about it wanted it gone. You were hired to make sure that no matter what happened, there was an anti-dote for it.

Something like that.

You blinked back into it when the door to wherever you were creaked open. You glanced up slowly, blinking at the men who entered and grabbed you, speaking loudly at you. What were they talking about? It wasn't Russian, you hadn't been in Russia or near any of their allies when you'd been grabbed.

You wouldn't understand it, your mind was moving at half the speed they were dragging you at. A few twists and turns, some scattered conversation floating around, and being dropped twice was what it took for you to be tossed into a similar room as your first. You laid face first on the ground, the cold helping to clear your head slightly.

Small cramps started in your back, twinging you every few seconds. A voice came over a loudspeaker, whatever they were saying it was something they were very pleased with. You turned, slowly, onto your back before crawling backwards to lean onto the wall behind you.

Maple Syrup. What the hell about it was so important they sent the 141 after it? Something something, military grade suppressants. The suppressants. Maple Syrup could break through military grade suppressants. You groaned, the cramps moving through your back and into your stomach. You could feel the heat, all-encompassing, starting to wash over you.

A loud, long creak echoed from the area to your left, and your head dropped to your shoulder as you turned it to look at the wall. A scent came wafting from the slowly opening crack in the wall, growing headier as the walls fully opened up. It was musky, with leather and tobacco, hints of the gunpowder you often smelled back on base. It made your mouth water.

The groan from the corner directly next to you startled you back into the present. As your eyes adjusted to the new lighting between the two rooms, a dark shape became clearer in the corner. A skull mask was lying tossed a few meters from it, and as your vision cleared up more, you could tell it was Ghost.

His head hardly moved as his eyes found yours, staring through you from beneath the balaclava.

"What's the verdict, Doc?" He grumbled, deep in his throat.

"Dosed with Maple Syrup," you whispered back, and his head fell back down between his legs.

A short, harsh sound came from him, it had to be a laugh, "then what's gonna happen to us?"

"When was your last natural rut?" You looked at him, licking your dried lips. You could see his head move sharply from your peripheral, his eyes flittering up and down. He shook his head, another dry laugh coming from him.

"It's that bad?" You nodded. "Probably since I took my last, longer leave. I think it was four or five years ago, but I don't remember," you blinked slowly. The levels of androstenone in him would be high, especially without a rut to keep him leveled, and the Maple Syrup would only force him to produce more. Too much, and he'd die of something. Whether it would be heat stroke, or dehydration you had no idea.

"If you don't pop a knot or two, you'll die. Heat stroke, maybe dehydration, but you'll die. I don't know the exact amount of androstenone inside of you, but if it gets too high you could be forced into a feral rut," you glanced over at him, his eyes scrunched shut, a low groan coming from his throat. He glanced back up to you, his eyes softened and fear started to lace his scent.

Ghost shook his head. "If I go feral, I'll kill you. I can't, Doc, I don't wanna kill you," his voice grew more strained as his sentence wore on.

"I'll be fine," you gave him a soft smile. "I'm going to go into heat, and if I don't get a knot, I'll die. I don't know if the weapon shit is able to counteract the birth control part of the suppressants, but I don't feel good. I need you to fuck me, Ghost," you whispered the last part. He shook his head. "You have my permission, so it's up to you to act," you swallowed again, eyes shutting as sweat beaded down your neck.

It was getting hot. Too hot, and you could feel your slick pooling and soaking through your pants. You could smell it, and you knew he could smell it. You could hear the panting breaths he took, the grunts he let out. A long, low growl came from him and his heavy steps inched closer to you.

Ghost grabbed you by the back of your neck, shoving you forward into the ground and scenting your throat deeply. He tore at the neck of your shirt, ripping it to let him get more of your scent. He licked a long line, sucking into the base of your neck softly as his teeth grazed along it.

He stuffed his fingers under your pants and panties, leaving you whining as two of his fingers brushed past your clit and buried into you. Even feral, the Alpha was trying to take care of you. They curled and pressed against you, leaving you writhing under him as you whined for more.

Pleasure blossomed in your abdomen, the heel of his hand grazing against your clit with each pump his fingers made, leaving you throbbing around his fingers. Ghost was able to get one more finger in you, nosing up your neck before sucking a dark hickey into your neck, teeth grazing along your neck and nipping you here and there, soothing it with a lick.

He tugged his fingers out of you, dragging your pants and panties down before shoving his down as well. He rutted his cock against your folds, soaking himself in your slick before sliding inside of you. A long, loud moan tore out of your throat as he kept sliding further and further into you, bottoming out with a growl from him.

Writhing against him with your mouth hanging open, he dragged himself out of you before rutting back in. Your nails scratched against the floor beneath you, you could feel your heartbeat in your clit and Ghost against your back.

Licking and sucking at your scent gland, Ghost dragged his face against it and growling. You could feel him throb inside of you, heat flooding you with his cum. A long whine came from your throat, hips pushing back and out against him as his fingers found your clit, rubbing in soft but quick strokes. Heat shredded through your abdomen, sliding through the rest of your body as your orgasm tore through your body.

You could feel your clit pulse with each heartbeat, his fingers not waning from stroking it, shocks flowing through you with each stroke. You thought you could feel tears pouring down your face, mouth wide open as you groaned. Ghost pulled out, letting you drop to the ground on your stomach before he flipped you over, pulling your legs to his shoulders and rocking his cock back inside of you.

Dropping your head back, your mouth still gaped open as he filled you once more. You could feel his knot catching onto you each time he thrust, leaving you whining. Ghost dropped back down, mouthing at your scent gland once more, leaving his open for your own mouth.

Pushing his balaclava away from his gland, you took licks of his for yourself. He tasted good, so good, his scent flooding into your mouth, you had to pull back just enough so that you could breathe. He grunted with each thrust, his abdomen brushing against your clit with every other thrust, your legs pushed into your chest.

Each thrust left you whining for more, faster, harder even if he couldn't hear or understand you through the feral rut. You felt tears pooling in your eyes again, dripping down your face as you gasped with each thrust, cunt throbbing around him as his knot caught more and more with every thrust until he couldn't pull out anymore. Your eyes rolled into the back of your head as you felt a sharp, stinging pain radiate from your neck before it heated into what almost felt like agonizing pleasure.

It burned white hot and you clawed at his arms, hips bucking against his, which were just barely thrusting against you, trying to pump you full and pump deep.

When he finally released your neck, he let out a long groan as his own orgasm seemed to finally wash over him. Ghost let his head drop to your shoulder, his hips trying to thrust harder and you couldn't stop yourself from biting down on his own gland in turn.

It was hard to see the way his mouth dropped open under the balaclava and his eyes roll back, but from what you could see it left you moaning against his neck.

It took you a few minutes to come back to when you released his neck. All you could taste those few minutes was Ghost, nothing more. You had to gasp for actual oxygen as his taste nearly embedded itself in your mouth.

From the moment you released his neck, to the moment you became more aware of what was happening, he had adjusted you to sitting in his lap with his back against the wall. You could hear him talking, but your mind was gone. There wasn't pain, but you weren't entirely comfortable. Your neck was sore, and your cunt was still throbbing around him.

He nuzzled your neck, lapping at your now marked gland.

Ghost wasn't entirely sure what would happen, neither of you would be able to hide the marks and even so, he would have to report this. He figured it wouldn't matter, for now, he could wait to figure everything out until you got medevacked and taken care of. Price would know what to do, he always did.

Next

[spookypete-94]

By Definition

PricexFem!reader

Based on the mission in MW3 with Price and Soap. Price stumbles upon reader whom is protecting civilians while being hunted by what you think is your own kind. Will be a two part story.

CTW for blood, violence, and language.

In the dictionary evil is defined as morally reprehensible, sinful, wicked. If you asked John Price, he would say it is defined by heinous actions. By men and women who can harm others. He himself would fit that definition, but as much as he sees it that way, his inner voice says he does it for the greater good. Part of him will never believe it but it’s how he justifies his actions. A hard sentiment to follow through with.

When General Shepherd dispatched him and Soap to the stadium at Verdansk from an attack of of Markarov, he knew evil would be the simplest way to describe it. In reality, it was a blood bath. Morally reprehensible, more like no morals whatsoever. Sinful and wicked, not even painting the scene to full picture. Ambush. Hate. Death. All better things to describe such ill intent. It was around every corner, him and his Sergeant seeing it decorate the endless hallways and numerous rooms.

The worst part of it though is the civilians thinking they were being attacked by those that had sworn to protect and serve for them. A wolf in sheep's clothing. Terrorists adorned in peace officer’s uniforms. The blue line tainted with the permanent red stain of mistrust, a light that will forever be altered in his mind of a horrendous plan.

The order from the General himself, to take out all of those in police uniforms. Something that felt abnormal to him, shooting ones who looked like he had worked alongside with many times. But if the terrorists had done this and John had been sent, he would consider himself the undertaker. The Grimm Reaper to make things right in the world… no matter how hard he had to justify it.

If John was listed in a dictionary, he would describe himself as well trained. Hesitancy not even close to the vocabulary of words in the list of himself. So, when he found you kneeling in front of a food counter, clad in the blue uniform causing the demise at the moment he was reluctant. You see, your arm was spread around a mother and her two small children. Chest pronounced saying "Shoot me, instead." Teeth bared as if screaming, "I'll bite your fucking throat." if he were to get too close. You weren't the wolf in sheep's clothing. You were the actual thing, the guard dog that did serve and protect. The yellow stripes on the outside of your arm signifying you were of rank, from what he could tell a sergeant. Blood and sweat had been smeared across your face, black powder from your gun down your hands and arms telling him you had been at this for a while now. Your pistol in your other hand, at the open and ready for the next feeding of bullets. Looking at the carrier vest, he saw no more mags in the pockets. You were unable to curb your handgun's hunger even if you wanted to. Finally, lowering his rifle he had trained on you and moving his finger off the trigger, he lifted both his hands up hoping to prove to you that he was not the threat here.

"They are dressed like officers," he said taking quick steps to you.

"Yeah, no fuckin' shit," you spat out in between ragged breaths, puffing out further like a cobra ready to strike. Any other person might have been offended at the tone and choice of words, but to John, it meant you had your wits about still. You had been running, near drained and now only operating on pure adrenaline. As he got closer, he watched as you pushed the family further behind you. His heart ached at the muffled sobs.

"Don' wanta’ hurt any of you," his voice lower trying to find remorse for the ones you were guarding. Your eyes trained on him just like he had been with his rifle. The guard dog is planning her next move of attack even if she has no more bullets. Teeth shred just as well in close quarters, and you were baiting him at the moment come closer so you could prove it. Truly you were feral, but somehow so fucking beautiful to him.

"Do you want more bullets or do you wanta' take my spare?" he asked, trying to find common ground of trust.

"What?" You asked confused, glaring up at him. He was helping you?

"Bullets or gun?" He asked pointing down at the one on his vest, going a more direct route.

"Gun." No hesitation. Just like John.

Standing up fully, he watched as your stance widened. Well trained to keep protecting the family that was behind you. Releasing your famished firearm of its open mouth, you rehosltered it, cautiously taking the one from the man in front of you still feeling like this was a trick.

"The hallway down the stairwells behind have been cleared by us, but you need to treat them like they are still hot, don't know wha' the enemy is up to, but get them to a safe place." His arm lightly patting your shoulder making you look up from the press check you were conducting to confirm that the gun was indeed loaded. The faith and trust you had in others had been taken out at the knees and butchered from the ground up. For who knows how long, you had been thinking your own kind was hunting you. A creature they thought was docile from her given gender in nature. Little did they know, they were trying to catch and kill a dragon. A beast among pretenders.

His eyes showed you the type of man he was. At the moment, he was concerned no doubt, but he was a man true to his word. A beacon through this chaos. "Get out of this alive. I want that gun back."

Was this his way of making light of the situation? Or the fact he was trying to give you a reason to get out alive?

"Captain." The other man that was with him grunted to try urge him along from the screams that were erupting on the other side of the food court.

Nodding, you looked behind at the mother and children behind you. Again, finding the nerves and strength to keep going.

"Let's go," your head jerking the way as the new pistol in your hands helped guide your way securely. John didn't get to watch your back. It hurt that he didn't at least make sure you got out of the food court alive. Instead that inner voice that defends his work, prayed to whatever god was listening. Begging that you freed yourself unharmed with the other three trapped souls from this hell.

To you, all you could hear was your heartbeat pounding in your ears. If you got to look back on all of this and review it, that would be the thing you remembered most, but no one would know. They cannot hear your own heart and feel the amount of fear coursing in your body right now. That man was right however, they definitely cleared their way up here. Bodies were dropped, blood running in multiple directions. It was a dog fight for sure to even make it this far. Who the hell was he? The Angel of Death himself?

Once outside, you had managed to help the family through the parking ramp. Relaxing a little, seeing them run in the direction of safety of what was Point of Command. Finally, you had found the secure safety of your own kind. In the back of the ambulance, you learned that there had been an explosion at the airport. How can there be so much chaos today? What was even happening? The ambulance soon left after your vitals were taken and it was confirmed to have no large injuries. Your Chief gave you the direct order to stand down and stay back, worried you were too shell shocked to respond to the explosion. The unknown man's gun still in your hands, unable to holster it since it didn't fit in any of yours. Sitting down on a bench, you couldn't help but stare down at it.

"Where did you get that gun?" A blonde woman asked kneeling down in front of you. Her hand rested on your knee as she spoke. Clearly, she just understood the carnage you had seen and didn't want to speak to shell you had put up to try to disassociate yourself.

"A man inside gave it to me, was wearing camo," a voice that did not sound like yourself answered. It was raspy, more than likely from fighting for your life inside out. Your lips were chapped and peeling already.

"Did he have a big beard?" She asked, her manner of speaking showing that she was hopeful.

Only being able to nod, you did so a slow motion of up and down.

"John, I found her." she said into a radio standing up.

"Bring her to me," the other side said back. The voice you knew all too well belonged to the bearded man that had given you a fighting chance. Raising the gun up, handle to this woman thinking it was what he wanted back so bad. Instead, she stuck her hand out to you, an invite to stand up.

"He wants to meet you." She clarified. "My name's Kate Laswell. And we have an offer." She was gifting you a kind smile, calm in the storm that had finally lifted. A ray of sunshine through black clouds.

Reaching up for her hand, you took it. Little did you know, everything was about to change.

Captain John Price Masterlist

Part 2

[literaryvein-reblogs]

Word List: Fashion History

to try to include in your poem/story (pt. 3/3)

Pelete Bite - a fabric created by the Kalabari Ijo peoples of the Niger Delta region by cutting threads out of imported cloth to create motifs

Pelisse - a woman’s long coat with long sleeves and a front opening, used throughout the 19th century; can also refer to men’s military jackets and women’s sleeved mantles

Peplos - a draped, outer garment made of a single piece of cloth that was worn by women in ancient Greece; loose-fitting and held up with pins at the shoulder, its top edge was folded over to create a flap and it was often worn belted

Pillow/Bobbin Lace - textile lace made by braiding and twisting thread on a pillow

Pinafore - a decorative, apron-like garment pinned to the front of dresses for both function and style

Poke Bonnet - a nineteenth-century women’s hat that featured a large brim which extended beyond the wearer’s face

Polonaise - a style of dress popular in the 1770s-80s, with a bodice cut all in one and often with the skirts looped up; it also came back into fashion during the 1870s

Pomander - a small metal ball filled with perfumed items worn in the 16th & 17th centuries to create a pleasant aroma

Poulaine - a shoe or boot with an extremely elongated, pointed toe, worn in the 14th and 15th centuries

Raffia Cloth - a type of textile woven from palm leaves and used for garments, bags and mats

Rebato - a large standing lace collar supported by wire, worn by both men and women in the late 16th and early 17th century

Robe à L’anglaise - the 18th-century robe à l’anglaise consisted of a fitted bodice cut in one piece with an overskirt that was often parted in front to reveal the petticoat

Robe à la Française - an elite 18th-century gown consisting of a decorative stomacher, petticoat, and two wide box pleats falling from shoulders to the floor

Robe en Chemise - a dress fashionable in the 1780s, constructed out of muslin with a straight cut gathered with a sash or drawstring

Robe Volante - a dress originating in 18th-century France which was pleated at the shoulder and hung loose down, worn over hoops

Roses / Rosettes - a decorative rose element usually found on shoes in the 17th century as fashion statement

Ruff - decorative removable pleated collar popular during the mid to late 16th and 17th century

Schenti - an ancient Egyptian wrap skirt worn by men

Shirtwaist - also known as waist; a woman’s blouse that resembles a man’s shirt

Skeleton Suit - late 18th & early 19th-century play wear for boys that consists of two pieces–a fitted jacket and trousers–that button together

Slashing - a decorative technique of cutting slits in the outer layer of a garment or accessory in order to expose the fabric underneath

Spanish Cape - an outer wrap often cut in a three-quarter circle originating from Spain

Spanish Farthingale - a skirt made with a series of hoops that widened toward the feet to create a triangular or conical silhouette, created in the late 15th century

Spencer Jacket - a short waist- or bust-length jacket worn in the late 18th and early 19th centuries

Stomacher - a decorated triangular-shaped panel that fills in the front opening of a women’s gown or bodice during the late 15th century to the late 18th century

Tablion - a rectangular panel, often ornamented with embroidery or jewels, attached to the front of a cloak; worn as a sign of status by Byzantine emperors and other important officials

Toga - the large draped garment of white, undyed cloth worn by Roman men as a sign of citizenship

Toga Picta - a type of toga worn by an elite few in Ancient Rome and the Byzantine Empire that was richly embroidered, patterned and dyed solid purple

Tricorne Hat - a 3-cornered hat with a standing brim, which was popular in 18th century

Tupu - a long pin used to secure a garment worn across the shoulders. It was typically worn by Andean women in South America

Vest/Waistcoat - a close-fitting inner garment, usually worn between jacket and shirt

Wampum - are shell beads strung together by American Indians to create images and patterns on accessories such as headbands and belts that can also be used as currency for trading

Wellington Boot - a popular and practical knee- or calf-length boot worn in the 19th century

If any of these words make their way into your next poem/story, please tag me, or leave a link in the replies. I would love to read them!

More: Fashion History More: Word Lists

[lethalchiralium]

Come Undone

It was the last large mixer of the mission for a few days, the target’s wife having invited you and your husband to join. Little did she know, Julia and Jackson Houghton weren’t married, nor were they real - they were Sergeant Y/N “Lucky” L/N and Captain John Price.

You had left John’s side early on after you two had walked in, arm in arm. Your earpiece snug in your ear, hidden by your perfectly set hair. The makeup was light tonight as you had done it yourself instead of the team Laswell hired, since they did your hair. It was all show, even in the salon - you and John making idle “married” couple talk, gossiping about your fake sister’s marriage.

You waltzed your way to the bar, knowing the target’s wife would be more than pleased to see you. She was an unlikely acquaintance, as she was described to be silent and hostile. The bartender approached you, you ordered a martini and a glass of water. You settled on the plush bar seat, resisting the urge to look to John for affirmation like you would with your bulletproof vest on and your rifle nestled in your hands. Now?

Now you can’t think straight when you think about him and those dizzying kisses he left you with late last night. It’s been an intense four months - going from thinking you’ll be single forever to making out with your captain. Alone. In a hotel bed. Your feelings were knotted together like headphone wires, all sorts of feelings stuck where they shouldn’t be. Then why did his lips on yours feel so right? Even if they were fake in the beginning?

A light touch pulled you from your inner monologue, you looked to your right to see the target’s model-like wife, Anna. She gave you a smile as you returned it, pushing the fresh martini in front of her. She nodded knowingly, taking a sip. You took in the almost empty bar, knowing the men had abandoned it to talk business along the walls - there weren’t many wives brought along, none of the remaining three wanted anything to do with Anna. This meant you had her alone, in the corner of the bar against the wall, somewhat private.

“I hope your sex life is better than mine.” Anna let out a soft chuckle, manicured nails tapped against the stem of the glass.

You instantly grew uncomfortable, you didn’t dare show it. Only a small smirk and a drink of your water. “That’s not something I like to talk about in public.”

She laughed a little, moving the glass to her red lips before she asked, “What, is he bad?” You shook your head, she took a drink before continuing, “Gross kinks?”

You were surprised at that comment, eyes widening and you stumbled over your words, “What? No, no, he’s…” You trailed off, unsure of what to say. You couldn’t think straight about him anymore, not with this feelings bullshit in the way. “He’s good to me.”

“I would hope, he looks bigger in the - what do you call it - junk than my own husband.” She took another drink of the martini, obviously in an annoyed mood. The glass was settled on the bar, her tongue lapped up the excess from her lips. “I hope you’re at least not hurting when you’re done.”

There’s just a moment where you’re able to truly observe her - long silver dress, scuffed silver bangles around her wrists and a forming bruise underneath. Her earrings were different this night; instead of the long, elegant pearl or diamond earrings, they were simple diamond studs. Her hair kept on one side, probably to hide bruising. It wasn’t uncommon that you saw her with bruising, her husband was a violent and easily angered man from John’s account.

She seemed interested in you tonight. Maybe distraction helps.

“He’s gentle.” You spoke softly, eyes catching a glimpse of John across the room. He was beside a few of the target’s colleagues and the target himself, all of the men were laughing. John’s smile didn’t have the same sparkle it did with you, you watched his eyes as they flickered to you. You smiled back, Anna followed your look. “That’s what I like. He’s strong everywhere else but with me, he’s gentle.”

“John-“

You were practically shaking with anticipation. John’s hands finally holding your hips as he kissed you - fingernails dug into the cotton of your sleep shirt. He was drawing almost every breath from your lips, like he wanted to taste the air in your lungs. His shirt was gone, your hands slid up his toned and hairy torso to his neck - little half crescents dug into the back of his neck by your nails.

“I know,” He breathed, knee coming up to press in between your thighs - sleep shirt riding up, you had just come from the shower when you were forced to talk in the living room. A talk that landed you on your back, pulling John down with you. Kisses fierce against your lips, skin, as he panted, “M’gonna touch ya, is that okay?”

There was a noise from the nightstand as John’s fingers threaded the hem of your t-shirt, you were bursting at the seams . He was going too slow, you needed his body against yours at that very second.

“Captain Price, come in.”

It would make your cheeks burn if you didn’t remember yourself coming to your senses, telling him to get out and that you shouldn’t be doing this. You couldn’t forget the way sadness crept into his expression, the tears on your cheeks an intense feeling after you locked the door after him.

You had fucked up big time.

“What a real man should be like, hm?”

You looked to Anna, her gaze full of longing and melancholy. Her curled black lashes had seen tears earlier in the evening, you could tell by the residual redness in her eyes. Your hand gently settled on her forearm, a comforting gesture you had not done before with her; yet she accepted it. Her hand settled on top of yours, gazing down at her own diamond wedding ring.

Anything you can get about their personal life will help the team succeed. The dirtiest, saddest secrets. Everything. Dig for it, Lucky.

“I’m sorry, Anna.” You spoke gently, a genuine condolence in your voice.

She shook her head a little, wiping a tear with her finger quickly. “Thank you.” She patted your hand for just a moment, a grateful gesture. “You are a good friend, Julia.”

You could barely hear Laswell in your ear over the commotion of the event, but you knew it wasn’t good. You looked back to John, who wasn’t looking at you as he moved away from his group to hold his phone to his ear. Something was happening. Something wasn’t right.

Anna gently pulled your hand from her arm, you looked back at her. She gave you a warm smile and you brought your drink to your lips. “Listen, I would like to invite you and your husband to my home for dinner.”

You honestly almost choke on your drink but you were smooth with it, laughing a little. “It wouldn’t be until Jack gets some business done at home, he’s anxious to get back to his office. All these suits aren’t his favorite thing.” You looked back to John, seeing him walking straight towards you. “Jack-?”

“Jules, we need to go.” He spoke softly, hand out and you instantly took it. You gave Anna a soft smile as you slid off the stool. There was definitely some intense look in his eyes, you couldn’t place it but it made your chest constrict.

“But-“

“Julia, before you go,” She held her hand out to John, a little look in her eye before she rolled them, “A pen, Mr. Houghton.” If this wasn’t John playing a character, he would’ve smacked her hand away. You’ve seen him do it. He glanced at you before digging into his suit jacket, pulling out a nice silver pen.

You recognized that pen. It was a pen you had specifically purchased for John years ago, certainly long enough to have been lost in between then and now. Your eyes widened a little bit as Anna moved to write her number down on her napkin, a crucial piece to accessing the Zharkov personal web of lies - it was quite literally one of the most important pieces that was thought to be unobtainable. You looked back to Anna as she handed the napkin with nice handwriting on it.

“My phone number. Call me when you two are free, hm?” She smiled at you, brighter this time. “I have better vodka there, though I can’t say I know why you don’t drink.”

“A story for another time.” John interrupted, his hand clamped on your wrist. “We really need to go, it’s important.”

You wished you could stay for longer, but it wasn’t possible. “Bye Anna.” You whispered before you walked away with John, his arm slid around yours as he pulled you towards the door, phone in his hand. “What’s going on?”

“Stupid fucks don’t know how to run anything while I’m gone.” He snarled, louder than his normal speaking voice as you two pass the target and his little posse of friends. John dialed one-handed, a number you didn’t recognize. Out the door in mere seconds, he got a hold of whoever he dialed. “Tell me what happened.”

“Jackson-“ You muttered, eyes watching the sets of bodyguards in the hall, you two walked even faster. You were almost stumbling over your dress by the time you had reached the outside world, the cold breeze instantly causing you to shutter. John just gave you a look. We need to leave. “I’ll-“

“I’ll get the taxi, take this.” He handed you the phone, you grabbed it without hesitation.

The snow was coming down thick, your long coat left inside as John hailed a cab in crowded London. He looked to you, noticing your shaking frame as you pressed the phone to your ear.

“Hello?”

[littlefreya]

Danse Macabre

Summary: She cannot tell who she is anymore, nor where she is. All that she knows is that Sherlock is not the man he pretends to be and that every night he comes to her bedroom to feast on the delights of her body... 

Pairing: Vampire!Sherlock Holmes x Virgin OFC (no mentions of body type or ethnicity)

Word count: 2.2K

Warnings: 18+, Dark, horror, dubious consent, sex, supernatural themes, I guess we can say monster sex? Mentions of blood, hinted Stockholm Syndrome, loss of virginity, metaphors, obsession, hinted hypnosis, bites, vampire sex, mind manipulation.

A/N:  I don't own Sherlock Holmes or Enola Holmes. Many thanks to my angels: @agniavateira for beta'ing my work and supporting me, and to @notabronte for giving me feedback and encouraging me to post. Please reblog and leave a comment if you enjoyed it. 🖤

Danse Macabre 🕯️

How long has it been; a month? A year? An eternity? 

Time swayed differently in Mister Holmes’ mansion — if it moved at all.  

The nights seemed endless, and the days… she couldn’t remember the last time she was awake during daytime. Perhaps this was a nightmare, or maybe it was the cold tentacles of death that pulled her into an abyss; but then, if the dead couldn’t feel pain then why did his kisses hurt?

It was in the bawls of midnight when Sherlock stalked into her bedroom— his jaw stern, cheekbones sharp and strikingly distinguished by the flame of a single candle held in his hand. Hunger filled his careless face, and his eyes flickered brightly like glowing orbs of ice. 

Unable to scream or move, she watched him behind the ghostly veils of her bed. Hot wax dribbled down his fingers—little white tears of sorrow that she wished she herself could cry, but Sherlock had not only drained her of such force but by some enchantment, coaxed her to submit to his sacrilegious desire

“Undress,” he demanded from the doorway where he stood, shrouded by the crimson haze of the poorly lit corridor. Whatever was behind him, she could never see, the width of his bulky figure blocked the path like a monster from a children’s tale.

‘Monsters are real, Momma. They look like men in tailored vests and shiny leather shoes.’

Her fingers trembled, hands stiff and heavy. Yet she did what she was told without question, allowing the straps of her nightdress to fall down her shoulders the way a dying leaf falls from a branch. 

Eyes a shade colder than ice, his glare fell to her breasts, and his chest puffed with a rumbling growl. Slowly he stalked forward, treading like a spider on its web. The tips of his fingers turned black as if dipped in poison whilst his nails grew long and sharp at every step.

“The duvet. Set it aside.” 

His voice was the rumble of an inching thunder, an echo inside her head that made her bones rattle. Whenever he spoke, it felt as if invisible strings wrapped around her wrists and persuaded her limbs to do as he commanded. Even when her soul begged her to give a sliver of resistance, her hands still lifted to obey this dark ventriloquist and pushed the blanket away. 

The stem of Sherlock’s throat clenched at the delicious splendour: bare, youthful skin, so tight and so supple. A thing that should have never been touched, should have never been spoiled and yet he yearned for nothing but to leave his marks at the depth of her soul.

The scent that emanated from the flesh between her thighs elicited a guttural groan from his chapped lips. In his throat pulled the ghastly hunger. Setting the candle on the wardrobe, he stalked toward the bed, his shadow metastasizing and devouring every shred of light that dared enter the chamber. 

Both the mattress and her heart sank once he placed a knee on the bed and began to crawl between her parted legs, slowly and predatorily, dragging himself closer to her heat. Black, sharpened nails graze their way up her inner thighs, admiring the pureness of the forever-young flesh. 

Encased in a glass coffin, his young ward would forever be protected from famine, disease, and time; and what was Sherlock if not a warden fulfilling his duty?

‘A monster! God, please! There is a monster in my bed!’ 

If only she could scream, if only God hadn’t abandoned her. Instead, all she could do was shiver, her heart giving no sound as Sherlock forced himself between her thighs. One razor-sharp fingernail traced the plumpness of her breast, tenderly circling and caressing the nipple. 

“Mine,” he growled and slipped his nail down the valley of her torso, casually tugging the remains of her gown to expose her pure mound. Red glinted on those piercing shards that replaced his eyes—red like a flicker of fire from a match. “Look at me,” he demanded, though there was no need for him to ask. 

That same gaze that possessed her had sliced through the tendrils of her mind. 

Nodding, she lifted her gaze to meet his, her lips parting in a quiet plea as the ghastly, pointed talon made careful strokes amidst the swollen petals to collect the honeyed dew that gathered at the seams of her untouched cunt. 

“My poor little dove, it’s so lonely in there…” he keened, attempting to slide his long monstrous finger inside of her. But her maidenhood, still obstinate to protect her from the vile urges of men, forbade him access. 

Foolish. 

What strength did her flesh have against such a sinister entity if even iron locks and carved religious figures couldn’t keep him away? Huffing with scorn, he drew an icy fingertip around the outlines of her slit, further spreading the sinful wetness across the seams of her cunt.

She mewled, despite herself, her waist moving in a smooth tidal sway. 

Sherlock could never tire of this, not of the terror in her eyes whenever she saw him at her bedroom door nor the moans she emitted as he traced her engorged flesh with a finger or his tongue. But what he favoured above all was the sensation of his cock as it tore through her seal and those heavenly pained cries that eventually turned into the moans of a whore. 

What a great fortune it was that they had an eternity of this dance. 

Hovering above his prey, he propped his knees between her legs, the fabric of his trousers brushing against her inner thighs as he lowered his weight upon her. If there was any air in her lungs, she would have let out a shuddering breath; but what came instead was a silent gasp, and only her lips quivered as she prepared herself for the familiar twinge of his invasion.

Reaching for his groin, he freed his hardened cock and stroked a hand across its length before nudging the heart-shaped crown at the gates of her purity. Not yet pushing in, he teased himself up and down her narrow slit, treating her the way a lover treats his delicate mistress— the way a cat toys with a mouse.  

Lips swollen and tingling, she whimpered, her yet-empty hole twitching as if heeding a primal call. How could she fear and need him at the same time? Did she loathe herself so much that she wanted him to defile her? Tears began to rim her eyes, and from quivering lips, she whispered, “please…”

Letting out a low rumbling chuckle, he lowered his head and pressed a kiss to her forehead before whispering in her ear, “You, my ward, are such a mystery…” 

Her mouth opened to speak but a scream followed instead. One unceremonious thrust and he sunk into her lush depth, his girthy cock devouring the sweetness of virginal flesh. Indifferent to her pain, he pushed further and deeper past her folds until every inch of him was buried within. 

Cries and squeals sputtered from her mouth—the monster had tore her innocence, the pain had seared, and in pathetic pleas for mercy, she slapped against his bare chest and tried to shove him away. But Sherlock knew no mercy, for truly he was a beast, not just by the breadth of his shoulders and untypically muscular figure, but by his blunt absence of elegance and heartless mien. Giving her no moment to adjust, he had already began to pump himself inside of her now-defiled cunt.

Such a mask of virtue did her warden wear; to the world, a perfect, eloquent gentleman. But behind closed doors, lurked a sick, sinister man who only wished to desecrate this tender maiden in this dark sacrament. 

Over and over, he pulled away only to plunge into her again, each thrust harder than the last, each thrust ending with the slap of his sack against her cunt. And the moans that came from him - had the most debauched resonance, as if she was a long anticipated feast to a voracious man.  

Unable to meet his vigour, her walls whined a protest and squeezed around him in a futile battle to drive him out; yet for Sherlock, this tightness was nothing less than an aphrodisiac. If any, her insubordination did nothing but provoke the ungodly creature within him. Reaching a clawed hand to her chin, his fingers pressed into the hollow of her cheeks, forcing her to stare directly into his bright-red eyes as he began to fuck her in a punishing pace.

“I am already inside you, little dove. There is nothing that can be done,” he rasped while his hips continuously snapped into hers, every second rut bringing her closer to surrender as friction drew that which she so religiously wanted to resist. 

“Give in to me, and I will give you pleasure like no other.”

His words were but a spell. Briefly, unbidden, a spark inside her womb ignited, giving life to ecstatic flames that cascaded through her canal. While a part of her wanted to stay pure and deny this vicious man, an unbearable ache for his return struck her every time he pulled out from her slit. In mindless despair to hold him close, she had finally caved in and wrapped her legs around his waist to hold him near.

Triumphant grunts rumbled in his throat. Appeased by her surrender to his whims, he lifted his upper torso, his taut abs flexing as he rose to hover above her. With his hand still around her jaw, he pressed her deeper into the mattress while pummeling her cunt. 

“Make us whole…” he begged, his voice a husky—almost pitiful—groan. 

“Make us whole again.”

Depraved as an animal, he ravaged her with the selfish degenerate intent of a man yearning to impregnate his mate. Though this union could result in nothing of that sort, still she thrashed against him in an archaic frenzy, her screams unfurling into the night as her body became enslaved to the same foolish wanton. Soon her trenches began to tighten around him in demand of his seed, and the whispering embers that smouldered in her womb had suddenly imploded into a wave of molten fire that scorched through her completely. 

It was in that moment when her cunt devoured him completely, when he felt her heat gush and hug around his shaft so longingly that his eyes glowed bright red, and his fangs flashed sharply before her dazed eyes. Even though she had seen this play out numerous, endless times, she couldn’t help but gasp as he lowered his mouth to her neck and drank her pleasure-tainted blood.

Eyes staring into the ceiling with shock, she trembled like a thing that was about to be shattered. The waves of her ecstasy ebbed away as Sherlock stole from whatever maw of force she had left. Black mists began to waft around her, blurring her sight and pulling her down below. And suddenly, she was limp and heavy at the same time while a cold, strange tingle jittered through her veins.

‘Death…’ she smiled with her eyes half-shut, ‘Oh, finally… Release me!’

Just then, a secondary implosion spasmed through her core and caused her entire body to jitter with delight as the sensation elicited from his bite was an unlikely aphrodisiac. Mouth agape in a silent cry, she threw her head back and stared through the open window while the monster inside her continued to feast on her throat.

The moon—it was covered in blood, painting the room in a crimson shade.

Lost in this trance, Sherlock hummed; the blood of a newly deflowered virgin was sweeter than ambrosia; after decades and aeons of searching, he could sense the wind on his skin, feel the thrum in his veins and abruptly… in a moment passing, he felt a rumble in his chest as his heart pumped once again. 

‘Make us whole.’

‘Make me whole.’

‘Make me feel alive again.’

Losing his control entirely, he thrusted into her with a few last powerful strokes and then finally lifted his head with a savage-like shout while his thick elixir overflowed her womb. Cum seeped around his cock at the same manner of the blood that trickled down his square chin. 

He licked the corner of his lip, eyes red and sated, peering down at his prey.

“Oh, my sweet little flower,” he murmured and carefully lowered his head to kiss her. She returned the kiss, uncertain if by choice, little did she care now. Her body still tingled and the taste of her own blood had an odd sweetness to it that had made her thirsty. Once he broke from her lips, she suckled them dry. 

Like petals plucked from a rose, she laid raw beneath him. Not dead. Not yet. Not ever. She no longer remembered her life before him, no longer remembered who she was. All she knew was that when she would wake the next day, it would be night again.

And he would return to claim her, again.

His fellow companions warned him of such abomination; it was dangerous to drink from his own kind, or so they claimed. It poisoned the mind and the body according to the myths, but whether it was true or not, Sherlock couldn’t bring himself to care. 

No matter the fashion, he came every night, drank from her veins, deflowered her and left. 

And every night, she woke up a virgin again, clueless as to who and what she was.

But Sherlock knew the one and only true answer. 

She was his.

For all eternity. 

[swifty-fox]

John in a white vest and orange jumpsuit, with the top half tied around his waist slung low on his hips, showing off 'Buck' which is freshly tattooed on his bicep....Gale eye fucking him across the table, bringing him candy and putting money in his commissary like a good wifey....John calling Gale for smutty phone sex...Gale waiting for John on release day and John picking him up, leaning him against the hood and devouring him....cue McDonalds, whisky and a motel for the night and promises of being more careful in the future

#chapel au

sorry i had to sit here and think about this ask for a but

He's gotten more muscular because there's jack shit to do in there besides work out. He's meticulously shaved because he's, as he says, gotta look good for the missus (the running joke Is that they're long term accomplices. the running joke is they're practically married as platonically as two men could be. The running joke lets John call gale his girl without being suspicious because it's all a bit right?)

He threatens to get a 'Buck' tattoo but it's bad luck to get your partners name tattooed on you and he won't risk that so he gets stars on his hips and tattoos the pattern of Gale's moles on his inner elbow in thick black dots. They're terrifyingly accurate in placement for having been drawn from John's memory of Gale's face.

Gale always sneaks him sour skittles and tells him he looks awful in orange (he doesn't) and that he needs his hair cut (he does)

John initiates phone sex and Gale tells him to knock it off these calls are monitored and John purrs 'better give them a good show baby' and gets Gale laid out on his motel bed with two fingers inside him and admitting it's not the same, not big enough not deep enough as John's fingers can reach. John can't touch himself back because the phones are in the main room but by god is he memorizing every sound for later.

Gets out and lets Gale get ten minutes down the road before he's telling him to pull over and getting inside him in record time. And then Mcdonalds and whiskey and yeah plenty of promises.

Until next time

[mu-ji-ji-world]

Yuju doesn't realise the communal showers at work are unisex until her body is all soaped up.

Yuju is a swimming coach from a swimming club and she got invited to a natatorium for having a lecture to her students. After she arrived at the place, she go to locker room and exchange her clothes to a pair of red bikini. Some of her shapely tits and ass cheeks pop out from her bikini set make her more sexy by her slim figure.

She start the lesson by warming up and stretching exercise together with her students. You as one of her students, can't take your eyes off your coach, Yuju and only keep staring at her body and feel your cock started to get harder under your swimming pants. Yuju noticed you standing still at your place and come near you and concern about your situation. After she confirmed you are okay and went back to her place and keep her unfinished duty and make a short introduction to all of you.

All the students go in the swimming pool and start the swimming lesson with Yuju. She start to teach one by one on how to swim and monitor each student the swimming techniques and ensure their progress and safety. Now your turn, Yuju told you to hold the coping of the concrete and you do what she said and your body start to float on the swimming pool. One of her hand hold your waist and another hold your thighs and told you to kick your legs. You follow her instruction but her hand that holding your thighs make you become more heat up and start to erect again while your legs kicking more faster. Yuju's hand accidentally touch your inner thighs and feel something hard and only know that are your erected cock.

Yuju smirked and leaned near your ear and told you that your cock is hard again and she already noticed your bulge just now. She use her hand to free your already hard cock and stroke it. With the water in the pool, it make her can easily rub your cockhead and the opening, this make you build up more pleasure. She use her another hand to grab and massage your balls while another keep rubbing and stroking your cock. Now both of Yuju hands are on your cock and it didn't take long for you to reach limit. You groaned and your cock twitched and continue shoot out your cum. Yuju put your body down and let you rest and continue her lesson with other. You saw some milky white substances start to float on the swimming pool and you use your hand to push those through the drain outlet and clean up your mess.

After the class end, Yuju go back to her locker pick up her clothes and showering shampoo and go shower room for shower. Inside the shower room cubicle there don't have any hanger, so she can only hang all her clothes across the door and take off her bikini and washed it. Out of her blue, you also follow Yuju to bathroom and secretly took her panty and wrap it around your cock and jerk it besides her cubicle. Yuju start to soap up her body and wash it, but she suddenly heard men chit-chating and stunned, she now suspect she went in the wrong bathroom so she quickly wash her body with water and dried up herself. She quickly wear her bra and vest but only aware of her missing panty, so she slowly open her door and observe the surrounding and find her panty with lower body naked. She found nothing even she searched all around and hear some noise at her next cubicle.

You now become more to the edge and you speeding up the rhythm and moan up Yuju name more loudly and eventually cummed on the panty. You didn't noticed your door open and Yuju appear up and recognise the cloth on your hand is her panty but already on mess. You feel embarrassed that Yuju staring at you but your cock tell the truth and start twitching when saw Yuju naked body and neatly trimmed pussy.

Yuju come near you, take her panty put it aside and told you that wanna punish you for being bad and kneel down to clean the milky mess on your cock. Her oral is great that suck your cock well, you let out some comfy moans. She lead you to the bench in the middle of the bathroom and ask you to take her vest and bra off her. Her shapely tits with brownish nipples make you wanna have a bite on it. You start to kiss her nips with your lips and put it in your mouth to suck and lick both of her nipples.

Yuju nipples is shinning with your saliva and her moans keep leaking out from your play. You slowly move down from her tits, then to her belly, lastly stop at her already wet pussy. You wider her fold and saw her glistening cunt with the light and instantly plant your mouth on it and start eat her out. Yuju already in a moaning mess by your touch, you found her clit and begin to rub it make Yuju let out high pitched moans. The bathroom is all filled with Yuju moans and your loud sucking sounds. You sense Yuju pussy start to get more wetter and her moans becoming more louder. You feel a turret of juices squirting out from her pussy along with her screams. Her body trembling hard and you collect some of her juices and plant your lips on her, letting her taste her own juices.

Yuju ask you to lay on the bench as she aim herself on your hard cock and start to drop her pussy on you. She whimpered as your cock part her pussy apart and start to bounce up and down on your cock. Both of you feel pleasure with each other body and let out comfy moans. She keep riding you in some minutes, you tell her you want to change position and she stop and remove herself from your cock. You push her against the brick wall and insert yourself into her from behind. You keep driving yourself in and out of Yuju pussy while whimper and moans keep spilling out from her lips. You then pull her from the brick wall and carry her to the bench, with you still inside her from behind and Yuju body bending down with both of her hands hold the bench for support as you continue banging her.

At the same time two men came in and surprisingly caught both of you are having sex in the public area. You ignored both of them and keep banging Yuju hard. Yuju body shudder and her pussy contract by the sudden incident. You feel Yuju walls tighten around your cock and make you bang her with more force. This make Yuju moans out louder and eventually reached her limits and explode all her juices on your cock with both legs shook violently. Watching Yuju getting fuck make two men can't control themselves and take out their cocks and pumping together. You then called them to join both of you.

Now Yuju lay on the bench with both of her legs widely spread and your cock keep drilling her, both of her hands are now holding cocks and stroking it together. Yuju moans keep leaking out when you drill her hard, your balls keep smacking against her asshole make both of your pleasure keep building up. You gradually speeding up your thrusting speed and fuck Yuju till your limits as Yuju also near her edge. In the end both of you cum together, Yuju juices coated your cock and your cum painted her walls white. After you pull your cock out, a copious of milky mixture seeping out of Yuju pussy and drop on the bench.

One of the man now align himself at Yuju cum filled hole and thrusting inside her easily with the lubricant. He thrusting her very hard and make Yuju screaming. Another man saw it and shoved his cock to muffle her moans out. The skin-slapping sounds and Yuju muffled moans are echo through the room. The man in her mouth start to thrust his waist fast and with a low groans he shoot out his warm cum into Yuju throat and make her drink his cum up. The man in the pussy also near his peak and pick up his pace and creampied Yuju. He then pulled himself out and insert his messy cock inside Yuju mouth and let her clean him up.

Both men enter their own cubicle and start to showering, while you and Yuju entering the same cubicle to wash up all the sweat. Yuju help you wash your cock and you help Yuju wash up her cum filled hole. After both of you done, you all dress up, when you saw Yuju drained panty you apologised to her but Yuju just going away with a smile. So she now need to be more careful when walking home as not to let other people saw her bare pussy and ass with only the short tennis skirt on her bottom...

[fanficshiddles]

Eternally Mine, Chapter 16

Screams rang out through the harbours main warehouse, men and a few women tried to make a run for it, but the only two escape routes out of the large building were blocked off. The doors wouldn’t open.

Loki, Chris, Toshi and Severus marched down the middle of the warehouse, the three vampires were hissing loudly with their fangs on show, dripping with blood after sucking their first lot of trafficker’s dry right on front of everyone. Sending the traffickers all into a hysterical panic.

‘Remember the plan. Take your fill and have fun, but make sure there’s at least twelve kept alive for the hunt.’ Chris snarled to the team before locking onto one of the female traffickers and charging towards her at high speed.

They had hired a bus and also a large van for getting the prey for the hunt back to Demsdale, and also for the women and girls that needed saved.

The traffickers had guns, though the guns were useless on the vampires since it wasn’t silver bullets. Toshi was wearing a bullet proof vest underneath her clothing for protection. Thankfully there were no hunters there, the traffickers never expected to be attacked by vampires after all.

Loki was already feeling rather feral after they all had their first bite. He attacked the nearest guy, tearing into his neck without much care for him at all, ignoring his scream of agony as he took some blood from him before killing him. It wasn’t long before Loki found himself in a bit of a frenzy, his inner vampire was going nuts, delighted at having this release to run wild.

‘LOKI! Remember, we need some alive.’ Severus yelled at him from across the warehouse after seeing him slaughter three humans in a row.

Loki shook his head and tried to clear his mind a little, he was getting a bit too carried away. Though seeing them all discuss about selling innocent young women and children had really gotten his blood boiling right off the bat.

‘Keep an eye on your brother. It’s his first time letting loose like this.’ Toshi shouted at Chris as she fought next to him for a moment, taking down two traffickers together and knocking them unconscious. They tossed them next to one of the exits that was currently blocked off for now, but they needed to get a pile going.

‘Ah, he’s having fun. I’ll let him enjoy it, even if it means one or two short to take back.’ Chris smirked with a chuckle.

Toshi rolled her eyes then sprinted off after another guy, driving a knife right into his back and twisting hard.

Severus added a woman and a man to the hunt pile, then he decided to feast on one this time. He spotted a man hiding behind some empty oil drums, not looking in his direction. With a smirk, he sneaked around behind the drums and crouched down, slowly moving towards the man.

‘Who are we hiding from?’ Severus asked as he suddenly popped up behind the guy.

The man let out a shriek of fear, he tried to scramble away, trying to get up to his feet to run, but he couldn’t manage to get away from Severus. Severus broke his arm as he grabbed hold of him and pulled him back towards him, he pinned him down harshly to the ground before sinking his fangs into the back of his neck.

‘You alright there, bro?’ Chris asked Loki as he found him at the side of the warehouse, taking a moment while Toshi and Severus took down a few more of the traffickers.

‘Getting a bit carried away.’ Loki panted, Chris could see by the look in his eyes that he was struggling to keep himself under control.

They had taken down most of the humans that needed taken out. Chris could sense two strong heartbeats from the back of the warehouse, when he focused his senses in on them, he could smell their fear and was able tell it was grown men. Likely more traffickers.

‘Come on.’ He growled at Loki and marched to the back of the warehouse, where there was a shipping container that was slightly ajar.

Two men had been hiding in there since the vampires first arrived. When Chris hauled the door open, the two guys fell backwards and tried scrambling away, pure terror in their eyes as they saw Loki and Chris moving in on them. The vampire brothers towered over them and were about to attack, but Toshi and Severus jumped in.

‘These two are ours.’ Toshi snarled, eyeing the men up as she flipped her knives in the air.

Chris raised an eyebrow at them, but stepped aside and grabbed Loki’s shoulder, pulling him out of the way. Loki hissed in annoyance, but Chris was able to direct him to one of the last humans to take out.

Chris wasn’t sure why those two guys were so important to Toshi, and he wasn’t sure what she and Severus did to them, but from the screams that came from inside the container, he had a feeling it was something personal…

There was a woman who was part of the traffickers that Loki caught out of the corner of his eye running away from the scene, she had kept hidden till the last minute. He locked on to her and gave chase, she let out a blood curdling scream as he attacked her. He grabbed her from behind and bit into her neck, letting his venom flow into her, just enough to make her pass out though.

He took a little blood from her, but not too much, then tossed her onto the hunt pile.

‘I think that’s them all.’ Severus said to them with heavy breaths as he wiped his mouth with his arm.

Chris nodded in agreement. ‘Now what?’

‘We get the women and kids into the bus. Get this lot piled into the van, make sure they’re tied up.’ Toshi said firmly as she nodded her head at the hunt pile.

Toshi and Chris went to deal with the women and kids, breaking open the few containers outside that they were being kept in and getting them to the bus. While Loki and Severus began sorting out the hunt victims.

Toshi and Chris helped the children and young women get into the bus, some of them thanked them on the way in. Toshi’s heart hurt seeing the state of some of them, knowing what they will have been put through… It made her feel sick.

‘What was so important about those two guys?’ Chris asked Toshi quietly, pulling Toshi from her thoughts.

Toshi didn’t look at him, she just kept ushering people into the bus. Though she did answer him after a long pause. ‘They were friends of my fathers when I was younger, my father decided it would be a good idea to let them use my body as they wanted for cash.’ She said bitterly.

Chris’ eyes widened as he turned to face Toshi fully, he could see the pain all over her face.

‘I tracked them down a few years ago, to find out they ran this whole operation. I’ve been waiting a long time for this moment, to get my revenge on them. I had to put a stop to them from hurting others, too.’

Chris reached out and put his hand on her shoulder, giving her a brief gentle squeeze. He felt her body flinch slightly at his touch, but she relaxed very quickly. ‘You did a really good thing here today.’ He said softly, then he lifted the last girl into the bus, as she was too weak to get in herself.

‘Where are you going to take them?’ Chris asked Toshi.

‘I’ve got a safe house lined up for them, then will try and get them back home to their family, where they belong.’ Toshi said confidently.

‘I… I don’t have a family.’ Came a small voice from behind Chris and Toshi. They turned around to see a girl, who looked to be around twelve or so.

‘Where did you come from?’ Chris asked softly as he crouched down to her level.

The girl had her arms wrapped around herself, she was skinny and covered in bruises.

‘I… I was in foster care… then I was sent to these people from my foster family.’ She said quietly, her eyes watering.

Chris reached out and gently rubbed her arm. ‘You’re safe now, don’t worry. We will find you somewhere safe, with good people, ok?’

The girl nodded and wiped her eyes.

Toshi took the girl’s hand and led her into the bus, getting her seated.

Once Severus was finished helping Loki with the last of the humans into the van, he went over to the bus, ready to drive back. Toshi was just making sure that everyone on the bus was ok, ready for the four-hour journey ahead of them.

‘That girl, I think I might know of a family for her. There’s a couple in Redbridge who have been looking to adopt for a while, but because they’re both older, they’re struggling to get approved. A lovely couple, I’m sure they’d take good care of her. It could be ideal since she’s a bit older.’ Chris suggested to Toshi.

Toshi nodded. ‘That sounds perfect. Can you go speak to them tomorrow and see if they’d be willing to take her?’

Chris nodded. ‘Of course.’

Severus and Toshi drove the bus back, while Loki and Chris took the van. Their adrenaline was still running high, even when they got back to Redbridge.

Loki didn’t want to admit how much he had enjoyed letting his instincts take over like that, going wild.

‘Thank you, for helping tonight. I know it’s not something you’d normally do.’ Chris said as he pulled up outside Loki’s house after they’d dumped all the humans in the hut at the woods, making sure they were still unconscious and tied up.

Loki let out a sigh. ‘It’s not… I hate how much I enjoyed it. That is not who I am, it’s not going to become a regular thing.’ Loki said firmly. ‘I only did it because they deserved it, to help all those poor people…’

Chris nodded and smiled. ‘Well, either way, I appreciate it.’

Loki nodded too and slid out of the van. ‘Night. I know I’m going to sleep well tonight.’

‘After some fun with your girl, I’m sure you will.’ Chris chuckled knowingly.

And he wasn’t wrong.

As soon as Loki got inside to Claire, he pounced on her. His adrenaline was still pumping and he was full of feral energy. He told Claire a little about what happened while he tore off her clothes, getting her riled up too at the thought of him going absolutely ham on some bad guys. He had blood splattered on his clothes and skin, which turned her on to no end.

She was exhausted after one round, but Loki wasn’t ready to call it a night yet, keeping her up for most of the night for numerous rounds.

[totalcomfortmen]

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