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drgnflyteabox · 1 month ago

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something to remember you by

pairing: soap x fem reader summary: your boyfriend wants some memorabilia of you to take on his deployments. only, he wants his superior officer to take the photos. w.c: 3.7k tags/warnings: dubcon, cucking, mild degradation, oral (m + f, rough), hair pulling, un-negotiated kink, dom!soap, clothed man naked reader, teasing scent kink (m + f), one (1) pussy slap, crying, squirting, unprotected sex, some anxiety, reassurance mid-fuck, overstimulation, some aftercare, abrupt but open ending, reader has some internal shame around sex/kink, reader doesn't rlly like her bf

At first, it’s nothing. Dirty talk, suggestive texts, passing comments while he’s on his second deployment with a hand around his cock and you pretending to be into it.

"Think about it, babe," he’s panting, but it’s less sexy when you can tell he’s deepening his voice on purpose like Christian Bale Batman. "Don’t you wanna give me something to remember you by? While I’m out here fighting for you?"

Corny. So fucking corny. Your feet are kicked up on your coffee table, fuzzy-socked, face schlopped with a cooling gel mask. Quarter past 8 o’clock, and he’s trying to sell you on letting one of his army buddies fuck you and take pictures of you. The absurdity makes you almost laugh.

"…babe?" Oh, shit.

"Yeah honey, I’m here." You’d kind of feel bad, if it weren’t for the ick factor. It wasn’t that you didn’t like him, he was fine, it was just that since he’d joined the army he’d inched closer and closer to picking up a mic and dictating which body counts were okay to women over podcasts. That, and he’s gotten hornier. Kinkier.

Which is fine, really. Only you don't consider yourself adventurous. Sex is like a chore, something to put you to sleep, to relax the muscles. Relationships are quid pro quo - I suck your dick, you make my parents think I’m succeeding in life, deal?

Not to mention, you've never even considered stepping outside of the idea that sex is between committed couples only, sequestered away and hidden in the closet like old clothes.

"So, are you picturing it?" Schlap schlap schlap. He must’ve added lotion. "You can say no obviously, ughnnn, but I know this guy really well. I'd, ahhh fuck, sit in the other room."

"Thanks for being so considerate," you sound dry, but you’re honestly intrigued. Life has been monotonous since graduation, the transition from study to office… rough.

You aren’t adventurous. But you’re so fucking bored.

"Can I see him first?" On the TV in front of you, muted, Matthew Macfayden confesses his love tearfully in the rain. You want to be bewitched, body and soul. To feel something.

"So you’ll do it? Oh, fuck-" Not what I said, you think. His voice goes high, reedy, trembling with his orgasm. "See how fucking hot this makes me? I’ll send a pic, give me a sec."

It’s a group photo. He’s dressed in his uniform, head shaved, standing next to a group of a dozen or so men. Outlined, at the far corner with a group of guys big enough to dwarf a good third of the rest, is a man with building biceps and a smarmy grin and a confident, wide-legged pose. Hips jutted out. Fuck, he’s hot. You can see his bulge through his pants, through the picture, under a heavy tac vest.

"Get in, get in!" the apartment is clean for once. At least, clean without you getting sick of his clutter and playing maid. Did he do it himself to impress his friend? That makes you snort, but he doesn’t catch it, too preoccupied with his phone.

"Um, woah-" you start, taken aback. It looks like a porn set. There’s a plastic sheet on the ground in front of the couch. "I thought this was supposed to be casual?"

"It is, babe," he’s brushing you off, same as he did the few days leading up to this. You’d gone through some minor confidence and judgment crises, anxiety building like a balloon about to pop. All of which he’d brushed off.

It’s all fun and games, babe. Plus he’s done this before, he’s like a pro, showed me some videos - that was something you hadn't agreed to, just some pictures for him to take on deployments.

Still, trepidation makes you sweat, makes your thighs stick to the brown leather couch when you sit and try to sip water. Your socks crinkle the sheet.

You don’t turn when he arrives, still too nervous, knees stuck together and hands slipping on the glass from condensation when they start talking behind you. There’s too many what ifs - all reasons you’d used to avoid hookups in college, all reasons you wanted to break through your shell now.

Plus, you’re sick of hearing "did you finish?"

"This must be her," says an accented voice, gruff and maybe amused, "ye feelin' shy?"

No. You’re just nervous. Exposed. One of the only conditions you'd pushed was no cuck chair, but now you weren't sure how to feel to be left alone with him soon. This man is so big, so imposing.

"Hi," you say smartly. He looks just like his photo, only bigger. Bulging muscles and the same wide stance when he comes to stand in front of you. It’s only because you can’t stand sitting face-to-face with his crotch that you stand and hold your hand out to shake.

"And polite!" Loud. He introduces himself as Johnny, which makes your boyfriend's eyebrows raise. "So cute." he takes the liberty of bypassing your hand and grabbing your waist.

Oh fuck, he runs hot. His hands burn, even through your shirt. You feel self-conscious, plain, looking up at his probing blue eyes. They’re so intense, captivating, distracting you from the feeling of him getting closer and closer, till your tits are pressed to his.

"Hey-"

The moment breaks. Your boyfriend is looking at you both, unreadable expression on his face. Is he regretting this? Feeling emasculated, maybe? Hard to feel much sympathy when you’re the one about to get fucked.

And it was his idea.

"I’m gonna go to the bedroom," his eyes squint, flitting between the both of you before he scurries away, pants tented.

"Now that that's outta the way," Johnny grunts. "C'mere." And sits down with a grunt, pulling you to him.

You try to pivot, to sit next to him, but he's strong and coordinated so you wind up in his lap, back touching the arm of the couch and your legs slung over his, bum on one thigh.

"That's more like it, no?" there's that wolfish grin again, so close. One hand rests on your knee, possessively, while the other wraps around your shoulders and plays with your shirt. "Why don't we introduce ourselves?"

The hand on your knee moves to your face, gripping your cheeks in a grip hard enough to push your lips out into an embarrassing pout. You struggle a little, pulling at his wrist, but he doesn't budge.

He pulls his phone out, aiming the camera at your face, recording a video through a text-app. You can that it's a groupchat, assured by your boyfriend before that it was totally private, babe. This is jut between us.

"Now say hello," he puts his stubbly cheek next to yours, rubbing like a cat. "And introduce yourself."

"H'llo," you struggle through it, muffled by his grip. Your name is almost unintelligible, and your jaw starts to ache a little.

"Say, can I please suck your cock, sir?"

Your stomach tightens, right down to your pussy, which gushes a little into your panties.

"Cn'I please suck your cock, sir?" he's so fucking forward, just jumping in headfirst. The loss of control, your being told what to do, makes your clit jump. Sex has never been like this - you've never been so acquiescing.

"Of course you can, bonnie!" you're almost tossed to the floor, no gentleness as he pulls you toward him by the hair so quickly it almost makes you dizzy. He scoots to the edge of the couch, leaning back against it, and uses that strong arm to rub your face on his bulge. "Get me hard."

He puts his phone on the arm of the couch.

You flounder, hands finding his knees and trying to pull back. He doesn't let you.

"Use your mouth, kiss me," his hand finds a firmer hold on your hair as you start mouthing against him, tasting denim, smelling his musk, letting it get to your head and make you dizzy. "That's right, kitten."

His cock starts to chub under his clothes, and you almost wish you could feel it in your mouth. Oral isn't your favourite, but the way your pussy clenches around nothing and drips into your panties is making you think maybe you were wrong about yourself.

"Up, up," your face is rubbed a little raw by the time you sit up, looking at him. Waiting for instruction. "Everything off, except your panties."

You obey, stripping your shirt and bra and then your shorts. Your nipples tighten in the cool air of the apartment, goosebumps dancing along your arms and your belly. Self-consciousness almost has you reaching to cover yourself, until Johnny grabs you by the shoulders and twists you just enough that you're back to facing his phone.

"Look at these," he grunts in your ear, fingers finding your nipples. Pulling them, pinching them. It's not for you, it's for the camera. You feel like an object, an accessory, secondary to getting the shot of the rough pads of his fingers teasing you into whimpers.

You've never been more turned on.

"Nice, eh?" he pulls them up and out, which hurts, but draws a line of pure electricity from your nipples to your clit. "Whatd'ye think, L.T?" the name doesn't register. Army stuff, you assume.

You're turned back around sharply again to face his actual cock. He's pulled it from his fly, thick and leaking, while you were getting undressed. It's unfair, really, nice and long and curved.

"Ask me again," a statement. A command, phone discarded.

"Please can I suck your cock, sir?" the words make your cheeks burn, your body quiver, your clit jump.

"Ye can," laughter this time, worsening your embarrassment. His hand finds your hair again, pulling you down when you're too slow to touch your lips to the head of his dick. "I'm gonnae fuck your face, alright?"

Without waiting, he lifts his hips up and thrust into your mouth. It's not as deep as it can go, but you almost gag, unprepared. The next thrust is deeper, quicker. He's letting you build up to it, letting your hands rest on his knees for balance.

Your nose touches his pubic hair, inhaling the scent of him. Any attempt at hollowing your cheeks, sucking, licking, is futile. He's so quick that the best you can do is hang on for the ride, keeping your teeth in check.

Drool builds and spills past your lips, making wet sounds compete with his frankly pornographic moaning. He's a man possessed, using you while you squeeze your eyes against overwhelmed tears.

Finally he yanks you off of him by the hair, holding you up while you splutter from the unexpected change. Your hands go to your face, trying to wipe.

"None o'that, now," he bats them away, giving you a shake when you keep trying. "Leave it." like you're a bad dog.

Strings of spit connect your swollen lips to his cock, thin and gooey, that fall to your bare chest when he sits up.

You're turned, stood up and then guided to the couch to sit. Johnny slaps your thighs to get you to open them, lifting your feet for you so that your heels rest on the edge of the couch cushions.

"Awe, look how wet she is," he holds your legs, exposing your wet panties to him and to his phone, where he takes a few pictures. Again, you wonder about the appeal of this for your boyfriend. It's hot for you. Degrading, but hot. Or maybe more hot because of the degradation.

"Oh god," you say out of shock. You've never been so fucking wet in your life, and god forbid he sees how swollen with arousal you are underneath.

"Naw, just me," Johnny says, rubbing his knuckles over your pussy through the fabric. "She all wet and frustrated?"

You don't answer, hands keeping you sat up, chest heaving. You're still a little dizzy.

Johnny licks over your panties, mouthing over them not unlike what you did for him only a few minutes before. It's nothing, really, but you're so worked up that it startles a long, drawn-out moan from you.

He continues like this, never actually making contact with where you need it, with your skin. Every one in a while he turns his head to the side and grins, taking a picture or a videoclip while you tip your head back and resist begging him to just get on with it.

His nose presses on your mound, where he drags it down to your hole and sniffs.

That's what breaks your resolve.

"Please," you whine. Your voice is rough from taking his cock in your throat.

"Please what?" he opens his mouth and puts his teeth on you, not biting, just letting you feel them. Gnawing gently.

"Please do it," you look down at him, and even though he's on his knees you know you aren't the one in control. "Please lick my cunt."

A laugh, mean and condescending. Your eyes close in shame, pussy burning for attention.

"This cunt right here?" he pulls the gusset aside, whistling. "This desperate little cunt?"

"Yes, please," you curl your toes into the couch.

Something shifts in his eyes, some unrecognizable flash. It feels like danger, like you're in over your head. Johnny takes two fingers and rubs them over your clit, slowly at first, and then quickly when he feels how slippery you are.

Somewhere, a volcano erupts and it isn't comparable to the heat or the feeling of your clit finally getting attention. It zings through you, making you squeeze your muscles, taught and trembling.

The pads of his fingers are a rough sensation on your swollen skin, the worlds best vibrator, ribbed for your pleasure. All he does is rub, up and down over your clit, quickly and until your face starts to scrunch together in orgasm, trembling hard.

Then he pulls back and slaps you so hard on your pussy you scream.

You almost come from it, shocked, legs kicking out, skin burning and clit pulsing with desperation, back bowing. You keep making sound after, a long and drawn out aaaaaahhhhh while he grins like the cat that got the cream. Takes another picture, the click of the camera loud in the face of your disappointment.

The intensity of it almost brings you to tears, looking at him with betrayal and vulnerability in your face. You feel weak all of a sudden, cored, devoured, pulled apart as soft as slow cooked meat.

Your panties fall back over your skin, a minor comfort against the sting.

"Poor girl," Johnny says with false sympathy. "Let me make it up to ye."

Then you're up again, pulled and pressed against Johnny's chest until he pulls your underwear down and rearranges you to sit on his lap over his spread legs, yours dangling on either side.

"Gonna bounce ye on my cock, alright?" you nod. "Sit on it."

You lift your hips, using his knees for balance, and he guides the head of his cock to your hole. Stops you from sitting back right away with a hand on your hip, squeezing the soft flesh there, and holding you there.

"They're kissing," he laughs. You feel it, your cunt mouthing at him like a conscious being, separate from you. "Ye think they want tae meet each other?"

"Can I?" you don't fight to keep the whine out of your voice. You want to come, you want this aching and this emptiness to end.

"Can ye what?"

"Sit on your cock, please."

"Well, since ye asked so nicely," and then he notches himself properly again, and forces you down with two hands on your waist. You shout, arching, head thrown back. "Bounce on it now, kitten. Show me how badly ye want to come."

And oh god, you do. You rock forward, shaking at the feeling of him, no technique to guide you just pure intuition, brain and cunt and body as one. Distantly, the sound of the camera registers, but it only makes you move faster.

He spreads your cheeks, exposing where you're connected, putting the camera close to the wet clench of your cunt around his cock and - oh, he's filming it. There's no click, just the wet sounds of you riding him.

"Thas'right," he murmurs lowly, maybe for show. "You wanna come?"

"Yes!" you lean back, then, sweat slicked back sticking to his shirt, forgetting where you are and why you're here. Everything narrows down to your pussy, but you feel compelled to keep your hands off your clit even though you know it would make you come quickly.

You want to listen to him, to wait for permission. The thought is searing heat through your core.

Fingers find your face, slipping into your mouth. Your lips wrap around them, sucking like you would've his cock.

His other hand lifts his phone in front of you both, snapping shots of your unfocused eyes, your tits pushed into the air, his smarmy expression. He hooks his fingers then into your cheek, pulling back like a fishhook.

"Good girl," his lips against your ear, stubble scratching the hot skin of your neck. "I'm gonna fuck you for real now, alright?"

You nod, desperately. He pushes you up and off of him, face down in the cushion. He's still clothed, for gods sake, jeans rubbing against the backs of your thighs when he drags your ass back toward him.

The mushroom head of his cock finds your cunt again, pushing in, driving you nuts. You're moaning helplessly, letting him take your boneless arms to hold them behind you.

He fucks you like a man possessed, in a short strokes, barely leaving the hot clutch of your pussy. The sounds, if they were bad before, are worse now, wet and humiliating.

Every thrust feels like he's slowly inflating a balloon inside you, like something pulling taut, like pressure about to burst.

"Fuck, wait!" you shout and turn your head. The pressure is insane, mixed up with a building orgasm, twined together. He hasn't even touched your clit, and yet you're on the precipice.

Johnny leans down, lips on your ear. He slows, but doesn't stop.

"What is it, bonnie?"

"I have to pee," you'd have mumbled it before, but the feeling is so strong you can't help but whimper and cry. "Please let me up."

"Ye aren't gonna pee," he laughs. "Trust me, just trust me." Then keeps pistoning into you.

You feel like jello, like mush, the only solid part of you is about to burst and somehow it makes you feel real anxiety, dampening your enjoyment.

"Johnny-" you whimper, emotion clogging your voice. You feel vulnerable, held down and bared.

In need of reassurance.

"You're alright," he leans back down and nuzzles your wet cheek. "Ye can let go, kitten, I've got ye."

You gasp, pulsing hard around him, the feeling back again, before you gush around his cock, a spray so intense you cry as it forces him out of you.

"Good. Fucking. Girl!" he slaps your ass once, twice, on both cheeks. Rubs your flank like a horse and then plunges back into you when you finish dripping down your legs.

This is purely selfish, him fucking you hard now, jackrabbiting his hips into yours. You hear the phone again, just barely, as your ears ring.

You're raw from coming without any touch to your clit, a weird limbo between being on-edge and oversensitive.

"Gonna give me another," he's growling now, getting impossibly faster. You actually really cry when he reaches around to twist your clit, thrashing under him, not sure if you want to leap off the couch or crawl right back into him. "Come for me!" he shouts, pulling up the hood of your clit to really get at you, rubbing rough circles around your beleaguered little nub.

The second orgasm melts your brain out of your ears, so long and drawn out that you're still shivering with the aftershocks as he pulls out of you and paints your back with his release.

You pant, arm one arm dangling over the edge of the couch while you the other covers your eyes.

Johnny rubs a hand on your thigh, light and gentle, patting your bum as he stands. You move your arm just enough to squint at him.

His jeans are soaked.

You laugh, uninhibited, delirious. He laughs with you.

"All you, darlin'!" he takes another shot of you, pulls your legs apart and takes a picture of your wet, sore hole.

"Is she good?" ah, your boyfriend. He has his own wet spot on the front of his pants.

"She's good," Johnny confirms. "Ye need to take care of her now, right?"

Something in his voice changes. A different kind of authority to the one he used on you, one reserved for soldiers. For men beneath him. At that thought, your pussy makes a valiant effort to clench.

"Yeah, yeah," you hear. Your boyfriend has his phone out, his cheeks flushed with excitement. "These are great man, thanks."

You start to sit up, still shaking, but not wanting to have him see you that way.

"Man, you weren't kidding!" he goes on. Johnny frowns and steps forward to clap him hard on the back and grab his nape.

"Run a bath, do it now. Ye got granola bars?"

"Uh, yeah. Hold on."

You're touched by his concern, and wind up soaking in warm bubbles after he leaves. You wonder about the photos, about what you look like. If your boyfriend is satisfied, if Johnny is.

If you were good.

Feels like you were, but somethings changed. Johnny found a soft spot knife-deep inside you and dug himself in, made you fly and made sure you were brought back to earth after, tenderized and then wrapped in comfort.

Beneath the water, you touch your pussy. Not to masturbate, just to feel the soft sore flesh, to remember the feeling of fullness.

Maybe, after his deployment, your boyfriend will want more pictures.

Fresh material.

Beneath the water, your finger curls into yourself and you sigh, satisfied.

#please forgive my phonetic spelling of soaps Scottish accent its so hard for me lmfao #no pics just vibes #finished my microecon homework so this is a treat ehehe #soap cod #soap x reader #john mactavish x reader #johnny mactavish x reader #johnny mactavish #cw dubcon #tw dubcon #cod soap #john mactavish #johnny soap mactavish

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fangirl-dot-com · 9 months ago

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Certified Lovers

what is this?? two posts in a day?? how crazy, sorry this is short

I'm also sorry I'm late for valentines day - I was too busy crying from being alone but I wanted to do at least a little something

be warned: horny kids on the main and twitter blows up

happy (belated) valentines day guys! love you all

y/n.jpg has posted

y/n.jpg so it's not gonna be easy, it's gonna be really hard. and we're gonna have to work at this every day, but I want to do that because I want you, forever. you and me, everyday

liked by maxverstappen1, y/n.nation, box_box_express, and 109,204 others

y/n.nation this just called me single in multiple different languages

rookies_secretbf everyday

boxbox_nightmare SUSPICIOUS???? y/n&co this CANNOT BE THE BF'S BURNER ACCOUNT??

charles_leclerc when did he get that shirt?

y/n.89 I bought it for him btw maxverstappen1 why? y/n.89 cause it's cute (I also got ones for Alex and Kelly too)

y/n_on_top oh my gosh the beach picture??

rookie_lover THE NOTEBOOK QUOTE - I'M CRYING

thurthur_leclerc why do I kinda feel bad for Arthur :/

y/nxarthur CAUSE THEY WERE END GAME AND THIS MF TRYNNA BREAK THEM UP f1fan chilllll they were never together in the first place - besides I don't think that he even has a girlfriend

arthur_leclerc has posted

arthur_leclerc you have bewitched me, body and soul...and I love you. I never wish to be parted from you, from this day on

liked by f1fan, logansargeant, oscarpiastri, babyleclerc, and 230,204 others

f1fan I may have spoke too soon

babyleclerc ARE YOU KIDDING ME????? THE PICTURES?? THE AESTHETIC??? THE HAND PLACEMENTS????

fan_all_around THE PRIDE AND PREJUDICE QUOTE?? HELLO??

maxverstappen1 glad you took her out. I know you can't cook

arthur_leclerc show some love please? it is valentines day after all?? maxverstappen1 no.

leclerc_bros sheeeshhhh no need to be horny on the main - no one is gonna take her

his_love all yours

box_box_express SUSPICIOUS

f1 happy valentines day!

TAG LIST: @fionaschicken @glitterquadricorn @laura-naruto-fan1998 @treehouse-mouse @sam-is-lost @kagatinkita @fangirl125reader @megatrilss1885 @myxticmoon @angsthology @cmleitora @agent-curt-mega @graciewrote @ashy-kit @slutofmultifandom @aexitizen-ln4 @sugarvibez @vellicora @thatgirlthatreadswattpad @cashtons-wife @hoetel-manager @xcharlottemikaelsonx @jayda12 @ilove-tswizzle @justme2042 @itsjustkhaos @nikfigueiredo @stopeatread @cha-hot @sadg3 @iloveyou3000morgan @s4turnsl0ver @alessioayla @torchbearerkyle @leptitlu @awekbachira @shreks-sugar-daddy @v1naco @stan-josie @mellowarcadefun @badassturtle13 @beskardroids @callisposts @poppyalice2001 @juniper-july19 @lizzypiastri

#f1 x driver!reader #f1 imagine #platonic grid x reader #f1 x reader #arthur leclerc x reader #max verstappen x reader #formula 1 x you #charles leclerc x reader #valentines day #extra chapter #arthur leclerc fanfic #arthur leclerc imagine #arthur leclerc fluff #arthur leclerc #charles leclerc #max verstappen #two chapters in a day??#who am I??

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blank-house · 16 days ago

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so my spring mc (going for jamie) is an older oc of mine, her 5th anniversary is this december, and like. needless to say, shes EXTREMELY well established. she's been a constant across several VNs, and sometimes i have to suspend my disbelief with regard to how the mcs act.

This has never been the feeling for keyframes. in fact, sometimes the canon text is so accurate to her it PHYSICALLY PAINS ME.

youve created a living, breathing cast of 2d characters and an mc i can really identify with. my partner got misassigned spring originally, but redoing it they got autumn which suits them TO A T. youre onto something with the seasonal personality thing, even if the test isnt 100% right--it's like 80% right, which is CRAAAAAZY.

anyway, i just wanted to say jamie has bewitched me body and soul but im going to be so unwell about percy. hes so similiar to my spring mc, theyre gonna be twin flames and thus ping-pong between loving and hating each other. cheers and have a good break from kf with ur game jam project! dont burn urself out on kf! much love!!

i can't believe you pride and prejudiced me. haha, i'm happy the personality results are panning out more or less! it's been really funny to see how people have chosen to interpret theirs or to (eventually) find the one that suits them best! we modeled it as closely as we could to your typical personality quiz and a bit to the one at the start of the pokemon mystery dungeon games.

#keyframes asks #ah we never stop working on kf that's the joy......

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brotherwtf · 2 months ago

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I've a hc for omegaverse Clegan. Gale is an omega but is very smart and manipulative. John being the Alpha naturally should be having dominance over him but is very submissive when it comes to Gale. One of his friends(Curt maybe) they're like "You're an Alpha Bucky! You can't let an Omega toss you around like that" and he makes up his mind to tell Gale that he had enough of his games. Later when he meets Gale in barracks, he tries to say something but is coaxed by his sweet sent and he knows Gale is doing it on purpose. He meets his big blue eyes and look up through his lashes and pouty lips and John is like "Dammit!" And is immediately on his knees before Gale even speaks. Gale just smiles knowing he has complete control over his big bad alpha 😈

anon did you just crawl into my brain and pull these ideas out? because this is EXACTLY WHAT I NEED RIGHT NOW

----

Gale always knew he was irresistible to the alphas around him. He had a sickly sweet scent, one that clogged their brain and made them smile so prettily, bending to his whim with just the smallest smile.

He purposefully wore revealing clothing around other alphas, showing off his waist and his ass so that they couldn't possibly resist scenting and marking him up.

It worked especially well with John. John who seemed like he never had the comfort of an omega in his life, smiled big and bright and was perfectly cocky. His scent immediately made Gale feel loopy, brought a warmth into his room that he hadn't seen from an alpha in a long time.

Gale knew from that moment that he was going to make John his.

It wasn't very hard, John seemed to fold at the attention of any omega, but he still had to work for it a little bit.

After long days on the base, Gale would purposefully make his scent sweeter so John would stay in, would urge him to crawl into the nest of sheets he made just so he could smell the thick and heady scent of an alpha. He would bat his eyelashes just so, bite his lip until it was swollen and plump, all so John would bend to his whim.

And it worked, John was bewitched, mind, body and soul by the sweetness that was Gale.

John was so willing to please his omega, wanted nothing more than for him to be happy and sated, craved that sweet sweet smell that was associated with a Gale that was content. This often meant having his knot or his cock available whenever Gale wanted it, which was often.

John didn't complain, he honestly liked being readily available for Gale whenever he needed him, couldn't complain because he felt good when Gale used him, too. It was only when Curt started asking questions that Gale started to see some doubt in Gale.

It wasn't normal, this dynamic between them. Alphas were supposed to be the ones in control, domineering over their omega and forcing them to do what they wanted, not the other way around.

So when Curt notices how readily John bends to Gale's commands, alarm bells instantly go off in his head. This wasn't normal, omegas weren't supposed to be this controlling.

He tried to bring it up to John a couple of times in passing, would point at omegas and off-handedly mention how good and submissive they were, man how he wished he had an omega like that, and hey? how's your omega doing? And John just says he's good, he treats him well, and Curt's just so confused.

Even after he tries to subtly push that John and Gales relationship wasn't normal, John wasn't catching the bait. So one day, he just goes outright and says it.

"It's not normal! An omega, pushing an alpha around? Bucky, you gotta say something. Put him in his place!" Curt says and it makes John think.

It wasn't normal, what was going on between him and Gale. He didn't see any other alphas get so easily pushed around by their omegas, didn't see them fall so easily to their whim. So he decides he's going to say something to Gale, to try and make their dynamic more normal.

Once John's back in the dorms, he can already smell Gale's scent, something more sickeningly sweet than usual. It makes John's heady, but he holds his ground, goes up to Gale and stands firm.

"Gale, I'm thinking that you're taking too much control for an omega. I am your alpha, your mate, I feel like I should have more control here," John says, and it almost looks like Gale believes him.

Gale's definitely shocked, mouth slightly agape as he looks John up and down. But then his face splits into a coy smile, and the room gets somehow sweeter.

"Really? Am I being too controlling? I'm sorry darling, I swear I'll stop, forgive me?" Gale says, looking up through his lashes and John knows, he just fucking knows that Gales controlling him.

He wants to fight back, wants to tell Gale to fuck off, but Gales sat on the bed, spreading his legs and beckoning for John to crawl between them, and who is Gale to deny his omega?

#clegan #mota #buck x bucky #john egan #gale cleven #asks

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sanasanakun · 3 months ago

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I think my favorite part of the dlc’s final boss is how it (can) directly mirror your Tarnished, and by extension, their relationship with Ranni. Obviously, this is coming from me, your resident Ranni glazer who will make everything about her if I can, so please understand this is my interpretation.

My interpretation is that Miquella/Radahn act as a foil to Ranni/Tarnished, specifically when it comes to the themes of love, consent, and freewill. Now, I know it’s up in the air about how consenual the pact between Radahn and Miquella is. Personally, I see it as non-consensual; Miquella resurrected and controls a puppet of Radahn and/or bewitched him to be his “promised consort.” Given the theme of control with Miquella, I don’t think FromSoft would turn that around on us at the last second. Radahn’s situation is meant to be the final nail in the coffin; a demonstration of what Miquella’s “love” exactly means. Total control over one’s entire self and mind. Anyway, I digress, let’s get into how I see their situation mirroring, and acting as the antithesis, to Ranni and Tarnished.

First, we’ll examine Miquella and Radahn. Miquella is presented almost throughout the entire game as a beloved figure. He is literally called “Miquella the Kind,” and his actions at the Haligtree paint him as an even more heroic figure. A demi-god who wants to help the weak, the oppressed, and anyone in between who has been scorned by the Golden Order. As we discover in the DLC, Miquella wants to create an “Age of Compassion.” But there’s always a catch, and Miquella’s plan is no exception. Why? Because his new age would remove the free will of everyone by giving him total control of how they feel, act, etc. He’ll make them happy and at peace because they’ll have no choice; they’ll have no self. This is exemplified in literal form with Radahn. The relationship between the two brothers presents itself as a one-sided obsession on Miquella’s part. Though we don't know a ton about them together, I think it’s safe to theorize Radahn didn’t willingly go along with Miquella’s plan. Radahn is canonically a fan of the Golden Order given his admiration of Godfrey and his father, Radagon. I can’t see him wanting to disrupt the current way of things. Plus, I don’t believe Maleania and Radahn would stage a fake war just to get Radahn into a position where he could be resurrected via Mohg. Too many hoops to jump through, so Occam’s Razor says Radahn rejected Miquella.

Now that’s great and all, but the real meat I want to analyze comes from the actual boss fight, or more specifically, the twos’ body language during the fight. Radahn is an empty shell. He doesn’t have any dialouge aside from small grunts. He doesn’t address us at all, which is entirely unlikely for how he’s been described. He’s a ferocious warlord who values the strength of both his allies and enemies. At the very least, he would address someone as prolific and talented as the PC Tarnished. Yet, he doesn’t. Radahn is literally there to act as “the muscle;” he is the strong and powerful lord that Miquella admired him to be. However, by making Radahn only act like this, Miquella has erased the true essence of what made Radahn. He lacks his soul. Miquella might be the more interesting of the two when it comes to body language. I think Miquella’s theme of control really shines with how he places himself on Radahn during the battle. He is literally draped over Radahn with his arms wrapped around his neck. Obviously, at first glance this is meant to imitate an embrace, solidifying the two as both a team and lovers. Yet, Miquella’s position doubles in meaning when considering his need to control. The arms could represent a collar, with Miquella acting as the leash. His hovering gives off a “helicopter” vibe (for a lack of a better term). While playing I called him a “helicopter parent,” comparing him to where they are constantly looking over your shoulder and trying to direct you. Essentially, Miquella is caging Radahn in his embrace, revealing his need to control the situation and Radahn himself. Miquella is the personification of control; he won’t allow free will to happen because he thinks it causes too much pain and uncertainties. And Radahn, he embodies the fate of those who would live under the Age of Compassion; he is a puppet. Specifically, he is Miquella’s puppet in both battle and love. He doesn’t have a choice in the matter at all.

So, how is this the antithesis to our beloved blue wife and the Tarnished? Ranni doesn’t appear to help the Tarnished during their fight with the duo, which I’ve seen a few complain about. While I would love to fight alongside my support princess (and I have downloaded the mod lol), I think Ranni appearing would undermine the character FromSoft has established and her relationship with the Tarnished. Ranni is very hands off. She gives her vassals the tools to work with and then tells them to do what they wish with it. She never forces you to do anything you don’t want to. When you confront her about her role in the death of Godwyn, she willingly admits it and then asks you if you’d like to pledge service to her. She doesn’t say, “You know my secrets, therefore you will be in my service so I can keep an eye on you.” Instead, it’s a choice; a choice for someone far below her in class and power, but she gives it to you nonetheless. For Ranni, the ability to choose and live the way you desire is incredibly important. She seems to dislike outside forces messing with the ability to expereince life (as she says feel, see, taste, etc).

Therefore, in the final battle with Miquella and Radahn, Ranni is there with you via the tools she’s provided and the faith she has in you (you can interpret this as her blessing with the “we will see each other once more”). She doesn’t need to be hovering over you, arms wrapped around your neck; she trusts the Tarnished above all else to succeed and fight for her. But should they choose not to, she’ll be heartbroken but she won’t stop you. As for the Tarnished, our character is not a shell of a person. They are someone teeming with ambition and the will to fight for their chosen successor. They fight because they want to be there and challenge whatever comes to face them; they don’t need Ranni telling them “go fight Miquella and Radahn for me pls.”

Their “Age of the Dark Moon” also is the antithesis to Miquella’s “Age of Compassion.” Whereas his is about control, Ranni wants to remove all outer god influence from the world. She wants people to experience their lives without the intervention of any god; to experience life on their own terms, whether they want otherworldly guidance or not. She literally takes her order and leaves the planet (?) with it and you.

Ok, that’s enough of me rambling about whatever the fuck comes to my sleep deprived mind. I have a flight to catch in three hours, so I’m gonna leave it here. In closing, Ranni good I love her very much mwah<3

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fxckn-sxck-fr · 1 day ago

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Okay so this idea is kind of meh but what about AU frat boy! Dick Grayson who everyone likes but with a reader who’s kind of wary of him like gets put off vibes and discovers to their horror he’s a serial killer? Like maybe catches him in the act? Could be romantic or platonic either or :)

𝐘𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐄 𝐅𝐑𝐀𝐓 𝐁𝐎𝐘 𝐃𝐈𝐂𝐊 𝐆𝐑𝐀𝐘𝐒𝐎𝐍…

!!! GN reader, egregiously long post, paranoia, mind games, brief mention of suicides, death, blood, dead body, can be translated as romantic or platonic, idk what else needs to be warned.

Frat boy Dick Grayson AU, you will forever be famous in my heart. Why haven’t I written something like this before.

He’s got it all. The charm, the good looks, the surprisingly tasteful humor (considering he’s a part of a frat)… what’s not to like about him? He’s the number one campus heart-throb, with just about anyone throwing themselves at his feet.

Well, everyone except you.

Because there’s just something so off about him. For whatever reason, alarm bells go off in your head whenever he’s near. Some may call it paranoia, some may call it straight-up jealousy. But to you, it’s something much more; enough to make the hairs on the back of your neck when he decides to sit next to you in lectures.

At first, you thought it was due to the envious looks from other students. I mean, the Dick Grayson has decided to sit next to you of all people? That’s bound to start some nasty one-sided shit from people you don’t even know. But no… it’s not the whispers or glares. It’s him. The voice in the back of your head practically screams that it’s him. You just don’t know why.

Again, he’s got it all. Charm, good looks, humor. Maybe what’s so off-putting is that he’s just so friendly. Due to his outgoing personality, it’s no shock to see him hanging around someone new every day, and it’s to the point where you’re convinced he knows everyone on campus by name. Maybe you just need to understand the nature of a social butterfly more. Then he’ll stop being so off-putting. Right?

But, the more you interact with him, the less sure you are. It drives you crazy when he picks you as his lecture buddy because there’s just something so wrong. But what? Is it his casual questions about your hobbies? His friendly, gentle shoulder-grabs when he wants your attention? His relaxed demeanor around someone who should realistically be a total stranger to him, as neither of you share the shame lifestyles outside of classes?

No, you randomly realized one day; it’s none of that.

It’s the fact that his smile never reaches his eyes.

Dick Grayson has beautiful crystal blues; you’ll give him that much. They’re bewitching to look into, and you’ll find yourself captivated by his gaze even if you aren’t big on eye contact. But whoever came up with the saying, “the eyes are the window to the soul” clearly never met Dick Grayson. No matter how warm his smile may be, it’s impossible to know what he’s truly thinking with how guarded his stare is. A damn mystery, with no clues other than the slightest hint of a knowing twinkle every now and then.

You quickly decided that it’s creepy as hell. Why would a guy who acts like an open book have eyes so frosty? Has anyone else noticed this, or are they too busy being charmed by his honey words and pearly whites? Maybe it’s a part of his allure. People drool over the secretive ones, don’t they?

(Upon having that thought, you’d feel a shiver go up your spine. You can hear the echo of Dick Grayson’s voice saying, “you’re a secretive one, (Y/N). I’ll admit, it’s kinda cute” somewhere in your mind.)

(If you recall correctly, it was the day where you began to wonder where exactly he heard your name from.)

But you’ve begun to observe this anomaly named Dick Grayson. You’ve begun to pick up on how he carries himself around other people, and something became immediately apparent. Whatever the deal is with weird, closed-off look he has in his eyes… it’s situational. Strategic, even. While you have yet to pick up on the pattern, some conversations — or people, even — warrant shimmering eyes filled with mirth, while others get that plotting, calculating stare.

And, for whatever reason, everything about you seems to earn the latter.

(Like when you think he doesn’t notice you watching him. A seat ahead of you, he’ll carry on with the cheerleader just fine, his eyes sparkling with whatever emotion he desires. Then, when the conversation lulls, he’ll subtly crane his head behind him the slightest bit, icy eyes darting in your general direction.)

(You might be going crazy, but you swear he smirks a fraction of an inch when your gazes accidentally connect.)

So, yeah. Either you’re reading into things way too much, or this guy’s just not what he seems to be on the surface. And if this is really the game of cat and mouse you think it is, you’re pretty sure he knows you’re on to him. Because why else would he give you a peek behind the curtains of his true intentions? Okay, maybe that’s a little too far, as you’re not sure what his true intentions are, but still… something about how he interacts with you — which seems to be a lot, by the way — just has this subtle taunting undertone to everything. Like he knows you know something and no one will believe you.

God, if only you actually knew what he knows you know. It would make this game of mental fuckery much more palatable.

Something is so off about Dick Grayson. You’re not sure if anyone else feels the same way, but it’s just… true. That jolt of fight or flight you get when he’s looking at you has been there since day one, and it will probably continue to be there for as long as you’re in the same classes as him. And you know what doesn’t help? The strange disappearances happening around campus. Because of course there has to be some sort of side plot happening. It’s not just enough that you have this weirdo friendly frat guy wanting to get all-chummy with everyone. Nope; students and faculty alike seem to be dropping like flies, some of them even found dead after an accident or an unfortunately successful suicide attempt.

So, maybe you consume too much true crime content. Maybe people are right about that shit fucking up your mentality, and now you’re just a paranoid loser who thinks everyone is out to get them. But… I mean… a charismatic guy who’s enchanted pretty much everyone within a ten-mile radius? Come on. Where have you heard that one before. The signs are right there. Why are you the only fucking person seeing them?! Why is no one else suspicious of this weirdo who’s obviously up to something?! Why is no one calling him out on this behavior?!

… Because it’s all in your head. Because you’ve officially lost it, and the only weirdo here is you. Because when a girl started having an allergic reaction, the one who was able to control the situation and save her life was none other than Dick Grayson. Because his tone was so serious, his eyes were so focused, and his hands were so gentle yet methodical as he administered her epipen. Because he went through breathing exercises with her to calm her down, and asked with a genuinely worried expression how she was feeling.

Because Dick Grayson is a nice person who wanted to walk her back to her dorm, and all you are is a judgmental creep who comes up with batshit crazy conspiracies when someone looks at them weird.

Maybe nothing is wrong with him. If there was, why would he look so sincere during that whole thing? Aren’t life or death situations the perfect way to pick up on people’s true natures? Being right there, all you saw was a a natural-born leaver commanding the room, eyes ablaze with conviction as he ordered you to hand that girl’s back to him so he can dig for the epi. Sure, he might get a strange look in his eyes every now and then, but does that really matter in the grand scheme of things? As long as he’s got his head on his shoulder when needed, a mischievous glance or two never hurt anyone.

That night, you walked back to your dorm feeling like a piece of shit. There was no plotting. There was no game of cat and mouse. The friendly frat boy was always just that; a friendly frat boy. So, now here you are, even going as far as to take the long way back from your 8 pm lecture in order to fully maximize this time to reflect. Maybe you should somehow apologize to him. While you didn’t outwardly do anything wrong, you’ve always had this slight distrusting attitude towards him, and it was about time you change it. Who knows, maybe you’ll be the one to take initiative and sit next to him. Start the conversation yourself, ask him some questions, just generally return the friendliness he’s always shown you.

That’s when the hairs on the back of your neck began to stand.

You stopped dead in your tracks, your foot barely even flat on the beaten path before you. He was near. You knew he was near. That fight or flight instinct has basically been conditioned to sense his presence at this point, and now here it was, screaming at you that he’s near. Whatever thoughts you had to make amends with Dick Grayson were immediately thrown out in favor of that old, reliable fear.

He’s near, but you don’t see him.

No. You hear him.

He’s humming. Somewhere behind the tall, untamed shrubbery next to the path, friendly frat boy Dick Grayson is humming an unfamiliar tune, his soft voice smooth as a stone in a river. However, what would probably sound soothing to a normal person instead fills you with a sense of dread. What the hell is he doing out here?! Close to 10 in the fucking night, singing a little tune like some fucking creep?

Then, you noticed it. The sounds of something heavy scuffing against the dirt. Or, rather, dragging.

Behind the bushes and trees, Dick Grayson is dragging something. At 10 in the night.

What the actual fuck.

Curiosity is a dangerous thing. As much as you sure as hell wanted nothing to do with whatever he’s doing, a dark voice in your brain — which sounded a bit too close to Dick Grayson’s voice — urged you to look. Come on, just a peek. This bastard’s been playing mind games with you all semester, hasn’t he? Don’t you wanna know what his intentions are for sure? I mean, what kind of a frat boy hangs out in the bushes while he could be out partying on a Friday night?

Isn’t this just weird, (Y/N)?

Before you even knew it, your feet were moving on their own. Gentle steps. Avoid the twigs, avoid the leaves. Do not let him hear you. With a feather-light touch, your hand steadied itself against a nearby tree as you used it for cover.

A few long, quiet breaths. Just to calm your nerves.

Then, you slowly craned your head out from behind the tree.

There he was, slightly hunched over with his back facing you. He had a fist full of something, though you couldn’t tell quite what it was due to the night’s shadows. Dark, inky stains caked his sweater, and while the naïve part of your brain wanted to call it mud, the dread in your gut knew better. You craned your head out a bit further to get a better look at the scene.

A body. In front of Dick Grayson’s hunched over form was a body lying face down. His fist was clutching its hair, assumingely dragging it by the head from… wherever. The new angle also gave you the advantage of seeing Dick’s other hand, clutching what looked to be a hammer cover in… definitely not mud.

He was still humming. That bastard was still humming after doing whatever the fuck he did to that poor person. That person… Dick finally stood up straight, lifting the head with him by their hair… that girl. It was the same one who had the allergic reaction. Bloodied and with a dented forehead — god, you were going to be sick — but you knew it was her. She was limp in his grasp, swaying aimlessly as Dick rotated her a bit as though he was admiring his own handiwork.

He killed her.

Dick Grayson killed her.

You didn’t move. Christ, how could you after seeing something so horrific? The alarm bells in your head were much louder than your own heartbeat, screaming for you to run run run run runrunrunRUNRUNRUNRUN—

His head suddenly swiveled towards you.

No more humming as his gaze found yours.

The two of you were locked in a stalemate, staring at each other with such intensity. Those icy blue eyes held no readable emotion, not even a hint of surprise that you caught him in the act. No; he just stared at you, one hand holding a fist-full of hair and the other absently fiddling with his hammer.

A sly smirk slowly broke out on his face.

He knew you were watching the entire time, didn’t he?

Because he is a plotting piece of shit, isn’t he? This has always been a game of cat and mouse to him, and he knew you were on to him since the beginning. That friendly, charming exterior… the disappearances. Goddamnit, you were fucking right.

Something is so off about Dick Grayson.

And no one will believe you.

#❥ CALL INCOMING: DO YOU LIKE SCARY MOVIES?#❥ TW: YANDERE #❥ PLATONIC YANDERE #❥ ROMANTIC YANDERE #❥ YANDERE DICK GRAYSON #❥ YANDERE DICK GRAYSON X READER #❥ GN READER

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