#using that tag again is literally like coming back from war

[ladykailitha]

The Hellfire Exotic Club Part 14

Here we are again at the end. I'm sad to see this one go. It was a real challenge to see if I could write heavier smut and the answer is "eh, so-so". There should have been more nudity and sex in this thing than there was, but after the fight with Tumblr over the stripper tag I just gave up trying to even tag things properly anymore. Because of the fucking purity police.

But this gets racy. As racy as I get.

So thanks for one hell of a ride!

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13

~

Steve flopped on their sofa with a whine. “Robin... dancing with him just the two of us is going to kill me. I just know it.”

Robin looked over at him from the kitchen with an impressed eyebrow. “You know who to blame.”

“Chrissy,” they said together.

“If she had been dating you,” Steve huffed, laying lengthwise on the sofa and putting his right arm behind his head, “this wouldn’t have happened.”

“Hey!” she protested. “There is no way that that literal goddess is ever going to date a peon like me.”

Steve lobbed a pillow straight at her head. “Only one of us gets to mope at a time, and it’s my turn. Plus you aren’t a pee-on or whatever it was you called yourself. I bet she thinks you’re hot.”

Robin came over with the two bowls of stew she had reheated and handed one to Steve, who promptly sat up straight so she had a place to sit.

“There is no fucking way,” she huffed around a bite of carrot. “Did you see the way she danced with the new Wrath? Micaela has all the right moves, who would want me when they could have that?”

Micaela looked like a Greek statue come to life. She perfect olive toned skin, deep brown eyes and the perfect pout to her lips. She was also married to a guy named Paul, who did construction for a living and didn’t care about the stripping as long as it made her happy.

“I’m pretty sure Paul would take issue with that,” he huffed. “Besides, I’ll make a bet. I’ll ask her tomorrow if she thinks you’re hot and when I win, you have to do laundry for the next month.”

Robin shrieked in outrage. “There is no way, Mr. Clothes Horse that I am going to wash that many clothes for a month.”

“Oh so you agree,” Steve said batting his eyelashes, “that you know she thinks you’re hot?”

She began sputtering and squawking, finally she settled down with her stew and very mumbled, “Curses foiled again.”

Steve kissed her cheek and turned on “Unsolved Mysteries”.

“This show was creepier in the eighties,” she huffed. “Now most of the time it’s just supernatural shit. Robert Stack would appalled.”

Steve waved her off, “Shush! I want to hear about the Chicago Moth Man.”

~

Steve bounded up to Chrissy the next day, grinning from ear to ear. “Hey-ya, hot stuff!”

Chrissy threw her head back and laughed. “What’s happening, yourself, you goober?”

“So...” he began, rocking back on his heels and then back on his toes, “so I have this bet with Robin. If I win she has to do the laundry for a month and if she wins, I have to tell Eddie I like him.”

“Oohh,” Chrissy said, rubbing her hands together, “I almost want to see you lose so you have to tell him. What’s the bet?”

“That you don’t think she’s hot. I said you do, she thinks you don’t.”

Steve smirked as he saw the complete indecision warring on her face. “Damn it.” She stomped one foot dramatically. “That’s really not fair, Steve...”

His grin widened and he knew he had won. “I’ll tell you what, you let me win the bet and I’ll have you help choreograph a dance that will knock all of Eddie’s clothes right off.”

“Tell Robin that not only do I think she’s hot,” Chrissy said returning his grin, “but also tell her to be ready next Tuesday at seven, because I’m taking her out on a date.”

Steve gave her a fist bump and walked away, back to where a very anxious Robin stood, twisting a cloth napkin to death.

“I win,” he said smugly, “and you have a date on Tuesday at seven. Dress nice, but not fancy.”

Robin sputtered and stammered. “I would have thought at the very least she would have gone my way if for the very reason one of you to boneheads needs to say something because even long time regulars are starting to notice the friction between the two of you will light this place on fire.”

“Oh I totally bribed her,” Steve said, smirk never faltering for a moment, “I told her she could help choreograph a dance to actually seduce Eddie.”

“You are so smug,” she said through gritted teeth, pinching his cheek. “I don’t have anything to wear, you know this right?”

Steve waved her off, smacking her hand away. “Go on a shopping trip, it’s not like you’re broke. Hell, we’ll go tomorrow before work. Make you the prettiest butch lesbian there ever was.” He patted her cheek firmly. “Now, I’m going to go shake my ass.”

He walked off as Chrissy walked up to her. “Hey, gorgeous,” she purred, “I’m assuming Steve told you about our date?”

Robin nodded, eyes wide. “I didn’t know you thought that about me.”

Chrissy leaned over the counter, putting her boobs on display. She played with one of Robin’s many necklaces. “I thought that when you got hired, sweetie. This is just me finally taking the plunge.”

She licked her lips slowly as Robin’s cheeks turned bright red, causing her freckles to really stand out.

“Oh.”

Chrissy chuckled. “Such a pretty little thing. I think you have me a disadvantage, Robin.”

“How’s that?” Robin asked, amazed it didn’t come out as complete gibberish. Her cheeks were flushed and she couldn’t even see straight, every fiber of her being was focused on that single point of contact where Chrissy had a hold of her necklace.

“You’ve seen me naked and covered in chocolate sauce,” Chrissy purred, “and I was curious to see if that was on offer.”

How Robin didn’t immediately devolve into a complete buffoon, she had no idea. “Never on the first date.” She almost squeaked when she realized the words that had just come out of her mouth. That’s it. This wasn’t Hellfire Club, this was Heaven. She had died. Clearly.

“Duly noted,” Chrissy said, straightening up. “You’ll be a good girl for me, won’t you?”

Robin nodded and Chrissy waved goodbye over her shoulder. Joe who was the head waiter and her boss patted her on the shoulder.

“Don’t take it too personally,” he said with a huff of laughter. “I’ve seen lesser lesbians turn into gibbering hound dogs when she does that. She’s just a softy, really, she just also loves to blue screen the hell out of potential dates.”

Robin turned to him. “Why is that?”

“Because she wants to set the expectation that she is a stripper,” Joe said with a shrug. “She’s good at her job and she isn’t going to quit for anyone. So if she goes super sexual out of the gate and the person doesn’t mind it, then she knows it’s a safe bet.”

“Oh.”

That made more sense than it didn’t. But now she had figure out how to date the hottest woman Robin had ever met. No pressure.

Right?

~

To say Steve was nervous would be an understatement. He was about to turn an already sexually charged dance between him and Eddie and turn the dial all the up to eleven. He’s not even sure if it could be called “simulated” sex, when they were both going to get naked for a crowd, but it was definitely going to be something.

He had been slowly ramping up the tension between him and Eddie with each week and it was the last Saturday of the month and he was about to blow something. Eddie’s mind or his fucking job.

He really, really hoped it wasn’t his job.

They did their trio dance and Lilith slunk off stage, leaving behind Lucifer and Samael. The looks they were giving each other could have set that stage on fire. Steve was already most of the way red and his wings were tattered. It would not take much for Samael to fall. And fall tonight, he most certainly would.

Steve started out slow. He wanted to make Eddie come to him. He ran his hands all up and down his chest. One hand went up to his throat while the other dipped to press the heel of hand against his aching erection.

The moaned he released was not faked.

Both hands touched his cheeks and then dug into his hair, his hips thrusting out. The audience was hooked but the person he wanted was Eddie.

Lucifer watched with hooded eyes as Steve made love to himself. Then the water fell on Steve’s head and he ripped off his top. The wings were skeletal now, the last bit of feathers having been washed away with all the white.

He was standing there in red boots and g-string, head back and chest out.

The growl from Eddie was primal and Steve wasn’t sure if it was Lucifer or Eddie who made the sound.

But it didn’t matter, it did the job.

Eddie stalked across the stage and pulled their bodies flush together. He lifted one of Steve’s legs up and unzipped the boot, gently pulling it off. That leg went tightly around Eddie’s waist and he did the same with the other leg.

Soon Steve was only wearing the g-string, completely wrapped around Eddie, who was still fully dressed.

With his hand firmly on Steve’s back, Steve lowered himself backwards, arching his back, like those Renaissance painting of fallen angels and deposed saints.

With his free hand Eddie ripped off the harness with the wings tossing them aside to be picked up by one of the other dancers. Then that hand slid over Steve’s chest, down to the front of Steve’s thong and ripped that off as well.

The gasp from the audience and then the roar when Eddie tossed at them was loud.

Not that Steve could hear them over the rush of blood to his head. He wasn’t sure if it was entirely due to hanging upside down or the fact that the only thing that separated him from Eddie was the leather pants he wore as Pride.

Steve wrapped both arms around Eddie’s neck and began to grind against him.

Eddie forcibly set him down and pushed him away.

Steve had nothing to worry about because he knew this was part of the dance and turned toward the patrons.

He danced, reveling in his now naked form, showing off and simpering to the crowd. Then he’s yanked back, into Eddie’s arms.

He smirked and pushed Eddie away, turning back to the crowd. Eddie yanked on his arm again but instead of pulling him close, he pushed him to ground.

Steve stared up at him, propped up on his elbows as he scooted away from Eddie, toward the edge of the stage.

Eddie pulled on his tear away leather pants, leaving him only in the black combat boots he wore.

He stood, straddled over Steve and then knelt on one knee, running his hands over Steve’s torso and then pushed him all the way to ground.

Steve’s arms came up and his hands roamed over Eddie’s legs and ass. Eddie’s other knee hit the stage with a loud thump, causing the audience to jump. They were that enthralled with what was going on on stage.

Eddie slithered down Steve’s body and they both moaned together.

Steve was no longer sure where his body ended and Eddie’s started. It was like they were one.

Eddie stood up and as he straightened, he flipped Steve so he was on his stomach. He knelt back over Steve’s prone body and lifted his head by his hair. Steve knew to rise with it so it didn’t actually hurt, but fuck it was sexy as hell.

And the crowd thought so too.

Steve rose on his arms, stretching his back, like a mermaid pose, head back. Then he went straight down again slapping the stage to make it sound harder than it was.

He rolled over and looked up at Eddie. Eddie beckoned him to him and Steve followed, hypnotized. Entranced.

They danced together, their bodies moving as one.

Then with the dying beats of the song, Eddie dipped Steve, kissing him firmly on the mouth.

The audience went...well wild was too tame a word. Feral. They went absolutely feral.

Someone handed them garters for them put on and get money stuffed into. Once all the money that was stuffed the garters and thrown on the stage was gathered up, Steve and Eddie stumbled into Eddie’s office/dressing room.

Mouths and hands everywhere as they tried to touch as much as possible. As they were already naked or mostly there all it took was a quick tumble onto the sofa and they were really going at it.

“Baby,” Eddie huffed. “I was so hard, I almost came twice.”

Steve moaned underneath him. “Only twice? God if I didn’t have an ex-boyfriend who liked edging me I would’ve come several times.”

Eddie propped himself up on his elbows to look Steve in the eye. “We going to unpack that later when we are both sane again, but for right now I need to see you come!”

“Deal!” Steve cried as Eddie ground down.

The sex was short and explosive, as they had been turned on pretty much from the get go.

Eddie collapsed against Steve’s cum covered chest causing him to let out a pained huff.

“Where the fuck did you learn to dance like that?” Eddie complained. “Have you been holding back on me?”

Steve chuckled. “I had Chrissy help choreograph that in exchange for getting her a date with Robin.”

“That sneaky little minx,” he said with a fond shake of his head. “She is in so much trouble for that.”

“Hey,” Steve protested. “It worked didn’t it?”

There was silence for a beat.

“It did work, right?” he asked shyly.

Eddie raised his head to look him in the eye. “I guess that depends on your end game, if I’m honest.”

“I’m in love with you, Eddie,” Steve said his voice shaking just a little with the raw emotion of it all. “I want to take you dates, I want to wake up next to you, I want to know how you take your eggs so I can make you breakfast in bed. I want it all, with you.”

Eddie sat up and pulled Steve with him. “I want that too. I’m love with you, too. I’ve always been attracted to you. You’ve been nothing but kind to Chrissy, you defended my club against Nancy and Jason, you made it possible for me to really turn this club into something really special. It was good before you came, but you made it great. Of course I want to be your boyfriend, Stevie. I’d be upset if you didn’t want that, too.”

Steve surged forward and kissed him firmly on the lips. “Okay.”

Steve really didn’t feel like walking through the throng of people waiting to get paid, so Eddie loaned him some clothes.

When Eddie opened the door everyone cheered.

“Yeah, yeah,” Eddie huffed. “Just remember I’m still your boss. Speaking of which, let’s get you people paid.”

Jeff and Chrissy came forward the locked box and the tip jar. Eddie counted the money, but instead of Steve on the other side of the desk like he used to do, Steve sat on the corner of the desk watching Eddie work.

After everyone had gotten paid they all shuffled out except Robin, Chrissy, and Jeff.

“Nice to see you two finally worked it out,” Jeff said with a huff of laughter. “I was about to embarrass the hell out of Eddie if something didn’t change by tonight.”

Eddie shuddered. “Glitter and stickers. So many stickers.”

Jeff grinned broadly.

Robin handed Steve a bag. “This has all your stuff in it, like your clothes, wallet, cell phone, and keys. I don’t want to see you home until sometime tomorrow.” She cocked her head to the side. “Mainly because I’m making out with my girlfriend tonight and really don’t want you there.”

She winked at him and then grabbed Chrissy’s wrist and hauled her out of there. Chrissy squawked and wave goodbye, yelling her congratulations over her shoulder as she was dragged along.

“And that’s me out of here, too,” Jeff said jutting his thumb at the retreating pair. “I’ll catch you guys tomorrow.”

Once everyone was gone, Steve smiled down at Eddie.

“Tomorrow,” he said wistfully. “I like the sound of that.”

“I like the sound of an infinity of tomorrows,” Eddie replied.

“Me too.”

They kissed again and walked out to their cars. Steve followed Eddie to his apartment, and just like in the rest of Eddie’s life, just never really left.

Soon he was spending most of his time over there, sometimes for sex, but mostly just being himself.

One Tuesday night when they were curled up on the sofa, Eddie asked him to move in for real.

“I’d really like that,” he murmured against Eddie’s lips.

Steve thought back to that fateful day when Robin came home from getting the job at the club, telling him that a dancer position just opened up and they were desperate. He hadn’t really stripped in a long time, the stripper-cize classes excluded. Those really weren’t the same thing as actually stripping.

But money was running out and he was out of options. So he auditioned using that silly song, hoping to stand out just enough to get the job.

And it instead changed his life.

“I love you, my little devil,” Steve purred.

Eddie’s returning smile was blinding. “And I love you too, angel.”

They kissed happily in their ever after.

~

Tag List: STORY COMPLETE!

1- @itsall-taken @redfreckledwolf @zerokrox-blog @gloomysoup @micheledawn1975

2- @gregre369 ​@a-little-unsteddie @chaosgremlinmunson @messrs-weasley @cryptid-system

3- @maya-custodios-dionach @goodolefashionedloverboi @val-from-lawrence @carlyv @wonderland-girl143-blog

4- @irregular-child @bookbinderbitch @bookworm0690 @forgottenkanji @garden-of-gay

5- @anne-bennett-cosplayer @yikes-a-bee @awkwardgravity1 @littlewildflowerkitten @genderless-spoon

6- @dragonmama76 @ellietheasexylibrarian @thedragonsaunt @useless-nb-bisexual @disrespectedgoatman

7- @counting-dollars-counting-stars @tinyplanet95 @ravenfrog @swimmingbirdrunningrock @lingeringmirth

8- @gutterflower77 @a-lovely-craziness @just-a-tiny-void @w1ll0wtr33 @beelze-the-bubkiss

9- @dreamercec @sadisticaltarts @too-much-tma-stuff @dolphincliffs @chameleonhair

10- @themoonagainstmers @novelnovella

[mossssor]

still thinking about part 13 the dreamlands.......favorite quote from this episode was definitely the one somewhere along the lines of "hang on john i cant hear you over these trees"

[fryingpan1234567]

aaaaaanyways. pride month at Camp Half Blood?

if you remember that one post from a while ago (general hc’s about chb), I did say I would do a fully pride post eventually

so without further ado, I present to all my lovely gay demigods:

PRIDE MONTH AT CHB🗣️🗣️

SO we’ve already discussed the decorations of some of the cabins, like Percy putting rainbow hippocampi scales all over the walls, the Demeter and Persephone cabins growing colorful flowers all over their roofs, the Hecate cabin and its Sentient Gay Door

I like to think the Iris cabin is just fully blasting rainbows all the time it looks like a Minecraft beacon

they play capture the flag every June with a pride flag that has the CHB logo on it

limited edition CHB pride merch😭

Mr. D defending trans campers by driving bigots slightly insane long enough to slap themselves and then go back to normal

Y’ALL KNOW ABOUT THE PRONOUN CORRECTION AIR HORNS? THAT’S THE ENTIRE APOLLO CABIN + LEO AND PERCY

Some ignorant prick about a transmasc camper: “Oh yeah she—“

Percy: *AIR HORN* “IT’S HE, BITCH”

Ignorant prick: “Okay Jesus I’m sorry”

A different ignorant prick: *makes some dumb joke about “always being able to tell” and receives at least seven different air horns from all the Apollo campers in the vicinity*

Leo’s been following this one really irritating chick around all day because she can’t figure out one of his sibling’s genders and blasting her in the face every time she fucks up their pronouns😭😭😭

anyways yeah I like to imagine there’s a demigod pride festival somewhere, maybe in New York

or no there’s demigods everywhere I bet they have parade floats all the time in lots of cities and the Mist conceals the “fireworks” which are actually just godly light shows

Apollo rocks up to camp in a rainbow crop top and a pink drink from Starbucks just to sing Born This Way in the middle of the day and then dip again

Aphrodite blessing random queer couples with finding perfect date setups “conveniently” in their paths

all the gods physically restraining Hera when she tries to go fuck with Jason while he’s on a date w Leo

Percy and Annabeth in matching shirts that say ✨BEST BI✨ with the Best Buy price tag logo in the middle

Nico got glitterbombed on June 1st the second he stepped out of his cabin by the entire Apollo cabin (and Jason) and is still finding sparkles in his hair a week later

Aphrodite kids are walking dictionaries of all the rainbow terms, somehow, and they also all know which days in June are for which awareness or pride or whatever flag

campers who transitioned over the school year and coming back to camp a different gender and their godly parent re-claims them as their true self

Percy “I can’t believe I used to think I was straight” Jackson educating some of the younger campers on bisexuality and how, no, you don’t always know right away

Annabeth “I had a crush on Thalia and Luke at the same time and it was horrible” Chase always reassuring the nervous kids that there’s nothing wrong with being queer (and that she’ll fight any homophobic family members they may have)

actually they kind of all do that

Some little kid: “Well……. I don’t wanna tell my stepdad, he might kick me out”

Percy, remembering that his dad kept Medusa’s head after it got sent to Olympus: “Give me your address, I have an idea”

Piper will verbally eviscerate anybody she catches being even remotely homophobic. I mean she will swipe phones out of her siblings’ hands to tell off some ignorant grandmother

Jason does NOT get into physical altercations outside of sparring and literal war, but the closest he ever got was after hearing someone call Nico a slur (Percy and Leo had to physically drag him away from the other guy)

William Solace has white cowboy boots. I Will Start Sobbing On The Spot

Percy and Jason wore matching skirts for the pride festival and it was great— these 6-foot-plus brick shithouses of heroes who have single-handedly won wars aggressively waving tiny pride flags at each other and dancing to IT GIRL on the quad

Cecil and Lou Ellen made these magic rainbow smoke bombs, crawled up on the roof of the Hermes cabin, and slingshotted them into the masses Just Because™️

(Will’s hair was blue and pink for weeks)

RAINBOW WAR PAINT FOR CAPTURE THE FLAG.

Clarisse fucking kicked someone into the lake because they made fun of one of her siblings’ dyed hair

Connor thought it would be funny to leave a mini pan flag on top of Mr. D’s Diet Coke stash, mostly as a harmless joke, but the next day he noticed Mr. D had tucked it into his horrible Hawaiian shirt pocket like a handkerchief😭

watching Love, Simon in the amphitheater for movie night and half the campers had to excuse themselves early for sobbing too hard

Malcolm and Annabeth reread Red White and Royal Blue every summer. They say they’re Henry and June, Connor is Alex, and Percy is Nora

(this is confirmed when the two of them start a foot fight in the dining pavilion with a Chipotle burrito)

Leo IMing Jo and Emmie to wish them a happy pride (and tell Georgina and Waystation I said hello)

Piper and Leo getting into a HEATED debate about whether Velma Dinkley is a lesbian or not

”YOU CANNOT LOOK AT HER OVERSIZED-SWEATER-OVER-MY-PROM-DRESS ASS AND TELL ME YOU THINK SHE’S TOTALLY STRAIGHT—“

”WHAT SHE AND SHAGGY HAD WAS REAL, BEAUTY QUEEN! HOT DOG WATER AIN’T GOT NOTHIN ON NORVILLE ROGERS—“

”LEO! HER NAME IS MARCIE! AND THEY ARE EACH OTHER’S W A L L P A P E R S .”

Jason, sitting in the middle of them, now deaf in both ears: Lupa give me strength

GUYS PLEASE SEND ME SPECIFIC SHIPS OR CHARACTERS TO WRITE PRIDE HC’S FOR I WOULD LOVE TO🙏🙏🙏🙏

[amourcheol]

ave, general (teaser)

❝The Eagle of Rome has returned to you at last.❞

historical! au | fluff, smut, crack | approx. 15k words

s u m m a r y : after your husband returns from the wars in foreign lands, you could not be more proud to see him be the shining pride of rome. however, even among the celebrations and your own personal news, lee jihoon only wanted one thing—some time alone with you.

c o n t e n t s : roman! au, roman general! jihoon, husband! jihoon, father! jihoon, mother! mc, a lot of historical background and roman terms to add historical accuracy, soldiers! bss + wonwoo and chan, all of them are so annoying it's a wonder they aren't executed, seungcheol is, in a literal sense, a baby, this is a bullying chan campaign, the soldiers do NOT know how to talk to a baby, domesticity <333 mature content ↠ dirty talk, petnames (my love, my sweet, darling, mea vita), fingering, oral sex (f. receiving), slight exhibitionism, unprotected sex (roman contraceptives are dookie), multiple orgasming, slight aftercare

t a g l i s t : @hyuckworld @gyuswhore @lexyraeworld @moonlightwonu @spooky-goose1003 @dvalitaes @cookiearmy @lllucere @syluslittlecrows @mrsjohnnysuh @fancypeacepersona @thepoopdokyeomtouched (send an ask if you wish to be tagged <3)

a u t h o r ' s n o t e : can you tell i have a thing for generals…formally apologising to jay from enha LAWL but a big thank you for gladiator 2 coming out the movie has revived the urge to revamp this fic !! enjoy the teaser everyone <3

back to masterlist

"WHAT IS THE LAUGH FOR?"

“Your commanders, darling,” you mused, wrapping an arm around your husband. “They are more bizarre than usual.”

Exhaling through his nose, he returned your embrace twice over, engulfing you within his hold. “My half-witted commanders,” he reminisced, running his fingers across your back. “They are delighted to be back.”

“I can tell,” you giggled out, leaning into him. “I missed them greatly.”

His face ghosted a little smugness. “But you missed me more.”

“You keep convincing yourself of the notion.”

Feeling his laughter reverberating off him, you felt yourself being pulled at arm’s length, looking up at him once more. Your husband leaned in then, gently pressing his forehead against yours. “No one is at home anymore, vita.”

A raise of your eyebrow. “Chan just asked me to stay here.”

“Oh, you know what I mean,” he insisted, brushing his nose with yours. “We are alone...with no one to bother us again…”

Much as you would like to follow his intentions, you feared the state of the pending party. It had been two years since the Eagle and his centurions’ return—their triumph will be celebrated without fault.

“Jihoon,” you murmured, taking great pains in retracting from his kisses. “I must go.”

His lips trailed down to your chin, making your willpower all the more weak. “Can you not spare me even an hour?”

If you could spare him half that hour, you would have gladly indulged him, but the party arrangements awaited. The soldiers, and your general, deserved the best of welcomes.

So you made yourself separate from his tempting hold, taking a few steps away from him. “I cannot offer even a second, my love.”

The man pretended to be beyond upset at your resistance. He waited till your feet landed on the entryway when he spoke.

“Perhaps it was better you did not give me a mere hour, vita.”

You looked back. Leaning against the stone cot, he let his lips curl upwards. “It simply would not suffice.”

The curiosity in your eyes had him further smirking. “I need an entire day to make up for the two years of absence from you.”

It was sheer luck you were holding onto the doorframe. 

“Careful, love,” he cooed, which only had you stumbling further out of the door in shock. His laughter followed you faintly as you left the room, blood rushing to your cheeks in drastic speed.

You hoped ardently, without shame, that he would carry out his intentions.

[the-californicationist]

Cali's Kinktober: Day 11

Kinktober Masterlist labor ipse voluptas - “there is pleasure in the work” Simon "Ghost" Riley x gn!reader Kinks > massage, workplace sex acts, edge play, men whimpering Full tags on AO3 - MDNI - Read at your own risk.

Simon has been your massage client for years, but when he comes in with a groin injury, your working relationship becomes much, much different.

Gender-neutral reader, no mention of pronouns or genitalia. Some references to past trauma/violence inspired by canon events.

Sometimes, when you were working your hands over the flesh and bones of Simon Riley, you closed your eyes and used your fingers to know him, pretending that your sight was gone from you, letting the scars and the knots in his muscles tell you his story. It was one you’d read before, rubbing his skin like it was a book of braille, letting each ridge and healed wound speak their lines and expound upon his violent past. 

You fanned out your fingers to touch him, wide and spread across his back, rubbing your fine oils into his body and feeling the tension loosen in him as you moved through his pain. You could trace the edges of his old tattoos, finding where the artist dug the needles too deep, black lines that healed through the old, pale cuts. 

His left shoulder told you stories about two knife wounds and a bullet that the medics hadn’t bothered to remove. His right arm had a torn extensor tendon, and for him to stretch it all the way out, you needed to coax the bicep above it, pushing and pulling the muscle like you knew he needed you to, reaching deep within him to find the pliant relief he was looking for.   

You’d been Simon’s massage therapist for almost five years, and you knew as much about him as he did about you. It was strange; you could talk to each other about the deepest parts of yourselves, the way you thought the world should be, about how far human beings could reach into the universe, about space and time, about the rights and wrongs of society, and yet you knew very little of his actual day to day life. 

You knew he was a soldier. He had to tell you that much. When you first saw him lying prone on your table, the blanket covering his ass and not much else, you had to hold your breath to keep from gasping at what you saw. People’s bodies did not disturb you. Wrinkles, acne, hair - it was all just normal humanity. No one was perfect. But, Simon’s body unsettled you. He looked like he’d been through literal hell. Like demons had pierced him with their tridents and burned him with their fire. He’d been shot, stabbed, pierced, bitten, broken, and ruined by war to a particular degree that made you wonder why he hadn’t been retired for these bodily atrocities. 

On your first day together, you’d told him point-blank,

“I’d ask if you had any prior injuries, Mr. Riley, but we only have an hour together.”

He chuckled, smiling at you from his raised position on his elbows, 

“Fair enough. And, call me Simon, if tha’s alright.”

“That’s alright, Simon. Let’s get to work.”

So, you had. In the beginning, the initial awkwardness of the act of massaging someone was the same as it always was. You got to know his body, his preferences. You knew not to press too hard on his right trapezius unless you wanted a fist to dart out and grip you around the wrist. You also knew that he was a bit vocal. Some of the noises he made for you, particularly when you treated his calves and quads, haunted your dreams in the most lurid way. 

But, everything had changed between you when he had come in last week with a sore groin muscle, inside of his right thigh. 

“What’s with the limp?” You’d asked him when he walked into the office.

“Trainin’ day gone wrong. Think you can put it right again, love?”

That Manchester accent with the pet name always stuck you right in the belly, but you pretended like it didn’t. You refused to admit you had feelings for your client. It wasn’t professional, and you were one of the best in your field. It was unethical. But, it was hard to convince yourself of that fact when you remembered how he groaned for you when you relaxed his clenched hamstring a few months ago and he’d cried into the terrycloth face pillow,

“Mngh! Tha’s good, love. Fuck, tha’s it.”

That one was on repeat in your head. 

Today, you gave him some time to get set up in the room, giving him specific instructions to lie on his back first so that you could treat the affected area. You weren’t shy about a little upper thigh, and you’d touched Simon Riley in just about every way possible by now. It’d be old hat. Right?

Wrong.

You’d started on his quad, warming up the muscle to your touch, filling your hands with oil so that they would slip across his hairy skin. But, he’d stopped you, grimacing and grunting through his teeth,

“It’s higher. Fuck me, it stings.”

“Can you point to the pain?” You watched as he moved the thin sheet up and over his hip, trying to shield his cock from you while showing you where he was injured. 

His hand was rubbing down his adductor brevis, the innermost part of his thigh, a muscle that led right to the join of where his leg became crotch. 

“I see. Can you turn your knee out?”

“No,” he growled, obviously trying to hold his pain at bay. 

“Alright,” you reassured him, “It’s okay like this. Just… tell me if I touch you where you aren’t comfortable.”

“I just need you to bloody touch me, love. I’ll take anythin’ you got at this point.”

You looked down at his leg, and then you looked at his cock and balls hidden by the sheet. Back to the leg. Back to his cock. 

Stop it! Stop. Don’t look at it. You punished yourself, but that only made you want to look at it again. 

If you didn’t start massaging him, he was going to know you were nervous, and you didn’t want him to feel uncomfortable, so you poured more oil into your hand and started at the lowest possible point before gently working your way up the muscle. 

The noise that came out of him was downright pornographic. 

“Are… are you alright, Simon?” You asked, stopping to let him recover.

He nodded, biting down on his fist to stop himself from crying out again.

You repeated the movement. Another delicious grumble came rolling out of his chest. He was breathing hard, and you could see his enormous core flexing and expanding under the stress. 

You moved your hand back and forth over the muscle, working it over and over, feeling the tension loosen under your touch. But, as he became more and more pain free, his body started to get worked up in a different sort of way. 

You’d tried to stay away from the sheet, but there was only so much room down there, and his giant prick was hanging against your wrist as you rubbed him. It wasn’t his fault. He’d covered himself. There really wasn’t anything wrong, per se. It was just a body part. But, it gave him away.

By the time he had relief in his muscle, his immense rod was standing at full attention, erect and joyful in your ministrations. He was so big that he was tugging the sheet from the other side of the table, lolling up his abdomen and reaching much higher than his navel. 

The sheet was doing very little to protect his modesty. 

“Does that feel better, Simon?” You asked, trying to hide the nervousness in your voice.

“Aye, love. Feels fuckin’ brilliant. Little higher, yeah?”

He still hadn’t opened his eyes, and if he knew he was hard, he didn’t apologize for it. If you moved your hands higher, you’d be pressing into his pubic mound, basically massaging the base of his cock. So, you moved just the smallest bit higher, trying your best to avoid his fully hard dick. 

“Mmfff-fuck. Tha’s so good.”

You couldn’t stop staring at him while you rubbed his groin. Every time you pulled the muscle, his cock would flag, and every time you pushed back up, kneading him and helping him relax, his blood would pump through his shaft, making him throb. It was intoxicating. 

Then, you noticed that he had stopped making noises. You looked up and, to your horror, he was watching you gaze longingly at his phallus, like you were a dog starving for a bone. 

You looked away, quickly finding a spot on the floor, but it was too late.

He didn’t say anything. He didn’t have to. His eyes locked onto yours and he took your hand in his gently, and slowly dragged it up the body of his cock all the way to the swollen head. Then, he put his hands back at his sides and settled in, looking just as neutral as he usually did when you prepared to massage any other part of him. 

Was he really asking you to do this? Were you seriously about to give Simon a happy ending in a professional massage office? 

He felt your hesitation, and he smiled at you,

“Go on, love. Touch me how you need to touch me.”

You rubbed more oil on your hands and turned down the sheet, tucking it away as if you were exposing an arm or leg or some other appendage, trying to be as professional as you could despite the fact that you were about to do an incredibly heinous thing. 

But, you desperately wanted to touch him, and you didn’t think you’d have another chance. He’d probably never want to make an appointment here again. So, you decided to seize the moment. 

You started at his base, massaging the pubic mound around his cock, the tendons and flesh that supported his length, and then you moved to the bottom of his shaft. Carefully, you moved your thumbs over his wide shaft, making small circles of firm pressure, feeling the tension throbbing inside of him as you began to touch him there. 

Then, his moans. But, they were softer this time. It was a side of him you never got to see, an ultimate vulnerability. He was trusting you more now than he ever had. 

You moved up his shaft in a methodical way, telegraphing your movements, making sure he knew where you were going to touch him next. No surprises. 

Finally, you made it all the way up to his cockhead. You spent plenty of time rubbing your fingertips over his sensitive frenulum, touching the crown only when you knew he was ready, smearing your oil over his foreskin and pulling it down to reveal his swollen glans. 

He hissed, so sensitive under your touch. You paused, speaking low and even, trying to make your voice sound calm,

“Everything alright, Simon?”

“Mm, fuckin’ hell, too good.”

“Remember to take long, deep breaths. It helps release any tension you might be experiencing,” you teased him with your therapy voice, trying to get a rise out of him more than you already had. 

He looked down at you, incredulous, and then cocked a grin when he saw that you were playing with him. 

You rubbed his full length, clasping both of your hands around him and stroking him from base to tip and back again. Never too fast, never too slow; you always went at the exact speed that caused him to throb, knowing that you were milking him just on the edge of pleasure. If you went faster or gripped him harder, he would come, and you weren’t ready for that yet. So, you edged him, knowing his tells, listening to the timbre of his moans. You’d had five years to listen to this man when he found physical relief, so you used it against him. 

Just when he would get close, you’d return to his base, making circles in his lower abdomen, ignoring his sensitive cock, listening to him chuff and growl in frustration. But, he didn’t ask. Never did he put his desire into words. It would make it real. It would ruin the moment. Right now, you could both still pretend that he was getting a massage. 

You made your way back up, toying with him, bringing him moaning and whimpering back to the edge before sending him away again, dragging him back down in a torrent of huffing breaths and a furrowed brow. Then, you let go of him entirely, covering him back up with the sheet and stepping away from the table.

“Love, please…” He whined aloud, his voice demonically fractured and deep, resonating in his chest, staring up at you like you’d stuck him with your own blade, an unexpected betrayal.

“I’m afraid our time is up, Simon.”

“Like hell it is,” he grunted, leaping up from the table and towering over you. 

“Your injury seems to have responded nicely to our treatment, and I can –”

Simon grabbed you around the nape of your neck, dragging your body up against his, using his other hand to fist his cock, holding it out for you to grab.

“Finish what you started, love, or I’ll finish it in you.”

His eyes were nothing but serious, and you were so turned on by his fiery passion, you grabbed his cock, knelt down on the floor and fed him into your mouth. Only the head would fit at first, but that was enough. The obscene cries that came out of his throat told you everything you needed to know about his pleasure. 

You popped his head out of your mouth and jerked him, fast and hard, smirking from your knees, 

“C’mon then. Finish it in me.”

The look of shock that painted his face was like a prize that you treasured for yourself, and as you bobbed your head back and forth, sucking him as best you could, he leaned his free hand against the wall and curled his fingers into your neck even tighter. 

“Mngh… mngh… mngh… Shit! M’gonna come, love. Gonna come… fuck!”

He tried to pull away, worried that you would not want to take him in your mouth, but you sucked him deeper, keeping his pounding head sealed inside your lips. He started to orgasm, and it filled your tongue, forcing you to swallow if you wanted to breathe. You swallowed more and more of his salty cream, lapping at his drooling head, slurping and sucking to your heart’s content. 

“Goddamnit… fuck! Fuck, holy fuck…” He was coming apart above you, his release so pure and powerful that you watched him tremble, his eyes rolling back in his head like a shark ready to bite, and you felt like you were on top of the world. 

His shaft kept throbbing, spilling more and more of his come into you, and you kept sucking him, hoping to get every last drop. 

Then, he let go of your neck and moved his hand to cup your cheek, touching you with gentle adoration,

“Bloody hell, love. What was that?”

You popped him out of your mouth once more and gave him a long lick, a cunning grin on your face,

“Injury treatment?” 

“Fuck me, I’m still injured. C’mere.”

[ssspideysense]

✧˖° pretty boy

summary: peter’s a little bit of a people pleaser— mostly when you’re the person in question.

pairing: mcu!peter parker x reader

tags: fluff, undefined relationship, no pronouns used for reader

wc: 1.4k

“Stay still.”

And he tried.

Peter tried to hold himself still like a statue as an unbelievably soft hand cupped the side of his cheek. Your fingers were warm and your skin was smooth and your face— it was right up in his face, twisted with a look of concentration.

He contemplated holding his breath, too, but he could smell your shampoo, and he wasn’t quite ready to give that up yet.

You carefully swept the black pencil along Peter’s bottom lash line. The foreign sensation startled him, forcing him to blink, but he tried to resist the urge to pull away.

Makeup. He was letting you put makeup on him.

It wasn’t the worst thing in the world. You’d shaped his eyebrows with the tiniest little brush he’d ever seen, drawn on him with a couple of different types of pencils, and patted some pink onto his cheeks. Peter didn’t really know what was going on, but it didn’t really matter once your face lit up and you scooted so close to him your knees smacked against each other.

The relative quiet in his room only did so much for his frayed nerves. What if May skirted in without knocking? What if Ned decided to come over unannounced again? Admittedly, Peter couldn’t work out which possibility was worse.

But he could count your eyelashes right now. He could see all the little flecks of color in your irises, even in the shitty lighting from his desk lamp. There wasn’t anywhere more appropriate for him to look as you painted on your canvas, and he thanked the universe that he had enough time to brush his teeth before running out the door that morning.

“Peter, hold still,” you warned again, shooting him a less than amused look.

He smiled and chuckled a bit, though it was more automatic than anything. “You’re literally in my eye.”

“I’m not in it— don’t be a baby.”

You shifted the hand on his cheek and instead laced it into his hair, holding him still while you added a few finishing touches to the smudged eyeliner.

His heart had never beaten faster. Your firm, secure tangle into his wild locks kicked up a mass of butterflies in his stomach. You guided his head back, enough so he was looking up at you— his head tilted, his breath caught in his throat.

He wouldn’t exactly call it a relationship, the… thing you two were tangled up in. He would, if he could, because he really wanted to— but you hadn’t exactly discussed that sort of thing yet. Feelings were up in the air like party balloons, just waiting to burst from the building tension.

You were closer now than when you started, legs saddled on either side of his own, and you were unbothered, even when his hands accidentally brushed the sides of your thighs as he fidgeted. The light pressure of you perched on top of him while he sat stretched out over his Star Wars bed sheets was the grounding he needed to keep himself from floating away.

“Aaaaand… done,” you used your finger to smudge out some of the dark lines you’d carefully laid down on Peter’s face. You leaned back a tad, examining your handiwork with your fingers still intertwined into his curls. “See? It makes your eyes pop.”

Peter couldn’t care less what he actually looked like at the moment. He’d forgotten exactly what you’d said to get this to happen in the first place, but it didn’t matter. He just knew that he’d do it again, probably without question next time. The electric buzz of wild wings fluttering in his stomach was enough of a reason— your smile as you gently tugged on his hair was yet another.

A smile crept onto Peter’s face as he looked up at you. “And it only took you, like, forty minutes.”

You scoffed, releasing his hair. The bed creaked with the swing of your leg as you shifted to walk across the room to his desk. Casual as ever, like you hadn’t just stopped and restarted his heart about five times, you tossed the eyeliner pencil into your open backpack. “Well, it would’ve been faster if you didn’t fight me in the beginning,” you mused.

He’d opened his mouth to protest, but promptly closed it when his aunt’s voice filtered through his bedroom door. “It’s about that time, kiddos,” May called, rapping against the wood a few times for good measure.

Neither of you were kiddos anymore, but May never listened to Peter’s soft protests about the topic anyway. She’d just recently lifted the “keep the door cracked” rule after Peter’s birthday a few months ago. It wasn’t time to push it.

And you groaned, grumbling about the loss of time during your very focused mission. You began gathering your things — beauty supplies, a half-eaten bag of beef jerky, your notebooks that went completely unopened this entire “homework session” — and shoved them into your backpack.

Peter stood to his feet. “Wait, how do I wash this stuff off?”

In a show of faux offense, you clutched your imaginary pearls and gasped. “So eager to erase all of my hard work? You haven’t even seen how pretty you are yet,” your light laughter made the corners of his lips twitch up.

While you pulled on your jacket, Peter chanced a glance at himself in the mirror atop his dresser. To his surprise, there wasn’t some sort of clown staring back at him. He peered at his eyelashes and his cheekbones and his newly defined eyebrows— it was a little startling, pulling a chuckle from his chest, but he didn’t look quite as insane as he pictured in his head.

Your visage appeared behind him in the mirror, lips curled up with a wicked tinge of sweet amusement. “Do you feel bonita?”

“I feel bonita.”

“Wonderful, because you look bonita.” Your hand ruffled his hair, soft and playful, and the ghosts of your fingers gripping into his locks just minutes ago danced around his thoughts.

Peter chuckled and shook his head. “Am I stuck like this forever now?”

Behind him, you slung your backpack over your shoulder. “Do guys not wash their faces before bed? Just take a shower, stinky.”

He mocked your words under his breath which earned a firm punch to the shoulder and a stifled chuckle. He wanted to say more, more of something maybe smart or witty or funny, because you were always smart and witty and funny, but his brain was a useless piece of meat at the moment.

“I shower every day, thank you very much,” he managed.

“Oh, and now you’re lying to me? My heart can’t take this.”

Peter’s own heart thumped with your sarcasm.

“Never. You know I’m a bad liar,” he continued, because, despite himself, he couldn’t help but bounce off of the banter that felt so natural between you.

A small hum left your lips. You eased a bit closer, examining your artwork again on his heated face. “Yeah, you always get all blushy and stuttery when you’re nervous,” one of your hands graced his jaw, tilting his head from side to side as you spoke oh so casually, “plus, you talk a lot louder. It’s kinda cute.”

“That’s not true, I don’t do that,” Peter complained, proving at least two of your points immediately, and his adam’s apple bobbed with a thick swallow.

That hand that laid under his ear gently patted his flushed cheek a few times for emphasis.

“You sure about that?” you smiled, the light gloss on your lips glinting in the low light of his bedroom.

“Y—Yeah,” his voice cracked, and he cleared his throat immediately after, “yeah, yes. I’m sure. Totally sure.”

And you couldn’t tuck away your smile, even when you swept in to press a quick kiss to his lips.

Peter leaned in eagerly, humming a little in surprise. His eyes fluttered shut, his fingers jumped to your waist— this wasn’t exactly how he pictured your first kiss, but he sure as hell wasn’t gonna fight it just because he was in eyeliner.

But you pulled away all too soon, which could’ve been any amount of time, as far as Peter was concerned. He looked down at you with his doe eyes, that boyish grin crooked and giddy on his flushed face.

Your voice was honey, smooth and sweet just like the way you looked at him.

“Whatever you say, pretty boy.”

[avocado-writing]

Poly aziracrow based on 2x04, where Crowley and R react to Aziraphale during this scene👀

https://vm.tiktok.com/ZM2KFemoQ/

notes: yes. this isn’t the first time I’ve had a request about his voice in this scene. and I will NEVER get tired of them ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

pairing: aziraphale x reader x crowley

rating: M (smut at the end)

tags: the light, the dark, and the space in between-verse; references to ptsd; slightly Dom!Aziraphale

You hate this bloody war. 

You’ve been part of a few, and all of them have left their scars on you. In you, buried in your soul. You remember your time in those trenches barely thirty years ago and bile claws at your throat. 

No. Don’t think about that. Concentrate on this. Concentrate on this horrid little demon who’s threatening the two people you love. Hands behind you, you finger a decorative paperweight, wondering if minions from hell are susceptible to being thwacked over the back of the head. 

He finishes his little tirade and tries to read Aziraphale’s name from a book (you’re amazed that the cretin is literate). But his demonic lips can’t make heads nor tails of the syllables. 

“Azil-pha-pha-la-luh—”

Aziraphale’s brow furrows just slightly, lips purse.

“Aziraphale.”

It’s not often you see your angel reach the end of his tether. He is a holy being after all; the pinnacle of patience, epitome of virtue. But sometimes, when something grinds his gears just right, that voice will come out. 

It does something to you and Crowley both, and the two of you exchange a glance across the room. This will be explored later. 

The demon, irritated, snaps his little book shut, then does a double take as his gaze passes over you. He didn’t even notice you were here. You try to look the picture of innocence as you ready the paperweight, thinking about the best way to swing a bludgeoning weapon when he has that ridiculous hair. 

“And you? What’s going on with you, why are you here?” He steps forward and takes a deep sniff. “You don’t smell divine.”

“Oh god, don’t bloody smell me!” you hiss, planting your hand on his chest and shoving him backwards. Aziraphale and Crowley move towards you to intervene if needed, but you wave them off. 

“Don’t bother with him, nightingale,” Crowley sighs, voice unbothered and bored, “he’s not worth your effort.”

You turn to the mirror in the dressing room instead and focus on smoothing out your clothes, ignoring the foul little gremlin until Crowley and Aziraphale sort him out. Which they do, inevitably, because they’re very clever and wonderful. The three of you head back to the bookshop for a very necessary glass of wine, and within the hour you’re all piled on the sofa, slightly blotted and very glad for each other’s company after a rough day. 

You and Crowley are either side of Aziraphale, each with a leg hooked over one of his plush thighs. You’re doing that thing they love where you compliment them about how smart they both are, and they get all smug and silly (and you love it); but halfway through you catch Crowley’s eye behind those dark little glasses and something shifts subtly. 

“You know, angel, you really gave that lapdog a dressing down earlier.”

“Oh, well, I’m not sure I’d go that far,” Aziraphale says, but he’s all puffed up like he gets when he’s flattered. Crowley runs a finger up the seam of his trouser leg, gently, slowly. 

“And you know what really sealed the deal? That voice you used on him,” you continue. “There was something quite dominant about it. Sexy.”

You snake your hand up his chest. Finally he cottons on. 

“Oh.”

“I think we both just wondered what it might take to get you to use it again.”

Aziraphale takes a final sip of his wine before carefully placing the glass on the table. He sits back, looking between the two of you, and there’s no missing the glint in his eye. 

“If you wanted me to tell you what to do,” he says lowly,

and you shiver, “you need only ask. I’m sure I’ll do it if you both behave.”

Crowley shifts. You can see the effect Aziraphale’s had on him: the tightening of his trousers, the bob of his adam’s apple as he swallows. 

“So. Will you behave?”

“Yes,” you and Crowley both whisper at once, voices thin and needy. 

Aziraphale smiles. 

“Then I think you’re both wearing far too many clothes.”

Your clothes end up a muddled pile on the floor, and between the two of you, Aziraphale doesn’t leave the couch for the rest of the evening. He has you ride his thigh while Crowley swallows him down his pretty little throat, whispering his praises to both of you in that delicious voice. 

“Look at you both. Being so good for me. I love you both so much, my darlings.”

You bury your face in his shoulder, face burning with desire. He has Crowley fuck you over the arm of the couch as he watches the show, palming himself through his trousers, telling you where to touch each other. You’re happy to be his puppet, his plaything, anything. 

So long as he keeps talking.  -

taglist: @angiestopit @dazed-soul  @foolishprincipalitee @smile-eywa@staygoldsquatchling02 @underratedboogeyman @specter-soltare @candlewitch-cryptic @cool-ontherun-world @emilynissangtr @willbedecided @bdffkierenwalker @cool-iguana @ilyatan @civil-groupie @willyoubethepookietomypookster

[1onelypoet]

stuck by the glue pt3 || op81 smau

a/n: yes the kitties are named simba and monet, i have a vision. also sorry this one is later than usual, school is taking up wayyy too much of my time

paring: oscar piastri x singer!reader

fc: beabadoobe

warnings: very mild cursing

yourusername

liked by lilymhe, yourbff, oscarpiastri and others

tagged yourbff

yourusername woke up on the beach 🐚🌊☀️

view comments

laufey aaaand the mystery man appears again

hugs4y/n LAUFEY TELL US WHAT U KNOW 🙏

yourbff the white boy has grown on me

yourusername he says hi 🫡

y/nupdates ur literally drop dead gorgeous

lilymhe me and alex are coming with next year

yourusername @/alex_albon get ready alex_albon I don't don't have a choice do I? lilymhe no ❤️

yourusername posted to their story

[caption: warm welcome from the children]

seen by oscarpiastri, yourfriend1, taylorswift and others

oscarpiastri give lots of kisses to simba for me and monet yourusername ofc they miss their dad oscarpiastri their dad misses them

oscarpiastri

liked by danielricciardo, mclaren, f1gossip and others

oscarpiastri Back to work now 👍

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v.bot_ass stoppp this is so cute

leclercbrothers his gf looks so pretty too lola-sainz ikr, idk if i want to be her or be WITH her

daniel3.jpg he lives!!

logansargeant ngl I was getting a little concerned too

dr3andmv33 LMFAO DANIELLL

mclaren Glad you had fun!

itsfridaythennn im picturing admin typing this while their eye twitches 💀💀 c_squared wait im confused, why would they be upset? itsfridaythennn he softlaunched his gf c_squared wouldn't he have to tell them before he does that? itsfridaythennn idk it was just a joke

yourusername

liked by williamsracing, alex_albon, oscarpiastri and others

tagged williamsracing, logansargeant, alex_albon, lilymhe

yourusername zandvoort ft. p8 for alex 🗣🗣

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lilymhe STOP I LOOK SO GOOFY

yourusername wdym, u look amazing?

lilymhe P8 FOR ALEXXX 🎉🎉

yourusername AA23 🔛🔝

williamsracing Loved having you!

mclaren You free next week? 😉

yourusername yes... 🤓 op81updates WAR IS OVER 🙏🙏 landoscar FINALLY OMFGHG

landonorris wag life

deleted by landonorris

simplylovelyyy did u guys see landos deleted comment 😭😭

[n3ptoonz]

'In For It'

THANKS FOR 200+❤️❤️❤️

Pairing: Liu Kang/GN!Assassin!Reader

Fandom: Mortal Kombat 1 (2023)

Warnings/tags: SMUTTY EXPLICIT IM TALKIN NASTYYY, pwp, spanking, BJ/face-fcking, reader is bound in chains, fingering, reader is a traitor!!, crying, begging, rough seggs, overstimulation, orgasm denial, hair pulling, you pissed off a god bro WHAT WERE YOU THINKING

reference post

Word count: 2.3k+

Were you crazy? To be swayed by a man like Shang Tsung was a punishable crime by God, and it certainly was about to be. You didn't exactly choose war with a God, but you were in for it. You defied peace the day you chose to not learn from Bi-Han's betrayal and go off on your own selfish path.

You were caught slipping. Making the foolish and arrogant decision to bring yourself back to his mansion. Thinking you could sneak in and take him out per Shang Tsung's request. He set you up for failure, and he knew this. However, instead of being sentenced to death like he thought would happen, there you sat: on your knees before the God of Fire and tears in your eyes. The cold chain around your neck and wrists behind your back clanging around in the silent room made shivers run down your spine.

Your weapon of choice was split in half on the ground behind you, nearly everything knocked over in the room. Any mortal that was able to piss off such a merciful and gracious God had to be out of their mind, and Liu Kang had no shame letting you know that.

"You disobey me, run off with the same sorcerer that tore apart Earthrealm's main defense, and come back here with the foolishly arrogant idea that you could kill me. Am I getting that right?" he said, pulling you forward as you were in between his thighs. He sat above you with his glowing eyes burning through your gaze, and the cloth that barely covered his dick sat right next to your face.

You had nothing to say. Humiliation ran its course throughout your entire body. What the hell were you thinking? Defeating a God? Seriously? Shang Tsung's words must have really been sweet like honey in order for anybody to just up and believe they could take out a God that was once betrayed by someone he thought highly of.

"Nothing to say? You only planned to bring my head to him as a gift, and no witty remark? Open your mouth." he demanded. You looked up at him confused and beads of tears at the corners of your eyes. Was he asking you to say something? Or literally open your mouth?

Your tears meant nothing to him. Neither did the shivering of your bare body in front of him. He used his free hand to grab both sides of your face and physically part your lips.

"I said to open your mouth." he repeated, gesturing for you to follow his orders. You slowly did so and waited for his next commands.

"Tongue out." he said. As soon as you did that too, he simply removed the cloth and took his dick in his hand to hold it in front of your face; right between your eyes.

"You don't want to be my warrior? Fine. You want mercy? Earn it." he continued, pulling you forward and directly over his lap. The mere sight of him half flaccid and still looking relatively big enough to fill your entire mouth made your head spin. It didn't help that the man before you was full of tattoos that complimented his figure and personality so well.

You slightly leaned forward and attempted to take all of him in your mouth in one go. You had stopped just an inch above the base before the tip kissed the back of your throat. He groaned at the warm wet feeling of your tongue sliding against the underside. Before you could go back up, he kept your head there for a moment. Thoroughly enjoying the feeling of you regulating your strained breaths.

Tears began to form in your eyes again, but the power he was asserting over you was turning you on to another level. You couldn't help but softly moan against him, earning a chuckle rumbling through his chest.

"So you enjoy this? I should've know you blatantly went against me for a reason other than glory." he said, pulling your head up by your hair and hearing you gasp at the new air that filled your lungs. Your eyes were teary, nose was sniffing, and yet the smug smile was back onto your face. It was starting to excite you, and he knew this.

He dipped you back in again, this time at a set pace. The grip on your hair never let up. This was your punishment whether you liked it or not, and he wasn't going to be any nicer anytime soon.

You could literally feel him fully get hard as you sucked him off. The lewd sounds you made every time you went down deliciously filled the room, alongside the chains of course. The pace only got faster and faster as he used you as he pleased, and you honestly started to wonder if you could get off untouched like this. Anyone would be a lying fool to say Liu Kang wasn't sexy as fuck. So to be used like this by him? It'd be crazy if you didn't get off.

He was getting closer to his climax as he bobbed your head up and down. It was up until now when he decided to stop your head at the base again to cum down your throat, the tip bypassing the uvula to successfully not escape your mouth.

"Ahh yes, take all of it." he said, fully letting go of your hair to let you breathe again. But your "freedom" didn't last very long as he took your jaw into his hand. "You think I didn't notice you desperately trying to squeeze your thighs together for friction? Poor soul."

He released the chains around your neck, but not your wrists, so they remained behind you. You shakily stood up as he told you to, feeling the blood rush back to your legs, but quickly got pulled over his knees. He had you across his lap and ass up, letting his warm hand palm your ass with no shame. You surely knew how to keep your ass maintained if nothing else through training, and he secretly loved that the most about you.

"Do you want me to take you? Yes or no?" he asked, squeezing at the soft flesh. Your next words would've surely came out shaky, as it was difficult to think straight with the most powerful man in the world caressing your ass like this. All you could muster was a whimper, but he didn't like that.

His hand came down harshly on your left cheek before he rubbed it, causing you to writhe and wriggle in protest, but his other hand was able to keep you in place.

"I will ask one more time. Do you want to be taken by a God? Once you experience heaven through sex with one, you'll come crawling back when I'm finished with you. I won't be doing any of the sort until you verbally express your feelings."

You pant and whine beneath him. You so desperately needed to be fucked by him so badly, you couldn't even recognize yourself. Just an hour ago you swore to the Elder Gods you hated his guts. And now you wanted him to rearrange yours.

"Please, Lord Liu Kang..." you said, voice just above a whisper. You hadn't called him that in a while, and how easily it rolled off the tongue after you claimed you wanted him dead just as bad as Shang Tsung did, it was really a mystery.

"Please, what?" he asked sternly, purposely running his ring and middle finger along your hole. He knew this would elicit brain fog further into your mind. He could feel you shudder from this, even your teeth slightly chattering.

"I need you...to fuck me...I-I can't-" your words slurred as you kept talking, and the room around you became fuzzier by the second. You were dangerously in need of this man inside of you and you needed it now.

He hummed in satisfaction from your response, allowing his two fingers to enter you slowly just to see what would happen. He'd be glad to fulfill your desires, even if you were a traitor to your own realm. But who would he be if you just gave in so easily? You still had to learn your lesson.

You silently cursed the deeper he went. The way you swallowed his fingers was a wonderful sight to him on its own, so he had even more reason to drag this out as long as he wanted to.

"Please- Fuck-" you mumbled, now remembering this wasn't supposed to be a straight up fun time for you. You were still the same one who dared to go against Fire God Liu Kang.

He didn't acknowledge you and just kept going at a slow pace. In, out, in, out. Subconsciously your body lifted to meet his rhythm and get him to somehow get a little deeper, but he pulled back and slapped your ass again.

"You will wait." is all he said, soothing the spot he just hit. You want to cry and throw a tantrum. You'd think the normal way of torture--something like getting beaten up or slapped around for your wrongdoings, maybe even a death threat--would be easier to handle than whatever the fuck this was. He's just too good at this. It made you start to rethink your life decisions.

He fingered you once more, this time faster so you could reach climax quicker. You moaned loudly with every pump, not knowing you'd feel that burn in your abdomen so quick. You pleaded over and over again just for this release.

Right as he felt you squeeze around his fingers...he stopped. There was no time to express the devastation that was the sudden emptiness as he quickly picked you up and pushed you against the nearest wall with your back facing him. You lightly winced at the cold feeling of it pressing against your cheek, but was all too focused on getting demolished.

He pressed himself against you, letting himself hang between your ass to hear you whimper and softly cry. "Some assassin you are. Begging for me to be buried deep inside you, I should've had you beg for your life, but that time has passed, hasn't it?"

He wrapped one arm around you as he quickly and harshly slipped inside without warning, waking you from whatever trance he had you under. He kept his hips still while you adjusted to his size. Everything around you was becoming warped and blurry, there was some drool already forming at the corner of your mouth.

"There was no need to disobey me. Had you expressed this dire need for me before, there would've been a chance at me considering it." he said, pulling back and thrusting into you again with the same force. You cried out in pleasure mixed with pain, but you wanted more. You squirmed in his hold while squeezing against him to signal for him to move. With that action alone, you were met with a dark chuckle behind you.

He gave in this time by moving his hips, but the pace started agonizingly slow. "When I first got word of your treachery, I thought you incorrigible. Now? I should've figured you acted out to get me out of character. Do you regret coming back here to finish me? Hm?"

"N...No..." was really all you could say. Before all of this came to be, you two had fought it out. You were certain you could at least hurt him well enough to report back to Shang Tsung. A small part of you was okay with losing to him though...From the moment his hand was on your throat, your quest to defeat him was a lost cause.

"Didn't think so." he said while increasing the pace. Your legs were on the brink of collapse with how good he felt; him hitting that spot effortlessly.

"Ah! Liu Kang, please-!" you pulled against your restraints, only seconds away from release. Right at the last second, Liu Kang pulled right out, but didn't let go of you. Your eyes were now full of tears once again, being reduced to a sniffling mess. He shushed you as he rubbed circles on your waist.

"Tell me one thing, and you'll have your release." he said, "After today, are you going to come after me again?"

"No! No, I swear, my Lord. I won't do it again! I learned my lesson, please! I'll even break ties with Shang Tsung!" you frantically said. Satisfied with your answer, at the snap of his fingers the chains fell off your wrists and you gasped.

"Perfect." he whispered as he grabbed under your knee and pulled your leg up. Both your hands met the wall to keep balance, and he just shoved himself right back in.

It didn't take you long to cum with how fast and accurately he was hitting your sensitive areas, but he never slowed down. You scratched against the wall as your senses went crazy. Getting fucked through your high by a God was never something you thought would happen in this life, but you're almost glad you pissed him off.

Almost.

After another good 30 seconds, he slowed down and your body was starting to become limp. All your energy reached depletion. He gently lowered your leg and carried you to sit in his lap. He could feel the heat emitting from your skin as he wiped the sweat from your face.

"Worry not, I will take care of you. Just promise not to go behind my back again." he said. You closed your eyes as your head laid upon his chest and whisper,

"Promise."

[mikkaeus]

house md hilson fic rec - medium to long fics (10k+)

Other house rec lists: short fics | episode tags | postcanon | infidelity trope (all of these are mutually exclusive apart from the infidelity one) // Edit: I added the longer postcanon fics to this reclist as well because this one got the most traction!

These are all House/Wilson unless otherwise stated. Before we get into the fics, here are some of my fave authors that have written several house fics.

fourteencandles: im literally in love with them . 10/10 writing no notes. also long fics?? hello???

ictus: this author has the range! from emotional to fluff to funny. very smooth writing. all of their fics have different vibes which was fun to read. they’re all very good. 

Transformatron: fics that are transcendent and porny, all featuring a d/s undertone or theme (wilson as the dom)

Namaste (livejournal / ff.net): Some short fics, some much longer ones. Mostly gen focussing on H&W friendship, with some fics on canon pairings. Interesting character studies and discerning prose.

In order of length. *faves, ***underrated faves

*Brain Damage by fourteencandles (8k) (Ok I know this isn’t over 10k but I wanted all of their fics on one post and it’s close enough so.) This was brilliant. Like a real episode of House, with Wilson as the unfortunate patient-of-the-week, with bonus House/Wilson. Characterisation was bang on, and the plot was original and engaging and had a satisfying conclusion. Love to see House taking care of Wilson.

Down to the Water + Bound for Home by blackmare (~10k) Aftermath of season 4. House and Wilson go on a road trip. Quiet and sad and fragile, with excellent writing. This fic appears to have been fairly well known in lj days but I don't think a lot of newer people know about it.

*A Smaller World by fourteencandles (10k) The thing between them works, if Wilson doesn't push for more. God I’m so soft. I have so many feelings!!! In love with this established relationship hilson, still a little precarious, but with Wilson adapting, and House willing to put in effort.

*What's Past by fourteencandles (10k) The guy who used to have Wilson's job comes back for a visit, and it turns out they have more in common than Wilson ever knew.

*Touch Therapy by nomad (10k) It's not that House needs the human contact. It's just that when you're sharing an apartment, these things happen sometimes. Light hearted and funny, canon divergence from when Wilson’s staying on House's couch in s2. This is pretty much the homosexual waters have started flowing in House's direction post. Excellent dialogue.

***not another medical drama series (10k) by captainharkness Retelling of season 1 with House and Wilson as an established relationship. Great slice of life stories! Ongoing. The first is H/W POV, the second is Cameron, and the third is Chase. My favourite is definitely the second one (someone else’s story). I adore seeing H/W through the ducklings’ eyes. 

Synchronicity by copperbadge (10k) Dead patients, car wrecks, drug overdoses, journalists, Comatose Charlie, and orange chicken. Must be love.

systemic by ictus (10k) Ever since Wilson moved in, House has presented with some inexplicable symptoms. Fortunately, he has a team of talented doctors to aid him with his diagnosis. Season 2 fic! This one is funny and sweet and overall a great read.

Rush Down Darkness by Starlingthefool (10k) House MD/World War Z crossover. Told mainly through interview dialogue from house’s pov. Engaging story. House/Wilson definitely takes a backseat to the plot — there’s no grand getting together or anything. That's not to say it's not about them though, because there were still lots of good moments (good in the sense that my heart hurts). More succinctly, it has the vibes of an established relationship fic., although it isn't technically one.

Defensive Strategies by Milkshake Butterfly (~10k) (lj) In which Wilson is tired of being asked out by women when he's not ready to date again, and naturally House proposes a simple solution: pretend to be together. An enjoyable read.

******Commonplace and True by celestialskiff (11k) It would be a simple story--House and Wilson meet at a medical conference, have sex, and enjoy each other's company--but nothing is ever easy, or simple. Explores Wilson's relationship with House, with women, and with himself. House and Wilson throughout the years — with the version of canon where Wilson has cheated on every wife and girlfriend with House. When I tell you I am FROTHING!!! Pining while fucking?? The way it’s never the right time?? The greed of wanting to have your cake and eat it too? (That one’s specifically for Wilson, our beloved three-wives guy.) The vibes are immaculate. The prose is elegant verging on poetic. I’m eating this fic whole and it will be on my mind always. It is THE hilson fic for me. It is criminal that this fic has been up since 2012 and it only has 200 kudos. Go read it immediately & give the author some love.

***Declarations of Independence by Namaste (ff.net, also on livejournal) (11k) House and winter, throughout the years. I really enjoyed this. Excellent writing. Copy pasting a part of a comment by bedawyn which articulates why this fic is unique better than I can: “So far, I've seen a lot of focus in the fanfic (and the eps) on the pain and the Vicodin, but very little awareness of the practical aspects of limited mobility and the emotional impact of those even apart from the pain. So this was a very nice change.”

***Rule of Three by Transformatron (11k) (House/Wilson/Foreman) Foreman sees something he shouldn't have. And, maybe, wants something he shouldn't have, too. This was well written and super hot, with fun dialogue and descriptions that do justice to the excellent writing of the show itself. Foreman is faithfully characterised in a way that made me sympathetic. Also H/W outsider perspective as a third is such a treat to read. Lower me into my grave!!!!

*Warning Signs by out_there (12k) Excerpt: House looked to the left, staring down at the open box. Wilson knew that expression on his face: House was torn between denying it all and gleefully acknowledging his schemes. Normally, his ego won out and, like a comic super villain, he'd explain all. Wilson just needed to stay quiet and wait. This fic was fantastic. I am disgustingly fond. Superb characterisation. Light hearted and funny.

The Oncologist Trap by zulu (13k) (2007) House subtly seduces Wilson. Somehow.

The Line of Thought by tevinterimperium (13k) House and Wilson pretend to be together to play a prank on the ducklings, which is an extremely plausible scenario. From the perspective of the ducklings. Set sometime after 3x15: Half-Wit.

hail mary by ictus (13k) A post-canon fix it! In the weeks since finishing the show and reading this fic there are times I forgot that this wasn’t canon. It’s such a believable (and well-researched) alternate ending that feels like an actual episode.

Son of Mine by simoneallen (14k) Sherlock is House’s long-lost kid. Usually I’m not a fan of cross-over fics but I enjoyed this one. Established relationship on the johnlock side, getting together on the hilson side.

***hearts turn red by ictus (14k) In my head this is the counterpoint to Commonplace and True. When I found it after reading that one it really was a holy shit two fucking cakes?? moment. The delicious infidelity vibes are similar, but the vibes of the writing are pretty different -- whereas the above fic has a more quiet, subdued atmosphere, this one has more snappy prose and it’s more light-hearted with funny moments as well as emotional ones. It’s not just the infidelity theme that makes me crazy about both of them though; it’s how they play on the great tragedy of House and Wilson. In the author’s own words: In a way they do feel a little bit doomed to never quite be on the same page with each other until the very end of the series and by then it's too late. Of course, in these fics, they’re rescued earlier than the end, but the wretched vibes remain. Also, I’m obsessed with this line: By Wilson’s read, House is somehow simultaneously joking and sincere: Schrödinger’s sexual advance. That is the entire fucking show.

An Inconvenient Truth by annathaema (15k) Wilson helps out Cuddy and reveals something about himself in the process. House freaks out accordingly. Also features banana-colored babies, the men's room, and Skee-Ball.

*at the rind by ShanaStoryteller (19k) An AU where Wilson experiences all the near death moments House has in the show as a series of nightmares. Set between 1.19 and 2.05, but spoilers for the whole show. Protective Wilson!! We love to see it. I also like Wilson’s characterisation here - you can very much see how not-normal he is. We love unhealthy co-dependency.

***Esopus Creek by shaycat (24k) An eighty-year-old widower by the name of Eugene Skinner ventures out one September day in upstate New York for his usual morning activity - fly fishing. His leisurely hobby is interrupted by a bickering pair nearby in the river. That chance encounter with Greg House and James Wilson changes the course of his life. Told from the perspective of the last friend the boys make on their final road trip. This was the perfect post season 8, Wilson-still-dies fic. A sad fic but not a depressing one. It’s quiet and heartwarming, in a bittersweet way. Highly recommend. It has great use of outsider POV — I’m always a sucker for it but it worked particularly well in this case to have the angst but not be drowning in it. Also I just really liked the OC.

***Howler Tone by baffledbear (25k) The calls always happen late at night, and they're extremely sporadic, with weeks, sometimes months bridging between them. They talk on the phone otherwise, of course; about patients, or dinner plans, or carpooling. Typical stuff. But the calls that always end a certain way always start a certain way. Wilson is so repressed but so attracted to House. House is taking as much as he can get while still remaining in relative safety. Together they push a platonic relationship to the absolute limits of plausible deniability. Overall totally realistic within the canon of the show — the natural step up from the gay chicken already depicted. It’s just such a perfect scenario for them! That combined with silky smooth prose, faithful characterisation and accurate dialogue makes this fic is a definite hilson favourite and also a hilson-thesis fic.

*The Open Road by Pun (25k) A fandom classic. Road trip fic set in the earlier seasons. It's good; read it.

*He Won't Tell You That He Loves You by hellshandbasket (25k) [In which Nolan pulls at the Wilson thread, and House can't stop it all from unraveling. Repression is a hell of a drug.] Early s6. Another fandom classic that is worth its salt.

no need to worry (making up your mind) by scribespirare (25k) House makes the mistake of telling his mother he can't join her for Christmas because of his new boyfriend. Somehow, this becomes Wilson's problem. Cute and fun. I put off reading fake-dating fics because I was worried about them being OOC but this one definitely wasn’t!

***Sticks and Stones by Transformatron (25k) (WIP) House has an innovative new idea for managing his chronic pain. Wilson’s not sure he approves - but when has House ever asked for permission? This is such a great concept I am climbing the walls!!! D/s with House as the sub. The story is currently still at pre-relationship stage, with House experimenting with BDSM and Wilson being unhappy with the proceedings (for some unknown reason /s). Also the writing is nice and snappy with some great figurative language that manages to incorporate medical themes impressively well. 

Fresh Feeling by justkeeptrekkin (30k) House is tricked into going on a team-building trip with his colleagues. He does far more bonding with Wilson than anyone else. Funny and well written. The team interactions are very cute.

***Tracking Time by Namaste (37k) (ff.net) A look at House and Wilson's friendship over the years and how it has changed from their meeting through the end of the first season. I don’t usually read long genfics but this one was exceptional. I like Namaste’s take on House and Wilson’s characters. And they are a very good storyteller — one thing that you don’t tend to see as much of in fanfiction is the old adage of ‘show not tell’. The writing in this fic is careful and subtle, and lets you read between the lines, making it so that no part of the 37k words is a drag to read.

*The Body Found by fourteencandles (46k) Wilson's missing. When I tell you I cried... Premium angst & hurt/comfort. Excellent dialogue with some alternating POV (House mainly, but you also get the three ducklings & Cuddy).

You Already Know How This Will End by fourteencandles (46k) What if House had gone to rehab right after/around "Merry Little Christmas"? (3.10) This fic was interesting. It’s told in a series of short vignettes with a variety of different perspectives. It’s not really a hilson fic (or a fic for any ship). It just explores the characters. I did wish for more hilson but it’s a good read (I mean, it’s fourteencandles). The one hilson scene near the end where they hire a hooker in Atlantic City lives in my head rent free. Warning that the ending is rather abrupt and I didn’t find it satisfying, but I think it works for this kind of story, in a way. Messy people and their complicated relationships, with a lot of loose ends left untied, because that’s just what life is. 

***For Every Closed Door by starlingthefool (around 50k?) (lj) Overview of the chapters (14 with 4 interludes and an epilogue) is on the author’s lj (scroll down).  House MD/Dead Like Me crossover.  I love this fic a lot! It’s canon divergence from Season 3. House gets killed in a freak accident and becomes a reaper, remaining in the mortal world to harvest souls, able to interact with people but not be recognisable to those that know him. As the author says, this is an Afterlife!Fic and therefore a deathfic. They also said it’s not depressing — which is true, because it’s more plotty than an angstfest, and there are lots of light-hearted parts, but it is definitely heartbreaking at points. I literally cried all the way through the last chapter. Happy ending though!!! Don’t worry about the cross-over aspects. I haven’t seen Dead Like Me, and as far as I can tell, it just takes the premise of the show. I’m glad I found this fic whilst trawling 2000s livejournal because it’s really a hidden gem. Great plot, dialogue, compelling OCs — the whole package! I got so emotionally invested in the story. I think there were maybe a few parts that were a little unpolished but just keep reading. It’s really worth it. 

*A Modest Proposal and Involuntary Commitment series by ignaz (98k) The one where House and Wilson get married so Wilson can’t testify against House in the Tritter arc.  I have an unfortunate habit of downloading fics and then forgetting to bookmark & comment once I’m done, so I don’t have anything detailed to say about this one, but it’s a classic and a favourite of mine.

Twenty Years of Stealing My Food by hwshipper (100k) A backstory taking place over twenty years, from how House and Wilson met all the way to canon. A reimagining of their fucked up, magnetic relationship, with a straightforward writing style. They get together nearly as soon as they meet and maintain a steady open relationship whilst cheating on their various girlfriends and wives throughout the years. 

[d6volution]

ASKS ARE OPEN BLESS

anyways!!

jax w a milf reader. mommy kink.

okay, i got quite a few requests for something like this, so i decided to write something small to test the waters...... ehmm i dont feel very confident in this department, but if the feedback is good, then i will write a part two. ☺️

tags: sub!jax , vibrators, overstim, mommy kink, light bondage.

"L.. Look, y/n.. I already apologized to gangle— zooble and .. kinger just.. let me out of this crap, yeah?" Jax tried to use his usual charm on you but it was becoming painstakingly clear that you didn't care. You simply hummed in response and this only made him that much more agitated.

After all, it wasn't every day he was literally tied up to the headboard of his own bed.

"Mhm, mhm.. and that's what you said last week Jax... and.. the week before that.." You smiled and straddled his lap and he grunted, shifting a little.

"Yeah, and? Ever heard of having fun toots?" He said and studied your expression.

"Oh, suure.. in fact, I think this will be lots of fun after all." You trailed a hand down his chest. Slowly removing the straps of his overalls, allowing them to fall down his shoulders. You watched him closely, but he looked to the side. Avoiding your gaze as heat crept on his cheeks.

"Y.. Yeah, but not when I'm .. tied up doll, heh— d.. don't you think this is a bit much?" Jax swallowed, trying his best to control himself, but his body was actively giving him away.

"Too much? I think it's just fine.." You rocked your hips a little and you could feel the bulge pressing against your thigh. "See?" You chuckled, "You're usually much more confident Jax.. what's going on, hmm? Mommy making you nervous?"

"You wish, babe." His hands tugged at the resitraints once again, "A—And you can't blame me for getting turned on.. tied up or not you're still hot. But, this ain't my thing doll." He said in a frustrated tone and you removed yourself from his lap, leaving his bulge out in the open no longer hidden between the valley of your thighs.

"Too bad, Jax. This is punishment you know. For causing so much chaos in the circus. My poor little gangle, do you really love making her cry that much?" You spoke while digging in your bag of 'toys'. Jax was actively trying to pull against his restraints and see what you were grabbing. "Look I already said I was sorry, what more do ya want from m—"

You were walking back towards him with something behind your back and Jax squinted. ".... whats that?"

You hummed and yanked his overalls down, slipping them from under beneath him. "You'll see."

"Just be a good boy and stay still for me," Jax shuddered at your words unconsciously, he couldn't think of any smart remark when he watched your pretty hands pull his dick from its confines, he was already semi-hard.

"Nnh.." He gasped as you attached a egg vibrator to the base of his cock right along one of the veins that protruded from his girth. You didn't waste time in turning it on the medium setting, with the little remote you held in your hands. A smirk playing on your lips.

His ears immediately shot up and his pupils got small, "W.. What the h- hell..!" He jolted, his hips bucked forward as pleasure coursed through his body without warning.

"How's that feel hmm? Nice and snug?"

"Th.. this is nothin'— ghhk..!" He tensed up again as you switched the setting to its highest, the buzzing sound got louder as it stimulated his dick, which was completely hard and standing at attention now.

"Shhh, that's it." You climbed next to him and stroked his chest. Your fingers tip toed down to his hard shaft and fingers danced around the tip which was already dripping with precum. "You can take it right? After all, I did promise Ragatha I would help mend her dress this afternoon.. so stay here and be a good boy for me okay?"

"W.. What you.. you aren't gonna— ngh.. leave me here right? C-Come on doll, hh— mmf!" You shoved your panties into his mouth. "Found these in your room too." You smiled, it was warm and gentle. Completely contradicting your actions.

"And to answer your question, yes, this is punishment remember dear?"

"Now, if you cum before I get back.. well, this will not the be the worse thing you go through.~"

You switched it down to the medium setting, just enough to keep him going but not enough to get him there completely. He groaned and pulled against the resitraints as you walked out of the door, shutting and locking it behind you.

Jax shuddered and bucked his hips against the vibrator, his eyes getting glossy from the stimulation.. all he could do was sit there and take it. His moans muffled by the underwear in his mouth.

About 45 minutes went by before you entered the room again, Jax immediately perked up, his eyes were glossy from crying and his hands were trembling beneath the restraints. The once sassy bunny was being reduced to whining and begging mess before your eyes. And it was absolutely delicious..

"Hmm? Something you wanna say?" You said and sat next to him on the bed, removing the gag gently from his mouth he began to beg before the gag was even fully out.

"Pl.. please, please... y/n.. l... let me cum.. f..fuck.." He whimpered , but still couldn't face you. It was too embarrassing but he couldn't take it, he was so close but this wasn't enough to push him over the edge.

"Oh? Now you wanna be nice? Gonna look at me, little bunny?" You said and tilted your head a little, trying to catch his gaze.

He finally looked you in the, feeling more pathetic than ever. "Mm...mommy.. please... j..just let me come.."

Now you were a little taken aback, either he was extremely easy to break or... he was actually more into this then he was letting on. You felt your stomach do flips , being called mommy by the one person in the circus who seemed the most against it was invigorating.

"Hmm.. I'm not convinced. Beg some more and I'll let you come baby." You leaned in and placed a kiss on his jaw, trying your hardest to keep your hands off of him. This was for punishment , he didn't deserve that yet.

He looked frustrated by your demands but that was quickly wiped away by the pleasure that washed over him again as he got closer to his climax once more. Unfortunately it he didn't comply it'd probably fizzle out again.

"Nnhg.. please, please.. mommy... need to cum.. please.. i.. ill be a good boy.. pr-promise.." Suddenly the vibrator was turned up to high and he immediately came like clockwork, ropes of cum shot from his angry tip and all over his chest. He groaned and panted, his body trembling from the release.

"Mmn.. there you go, not so hard was it..?" You smiled and turned the vibrator off, giving him a chance to finally relax his body. "Such a good boy for me.. think you can take some more, hmm..?"

"Mmn.. w-won't tell anyone..?" He said, still strung out from his high.

"It'll be our little secret.~" You purred.

[moonschocolate]

Headcanons about my current hyperfixation: THEOO!!☆

I keep stalking the 'theodore nott headcanons' tag so I might as well write my own headcanons about him

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩

this man has social anxiety. prove me wrong.

when he was younger he found comfort in reading fiction books, like pjo

he 100% had an obsession with greek mythology, or mythology in general, and it's still kinda there but not like before

then growing up he got into classics

like one day he was like 'what if I read a Dostoevskij book' and that's where it all started

he prefers reading this kind of books because they teach you more

tallest boy you've ever seen, somewhat taller (only by few centimeteres) than Fred and George

he plays the cello, like kind of, he knows how to play a piece only studying it, i believe this man was never able to play a piece at first sight

surprisingly (to him) he really has a lot of things in common with Luna, when he found out he wanted to spend more time with her

he's really silent, but GOD does he ever stop thinking?? his head is loud af

enjoys being with his friends, they're used to him not shouting in their ears (unlike some other boy *cough cough* Mattheo *cough cough ... cough*)and he enjoys their company and they do too

not the type of boy to run to Spotify or whatever music app whenever he can, but he enjoys some kind of music (mostly smooth piano jazz, dramatic classical music since it's my fav, and he thinks TV girl, Lamp, Ichiko Aoba are cool)

never replies quickly, he's always late replying cuz thinks being on his phone is a complete waste of time, but it's not like he's NEVER on it

chill with Halloween but feral over Christmas (does not show it)

legos. I've said all.

YOU CANNOT TELL ME THIS MAN DOESNT HAVE HIS ROOM FULL OF STAR WARS SETS

despite enjoying english and all that kind of subjects, he is feral, and when I say feral I mean feral over maths. He loves learing new concepts because then it all makes sense and it's just so cool (explained from a person who is also feral over maths, pls tell me you get what i mean)

hyperfixations? oh so many

again, greek mythology

you could tell this man "Hey do you know about the myth of Apolloand Daphne" his eyes would light up and he would tell you the myth, his opinion, and related myths ("there's also this other myht with Apollo where he-")

A S T R O L O G Y

still greek mythology related but

he could stay hours talking about constellations

"hey do you know the myth behind the gemini constellation? No? Can I tell you about it?! Okay so-"

paper stars.

if there's a paper stripe around he'd grab it and make a paper star out of it

looks like the typa guy who'd take a lot of pictures with a canon/sony camera

when he feels anxious he'd do this thing where (get ready for the worst explanation ever) he'd put one of his nails of the right hand in between the skin and the nail of his thumb on his left hand and make the nail go left and right, still in between the skin and the nail (I ALWAYS DO THAT I HOPE IT MAKES SENSE I TRIED TO BE AS SPECIFIC AS I COULD)

He tried to go to a party since Blaise, Draco, Enzo, Theo, Pansy (basically everyone you get it)... begged him to come along

we could sum up his experience in one word

NIGHTMARE

The music was too loud, the people were to close to him, everyone was shouting, there were alcohol and drugs (he still wonders how they got literal drugs into the castle), everyone tried to dance with him and talk to him, that time he got overwhelmed tried to leave, but they were all like 'heyyyy nooo dont leaveeeee stay hereeeeee' but his friends understood it wasn't for him and Blaise went with him to his dorm, waited until he felt better then went back to the party

has never been to a party since then

smart af

like he easily surpasses draco and mione

also theo and mione are really close friends, one time they found eachother in the library reading the same book and chatting they found out they have several things in common

has a collection of stylographs, that stays in his library neatly ordinated

best sense of style (he obv got it from Blaise but he made it better)

he loves movies, he's watched movies like Dead Poets Society, Dorian Gray, but also movies about historical facts like The Darkest Hour, The King's Speech, Hidden Figures, The Pianist (I'm a sucker for this kind of movies honestly)

!! HE HAS DIMPLES !!

He loves professor Lupin, he thinks of him as Keating is dps

secretly listens to Micheal Bublè in Christmas, he loves his Christmas songs

he only buys old books, never new ones, he thinks that already used books, from decades ago, he thinks they hold stories, and it's even better when the books have annotations, maybe he'll erase them, but it's good to hear other's opinions

has a lot of vynils

used to study for his dad, now this became a habit, that's why he's the best in class

his relationship with his mom is not strong, MORE

When his mom died he was 5 so he didn't understand

when he finally knew the truth he cried for weeks, then he would occasionally go out to look at the stars, which he always admired with his mom, and cried thinking about her, thinking that she was watching him from up there

when he was like 10 he didn't cry no more, only if he ever opened up

he shared anything with her

he NEVER let ANYONE call him Teddy, he always though that is what his mom called him, and he didn't want other people to 'interfere' with that, he feels like it's their thing

despises horror movies. gets scared to death watching them, and doesnt find the lore interesting

never walks around with only socks on, has the fear of walking on water accidentally and getting his feet wet and the feeling disgustes him

also, has the whole collection of pjo books (every book. from percy jackson and the olympians to the chalice of the gods)

loves cats so much, he has two cats, but he wishes he had more

he has male brown cat named Monet and a grey cat with some beige spots and green eyes (it's mt bsf's cat, I love her - the cat - and I thought she could be a honourable mention) named Vivienne

defo has an obsession with sharks, but is even more obsessed with jellyfish, he knows a lot of scientific names for their species, for exmample Phylloriza Punctata, or Chrisaora Quinquecirrha, or Aurelia Aurelita, he's obsessed

Fav subject isn't potions, it's astronomy instead

since i live for loser!Theo, im in love with the idea of him stuttering in front of a guy/girl he finds cute or attractive, blushing and being awkward

my man absolutely doesn't know how to talk, he speaks too fast, and when ppl tell him to slow down, then he thinks he's talking too slow

if anyone fatshames any of his friends, or is racist/homophobic towards them, or just insults them, he will try to avoid throwing punches, but lets say he'll exchange a word or two with that person

if he's itchy, he scratches so hard there could be blood (a bit exaggerated but you get it)

could've been a Ravenclaw, but if he did his father would be really mad at him, so he's happy he isn't

another headcanon that I kindly stole rn from @heirofs1ytherin is that he's into poetry. LIKE 100% ✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩ You probably got that I love him HES MY BABY

[mlm-writer]

Old Friend (Geralt x GN!Reader)

Pairing:  Show!Geralt of Rivia x Gender Neutral Reader (can be interpreted as platonic or romantic) Rating: Mature Words: 1670 POV: Second Summary: The Big Tober Day 21 - “I did what I had to do to protect those I love… I had no choice!” Note: Don't @ me for still posting things that were supposed to come out in October. Tags: angst, mention of Ciri & Yennefer, ft. Jaskier & Milva, murder and dark magic

Everyone would agree that Ciri was an unlucky girl with a life tainted by tragedy. Every time you spoke with her about her past, you felt a little pang in your heart. However, sometimes you envied her. The way Geralt reserved his warmest of smiles for his charge, the way the most powerful sorceress spent her time teaching Ciri and the power Ciri possessed sometimes made you feel like she was, in some way, a very lucky girl. 

You spent life on the run with Ciri, Geralt and Yennefer. Most of the time you felt like you were family, sometimes you felt like an extra, an unnecessary weight, but no one told you to leave. You had nothing to teach Ciri that Geralt and Yennefer couldn’t. They had it covered from sword to spells to alchemy. 

Then things kept going to shit and before you knew it, Geralt was flirting with death and Ciri was missing. You wanted to go find her, but Yennefer insisted you stayed with Geralt. “You can heal anything!” Geralt exclaimed as you exhausted yourself once more. He was capable of loud verbal abuse. You should’ve counted that as a win, but it was hard to, when Geralt was still bed-bound. 

“I’m doing everything I can!” You yelled back. Milva entered, her hand landing on your shoulder. It has been the same song over and over again ever since Jaskier revealed Ciri was on her way to Nilfgaard. Geralt proceeded to demand more of you. Milva forced you out. Jaskier was waiting for you with a brew of herbs that would help you recover your strength. “I’m really doing everything I can,” you sobbed by the fire. 

Jaskier put his arm around you, comforting you the best he could. “I know. He knows. He is just… Geralt.” You leaned against the bard, letting his body’s warmth seep into yours. You sat by the fire until it got dark. Jaskier eventually let you be to mull over your thoughts in peace. When you had the strength you used your magic on those that did appreciate it. You were weak, but even a little was for many enough to pull their foot out of the grave. 

Exhaustion gnawed at your bones. Your muscles felt like they were weighed down by the state of the world. You took a stroll out of the camp, trying to avoid Jaskier and Milva. They meant well, but their words were not enough to distract you from the power you lacked. 

When the lights of the camp were far behind you, you stopped walking. You couldn’t hold yourself up anymore, knees colliding with the muddy ground of the forest. From a secret pocket sewn into the coat you’ve had for over two decades, you procured an amulet you haven’t worn since you met Geralt all those years ago. The deep red gem reflected the light of the moon onto your eyes. Deep within the stone you could see an old friend. You promised Geralt you’d throw this trinket away; you promised you would never give in to temptation again, but despair had forced you quite literally to your knees. You clenched the charm tightly in your fist. “All is fair in love and war,” you whispered as you stared down at your fist, noticing how red light seeped between your fingers. “These are times of war and… I love him.”

Those words spoken aloud strengthened your resolve. You closed your eyes as you put the thin golden chain over your head, letting the amulet fall right where your heart was. As soon as that metal hit your chest, you felt an old friend occupying your mind once more. “I always knew you’d come back,” it told you. It gave you visions of how to help Geralt. The methods dancing on the grey moral spectrum, but led by these visions, you made your way back to the camp. You entered the tents of the sleeping patients you had helped earlier. You touched those that you didn’t think would make it to the morning. Their life force entered through your fingertips. They breathed their final breath. You felt the weak energy pooling together. One tent, two, three, you passed though the whole camp, taking what you needed from those that were not likely to hold onto it for long anyway. Each time you took, darkness rose to your skin, revealing your deeds in the night. 

Your veins had turned black by the time you entered the final tent. Geralt was fast asleep as well, too injured to even hear you entering, too unwell to open his eyes and ask you what you were doing there. A black tear rolled down your cheek as you placed your hand on his chest and let go of all the energy you had collected. The life energy of the people that died that night flowed from your chest down to your fingertips. In his sleep, Geralt inhaled deeply as the energy filled him. It only took a moment, but it felt like an eternity as you felt the weight of the lives you took to save the one most dear to you. 

When you were devoid of all the energy but your own, you collapsed on the ground, legs too tired to keep you up. You took deep breaths, trying to avoid looking at your hands. However, in the end you just needed to know how bad things were. You raised your palms, the sight - though expected - still horrifying. Your skin had blackened from the dark magic. Your hands felt fine though. “You did well. This is only the beginning of what we can achieve. You’re meant to take what you please,” the old friend’s voice echoed through your skull. The words were reassuring, but you knew all too well where things could lead. You reached for the amulet, ready to rip it off you. “You need me. Without me you’re useless. You can’t protect the ones you love.” 

Geralt had you once believe otherwise, but it only took one glance towards him to show you where his faith in you had led him to. Even the great White Wolf could be wrong sometimes. Defeated, you slowly let go of the amulet, allowing it to occupy its old spot. “Everything will be fine. You will be fine,” the being spoke through the amulet to you. You had heard those words a million times from Jaskier, but only now did they actually soothe you. 

The next morning you woke up from stirring on the bed. You hadn’t dared to leave the tent and slept on a chair. “Geralt,” you whispered, aware of your surroundings the moment your ears picked up on the rustling of blankets. You forgot what you looked like, immediately rising from the chair and joining Geralt at his side. You inspected the wound on his leg, but it was not there anymore, a new scar adorning his skin. 

Your eyes didn’t meet Geralt’s until he sat up on his own. “What did you do?” His voice dripped of venom. You lifted your head to meet his yellow eyes, darkened by the deeply furrowed eyebrows. Your throat felt tight, so tight that not a single syllable could make it through to the cold space between you and the Witcher. He called your name and reached out. You were frozen in place as his calloused fingers traced the black marks on your face. “What did you do?” He repeated the question, emphasising each word with urgency. 

Black tears pooled in your eyes, the first few already rolling down your cheeks by the time you found your voice once more. “I did what I had to do to protect those I love…” You swallowed a lump in your throat. “I had no choice.” Your voice trembled, each word shaking more than the previous one. 

Geralt was visibly seething as he grabbed your arm, his grip tight. “What did you do?” He demanded, voice booming in the small space. You tried to free yourself. 

“Geralt, please, you’re hurting me!” “Say it!” 

He knew you. He knew you from the moment he met you. He knew the person you could be once you gave up on your ‘old friend’. He knew what you did then and he knew what you did last night. He knew, but he didn’t want to. He wanted to be wrong. He wanted to have mistaken that familiar amulet around your neck. However, things were exactly as it seemed and just like things never changed, Jaskier and Milva came in right on que. 

Jaskier called out for Geralt, tried to calm him. He immediately commented on how he seemed to be better, proceeded to ask how. Meanwhile, Milva freed you of Geralt’s grip. A crowd had formed at the entrance, but you couldn’t see anyone in the room but Geralt. “How many have died tonight?” Geralt demanded to know, Jaskier and Milva now in between you two. They tried to calm him. “How many?” He roared. 

His fury eventually ripped the answer out of you. “I don’t know! I only took from those that were not likely to make it to the morning anyway.” 

“Jaskier…” Geralt’s voice was quieter now he got his answer from you. He turned to the bard. “How many people died tonight?” Jaskier turned to Milva, hoping she held the answer. 

“42,” she spoke with surprising steadiness. She then looked at you, shaming you with her eyes alone. She was not the only one who despised your existence after that night. Jaskier pleaded for your life, then left with Geralt to find Ciri. You had to go your own way, fend for yourself once more. If it wasn’t for your aching heart, it was like you never met the Witcher at all. He never wanted to see you again, but even as you walked with your backs facing each other, you felt like you would see him again. It was a funny thing… destiny. 

—————

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[monimccoythings]

Classy Turtle

Okay, here’s part 2. Second parts were never good but I was dying to make this one. Just the mental image of it. Been watching the critics reviews of this glorious movie and every single one I’ve read are just terrible reviews of movies the audience absolutely adored (it’s the freaking Super Mario Movie, it doesn’t have to be the new Godfather) And those people who want to cancel Bowser, the villain of the Mario saga, for acting like a villain and singing a villain song that slaps? Are they okay? Don’t they get the basic concepts of villainy?

Previous Parts: 1

Next Parts: 3,4,5

tags: @loveforfandomsstuff​ @harpy-space​

You kept coming back to the palace to visit whenever you had the time. You really enjoyed spending time with your new friends and learning more about the Mushroom Kingdom. It’s like everyday there was some new adventure!

You also met the famous fearless Toad who had accompanied Peach and Mario throughout their dangerous journey to the Kong Kingdom and were lucky enough to eat one of his even more famous meals. You weren’t sure you had tasted something so divine in your entire life, goddamn it, Toad, drop the secret recipe book.

But if there was also a not entirely malicious ulterior motive for your visits, it would probably be your endearing wittle piano playing turtle that on his free time commited war crimes. It’s not like you were obsessed (liar), you just found yourself completely enamoured by the concept of some tiny musical tot that spoke highly of himself in a high pitched voice.

You were no fool. You knew he was dangerous and that given the chance, he would commit all those atrocities again. But he was SO LITTLE AND CUTE NOW. You just have to be careful with your gushing. The least you wanted is to cause the literal Third World War over a turtle.

It became an habit of yours to bring some gifts for everyone of your friends whenever you came to visit, and that included him, be it a tiny chair from an old house, a Ken doll, that always ended with his head chewed off, some lettuce (or whatever this turtle ate)...

Presenting him your offerings always was a tricky task. Peach and the bros had kindly drawn a perimeter around his cage that was called the “no-no zone”. Anyone that dared to cross that line, would meet their untimely end at the hands of a flame with the burning power of some kid using an aerosol flamethrower. Maybe it was a bit dramatic but he nearly burnt part of your hair last time so better not risk it, as he was an amgery firey boi. Unfortunately for him, you had put your wicked mind to use and had developed a system that didn’t put your hair or any part of your body in danger of suffering third degree burns. You called it “The Salad Tongs Solution”.

You had decided to use them instead of sticking to the classic put them in while he sleeps. Next time you tried to put a blankie over him when he slept he got scared so badly he went inside his shell and started spinning against the walls of the cages like some deadly top toy. Never again. Poor baby needed his beauty sleep.

So today, you were bringing in a special gift. After some rumaging through your old toys, you found some old tuxedo from one onf your dolls, you didn’t remember which one. But hey, maybe he would like this one?

Welp, he didn’t. As much as Mario would have loved to see him in it, nope, this turtle had expensive tastes and apparently this old tuxedo wasn’t up to his standards. Awww, classy turtle. The high pitched voice just made his rant look like an angry smurf that swore like a sailor. It was so adorable, you were not even bothered he didn’t like it. “It’s okay sweet baby!” You cooed to him. 

Bowser was bewildered at your audacity, your nerve! How dare you not praise him like the feared warlord he is! This will not stand! He will get out, and when he gets out the world shall get a taste of his revenge! You will bow to him in reverence! You will- oh, there you go again, looking at him with that dopey smile and those adoring eyes. Disgusting. Embarrassing. He is NOT a cutie patootie, thank you very much. He is KING OF THE KOOPAS, the strongest and baddest there is! That’s why you should look at him adoringly! Not because he is burger shaped!

A couple of days later Luigi sent a message with a photo attached to the groupchat. Opening it was the best decision in your life: there he was, your little buddy dressed in the tuxedo with the most disgruntled face he could make and being held with the salad tongs. A warm feeling spread through your chest, and for the rest of the day a huge smile was plastered on your face. He was such a dapper little gentleman.

[fillinforlater]

Spaceship: Horizon - Season Finale: How did we get here?

Male Reader x Miyawaki Sakura & Choi Yena

Length: 2480 words

Tags: a lot of what the fucks, a lot of fucks, sudden sex, sex as a reward, threesome, friendly rivalry, blowjobs, forced deepthroat, 69, pussy eating, face sitting, snowballing, cowgirl, overstimulation, very numb, very exhausted, very confusing, commander!Sakura / dorky!Yena / puzzled!You

TW: Kinda forced with a lot of plot point coming together. Feel free to back read ;)

Inspiration: A lot of ppl wanted Kkura, other wanted Yena, and I wanted to finish one of my many plans I had for this season finale. This series is super old, hell, I don't even remember all the things I set up and names lol.

Credit: @midnightdancingsol for the late edit. Really saved some stuff, tbh. You're the best.

(A/N: FInally, we are! Season two wrapped up after HUGE holes in between lmao. A lot my newer reader might not even know this series exists lmao. This was always supposed to be my flagship, but yeah, I guess others are more well-liked. Enjoy this season finale, it (probably) won't be the last!)

“Hm! Look, he is waking up, Commander!”

“Stop calling me that, Yena! These titles are absurd.”

The ceiling above you is familiar. The cushions below you are familiar. The two do not evoke positive memories, unlike the two familiar voices that argue for a brief period of time, before they stop. 

Two pairs of eyes look down on you. They sparkle in excitement and thrill—at seeing you, perhaps?

“Sakura? Yena?” you call out the two names you associate with those orbs and reach for where you assume their bodies are. Texture—an arm, a hand. This is reality and not some weird lucid dream. You have experienced enough of those in the past to be cautious, but luckily, both Sakura and Yena are real.

“Welcome back!” Yena shouts. She wraps an arm around your nape and her following hug leaves you breathless for a second, her sizable breasts for another. 

“Back?” you respond, mildly confused, although it is nothing new to you that this girl says random shit again and again without explaining herself.

“Aw, Commander, look at him! He is a literal war hero and doesn’t even know it.”

Yena giggles, thus Sakura gives her a quick slap on the butt. It was certainly not a kind slap, but the idol does not look angry at all. The excitement and amusement do not disappear from her. It’s all absurd. It would all make more sense if you died and went to heaven. No more aliens that want you to record porn, just the weird, dorky, sexy guide from the spaceship and your favorite idol. Sounds like heaven, alright.

“War hero? Damn, I can’t even remember the battle I fought, but it explains why I’m dead.”

Sakura shakes her head.

“Yena, please, this poor guy is completely lost. Enlighten him about everything he asks for. We got the time.”

Yena suddenly straightens her posture. Like a news anchor delivering important, serious information, she tries to stare at you, but her attempt fails. Her laughter echoes off the walls and through the large room. She repeatedly slaps her thigh in loud amusement. Sakura looks pissed.

“Yena! Get your act together!”

“But how would you tell him? It sounds so weird when I try to put it into words!”

“Weird?” you say confusedly. “Nothing can be weird to me now. We are on a fucking spaceship with aliens that can shapeshift and want to film us have sex.”

Yena laughs again. “Oh boy, about that!”

Sakura, visibly at the end of her patience, plants an angry hand on the younger girl's mouth. She glares at her, then at you, and says with a bit of resignation:

“All of the things you just said—they changed. A lot.”

“Huh? How so?” you say while giving looks to both of the girls and their banter. If they weren’t so cute, you’d cringe at their behavior.

“A couple of weeks ago,” Sakura begins as she still suffocates a teary-eyed Yena with the palm of her hand, “we found ways to communicate with other parts of the spaceship. It is absolutely gigantic, we still have no idea how big it actually—Yena, stop it now, please—is. A couple hundred kilometers in each direction, probably. At first we thought it was a trap, that these intelligent creatures would not allow us to meet up in secret and share information. But then, we found the reason: all of them were watching your videos. Every single one of them.”

“What do you me—please, no!”

Your fingers dig into your hair. It feels sweaty, greasy, and definitely unwashed, the new stress is not helping either. Your pornography spread further than you would have imagined. If these aliens saw it, then other people saw it too. The size of this ship makes you imagine that potentially millions of humans could have seen you naked and get it going with dozens of women. Well, there goes your reputation, even if you ever return to Earth.

“Listen to her, she is not finished,” Yena says with a large grin on her ducky facial features. She places a caring hand on your shoulder, while Sakura places a not-so-caring-but-rather-threatening-hand on hers. 

“Don’t interrupt me, please.”

“I won’t, Commander.”

“I said you—never mind. Anyways, these aliens were addicted to the porn, the sex. Something about it made them lose focus. They became sloppy and made mistakes that left holes for us to not only be able to communicate with more and more people, we also made plans to get more information about this place and how we could use this addiction to our advantage.”

“Maybe you noticed it too,” Yena barges in. “Some aliens—especially your Worker—must have been very affected by it. Being irrational, less caring, all that kinda stuff.”

You nod. He certainly was affected. Uncontrollable, maniacal, not paying attention, getting desperate for more material, Worker became a junkie for your fucking porn. 

Your mind spins at the thought. Where the hell is this leading up to?

“Just a couple of days ago,” Sakura continues with intensity, her eyes wide open, “we were able to throw away all our strategies and battle plans. The aliens started to evaporate. At first we thought it was a trick by them and that they figured it out, but then we got reports that they probably died due to an overdose of your porn. We knew their deaths, or rather obliteration, was inevitable. And so we watched them evaporate, one by one, and we took control of their positions. We found all kinds of young people held as cattle, tortured as slaves or being forcefully fed food. Not all of the experiments were cruel of course, but I think everyone is delighted that this shit is over.”

Sakura takes a deep breath and pinches her forehead. Her rambling wasn’t all that coherent, but she got the point across to you, which is—

“So… we won?”

Your question lingers in the air for a bit. The smell of sweat and some fine perfume reaches your nose for the first time since you woke up from your slumber. The mattress below you feels wet, your legs are still kind of numb. 

Oh, it must have been them who gave you the drug. They wanted you to film the ultimate video to finish the aliens off. The pieces of the puzzle are slowly coming together, but the picture couldn’t look any more bizarre. 

“Yes!” Yena exclaims and lunges herself at you. Her entire body presses onto yours, from thighs, to tummy, to titties. Yena doesn’t seem to care that you’re all sweaty. She looks genuinely happy.  It feels great, this feeling of victory, of freedom, Yena pushes it all onto you. 

“After we live streamed your holy-moly-crazy-orgy to the last remaining aliens, they all evaporated.”

“It sounds so stupid,” you giggle and shake your head, “but I guess I’m glad. I bet there are still so many insane things that happened. No need to tell me now, to be honest, I’m not sure I understood the things you already told me. But can I at least know why you didn’t tell me about it?”

“So it didn’t look forced,” Sakura says with the attempt of a wink, “We had no clue if you would have been able to perform under pressure if you knew what was at stake. We also like to keep these top secret issues in a small circle.”

“Damn, you all sound like the CIA.”

Yena rubs her cheek on yours as she gives another hearty laugh. 

“Our guerilla group really developed into a whole organization. It’s gotten even worse during the three days you were asleep.”

“Wait, what?” you groan defeated. Another three days of life missed for something you can’t grasp yet. And what the hell do they mean by organization? The questions don’t stop coming.

“Don’t worry!” Sakura flails her arms as she shifts closer to you as well, “We used the Helper system to keep you hydrated.”

“Wait, how? I don’t—”

“We have some smart people among us,” Yena says, her lips pouty, for some reason, “They were able to hack into the system, which is why we can communicate and use the Helpers to our benefit. Communication, water, food, hell, even teleportation. These things are amazing.”

“I—”

You stare at the ceiling. It’s the same, it’s been the same, it has not changed.

Your eyes open to the possibility that this is all fake, a dream to make you feel better. It’s a simple explanation for the absurdity tenfolding with every word the girls say. But can it be true? A dream this realistic and detailed, with all the right changes? 

Wait, maybe you really died a war hero and this was your reward. Like in those old, ancient stories—your brain is coming full circles. Damn this drug, damn this fucked up spaceship.

“—cannot understand, but I guess it’s fine.”

Silence, then the two girls giggle.

“Yes, it’s basically long story short,” Yena blurts out, “You fucked, fucked up things happened, the Aliens are fucked and we won. Everything is fine.”

Take a deep breath through your nostrils. The air still feels real, the wetness on your skin too, but most importantly, Sakura still smells as good as she did back then. You’re not dead, thank God, and apparently a porn star war hero, thank God? 

“Okay, whatever,” you respond and force your upper body into a sitting posture, “Can I please take a shower now? I smell of sweat and… other, more obscene bodily fluids.”

“Not so fast,” Sakura responds and sits down on your legs. Fuck, they are still numb, you can’t even fiddle them out underneath her light body.

“Let me in on it too, Commander!” Yena shouts and climbs next to you. She begins to pull at your shirt, while Sakura wiggles out your pants from under your butt. 

“What the—hey stop! We don’t need to film anything anymore, right?” you fight back with words, while your body surrenders immediately.

“You are right,” Sakura says as your cock springs free, already semi-hard, “No cameras. This is just for you, your reward.”

It might not be the first time that your favorite idol has taken your cock into her mouth, but there is something absolutely incredible about this time. She, the Sakura, is literally some Commander that gives a guinea pig porn star head for winning a war against shapeshifting aliens—oh yeah, and there is Yena, rubbing her now exposed breasts on your arm as her ducky lips suck your neck. It’s impossible to let that sink in.

You moan out in pleasure. It’s a miracle that your cock still works after what happened during the last session. Then again, it is Sakura who uses her skilled tongue and lips to make you hard and throbbing. 

Judging from Yena’s annoyed hums on your ear as she nibbles on it with great care, she feels neglected. Suddenly, one of her tits is in your mouth so you lazily suck on the hard nipple. Sakura hisses from in between your legs, your cock still in the warmth of her mouth. She stops sucking and jerks you off to properly address Yena.

“What are you doing? This is his reward, not yours! You can’t use him like your plaything.”

“Oh stop it, Commander! I know you want to ride his cock badly and cum on it like the needy bitch you always were while we watched the vi—”

“Fine, shut up!”

Through their bickering, they don’t seem to realize the mess of moans and whimpers you have become. Yena’s soft breast firmly placed in your mouth leaves your mind numb yet blissful, while Sakura’s hand goes up and down your cock at high speed. It’s like she is electrically charging you, to the point where you might explode. Why the fuck does a foreign hand feel so much better on your length than your own?

“Gimme some of that too,” Yena says and leaps at your crotch. At one moment, her chest was all you could see, the next moment it’s her pink pussy, hovering above your face. 

Lips on your tip make you beg for mercy, but the two don’t have any. Sakura pushes down on the back of Yena’s head and you unexpectedly penetrate her face deeply. Your entire cock disappears in her mouth and she slobbers all over it. A mix of saliva and lipstick covers your sweaty legs.. 

“Ye-Yena, K-Kura, I can’t—”

“You don’t like it?” Sakura asks, her tone missing seriousness entirely.

“No, I—fuck!”

Throw your head back as Yena moves. The warmth of her throat is gone and back again as soon as Sakura allows it. The idol is thrusting her friend—or are they just rivals—onto your shaft ferociously. Because of Yena’s firmly placed knees next to your shoulders, you are unable to stop them. All there is is your climax. Resign to it.

“Fuck, I c-can’t, hmpf!”

As the two girls work together to suck out your semen, Yena bluntly drops her cunt onto your lips, its scent a bewitching perfume to make you forget the pain of your overstimulated dick. She tastes delicious, her nectar drips into your groaning, gasping mouth. 

“My turn, finally!”

Yena pulls her stuffed mouth away, but your twitching, probably completely red cock doesn’t stay cold for long as Sakura lifts herself up and after a long hum goes down on your length, it bottoms out with ease, and your mind shuts off.

“So good!” Sakura screams and starts to ride you with no regards to your exhaustion or obvious overstimulation. Her body, flawless skin, flawless proportions, flawless everything, is uncontrollably fast yet she still finds a way to make it a show. Somehow, she is able to lift one of Yena’s legs high to give you a view of what is to come (granted, through Yena’s slick and suffocation, your eyesight is a bit dazed) and then pulls the cum-stuffed duck into a messy kiss. 

It’s not snowballing, it’s an avalanche. Cum drips from their loosely connected lips and tumbles down Sakura’s curves. Weird sucking and licking sounds fill the room as Yena tries to drink your whiteness before Sakura can steal it. The two girls fight and Yena continues to ride your face to not be outdone by the eager Sakura. You feel the remaining snow drip down on your tense torso, but they are eager to lick it off of you. 

This drags on for minutes, until their mix of pants, teases, giggles and actual words are only feral moans. In the confines of Sakura’s cavern, you survived the overstimulation and are ready for another release and possible death if the horny idol doesn’t stop afterwards. Luckily, she seems close as well. Yena also starts to rub her own clit frantically, more and more of her juice covers your features. 

The moment you all cum is surprisingly silent. There is a gasp here and there, wet smooches from fucking and face riding, but other than that, you all succumb to your release rather quietly. Sakura fucks your rod and it’s erupting seed deep into her cunt, while you make sure to open up for Yena to dump her fresh nectar into you. 

Wait a minute. Whose reward was this supposed to be again?

(A/N2: maybe mine? 😉😳)

[soullessjack]

ok so carried on from this post theres a specific tag i wanna elaborate on which says ‘[jack] isn’t a pacifist he actually has a very complicated relationship with violence’ in relation to how he’s usually (mis)characterized by the fandom.

so first, Jack isn’t a pacifist. pacifism is a total opposition to all war and violence, and a belief that it is never justifiable for any reason or circumstance. He might be averse to violence as a first response or reaction, and he’s frequently shown to want to help the person before anything else—especially people he finds sympathetic or similar to himself (ie Mia Vallens, Sylvia)—but he’s not averse to it altogether.

Jack seems to really only be against violence when it’s used against innocent or undeserving people, including himself. Like in S13, he has no problem using his power to force an angel to stab themself with their blade or going to war with Michael and killing thousands of angels in his army for roughly 6-8 months (and we must remember, it was an effective genocide before he decided, completely out of the original plan, to kill Michael and made it a war) but he still has a total meltdown over accidentally killing an innocent security guard and almost strangling someone who did nothing wrong like he’d assumed. In Ouroboros he states that anyone who could hurt/kill an innocent person is a monster, even if they’re human, which is probably the clearest establishment of his moral code the show could offer.

I think Jack’s particular aversion to violence or even general aggression/anger is also caused by the fact that he, at three days old, was told by Sam that he would need to be kept from hurting other people while his powers were still largely uncontrollable (and therefore, still making him a threat and “evil” if he couldn’t do that). He’s also seen for himself what his power/his overreaction inadvertently causes for other people–like throwing Sheriff Barker into the vending machine (which he apologizes for later)—and is blatantly scared of it at first, so I think it makes a lot of sense that he prefers nonviolent behavior as an initial or default response. However, pacifism is still defined by the belief that no circumstance or reason whatsoever can justify an act of violence, which directly goes against how Jack personally feels about and uses it.

Going back to Ouroboros, he personally defines a “monster” as anyone who would willingly harm or enjoy harming someone who doesn’t deserve it, even if they aren’t actually a particular species of monster. And going back to S13, he has no problem murdering Michael’s army or even torturing Michael himself (which he specifically does because Michael “hurt his friends, hurt his family.” Ergo, Jack does believe in using violence, so long as it’s only used as a justified defense, and I think that is also a part of why him torturing Nick so horrifically is meant to land on us as Something Ostensibly Wrong. Did Nick deserve it? Yes. Mary isn’t even upset about him being killed; she just halfheartedly tells Jack “not like that.” Nick deserved it, but he is still barely a threat to someone like Jack (which everybody knew)—and because he isn’t a veritable threat, none of what Jack does to him can actually qualify as a “defense.”

It’s violence for the sake of violence, with a personal grudge for motivation, and while it’s shown a lot throughout SPN, it hits a lot harder coming from Jack specifically because he, again, is generally averse to [ab]using his power like that—even against other enemies. He believes in necessary and defensive violence and acts accordingly, which makes the completely unnecessary violence he uses against Nick more disturbing; it’s not about defending his loved ones or even stopping a nefarious plot anymore (he literally banishes Lucifer within seconds of getting there). It’s just about making someone suffer and enjoying it. In Absence we also get the vague implication about Jack’s particular fears and insecurities: he’s afraid that he isn’t really loved or wanted for himself, but rather that he’s valued for being “the muscle to take out enemies,”—that he’s nothing more to the Winchesters than a pet monster and easily discardable if he’s no longer useful to them.

On the flip side of that, he’s also canonically very happy to be wanted, needed and helpful to his family/friends—which is to say, again, he’s perfectly fine using violence as a justifiable defense that serves his family (which is also why he chooses to burn Nick to death after Sam indirectly wishes it on him, and why he’s happy to murder all of Dumah’s targets under the guise that it would make Sam and Dean happy). Once he realizes the truth and horror of his actions, however, he tells Dean that he is a monster, by his own definition. But how exactly is this complicated, you might ask? Well I’m glad you did, because I’m getting to it. Throughout his entire short-lived life, Jack has had to be painfully aware of the damage he can and does cause, and what it means for how he’s perceived and the ever present debate about his “true” nature.

I can’t find it now and probably won’t bother looking, but i had another post about how Jack inwardly perceives himself and wants to be perceived in return, particularly when he’s perceived as a threat. To summarize: because of his particular moral code, Jack inwardly knows he would never [want to] use his power against his family or friends, and is therefore not a threat to them, and therefore does not want to be perceived as one despite the danger he still poses with the potential alone. The eggshells that people walk around him are solely based on the fact that he has immense potential and capability to hurt them, all prevented by his simple continuous and impermanent choice to not hurt them.

The only thing standing between them and everything he’s ever done to their enemies is the fact that he considers them friends and has no reason to want to hurt them, and that’s exactly what Jack himself personally lives by. It’s the same blind trust that Sam and Dean have built with Cas; they know what he can do, and they know when he would or wouldn’t choose to do it. It’s a mutual understanding that “I know you can hurt me but I care about you enough to trust you not to do that,” and “I know I can hurt you but I care about you enough to not hurt you and Im glad you trust me to not do that.” I also mentioned it in the post that in Last Holiday, Jack doesn’t deny it when Mrs. Butters says that he’s insanely powerful; he does, however, deny her saying that Sam and Dean should be afraid of him, because “[he] would never hurt them.”

Insanely powerful? ✅

Potentially dangerous? ✅

A threat to be feared? ❌

(This is also what makes Mary’s death by Jack and Sam and Dean’s subsequent actions exceptionally tragic on both sides; their mutual trust is inadvertently, yet still effectively, broken. Jack has also effectively gone against his own morality by harming people he loves and people who don’t deserve it, and now in S15 is struggling with the loss of said trust and the need to earn it back).

That, my hypothetical audience member, is the complicated part. Having to find a middle ground between necessary, defensive, justifiable violence that his surrounding community would approve or appreciate, and the completely unnecessary abuse or misuse of power (ie violence) that would register him as an evil monster and/or a threat to be put down for the justifiable greater good. There’s also the additional middle ground between presenting and maintaining the image of himself as docile and non-threatening (the behavior of which is hugely infantilized by the fandom), while also still being able to defend others with the same violence that could easily lead to him being seen as a threat.

in conclusion (1): Jack is not a pacifist but he has an extremely complicated relationship with violence and the fluctuating justifications surrounding it which he must meet in order to continuously be perceived as safe and trustworthy in spite of his capabilities.

In conclusion (2): this is the truest of jack true forms:

thank you for coming to my yap session, don’t let the door hit you where the good lord split you on the way out 🫶