rottenandmean
cannibalism enthusiast
24 | she/they | MINORS DNI
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every time i start to feel cringe for being too deep in the hyperfixation i remember the intense depression i have waded through and have to remind myself that enjoyment is fleeting (so grab it with both hands), and life is for loving (so hold that love close), and if anyone thinks i’m cringe they must not be having a very good time (and i hope they can find a good time soon).
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A deal is struck between you and Soap. One round to get you out of his system and he'll leave you alone.
Cw: piv sex, mean dom Soap, fae magic, afab!reader, mild dubcon bordering on cnc at the end
Fae are often curious about you, but you have to admit Soap takes the cake. He follows you around like a dog on a short leash. It's maddening. You have no privacy and no recourse to send him on his way. After all the fae don't help without expecting something in return, and the police hardly seem bothered by the stalking. As always you have to take matters into your own hands.
You ask him what he wants, because you can't decipher the tangled web that seems to drift around him like a cloud and it takes him a moment. Fae get that question a lot you suppose, and they're so particular about language. It's why you're good at your job and get so few complaints, what you traded your eyes for.
"I want you," he says finally. You catch the spark of a want, lust that's sucked back into the mire of him. You can do that, though it's a little annoying.
"You just need to get me out of your system," you tell him, watching something crumble in his eyes. His brows draw together, his lips draw down, he does a good show of looking upset.
"I don't want you-"
"If I sleep with you, will that work?" You ask, no time for whatever nonsense he's going to try and weave. It perks him up, makes him nod like he can't do it quick enough. You hold up your hand to stop him, "you get one round, then you gotta leave me alone."
Soap mulls it over. You can see the way his lips purse, his tongue running over his teeth. He holds his hand out.
"Deal." He nearly drags you across the bar when you take his hand.
-
"You came, thats-" you sob out a moan, your eyes rolling as your back arches and your hips force themselves down onto Soap's cock, "-That's one."
"Oh no bonnie," Soap grins, grabbing your hips and pulling you down like a toy, fucking his thick cock up into you and hitting just the right spot each time, "the round's nae over until one of us taps oot."
You dig your nails into his shoulders, squeeze your eyes shut against the pleasure that he fucks into you. It feels electric, your stomach clenches, your pussy clenches, your body is desperate for more. The arch of your back forces you to lean closer to him, keeping the angle just right as you struggle against your traitorous body's desire for more. Soap takes the opportunity to lean up and drag his teeth over your nipple, catching the bud in his mouth and sucking hard. You gasp and feel your rhythm falter. Soap's hips still piston into you, but the gap in your hiccuped wailing makes him growl.
He pulls out, spins you around, forces your face down into the sheets and smacks his cock against your cunt. "No tappin' out hen," he tells you, sheathing himself inside you in a single hard thrust, "ya want this as much as I do." Your moan is high and tight. Your cunt aches, your insides battered and throbbing for more. Everything is tight, tight, tight. Your breath comes quick, gasps between moans, everything is wet and wonderfully painful, pleasureably painful. Too much and yet you still want more, more, more.
Soap smacks your ass, rubs his hand over the sting when you press into it. His hand slides to push your shoulders down, muttering for you to arch your back, but you can't, not when he makes you want to run with every perfect thrust. Soap's body blankets you, his thick thighs cage your own, his broad chest presses against your back, and he hooks his arm under your chin to pull your teeth from the blankets. You are well and truly pinned when his other hand sneaks between your legs to rub your clit in quick tight circles.
The come dripping out of you, forced from your cunt with each snap of Soap's hips, provides ample lubrication, and makes your cheeks burn. He flexes, chokes you between his bicep and forearm, toying with your clit while he fucks you. You may as well have handed him a manual on how to make you come. It should have happened by now, should have shuddered through you, but you rest just at the precipice of it, whining and whimpering when you aren't gasping and groaning. Soap kisses your temple, your eyes find his, that awful ice blue shining with something you can't put a name to. Pride, maybe.
"You don't come until I tell you to," he says it like a law, it feels like one. You whine, reach to push your hands weakly against his muscular, hairy, thighs, just for a second of reprieve.
"No-o," you whine, you're drooling, dripping from your cunt and your lips. Soap licks his tongue across your mouth, spreads your slick folds with his fingers and pinches your clit.
"Yes," he coos, "you want to don't ya?" You can feel the undercurrent of the question, the monkey's paw of dealing with the fae. But you do. You do. You're so tight and wet and wanting, you want to come, you want to fell apart for him, you want to be good and give him what he so desperately seems to need. And then you can wash your hands of him. One round to get it out of his system, that was the deal.
"Tell me you're mine," he murmurs, "tell me you're mine hen and you can come."
"Yours." Its out of you before you can even think the word, fucked out you, your body a cock-drunk traitor, "yours, yours." You sob it, scream it, tiny knots loosen inside your chest and the feeling floods you.
You stiffen, your voice and breath caught in your throat as something choked rips through you. Your muscles shake with it, you heart beating like a drum as pleasure crashes down into you. Soap fucks you through it, keeps you full of his cock while your cunt clenches and tries to suck him through another orgasm.
Soap groans, and you feel heat flood you a second time. Your eyes roll back, a shiver going up your spine as it burns against your aching cervix. He pulls back, his cock drags against your overworked, gummy, walls and it's bliss. The gentle stretch, the punctuated ripple of heat when he bumps against your g spot, it's a welcome reprieve. Until he thrusts back inside.
"Can't, no-" You don't think Soap heard you, too busy dragging his stubble against your neck, mouthing at your jaw. You're pushed over another cliff, your pussy squeezing so tight around Soap's cock you think you can feel ever vein on that beautiful thing. He groans, the sound low beside your ear and dangerously intoxicating.
"What did I say love?" He reminds you, "we go until you tap out."
#GSJSHHS#it’s actually concerning how badly i need him#the way i would immediately strike a dumb ass deal with soap#like IMMEDIATELY
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Okay but chubby chaser! Johnny...
Chubby chaser! Johnny who spots you from across the bar and knows you're the one.
Chubby chaser! Johnny who drinks in your curves, from your full breasts down to your pudgy tummy and wide hips.
Chubby chaser! Johnny whose pants get a little too tight just from the way your lips are moving as you talk to your friend.
Chubby chaser! Johnny who imagines you bent over with the jiggle of your ass as he thrusts into you.
Chubby chaser! Johnny who is dying to suckle at your breasts, knowing very well he can treat you just right.
Chubby chaser! Johnny who just has to muster up the courage to go and talk to a beauty such as yourself.
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I rly hate the Satanic Panic & the moral panic surrounding violence in video games in the 90s, coz it's now impossible to talk about the social implications of violent video games in a realistic sense.
No, violence in video games does not create serial killers in the way most people imagine it would.
However, it's very important to notice how after 9/11, a lot of violent video games pivoted their content from silly gratuitous cartoon gore to more realistic military shooters set in the Levant from a US American lens. It's also important to notice the connection of these games & their toxic online multi-player voice chats to Gamer Gate in 2014.
It's obviously not as black & white as it was presented in the 80s & 90s, I dont think everyone who played early Call of Duty games is a white supremacist who wants to join the military to kill people in the middle east, but I think it's dangerous to pretend like video games or any media can't have an impact on the way people think about violence.
I think what makes all the difference here is how that violence is portrayed, what the message behind it is, what the motives are behind the people who crafted that message, who the victims of that violence are, how they are portrayed & the greater cultural context that surrounds it.
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I am once again thinking about digging holes
It's so fucked up that digging a bunch of holes works so well at reversing desertification
I hate that so much discourse into fighting climate change is talking about bioenginerring a special kind of seaweed that removes microplastics or whatever other venture-capital-viable startup idea when we have known for forever about shit like digging crescent shaped holes to catch rainwater and turning barren land hospitable
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whenever i'm trying to talk myself out of buying something i don't need i always hear my old russian professor's voice echoing in my head: "WHAT??? WILL YOU DIE THE RICHEST MAN IN THE GRAVEYARD?" and then i make an unwise financial decision
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sometimes im like "wow holy shit im being really fucking annoying. i should stop talking" and then i pull out my magic 8 ball and it says "youve always been annoying and your friends chose to talk you anyways. youll be fine" and im like wow thanks magic 8 ball. and then the ogre attacks me
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okay but what if your grandparents died and left you with all of their fortune but the rest of your family was pissed to the point where you think they might kill you. so you marry mafia!price for protection and in exchange, he and his gang use some of your grandparents estates and businesses as a front for their shady operations?
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you start dating ghost and soap gets... chummy. too chummy. ye weren't even friends before, and now every second you spend at simon's side is one more opportunity for soap to blow up your phone. sound intentions, you figure. watching out for his battle buddy. so you bear his keen involvement in your relationship with amusement and—endearment.
what can ya say? johnny makes an arse of himself, but what an arse. and simon speaks highly of him, encourages hangouts and gossip seshs, so you embrace it. a boyfriend and a bestie? say less.
soap was never the picture of restraint. three months in, though, you learn just how intrusive a man can get, and how much he was holding back. his advice shifts from preferred gifts to ghost's favourite sex positions. he asks after your dates: where'd you go? d'ye like the movie? how'd he kiss ya? care to demonstrate? and he joins in, sometimes, a dinner here and there, and at the end he shares a look with simon and goes to the guest room. ghost makes you scream louder on those nights, fucks you longer, harder.
your phone buzzes. a text from soap.
scream my name now, see how ghostie treats us ;)
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oh my god.
“oh i’m a feminist. i wanna put a woman on top. and on the back, on her knees”
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I honestly and truly believe all good AUs should be a little “”””ooc”””” in the sense that good characterisation involves understanding that changes a characters backstory and circumstances will have an effect on how they respond to the world around them
Good characterisation isn’t about creating a perfect 1:1 canon replica it’s about understanding why a character is different in your work and about grounding the changes you do deliberately choose to make in canon character traits
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