#you are chained to me. for better or for worse
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(Re)Living a Nightmare, part 2
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You're still here? Okay, it's not gonna get any better for our poor boy. Do read and heed the tags/CW.
Basic Summary if You Decide to Skip
Also please skim this chapter and this chapter if you haven't already, because they will be referenced heavily in the story coming up
TW/CW: rape/noncon, bound and gagged and blindfolded whumpee, creepy/intimate whumper, knife play, neither safe nor sane nor consensual, blood (lots of blood), victim blaming, internalized victim blaming, whumpee and whumper unknowingly triggering each other, blunt force trauma to the head (face), panic
NOTE: The inner thoughts and opinions expressed within do not align with those of the author, who themself has never and would never condone such thoughts and opinions in real life. Reader Discretion is advised.
All Thomas asked of him was to change into clothes he wouldn’t mind replacing, which usually meant that whatever Khaled wore would be torn/burned/ stained so irreparably that it’d just be thrown away after. Already based on that request, Khaled could guess he was in for a rough night. He had no idea how much worse it could get until he was blindfolded, bound, gagged, and carried out the apartment and down to the cold garage, where the hard foot-well of the back seat waited for him. The car revved to life, and his restrained body lurched forward as Thomas pulled out of the garage and drove them to fuck knows where.
Eventually they came to a stop, Thomas exchanged some words with the night-shift guard at the old house, and then they kept going until they parked. Khaled slowly started to put the pieces together. They were back at the old house, which probably meant Thomas wanted to take him downstairs, which meant whatever he wanted to do to him would be too messy or too specialized to do back at the apartment. What is he planning? Khaled wondered. He’s asked me to wear my most expendable clothes, he’s tied me up like I used to be when I was recaptured, he’s thrown me into the back like when I was recaptured-
His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of the car door opening. He blindly tilted his head toward the chill of the night and the distant sound of frogs singing. A pair of calloused hands hauled him up from the foot-well of the back seat and slung him over a broad shoulder. “Thought you could escape me this time, did you?” his master’s voice purred in his ear.
A pit of dread competed with the chill of the early spring night in his bones as Khaled realized what all this preparation had meant. Master wants to roleplay my escape attempts. He began shivering, though not just because of the cold. A warm hand rested on his buttocks to steady him as he felt himself being carried inside, through the hallway, and to the front of a very familiar door. Reliving his failed escape attempts but with an added sexual element was one of Khaled’s recurring nightmares. What cruel irony was this, that he had begged so enthusiastically no more than half an hour ago for this man to make his nightmare come true?
The familiar creak of a door opening preceded the dusty, dried-blood smell coming from the stairs leading down into the cellar. Khaled pleaded through the rag stuffed in his mouth and the tape sealed over his lips as they descended the stairs step by concrete step. He tugged at the zip ties binding his wrists and ankles, but all that did was dig the hard plastic further into his flesh.
The cellar in the basement was the only room in Luciano Antonio Costa’s old house that didn’t get renovated when they converted the rest of it into an office space. Mainly because its purpose as a room for torture and interrogation never went obsolete. Khaled didn’t have to see it; he’d been down in the T&I cellar enough times to have the layout committed to memory. Dusty, red bricked walls arched into a curved ceiling where two overhead lamps hung by thick chains, illuminating the large expanse below. A fireplace and all its accompanying iron tools sat to the left, and a rack lined with various instruments of torture was positioned to the right. In the middle was one large table with scratch marks furrowed into its edges, and many other types of equipment were either shoved in a corner or hanging from the ceiling, suspended by heavy chains and hooks like morbid chandeliers. Partitioning a back portion of the room was a large iron gate leading to a small offshoot of the basement, much like a door to a prison cell. Not much lay beyond the iron gate besides a hard-worn bench and several opaque plastic storage tubs full of mysterious items.
Khaled squirmed as he was lowered onto his stomach on top of the familiar table. “What were you thinking,” scolded the nightmare looming above him. A faint swish of a pocket knife and cold steel next to his skin made Khaled pause his struggles as his master cut away the zip ties. “Escaping in this cold weather without so much as a scrap of clothing on you –did you even have a plan?” he taunted. “I don’t know what your plan was, or even if you had a plan, but was it really worth freezing yourself to death?”
Khaled enjoyed the freedom of his unbound limbs for only a moment until his wrists were snatched into a tight grip and gathered in front of him. A coarse and scratchy material –rope, most likely –began entangling around and in between his wrists as his master continued talking. “We have a tracking chip installed inside of you, remember? You can never escape me; I will always find you.” With a forceful tug, Khaled’s hands were pulled in front of him, then he couldn’t move his hands at all. The other end of the rope must have been tied off to the ring attachment at the edge of the table.
His ankles remained free, if only to make it easier to take his pants off.
There were some light shuffling noises before the wooden table groaned under a newfound weight. Khaled felt the body heat of another person leaning over him. The cologne Thomas wore quickly overpowered his senses as the man hovered close. Khaled could feel his master’s breath on his ear and something hard and stiff against his backside. “The last time you tried to run away, a friend of mine advised me to cut your tendons,” Thomas sultrily whispered.
Oh god no. By now, Khaled knew which escape attempt they were reenacting, and, coincidentally, it was the one he had nightmares about the most.
“I don’t want to permanently cripple you though,” Thomas sighed, “mostly because it would be even more of a hassle to care for you, but I will cripple you temporarily, at the very least...”
He could already hear the hiss of the iron.
His panicked cries took on a new pitch of desperation. Without warning, his master’s fingers pinched at the edge of the duct tape on Khaled’s mouth and pulled, making him scream in pain. The rag was quickly removed, only for his tormentor to shove his index and middle fingers past the boy’s teeth to depress his tongue. “Suck,” he growled, “because this is the only lube you’re going to get.”
“Please, no, not this one, please, please no, not this, not this,” Khaled begged around the fingers in his mouth.
The fingers quickly withdrew before Khaled’s head was yanked back by the hair and then smashed onto the table. Stars danced across his blindfold, and a faint trickle of something warm and wet escaped from his nose.
“Let’s try this again.” Thomas shoved his fingers back into the boy’s mouth, burying them to the knuckle and making the boy gag. “Suck.”
Khaled shakily worked his head up and down the length of the fingers as his tongue lapped at each digit. He started to cry. As soon as the fingers withdrew, his pleas picked up again in earnest. “Please don’t burn me, please don’t burn me, please don’t burn me, please don’t burn me-”
“Would you relax?! I’m not going to burn you!” Thomas shouted above him. “What about any of this looks like I’m gonna burn you?!” Khaled heard a frustrated huff above him as his master yanked down his pants and underwear, exposing his bare ass and legs to the cold. The shed clothing was discarded, landing with a soft whump somewhere behind them. The two digits that were in his mouth forcefully entered him below, all pretense of play forgotten as they began roughly working him open. “Besides which, weren’t you the one who wanted to do this? You asked for this, you wanted this! You said you would be good for me!”
And he was right, he did say he wanted this. He asked for this to happen. So, with a defeated sniffle, Khaled went quiet and limp.
“So, are you going to be good for me now?”
Khaled’s bruised forehead scraped against the table as he nodded.
“Thank fuck,” Thomas grumbled.
I asked for this, Khaled told himself. The darkness around his eyes became damp as the blindfold caught his tears. I asked for this, I wanted this. He repeated it like a mantra as the man on top of him replaced his fingers with his cock and steadily screwed him against the table. I asked for this, I wanted this. Something tore down there as an unmistakable thin, warm, and sticky fluid trickled past the cock pummeling his hole. I wanted this. I wanted this…
I didn’t want this.
I never wanted this. Any of this.
I don’t want this. Slowly, the new mantra gained strength, and he let the words slip between his lips with every shuddering breath. “I don’t want this, I don’t want this, I don’t want this, I don’t want this-”
“Tough shit,” his master grunted.
Khaled pulled against the rope restraining his hands as he struggled against the body pressing into his. “I don’t want this! I don’t want this! I don’t want this! I-” Again, Khaled’s face was smashed against the table. He heard a faint crunch as a new river of blood flowed out of his nose.
“You can scream all you want, nobody’s going to hear you,” Thomas growled, “but for fucks sakes, can you please scream something less annoying?!”
Khaled kept repeating it between every sniffle, like a sad broken record. “I don’t want this,” he sobbed. “I don’t want this… I don’t want this…”
His begging finally outwore Thomas’ need to finish. “Fuck,” his master huffed, unsticking his sweaty torso from Khaled’s clothed back as he pulled out of him. Khaled collected his heaving breaths. It would be too naïve of him to believe his bitchy whining finally got through, but he would appreciate this moment while he could.
He suppressed his sobs and tilted his head to follow the footsteps and shuffling sounds Thomas was making as he tried to guess what would happen to him next. Khaled heard the faint schwing of a different knife being unsheathed. It cut through the flimsy fabric of his t-shirt as his master finally completely undressed him, tearing away the scraps of cotton the knife didn’t excise from his body. “You said you would be good for me, but you have been anything but!” A twisted strip of cloth was wedged between his teeth and hastily tied off at the back of his head. His master’s hand pinned him down by the back of the neck, crushing him against the table with the weight behind it. “You said you missed me, but you’ve only fought against me this whole time!” Khaled screamed into the gag as the tip of the knife sank in between his shoulder blades. Its blade dragged tortuously and deliberately through his skin as his tormentor continued griping above him. “You’re a fucking liar, you know that?” The knife mercifully lifted from the trough it had carved, only to be plunged into a new area of Khaled’s back. “Do you know what I do to liars, boy? I make them pay!” The raw wounds on his back wept with blood as the knife kept slicing, spilling over his sides and pooling underneath his stomach and the table below. It was hard to cry with a gag in his mouth and a broken nose full of blood. He gasped for breaths between sobs, never quite getting a satisfying breath before the pain of the knife would make him scream again. His tears slipped past the saturated blindfold and tracked down his cheeks to join the pinkish smear of saliva, snot, and blood he could feel covering the lower half of his face. “This is for Callahan!” The knife drove down and sliced another line through his skin for each name the monster dropped. “This is for Trémeaux! And Robinson, and Martinez, and Kruger, and Kościelsky, and this-” The knife dug deeper this time. Khaled bit into the gag as his nerves screamed in agony, the steel scraping something hard as it dragged against his back. “-this is for my brother; he is never coming back! Tony is never coming back, and it’s all because of you!” the monster above him roared.
It was in that moment, between the terror and the pain, that Khaled realized with a fascinated horror that his master was reliving a nightmare, too. I need to snap him out of it if I’m getting out of this cellar alive, he realized. So, he set his own trauma and pain aside and began doing what got him into this mess in the first place. The twisted cloth had loosened just enough. He pushed it out of his mouth with his tongue and started begging as if his life depended on it, because this time, it really did.
“I didn’t kill him!” he cried. “I didn’t kill him! I didn’t kill him! I didn’t kill him!” Khaled screamed well past the point his throat hurt. “Master, please, I didn’t kill him, I didn’t kill any of them! I didn’t kill him, I didn’t kill him, Master, I didn’t kill him…” If the knife had stopped cutting into him and the rope around his wrists had been untied, Khaled was too far gone in his panic induced catatonia to notice. “I didn’t kill him… I didn’t kill him…” he rasped through a throat torn raw from screaming.
Le Tag List: @kabie-whump @rainydaywhump @whumped-by-glitter @skittles-the-whumpee @generic-whumperz
@bamber344 @there-will-always-be-blood
#whump writing#heavy chapter ahead#tw rap3#tw noncon#tw blood#tw victim blaming#internalized victim blaming#creepy/intimate whumper#bound whumpee#gagged whumpee#blindfolded whumpee#knife whump#neither safe nor sane nor consensual#blunt force trauma to face#whumpee just has the worst time#whumpee and whumper accidentally trigger each other#is this too dark?#is it too late to ask now that i've already posted it?
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the borgias 2.03, the beautiful deception / william butler yeats / supernatural 2.11, playthings
#the borgias#theborgiasedit#supernatural#spn#spnedit#martyr#mine#comparatives#*sicko guy meme* YES! YES!#its about keeping the one you love alive even when they beg you for death#you are chained to me. for better or for worse#txt
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I want you whipped into shape!
[First] Prev <–-> Next
#poorly drawn mdzs#better drawn mdzs#mdzs#wei wuxian#yu ziyuan#wang lingjiao#wen zhuliu#'When I say jump - say “how high'”? You know you're doing it right when you start to cry!“#Of course I can't resist the Legally blonde reference. This is the Elle Woods is canon in PD-MDZS blog#I love this scene so much. There are a lot of things to say about it and I would go over the limit if I indulged.#Suffice it to say the main takeaway *here* is that I think YZY is milfboss of the millennia.#I intended for this to be posted on international women's day but my ambition led me to keep trying to make it better.#And by better I mean I spent several days (re)drawing this one and that is **not** what poorly-drawn-mdzs is supposed to be about.#I will be making the next few comics worse to compensate <3 At the very least I will honour my time and tag it as 'better drawn'#('my time' spent hunched over my desk while I chant 'this concept is *not* above my skill level!' over and over again)#Funny story about PD!Wen Zhuliu; he was supposed to show up sooner but I kept accidently cutting the comics he would have been in.#So I like to think he just went on a long coffee run. 'Go get me an (insert coffee chain) pink drink' said Wen Chao.#'He never said from which location' said Wen Zhuliu as he proceeded to walk 100km to the farthest cafe he could find.
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sorry for the meme format that's apparently nearing a DECADE old but i unironically feel a shiver down my spine any time someone mentions buffy being rebooted
#i can SEE the fucking netflix machine stamping it into the LA winx club/wednesday mold and it makes me want to tear apart#a chain link fence with my teeth#i've watched too much bad tv recently and i don't know who to blame but it fucking sucks out here man#can we stop writing tv like it's a bad novel and/or a collection of Funny Tweets xd#there's no fucking SUBSTANCE these days it's just one nonsensical twitter draft after another#if there's a tiktok plot i will kms in front of the writer's room and forever change the trajectory of their bond. for better or worse idc#also if they cast an actor younger than me to play spike i'll- i'll- i'll oh boy you don't even KNOW how worked up i can get about#this imaginary scenario i just made up in my head#buffyposting#btvs#*specifying 'gen z' here because if the main thrust of your reboot pitch is that the show is the same but less universal i will eat you ali
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It's official I kin angeldust lol
#the clown! it speaks!#kin talkn#something something being chained to a partner and expressing to them you dont want the relationship and they dont care#something something needing tough love to remind me im only making things worse and i need to work on myself to feel better#something something hypersexual
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there is a god and he is cruel
#the bin#sorry sorry im having existential dread and terror. literally i dont think ive ever felt worse then i do over the fact im gonna have to wor#some stupid job so often that contributes nothing and get paid so little and be in pain the whole time and have so little time for fun#inat least wnat something that pays a bit better and feels like im actually doing something#tnis whole go to work and cycle through this same loop of donated items and then watch so many of them get tossed is killing me#my job feels so meaningless because it is. i dont know how to describe why. i think a job at a grocery store doing stocking would feel at#different. this type of production work is just so draining mentally. its not samey enough to just be ignorable. it sucks#i go to work and sort through stuff and then put it on the shelves and then everything gets all messed up and fixed and messed up again#and it repeats and its not the same as if it were boxed. because at least that would feel just like whatever yknow. its this horrible#capitalist system disgused as something small and friendly. ive always felt this way about big chain thrift stores and now that i work at#one that feeling is so much stronger. '#'you love to thrift so why not work at thrift?' because it will crush your soul#sorry. i would rather like work at a store stocking a regular rotation of things and itd feel like corprate capitalism yattah yattah but#not pretending to be soemthing else. my coworkers are so nice but i hate this job#my managers are fine but theyre pushing more of tnis produce produce produce thing bc they have to and i dislike it a lot#like man i AM doing my best and its fast enough and its not even being said directly to me just everyone but it feels bad like they want#me doing this exact process for a job whee the things change. its not a bunch of same shape packeged blah blah its just an array of objects#a really boring array of objects that are all the same but also not the same enough to be easier#and you want to to act like its all packeged and stuff??#ugh i hate it. i think this is why i like hanging bags so much cause its a simple sorting pricess and simple to put them up
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Title: In The Serpent's Den.
Pairing: Yandere!Suguru x Reader (JJK).
Word Count: 4.7k.
TW: Non/Con, Hybrid AU, AFAB!Reader, Cobra!Suguru, Rabbit!Reader, Biting, Aphrodisiacs, Heat Cycles, Oviposition, Manipulation, Biting, Breeding Kinks, and Predator/Prey Dynamics.
“It’s time to come out, little rabbit.”
His tone was sickly sweet, lulled into something saccharine and tempting, only slightly distorted by the uncommon shape of his tongue. Despite his melodic coaxing, you curled further into yourself – pulling your thighs flush to your chest and burying your knees in your face, doing your best not to breathe, not to cry, not to make a sound. The temptation to uncurl yourself entirely and run, run, run until you found somewhere small and dark and safe gnawed on the back of your mind, but it never would’ve worked. You were in Suguru’s enclosure, Suguru’s territory, and there was nowhere to run where he wouldn’t be able to follow.
“I’m losing my patience, little rabbit. If you come out now, I promise I’ll try to hold myself back.”
Why was he even looking for you? It’d been weeks since his eccentric, white-haired owner forced you into the sprawling greenhouse that made up Suguru’s enclosure, and he’d never paid you a second glance. You did your best to avoid him, to make sure you never crossed his path while he was prowling for a meal. You could count the number of times he’d acknowledged you on a single hand, and he’d never so much as lunged at you. You couldn’t imagine why he’d decided you’d make a good meal now, after weeks of relatively peaceful cohabitation. Maybe he’d gotten tired of keeping you around, of having to share his territory with another hybrid – one so far below him on the food chain. Maybe, this was just the first time he’d gotten hungry enough to hunt you down.
You heard branches shift, twigs break, and instantly, all of your thoughts (rational and otherwise) were replaced with a frantic, buzzing static. “You’re only making this worse for yourself,” Suguru went on, and his voice was too loud, too close. You’d tucked yourself into the densest patch of foliage you could find, but your white ears and cottony tail stood out like blood on snow against the vivid greens and blacks of the flora. Suddenly, trying to hide at all felt stupid. Rabbits weren’t supposed to hide. Rabbits were supposed to die and get eaten by the big, mean snakes who preyed on them. “I’m going to find you, and when I do, you’re only going to be sorry you made me wait as long as I have.”
You could hear the dull drag of scales moving over rough stone, the ebbing ‘hiss’ that formed a slight lisp at the end of each sentence. You raised your head just far enough to see a large, black shape move in front of you, and something buried deep inside of you cracked and spilled open.
Running wasn’t a choice – it was the only option. You were on your feet in a second, sprinting deeper into the greenhouse in another. The direction didn’t matter. As long as you got away from him, nothing else mattered.
Blindly, you vaulted over fallen branches and overgrown roots, rotting leaf litter threatening to steal your balance as you veered away from the beaten path and threw yourself into the tangled wilderness. If Suguru was chasing you, you couldn’t hear him – the world little more than a blur of color and your own racing pulse. You just needed to find somewhere better to hide, somewhere he’d forgotten. A tunnel, or a tree hollow, or a cave dark enough to hide your snowy pelt from prying eyes. You just needed to—
Your trek came to an abrupt end as your collided with a pane of thick, emerald-tinted glass and were sent crashing to the ground. It took you a second to process what you’d run into – the wall of the greenhouse, the edge of Suguru’s enclosure – and another to remember that you weren’t in the wilderness, anymore, that you wouldn’t find a tunnel or a cave or anywhere else to hide that hadn’t been created deliberately to trick animals like you into to think they were safe. You might’ve cried, if you hadn’t been so desperate. You might’ve gone looking for Suguru yourself, if you hadn’t been too scared to remember what it meant to be caged.
Fighting back tears, you started to scramble onto your feet, but it was already too late. There was no sound, no warning, just a sudden pressure against your back and an agonizing pain burrowed into the side of your throat. His fangs were planted in your neck before you could so much as scream, his strong tail wrapped around your legs and his arms crossed over your midriff, keeping your body locked against his as he pinned you to the ground. You expected his venom to burn, to be able to feel death as it flooded into your veins, but instead, there was only a slight numbing sensation around the point of insertion, a distant fog over your senses that might’ve just been your own fading adrenaline. If anything, you felt…
You felt warm.
Suguru took his time pulling away, his ribbon-like tongue flickering over the skin of your throat before he lifted his head. You weren’t facing him, one of your cheeks pressed into the dirt, but you could just barely see him out of the corner of your eye, make out the dark hair tucked behind his shoulders, the pitch-black scales littered over his face, his chest. You knew he was a snake, but you thought you might’ve heard his owner call him something else, once or twice. A ‘cobra’, maybe, but you’d never met a cobra before. You felt safer thinking of him as a snake.
He opened his mouth, but you were already babbling. Trying not to cry had been useless. Tears poured down your cheeks unabashedly, blurring your vision and making it that much harder to spit something coherent out. “P-please don’t eat me – I’m really small for a rabbit, and I promise I won’t taste very good, and I—”
“Quiet, little rabbit.” You’d been wrong, before. You didn’t feel warm, no, you felt hot – something deep inside of you beginning to smolder at the sound of his voice. Immediately, you shut your mouth, and he rewarded you with a raspy chuckle. “You thought I was going to… to eat you?” You nodded stiltedly, and he went on. “Ah, no wonder you were so afraid. And here I thought my timid little bunny just didn’t like me very much.”
“…’m sorry.” You must’ve run farther than you realized. A few minutes of sprinting shouldn’t have left you this breathless, this dazed. “You… You aren’t going to eat me?”
“No, bunny. I’m not going to hurt you.”
“But, you bit—”
“I gave you a present.” Another dry chuckle, his tongue flitting over the back of your neck. “Just a little something to make sure you wouldn’t be so shy. You should already be feeling better.”
You weren’t sure that you felt better, but you didn’t feel scared, either. A different feeling had taken the place of your fear – the sensation viscous and churning and prone sending pangs of dull, burning pain to the pit of your stomach. You had to make a conscious effort to move your lips, and even then, it was hard to get any sound past your suddenly dry throat. Suguru waited patiently, seemingly more than happy to watch you stumble over your own tongue. “It’s really warm,” you managed, eventually. “I think I might be… tired?”
“Oh, of course. I forgot how easy it is for prey animals to wear themselves out. I’ll take you back to my nest, where you’ll be able to rest safely.” It wasn’t a question, but you nodded eagerly. Safe. You wanted to be safe. You couldn’t remember what you needed to be safe from anymore, though.
He uncurled, but didn’t pull away from you. Rather, your smaller body was pulled against his broad chest as he took you in his arms and carried you through the greenhouse. His destination was a raised loft – set above the wild foliage of his enclosure, accessible only by a sparsely wrung ladder you never would’ve had a hope of climbing on your own. His nest wasn’t at all like a rabbit’s nest, either. Rather than a deep, dark tunnel padded with fur and leaves, he’d taken you to a mess of tangled roots and woven blankets, all piled onto one another to form a box-like bed. Your form, limper than you would’ve liked it to be, was laid on a relatively soft patch, and Suguru positioned himself above you; upper body supported by his forearms, his never-ending tail taking up whatever space you left unoccupied. You wanted to sleep, to do what he said you should, but he was still touching you – dragging a single, clawed finger down your chest and over your midriff, only pausing at your waist to draw slow, swirling patterns into your hip. “My venom has a unique side-effect, you know,” he muttered, his voice low and soothing, the tapered tip of his tail lashing from side to side as he spoke. “A full dose would be fatal. It’d be fast, too – a few seconds of screaming, a few seconds of twitching, and then—” He paused, clicked his tongue. “—dead, just like that. It’s a little anti-climactic, to be honest.”
Something deep inside of you began to throb. You shrunk into yourself, trying to relieve the pulsing ache, but Suguru mistook your agony for fear. “In controlled portions,” he continued, splaying his open palm over your hip. “The symptoms are much more pronounced. Humans tend to get all feverish and clumsy, but hybrids—”
Again, he paused. His hand drifted lower – first to your thigh, then your cunt. You didn’t realize you were dripping until his cold fingertips skirted over your slit, gathering up the slick already staining the inside of your thighs.
“Hybrids go into heat.”
A cold wave of dread washed over you, and Suguru’s smile widened.
“…heat?”
“Heat, little rabbit.”
His hand lingered on your pussy, two of his massive fingers splitting apart your lips and making room for his tongue to lap gingerly over your entrance. The sensation was strange – not good and not bad, a little ticklish – but your hips bucked as it flickered over your clit. You knew better than to get so close to a snake’s mouth, but you couldn’t seem to move, to think about anything but getting closer, closer to anything that could touch and poke and lick you. “Is heat—” You started, only to be cut off by a cracked whimper as the throbbing in your core intensified. “Is it supposed to hurt?”
“Only for a while.” His deep voice reverberated against your cunt, and you couldn’t stop yourself; attempting to rock your hips against his mouth with a high-pitched whine. It was embarrassing to be so needy, so desperate, but Suguru didn’t seem to mind, only ghosting his lips over the inside of your thigh as he pushed you back down. “But, you’ll need a mate to help you through it. Do you want a mate?”
“Y-Yes! Mate!” You’d never felt this empty, before. It was a little like hunger, but not as jagged, not as desolate. It was more of an absence than anything more tangible; a total and complete vacancy that had to be filled. You tried to roll onto your stomach, to scramble onto your hands and knees and present yourself, but Suguru held you in place with minimal effort. Your protest came in the form of a drawn-out whine, a waving sound Suguru mocked with a low coo and an airy laugh. “Please, please, it hurts, Suguru, I can’t— I need—”
“You need cock,” he finished, his tone one of pure, undeniable satisfaction. With a sigh, he picked himself up, straightening his back and towering above you. You felt saliva pool at the bottom of your mouth as the junction between his upper body and his tail came into view – pale skin slowly giving way to ebony scales, the sculpted muscle of his chest meeting the plated armor below his hips. His hand fell away from you, but you couldn’t mourn the loss of contact, not when your attention was so fixated on the thin, almost invisible slit just below his pubic bone. His fingertips slipped shallowly inside of it, and his gaze shifted back to you. “Come, little bunny. I think you’ve earned another treat.”
The encouragement was appreciated, but unnecessary. You were already crawling towards him, your limbs uncooperative and your movements jolting but your resolve absolute. There was still a throbbing emptiness inside of you, getting worse and more demanding with each neglectful second, but all you could think about was settling onto your knees in front of Suguru and drooling at the sight of his fluttering slit. You weren’t sure what to do, whether to use your hands or your mouth, but Suguru didn’t leave much time for indecision. His free hand found its way to the back of your head, nudging you forward until your mouth was pressed against his slit, just starting to leak thick trails of translucent slick over his dark scales. Your tongue darted past your lips hesitantly, at first, but your trepidation didn’t last very long. It couldn’t, not when you had a hollow pit inside of you still begging to be filled.
Suguru’s fingers carded through your hair as you lapped and sucked at his slit. The taste was mildly acidic, but surprisingly sweet – your eyes quickly falling shut as you sank into a pattern of wet sounds and strange textures and point claws grazing over your scalp, scratching at your ears. Throaty moans (the loudest noise you would ever hear Suguru make, in hindsight) and mumbled praise trickled past his lips as you worked, letting you know that he liked the way you were curling your tongue, that the spongy spot you could just barely reach inside of him was particularly sensitive. It wasn’t long before a mix of your saliva and his arousal dripped past the corners of your mouth, before the end of his tail was lashing violently within the confines of his nest. Maybe Suguru was in heat, too. You hoped he was. You didn’t want to be the only one in so much pain.
You felt the tapered tip of something smooth and stiff against your tongue, and Suguru buckled forward, a ragged gasp tearing past his lips as he took your head in both hands and pressed you flush against his abdomen. Confused and panicked, you tried to pull away, but his grip was iron-clad and it was all you could do to whimper, to sit there helplessly while something filled your mouth – hard and ridged and hot enough to burn. Cock, the pulsing in your core filled in, but it couldn’t be. Suguru had made it sound like something you needed, something you were supposed to want, but you didn’t like the way the blunt head prodded at the back of your throat, the way the ridged underside ground against your tongue. For the first time since he’d caught you, your instincts agreed with your better judgement, both urging you to get away, to run, to put distance between yourself and this newfound threat.
Your pussy, though, couldn’t seem to do anything but chant mate, mate, mate.
You could feel something else, too – not in your mouth, but pressing into your chin, your throat. Reflexively, your hands shot up, wrapping around the thick intruder, and this time, Suguru let go of you entirely, biting back a half-choked groan as he pushed you away, leaving you sprawled out and alone in the center of his nest. The hollowness inside of you was nearly unbearable, and rubbing your thighs together only seemed to make it worse. You tried to look to Suguru, to ask him to do something, but instead, your eyes caught on the long, pale appendage pressed into his lower stomach. His cock. Or, his cocks, you guessed.
You hadn’t expected there to be two of them.
You hadn’t expected them to be so big, either. Even at a distance, it was clear they weren’t meant for a rabbit. Just one would’ve been more than you could handle – as long as your forearm, as thick as your wrist, the end tapered to a steep point but the base absolutely massive before they disappeared into his slit. The color was strange, too – the tip flushed a dull pink while the base was nearly as dark as his scales, creating an ombre that might’ve been pretty, if you weren’t so terrified. You couldn’t see any veins, but both were sculpted with pronounced, perfectly spaced ridges. You couldn’t imagine having something like that inside of you, but you couldn’t imagine not having anything inside of you, either.
You couldn’t be sure how long you spent staring up at him, trying to wrap your head around his size, trying to decide if you’d rather be torn apart by his cock or your own increasingly demanding needs. In the end, it wasn’t really your choice to make. His eyes darted from your clenched thighs to your heaving chest to yours, wide and watery, and a grin found its way back to his lips. For some reason, his smile wasn’t as comforting as it’d been, the first time you saw it. “I’m sorry, little rabbit. Did I startle you?” The tenderness in his voice was almost cloying. You didn’t move, didn’t respond, but he didn’t seem to need you to. “I didn’t mean to. Why don’t you spread your legs nice n’ wide for me, and I’ll make it up to you?”
Your gaze fell back to his cocks. One of his fists had wrapped around both, pumping idly while he stood above you. “Are those supposed to…?” You trailed off, shrinking into yourself. Suguru hummed, and you took it as confirmation. “But you’ll only use one, right? I don’t think I can— I mean, it won’t fit if you—”
“Really? I could’ve sworn you were begging to be fucked properly just a few minutes ago.” You stiffened, but he only laughed. “Fine, fine. If that’s what you think you want, I’ll only use one.”
You didn’t think you could trust him, but you could feel yourself getting hot, again, a haze forming over your mind. You could leave when he was finished, you figured, even if you weren’t entirely sure how to get out of his nest, or where to go once you’d escaped back into the greenhouse. After you got over your— your heat.
Hesitantly, you started to listen to the negging mantra still playing in the back of your mind, to obey the near-deafening voice in the back of your head urging you to get on your hands and knees and make him fuck you, but Suguru must’ve decided you weren’t moving fast enough. His tail shifted underneath you, a thick coil catching your side and leaving you bent over one of the thicker lengths, your stomach pressed into his cool scales and your feet barely able to reach the tangled roots of his nest. You scrambled for purchase, but Suguru was there to steady you – his hands finding your hips, his cocks pressing into your ass. The calloused pads of his fingertips pressed into your waist as he aligned one of his cocks – the upper one, you thought, just a little thicker than its twin – with your entrance. He was kind enough to give you a long, slow second to breathe before his hips rutted forward and he inside of you.
Immediately, it felt wrong.
You’d been right when you decided he was too big for you. He was only half-sheathed, and yet, the tip of his cock pressed into the floor of your cervix, the head of his cock alone enough to stretch your pussy as far as it could go. Thankfully, he didn’t try to force himself deeper, but feeling the smooth ridges of rub against the walls of your pussy as he pulled back wasn’t much better. Still, your cunt clenched around him eagerly, doing its best to suck him in despite your physical limitations. Suguru, of course, seemed more than happy to indulge you. His thrusts were slow and lethargic, as gentle as they could’ve been but still forceful enough to leave you pinned to the curve of his tail. You weren’t in control of your body, anymore. As he rolled his hips against your ass, you ground back against him, your greedy cunt never warm enough, never wet enough, never full enough. You tried to dig your blunt claws into his tail, to ground yourself, but it was a futile effort; a limping dear attempting to evade a wolf who’d already tasted its blood. Suguru’s only response was a stifled groan, a new roughness to the way he fucked into you. You felt his chest against your back as he bent at the waist, draping himself over you, his dark hair falling from his shoulder and replacing chunks of your vision with a curtain of thick, endless black. It didn’t matter. A fresh wave of tears would’ve left you just as helpless, not that Suguru seemed to mind the way you sniffled and sobbed between moans.
“They say— fuck, you know what they say about rabbits, don’t you, bunny?” His voice was barely audible, but it seemed to echo on and on and on in your overly sensitive ears. His cock ground against something softened and vulnerable inside of you and your back arched, your pussy clenching impossibly tighter around him. “That’s it,” Suguru encouraged, as you tried to pry yourself away from his freezing tail and chase the gentle warmth of his chest. “They say bunnies make the best sluts. Knock them up once, and they’ll never stop begging for it.”
Kits. A strong mate. A safe nest. The thought alone had you crying out for nothing, your convulsions growing that much more erratic, and Suguru chuckled in-turn. “Like that? Want me to make you into my little mate-whore?”
“Want it, please, w-want it so bad.” It was all you could do to force yourself to speak, to spit something out through the daze of lust and exhaustion and total, unrelenting fullness. You’d never been more sure of anything than you were in that moment, never knew something as deeply as you knew that you wanted Suguru’s kits inside of you. “Please, wanna be you mate, wanna—Suguru—!”
One more thrust, one more scape of his sleek scales against your clit, and you were coming undone around his cock in jolting, erratic convulsions. Suguru let out a ragged grunt and straightened his back, but the distance was short-lived. Strong arms snaked under your knees, spreading your legs and hauling you up to his height. Your back remained pressed against his chest as he pulled out of you entirely and slammed back in. Even through the overstimulation, the wrongness hit you immediately. His cock was too big, too thick, and—
And he was inside of you.
Completely inside of you.
You forced yourself to open your eyes, letting your head fall forward limply. The shock was minimal, but still devastating – both of Suguru’s cocks buried inside of you to their pitch-black bases, their outlines just barely visible against the plush flesh of your lower stomach. “You—You promised you wouldn’t—”
His face was buried in the dip of your shoulder, his lips parted as panted against you. You felt his teeth catch on your skin before sinking into you, had time to process the pure heat of his venom seeping into your veins. Instantly, anything you might’ve said died on your tongue, your mind going utterly, entirely blank save for a single thought: mate.
Your mouth fell open, your thighs spreading that much farther. Suguru pressed a lingering, open-mouthed kiss into the injection site, then pulled away, grinning wildly. “A few drops, and you’ll want everything I have to give you,” he muttered. “That’s better, isn’t it, bunny?”
Much better. You could feel something swelling at the base of his cock, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care, couldn’t bring yourself to acknowledge anything other than the utter bliss as a small, round shape was milked up the length of his cock and emptied into your core. Kits, you thought, and did your best to settle onto his twin cocks, to hold still as another egg was forced through your tight pussy. You stopped trying to count after the fourth – giving in completely to the shuddering, splintering euphoria every new member of your little family brought you. By the time the final egg was safe and snug inside of you, you were limp, twitching, and so full, it was hard to imagine ever feeling empty again.
As the last aftershocks started to fade, Suguru sucked in a stilted gasp and pulled you flush against his chest. You felt his second cock twitch once, then twice inside of you before something warm and thick flooded into your pussy. You whined miserably as he pulled out of you, but he didn’t stay gone for very long. Your pliable body was turned around in his arms, his cocks slid back into your leaking cunt as he carefully lowered himself onto the floor of his nest – your body laid on top of his. You strung your arms around his neck and pressed yourself against his chest, closing your eyes and giving in to your well-earned exhaustion.
You lasted just long enough to hear him mutter something about mates and clutches before your consciousness faded entirely and your mind went mercifully, blissfully silent.
~
Hours later, you woke up to the sound of a low, long whistle. “Really did a number on the poor thing, huh, Suguru?”
It took you a second to blink your eyes open, to raise your head and glance toward the man standing at the top of the ladder that led to Suguru’s nest, and another to recognize him as Suguru’s owner. His white hair was in a state of disarray, his eyes hidden behind circles of tinted glass, and for some reason, he was looking at you. You shrunk further into Suguru, but he only laughed – the noise loud and piercing to your foggy senses.
Suguru’s cocks were no longer inside of you, the flushed tips just barely visible at the base of his slit. You were still on his chest, and his arms were wrapped around your waist, his hold loose but possessive. There was a small bump over your lower stomach, and you weren’t sure whether to grimace or beam at the feeling of Suguru’s eggs shifting inside of you with every little movement. He was already awake – had been for some time, judging by the unimpressed scowl pressed into his lips. Something sharp and icy lodged itself into your chest, but his glare was directed towards his owner, not you, and the very tip of his tail curled around your ankle protectively as his owner stepped into his nest.
“Hasn’t anyone ever told you not to walk into a serpent’s den?”
“I don’t think it counts if I own the den.” He straddled the bulk of Suguru’s tail, then gestured to you. “Turn the pretty baby around. I wanna see the damage.”
You shook your head vehemently, clinging to Suguru’s neck, but his own response was an exasperated sigh, a fleeting hiss to your cheek as he flipped you over; leaving you slayed across his chest and exposed to his owner’s prying gaze. “Five minutes,” he said, as his owner shrugged the waistband of his pants down just far enough to free his cock, already half-hard, already enough to send a bolt of pure dread from your heart to the pit of your stomach. “I don’t want your scent on my mate.”
You opened your mouth, ready to whine that you were sore, that you were tired, that you didn’t want anyone but Suguru and your kits inside of you, but the words withered into nothing on your tongue as his owner eased himself into your dripping pussy, as Suguru caught you by the chin and pulled you into a shallow, lingering kiss – the points of his fangs just barely scraping over your bottom lip. Looking back on it, it had been silly to ever worry that he’d eat you.
You should’ve been worried that he wouldn’t.
#yandere#yandere x reader#yandere imagines#hybrid au#jujutsu kaisen#jujutsu kaisen imagines#yandere jujutsu kaisen#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jjk x reader#yandere jjk#jjk imagines#yandere geto suguru#geto x reader#geto suguru x reader#yanderecore#yancore
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Hear the Dogs Howling
Dedicated to the lovely @soapsgf for allowing me to ramble and bounce ideas off as I wrote this, along with being so sweet and helping me grow my confidence. This is for you.
Pairing: Dom!Ghost x fem!switch!reader x switch!Soap
Summary: Soap doesn't know how to stay quiet during sex. Tonight is no different. When you finally knock on his door to get him to tone it down, you walk in on a scene you weren't entirely expecting to see.
CW: MDNI 18+ content, NSFW, MMF threesome, oral (m receiving), fingering (f receiving vaginal; m receiving anal), anal sex (m receiving), mild dubcon as Soap is initially choking on cock but he's into it, minor pet play (Soap is referred to as pup)
Read on Ao3
Soap was a noisy neighbour. There was no other way to put it. You’d been rooming next to him for a good while now ever since you were placed on the task force, and he always found a way to disturb your peace. Whether it was the sound of his music, or telly being up too loud, or his booming laughter as he chatted on the phone, or his or his partner’s noises of pleasure as he fucked them into the squeaky bed the base provided.
Sure, you might have been jealous, picturing him above you, behind you, beneath you instead of them. Yes, you may have also touched yourself listening to his moans, wishing he was making those sounds for you, but you thought better of actually doing something about it. Pushed those feelings deep, deep down. Ruining the team dynamic, especially when you were the newest member put you more at risk than the others of transfer, or worse, discharge.
Shaking your head, you broke out of your chain of thoughts, biting your lip as you tried to focus on the report before you. Price wanted it by tomorrow. Demanded it by tomorrow. Cursing, you rested your forehead on your palms, trying to keep yourself awake as the half-empty cup of coffee remained stagnant next to you. Two pages left. That’s all you had to get through.
And then you heard it. A muffled moan from next door. Fucking Soap and his inability to keep it in his pants for more than a few days.
Clenching your teeth, you snapped your head over your shoulder, glaring at the wall as if you could curse him into silence. But, knowing Soap, this was only the beginning. The man knew how to fuck, and had the stamina to keep on going, meaning if you didn’t put a pin in this now, you were going to be listening to the sounds of your teammate fucking for the next few hours.
Sitting in your chair, you debated for a few minutes, wondering if it really was something you wanted to walk in on, or interrupt at the very least. Tapping your foot and the pen in your hand in a steady rhythm, you tried to focus on the report before you, but after another five minutes of staring into empty space and the sounds from next door filling your head, you caved. Pushing the chair back, you marched over to your adjoining wall, banging on it harshly.
“Keep it down, Soap! I have shit to do for Price.”
You thought that would be the end of it. But it wasn’t. As though he was intentionally trying to spite you, the noises got progressively louder, more frequent. You’d slammed on the wall more times than you’d care to admit before you finally snapped.
Slamming your door open, you march over to Soap’s room and bang your fist against his. But instead of it being solid, the door gave way, swinging open to reveal a scene you’d never thought you’d walk in on. Instead of Soap being on top of a pretty girl, he was on his knees, stark naked with his lips stretched wide around a thick cock that was being shoved down his throat. And not just any cock. Ghost’s cock. Your mouth sagged open slightly as your eyes flicked over the pair of them, taking in Soap’s bare form and comparing it to Ghost’s fully clothed one.
Making a small noise of protest, Soap shuffled his weight on his knees and went to pull back, but Ghost was quicker, gloved hand reaching down to grip Soap’s mohawk firmly, keeping him pressed into his crotch.
“Ah! Did I say you could move, pup?” Ghost’s voice was stern and deep, stirring something deep inside you. In reply, Soap whined, blinking up at the larger man. It was only then that you noticed tears streaming down his face. Your breath hitched as you finally turned your gaze towards Ghost who was staring directly at you.
His dark eyes were sharp and calculated, locking you in place as you stood stock still in the doorway. It was like your shoes were rooted to the spot and you couldn’t tear your eyes away from the erotic scene even if you tried.
“You just gonna stand there and gape at the slut?” Ghost cocked his head to the side, his eyes squinting in amusement. “Or are you gonna make yourself useful, Sergeant?”
The resolve in you crumbled. If Ghost and Soap could fuck with seemingly little consequence, surely you were fine to join as well. Feeling the heat bubble inside you, and your heart thump in your chest, you knew there was only one correct answer moving forward.
Swallowing thickly, you shut the door behind you.
Despite the balaclava covering his face, you could see the interest spark in Ghost’s eyes at your actions. His eyes crinkled as he looked down at Soap, who whined pitifully, drool leaking out the sides of his mouth as he held position.
“Seems like you’ve got another playmate, pup.” Ghost rumbled, carding his fingers through Soap’s hair gently as you walked forward, steps muffled by your socks on the wood floor. “You gonna put on a show for our guest?”
Soap moaned, wet lashes fluttering as glanced between you and Ghost before beginning to bob his head in a slow rhythm along Ghost’s cock. The masked man let out a sharp hiss, fingers gripping Soap’s hair roughly as he grunted in pleasure. You stood there, less than a metre away from the pair, watching, feeling the heat of arousal spread through your body, accumulating between your thighs. Your mind raced, wondering how exactly you were going to fit into this scenario, but that question was answered when Soap reached a hand up towards you, stretching out his fingers.
You kneel down next to him, lacing your fingers through his as his mouth continues to work. Soap’s own cock was rock hard, twitching slightly between his parted legs as the tip drooled pre-cum, pooling on the floor beneath him. He squeezes your hand in thanks and moans prettily, glancing towards you through the corners of his eyes and you grin, leaning in to purr into his ear.
“You’re doing such a good job, pup. Putting on such a good show for me, aren’t you?” Despite the Ghost bullying his heavy cock down Soap’s throat, he whined at your words, opening his mouth even wider to accomodate the thickness. You cooed at him encouragingly, your other hand tracing circles on his back as Ghost groaned.
Thrusting his hips forwards, he bumped his dick into the back of Soap’s throat causing him to gag. You could see the bulge of his cock every time he bucked his hips forwards, yet Soap swallowed eagerly, one hand laced in yours and the other resting on his thigh, twitching with every bounce of his cock.
It was now your turn to stare up at Ghost from your position on the floor and you almost wished you hadn’t. He was a sight. Large and imposing as he stood over the pair of you, eyes darkened with lust as he stared. Your mouth went dry as his mere gaze sent another rush of desire through you, shivers running up your spine as you squeezed your legs together, trying to stave off the lust. He reaches a gloved hand down to cup your cheek, then your neck, tipping your chin up to hold your attention.
“Can I touch him?” You breathed, voice barely audible over the excited yet muffled noises Soap was making at your words.
“Good pups don’t touch themselves.” Ghost answered, brow raising. “He can cum from just sucking me. Sure you don’t wanna see that?”
You had to admit, watching Soap cum without any direct stimulation would be enticing, but you couldn’t wait. You needed to touch him. After months of hearing him fuck, and presumably be fucked, you were finally getting to live out your deepest desire. You shake your head, keeping your eyes fixed on Ghost.
“Not right now. Wanna stroke his cock and watch him lose his mind as he gets you off.” Ghost simply cocked his head to the side before turning his attention back to Soap, but it was Soap who reacted viscerally. His hips stuttered; cock bobbed between his legs as he began to tremble. You felt a sly grin flash over your face.
“Look at you… so excited to be touched? Is that it?” Releasing his hand, you move your own to stroke his thigh, running your hand along the inside, feeling his muscles twitch beneath his skin. “Such a good pup, aren’t you.” He nodded as best he could with a cock down his throat.
Reaching down between his legs, you swipe a finger through the small pool of pre-cum on the floor and move to circle the head of his cock with your fingertip. He whined, hips canting forward to seek more stimulation, which you granted. Wrapping your hand around his cock, you began to stroke him with a light grip, in time with the bobbing of his head. Soap shivered, his eyes fluttering closed at the feeling of your hand touch, and he built up a steady rhythm, causing your hand to move quicker. He moaned, eagerly swallowing down Ghost’s dick to the base, causing him to hiss, gloved fingers tugging at Soap’s mohawk.
“Good fucking pup. Look at you. Swallowing me so well. Makin’ a fuckin’ mess as you do.” Ghost’s dark eyes flicked over to you, before reaching over and cupping your cheek. Breath hitching, you raised your head up to look as him as your hand continued to work over Soap’s slick cock.
“You’re bein’ such a good girl too. Takin’ care of my pup. Makin’ sure he doesn’t get too antsy. Can be a right pain in my ass sometimes.” You could hear the smirk in his voice as you ducked your head, glancing away from him and back to Soap who was pumping his hips forward, desperate for the pace to increase. His eyes flick to yours pleadingly and his hips moved, brows pinched together as he made a muffled noise of impatience.
“Stop touching him.” Ghost growled his command as he yanked Soap’s head back as you pulled your hand back quickly. Letting out a multitude of protests, Soap’s brows furrowed as he glared up at Ghost.
“The fuck did ah dae?” His tone was petulant, accent thick as he coughed, heaving air into his lungs.
“Bein’ fuckin’ impatient, pup.” Ghost leaned down, leering at Soap who squirmed under the stern gaze. “We have someone nice enough to come in and touch that needy cock of yours, and you’re actin’ like a brat. Rein it in, or I’m gonna fuck your face like a slag I’m payin’ and leave you hard and leaking.”
Soap kept his head low, but you could see the pout evident on his face. His eyes remained cast down as he nodded in response to Ghost’s words before reaching back up to fill his mouth. A strong hand pressed to his shoulder, stopping him going any further.
“Open your mouth and use it for fuckin’ words like your s’posed to.” Soap glowered, huffing before he turned his head towards you.
“Sorry fer bein’ impatient. Ye can touch me how ye want.” You smiled at him for a moment, before Ghost’s fingers tapped on your cheek, turning your attention to him.
“Keep him in line, or after I’m through with him, I’ll show you how to properly keep a pup in line.” His soft, yet deep voice sent shivers down your spine, and you felt wetness pool in your panties, sticking to you.
“Yes sir.” Ghost let out a barely audible breath at your submission as his thumb stroked along your cheek bone.
“Keep that up and maybe I’ll fuck you too sweet thing.” Your mouth parted as your head tilted back, angling slightly as Ghost stooped lower, as though he was about to kiss you through the mask before he pulled back. Wrapping a hand around the base of his thick cock, he fed it into Soap’s open and willing mouth, cupping the back of his head before thrusting deep. Soap gagged at the sudden intrusion but kept the dick deep in his throat as he swallowed around it.
Spitting on your hand, you wrapped it back around Soap’s cock, mixing between long, languid strokes down his full length and quick, sharp ones over his dripping head. Soap trembled at the changes, body shaking slightly as he remained still for you. Cooing into his ear, the pace of your hand increased slightly.
“Look at you, pup. Sitting so pretty for me now, aren’t you. Bet you look real sweet when you cum too.” Soap moaned out an affirmative, one of his hands cupping the back of Ghost’s muscled thigh as his other reached for your leg, resting high up near the apex of your thighs, but refusing to lift any higher until he was told so. You grinned at his good behaviour.
“Yeah? You wanna cum for me? Wanna be a good boy and spill all over my hand?” Soap moaned again, eyes rolling into the back of his head as he continued to suck off his teammate, messy and sloppy as drool dripped down his chin.
“Oh, fuck yeah, love. Make him moan like that again.” Ghost grunted; eyes closed as he continued to shallowly thrust. Not wanting to displease either man, you tightened your grip and swept your thumb along the ridges of Soap’s cock head, teasing his frenulum as you went. Letting out a keening sound, Soap’s dick twitched in your grip as his hips bucked into your hand, the grip on your thigh tightening.
“You’re so close, aren’t you?” Leaning forward, you whispered into Soap’s ear, before mouthing kisses down the line of his neck to his back as your other hand cupped his ass. “Come on, pup. Do it. Do it for me.”
The cock in his throat meant the moan came out garbled, but his hips jerked forward erratically as he reached his climax. With every heavy twitch of his cock in your hand, a thick pulse of cum shot out, adding to the mess already on the floor.
“Fuckin’ hell pup.” Ghost growled, both hands now gripping at Soap’s hair as the pace of his hips picked up, shallowly thrusting into Soap’s mouth as he moaned, eyes still rolling from his climax as Ghost used his teeth to take his right glove off before pulling out and stroking his cock roughly, releasing his load over Soap’s face, grunting as his whole body shivered, breath coming out in short pants.
Once he’d finished, Ghost tucked his cock back into his pants, before pulling the chair up from Soap’s desk and sitting down. Unsure of what to do next, you glanced over at him, brows furrowed slightly as you waited for direction. Noticing, Ghost cocked his head to the side, before his eyes squinted appraisingly.
“Soap could learn a thing or two from you, love. So well behaved, you are.” You went to face him, but he held up a hand, stopping you from moving any further. “The pup’s quite messy there. Why don’t you give him a hand cleaning all that up?”
Eyes widening, to glanced over to Soap, who was dragging a finger through the mess of cum on his face and holding it out to you.
“C’mon, bonnie thing. Show how good ye can be fer him. Fer us.” Soap’s eyes darkened as he stared at you expectantly and suddenly, you realised precisely how fucked you were.
Your eyes followed his hand as he held it out towards you, Ghost’s cum dripping down his finger enticingly. Without further thought, you leaned forward on your knees, lips closing around the outstretched digit. Soap’s eyes widened slightly as he glanced over at Ghost, his mouth dropping open slightly as you licked and sucked his finger clean of cum. Pulling back, you swiped your thumb over his cheekbone, and then, keeping your eyes fixed to Soap’s, you sucked your own thumb clean as well.
“Fucking Christ, hen.” His tone was breathy, his hands reaching out to push you down onto your ass on the cold floor. Your hands flew out behind you to break your fall as he nudged his way between your legs, pressing into your space with an intense need. “S’fuckin bonnie fer me. Been listening to me fer months, haven’t ye?” He whispered into your ear as his hands groped greedily at your body.
“Gonna make ye feel s’good, I promise.” You were barely able to process his words as he tugged at your shirt, shucking it up and tugging your bra down to expose your breasts so he could latch onto one with his teeth, moaning as he did so. Letting out a sharp gasp of pain, you smacked his shoulder, eyes staring down at him accusingly. Soap released your breast and pouted.
“Ye’ve got such bonnie tits, hen. Couldnae help maself.” His mouth spread wide in a toothy grin as he reached out to cup the breast he bit, squeezing it apologetically as his eyes traced over the marks his teeth left. “Wanted ye fer months. Thought ye wouldnae have me.”
“I wanted you.” You breathed; eyes wide with surprise at his confession. “Always did. Thought it ruin things. Thought that it wouldn’t be professional.” Even in your ears, the words were a weak excuse. Soap’s grin spread even wider.
“Touch yerself at the sound of me, aye?” His hands roamed your body, roughly groping at every piece of bare skin he could access. He lowered his mouth to your tits once more, sucking the nipple tenderly this time, tongue laving over the swell of your breast as he moaned. “Was extra loud fer ye too. Hopin’ ye’d break that door down sooner. Didnae take ye as the patient type.”
“Shut up.” You hissed, arching your back as his hand reached for your other nipple, tweaking it between his fingers. Lifting a hand up, you carded it through his hair, tugging at the strands lightly, his mouth still firmly attached to your breast, sucking dark, claiming marks into your skin.
“Tug it harder, love.” Came a rumbling voice from behind you. Breath hitching in surprise, you glanced up, remembering Ghost was still in the room watching the two of you intently. One hand sat at the seat of his pants, rubbing softly and you couldn’t help but moan at the sight. Blinking once more, you turned your attention back to Soap and, heeding Ghost’s instructions, tugged at the mohawk a little firmer. Soap let out a soft sigh, his eyes fluttering slightly, but it wasn’t enough to break his attack your chest.
Closing your hand over his hair tighter, you pulled roughly, harder than you’d meant to, but you were rewarded with a strangled moan as you wrenched Soap back from your chest. His eyes were glassy as his hips canted forwards. Ghost mumbled his praise at the action, and you felt a stir in your chest.
“That’s nae fair, bonnie.” Soap growled. “Ye’ve had ye fun teasin’ me.” His brows furrowed as he pulled back, making you lose your grip on his hair. Moving quickly, he pinned your wrists above your head with one hand as the other reached for the buttons of your pants.
“Gonna show ye what I dae tae wee sluts who play dirty.” His eyes were wild as bore down on you, nose brushing against yours. You could feel the heat of his breath fanning across your cheeks. “Gonna tease ye till yer gaggin fer ma cock.”
Before he could make another move though, a sharp whistle sounded, and you both snapped your heads up in Ghost’s direction. He was lounging back on the chair, head tilted and resting on one first as the other cupped his bulge. His eyes narrowed towards Soap.
“Thought I trained you better than that, pup. Manners.” The tone was stern, unwavering and was met with a soft whine from Soap. “Take her pants off and finger her pussy. If you make her come, you’ll get a reward.”
As though the instructions sparked something in Soap, his rough hands turned soft as he began to caress your body, slowly sliding up your sides to remove your shirt and bra properly. He cooed; eyes soft as they roamed appreciatively over your body. He dragged his hands down your torso, trailing down to the waistband of your pants. His breath was coming out in heaving pants as his fingers made quick work of the buttons, pulling both your pants and underwear down in one go.
“Steamin’ Jesus hen.” Soap groaned, throwing the clothes to the side so he could return his hands to your body, sliding over your ass and up your legs before spreading them apart, eyes focused on your soaked cunt. The heat and desire in his eyes alone made your cunt pulse. “Jus’ wanna sink ma teeth into ye.”
“Play nice, pup. Don’t wanna break your chew toy too early.” Ghost muses from his spot. Your eyes meet his and suddenly, you realise just how exposed you were. Soap may have also been naked, but the way Ghost’s eyes were roaming over your bare body and grinding against his palm made your face heat.
“Cannae help maself, Lt.” Soap leaned down, mouth trailing kisses along your thigh, working his way down towards the apex of them. His teeth dragged over the sensitive skin, leaving red marks, but not hard enough to break skin. You felt your body jerk as his warmth breath fanned over your leaking cunt and you whine pitifully.
“Please… Soap. Need it. Need you.” Your hands pushed through his hair, gripping tightly as you tried to angle his face towards your wetness. Groaning at your impatience, he lowered his mouth, flat tongue dragging a line from your hole to clit. Letting out a shuddering gasp, you arched your back, fingers tugging at his mohawk to hold him close. But that didn’t last long.
The chair creaked as Ghost pushed himself up, boots heavy as he marched over and wrenched Soap’s head up unkindly, causing him to cry out. “I said, finger her pussy, not eat it, impatient slag.” He spat in Soap’s ear, voice low and harsh. You whined at the loss, bucking your hips up to chase his mouth, but Ghost’s hand pushed you back down. “Look at you both. Such greedy fucking whores. You take what I tell you to.”
Your brows pinched as you stared up at Ghost.
“Please Ghost… please I need it. Need his mouth on me.” Reaching out, you clasped your hand over one of his thick forearms, squeezing as your eyes pleaded up to him. Ghost sighs, bringing one hand up to sweep the hair from your face as he leans in to whisper into your ear, other hand still firmly gripping Soap’s hair, causing him to huff petulantly as he was dragged away.
“The pup’s gotta learn to listen, love. I’m not punishing you, yet anyway. If you’re good, and you cum on Johnny’s fingers, he can eat you out. Got it?” He leaned back slightly, eyes soft as he waited expectantly for your reply. Nodding in response, you went to look down at Soap again, but Ghost’s rough hand in your hair stopped you. “No. Words, love. If I ask you a question, you answer it with words.”
“Yes, I got it.” You breathed; eyes glassy as you stared up at him. “I’ve got it sir. I’m sorry.” Ghost let out a gentle sigh, hand releasing your hair as he stroked your chin tenderly.
“There’s a good girl f’me.” His gaze then hardens as he turns to face Soap. “Remember the rules, pup. You listen to me. Now finger her wet cunt until she cums or you won’t be getting your dick wet.” Soap’s nose crinkled slightly; brows furrowed as he stared at Ghost.
“That’s nae fair, Lt. The lass was leakin’. Pure gaggin’ fer it.” His hands run gentle lines on your inner thighs as he spoke, and you felt the anticipation rising.
“Then make sure to use those fingers to make it good for her and she’ll get it. You always yabber on about how good you are at pleasing pussy. Show me, then.” Ghost cocks his head expectantly and you felt like nothing but a toy for Soap to play with in that instant, and boy if that didn’t send a fresh wave of arousal down your spine.
“I’m better with ma mouth than ma fingers.” He sulked, pouting up at his superior.
“Then you’d better learn quick, Johnny.” Despite the mask, you could hear the grin, see his eyes crinkling as he waved his hand towards your cunt. “Go on, pup. She got you off with her hand. Return the favour.”
Mumbling incoherently, Soap trailed his fingers towards your wet cunt, eyes flicking up to meet yours and smirking slightly. Dragging the tips of his fingers through, he gathered your wetness and began to circle your clit slowly. Shuffling forward slightly, he leaned over you before hesitating and turning back to Ghost.
“Can ah suck her tits?” His question was measured, as if he hated asking permission, but thought better of it. Ghost chuckled behind the mask.
“Good pup for askin’. Does she want you to suck her tits?” Soap snapped his head down to you, eyes wide as pleading. Grinning, you nodded encouragingly.
“Please, Soap.” Grabbing at your breasts, you shoved them together enticingly, causing Soap to moan and lean forward, burying his face between them, tongue dragging over the warm flesh before his mouth closes over one nipple, sucking intently as his fingers flick over your clit.
Moaning softly, you spread your legs wider, encouraging him to keep going. And he did. His fingers were on the rough side as he continued to roam, trying to find what you liked. Reaching down, you moved his hand slightly, positioning it exactly how you liked it, and he took it on board, working his fingers in this new spot as his teeth closed over your nipple, making you cry out.
“Pathetic. Needing to be shown where she likes it pup. Can’t find it on ya own?” Ghost rumbled, shaking his head as he continued to brush a hand through your hair tenderly. “Look at her cunt, weeping and clenching round nothing. Come on, pup. You’re not even trying to make her cum.”
Soap whined at the words and, desperate to prove himself, his fingers moved to circle your hole before pushing two in. You hissed slightly at the sudden stretch of his thick fingers but moaned as his thumb continued to flick over your clit and clenched down on his fingers.
“Curl them upwards.” Ghost whispered, his other hand trailing down to where Soap’s was between your legs. You twitched as you felt the rough material of his gloves against your sensitive pussy. “Get that spot right in here.” You couldn’t stop the loud moan that broke through your lips as Soap followed the instructions, hand reaching down to grip at his wrist as your hips ground against his fingers, building up a steady rhythm.
Grinning darkly against your chest, Soap continued to suck at your breasts, squeezing and nipping at the sensitive skin as your pussy squeezed around him, slick dripping down onto the hard floor beneath you.
“That’s it, bonnie. Fuck yerself on ma fingers. Can feel ye clenchin’. Dinnae ye wanna cum fer me? Ye can dae it.” He rambled; voice muffled against your chest as he quickened his pace at your clenching.
“Don’t speed up.” Ghost admonished him, smacking his hand down where Soap’s was inside you, causing you to jolt. “If she likes it, keep steady. She’ll let you know if she wants the pace changed.” You moaned in response to Ghost’s words, one hand clutching at Soap’s wrist, the other reaching for Ghost to squeeze him in thanks.
“Just like that, Johnny. Keep it like that!” Panting, you continued to grind down on his fingers. He pulled off your tits, leaning down to spit on your clit before bringing his other hand over to rub over it like you showed him before. Gasping, you squeezed around his fingers tighter, feeling your impending climax build. His hungry eyes bored into yours, his face twisting into a leering sneer.
“Feels good aye? Gonna cum, bonnie? Make a mess all over ma fingers?” Unable to form a coherent sentence, you whined, hand squeezing his wrist to hold him inside you, pleading silently for him not to pull out. “Nae goin’ anywhere. Stayin’ right here til ye cum.”
Your eyes rolled as you moaned, head falling back, only for a rough hand to grasp your hair and pull you back up.
“You keep lookin’ at him, love and you don’t look away. Show him how fucked out you look when you cum.” Ghost’s words were harsh as he positioned himself behind you but sent a sharp bolt of heat through you and Soap moaned as he felt your cunt clench and pulse. “Yeah, that’s it, love. Be a good girl now. Show him how good he’s makin’ you feel.”
“So fu- ah! So fucking good, sir.” You blinked up at Ghost, whose eyes were wide and feral. Adjusting you slightly, he pressed his hips into your back, and you felt his stiff erection pressing against your shoulder.
“Feel what you’re doin’ to me? Feel how hard you’ve made me? Been such a good girl yeah? Lookin’ so fuckin’ pretty with your fucked out face when you ain’t even had a cock in you yet.” Panting at Ghost’s harsh words, you glanced back down at Soap, eyes wide and desperate.
“I’m gonna cum. Soap please! I can’t...” He shook his head, body trembling.
“Give it tae me, hen. Please. Been such a good fuckin’ lass fer us. Show me how bonnie ye look when ye cum, aye?” Your brain was going into overdrive, stimulated by not only Soap fingers, but his and Ghost’s desperate words, the intensity of their eyes on you… you felt yourself crumbling, careening towards the edge as one more flick of Soap’s fingers sent you over.
Jerking your hips, you cried out, body shaking as Ghost wrapped his arms around you, cooing in your ear and talking you through your orgasm, but you couldn’t make sense of the words. Soap’s fingers softly worked you through your release, slowly pumping in and out of you until he felt your body sag. Withdrawing his digits, he held them out to Ghost, a sly grin on his face.
“Wanna taste, Lt?” Looking up lazily at the two of them, you noted Ghost’s narrowed eyes. But they weren’t focused on Soap due to his coy request, but rather his glistening fingers soaked with your climax. Pulling the balaclava up to expose his mouth, Ghost leaned forward, sucking Soap’s thick fingers into his mouth, moaning at your taste. Whining softly at the erotic sight, you reached back behind you, trying to wrap your hand around his clothed cock, but his gloved hand stopped you.
“Not right now, love. Need to see Johnny fuck you.” He whispered, squeezing your wrist tenderly before lifting himself up a little straighter. “C’mon pup. I can see you leaking from here.”
“Och, I thought I was eatin’ her out next!” He grumbled, body already halfway shifted to put his head between your legs.
“Plans changed. You can eat your cum out of her. Need to see her crying on a cock, now.” His voice was urgent, as he pressed his palm into his aching erection. “Don’t keep me waiting.”
At the warning, Soap scrambled back up your body, lowering his head to capture your lips in a kiss for the first time. His tongue pressed into your mouth, sweeping over yours as he shuffled his legs up until you felt the heat of his hard dick against your sensitive pussy. Everything about him was demanding and insistent, impatient as one hand clawed at your breast. The other was wrapped around his cock, sliding it up and down the length of your wet slit, catching your clit with his head and causing you to jerk. Breaking away from the kiss, you surged up, eyes transfixed on the glistening head of his cock, covered in your slick.
Grinning savagely, he pressed inside, both hands gripping at your hips as he let out a throaty groan as your own breath stuttered, reaching out to grasp at his arm for stability.
“Steamin’ hell she’s tight, Lt. Like she’s nae been fucked in a wee bit.” His nails dug into the skin of your waist, surely leaving marks that would remain for days after. Ghost grunted and you heard him unzipping his pants. Glancing over, you watched as he pulled out his heavy cock, thick and hard with his tip flushed and leaking. Tugging his glove off, he held out his hand to Soap, who spat on it without a second thought. Then, he held his hand out to you with an expectant look. Without hesitation, you spat in his palm as well and he moaned, closing his hand around his cock and pumping it steadily.
Before you’d even gotten accustomed to his size, Soap began to thrust, hard and fast from the get-go. He buried his face into your neck, whining and rambling nonsense about how good it was, but most of it was incoherent, his accent thickening as he continued to erratically slam his hips into your cunt. You hissed, the pace bordering on being not pleasurable as he grasped your hips tighter.
“Soap…” you whined, pressing against his shoulders, but the man was unmovable, lost in his own head. Your eyes flicked up desperately to Ghost, who huffed, shuffling down Soap’s body to place a resounding smack on his ass. Yelping, Soap sprung up, cock pulling out of you entirely as he spun around to glare reproachfully at Ghost.
“That hurt, Simon.” He pouted, brows furrowed. Ghost snorted, clearly not feeling sorry.
“You’re pathetic, pup. Losing your head the moment you get your dick in something warm, and you wonder why I don’t let you fuck me.” Soap ducked his head, face flushing as he let out a whine of protest.
“Felt so good, Lt. Couldnae help maself. Her bonnie pussy was grippin’ me like a vice.” He glanced over at you, eyes apologetic, but with a spark of lust, as if he enjoyed Ghost telling him off.
“Not just about you, pup. Do I need to show you how to fuck a pussy?” Soap shook his head indignantly, turning his back on Ghost to bring his attention towards you. Running his calloused hands down your legs, he wrapped them around his waist as the head of his cock caught against your wet hole. Moaning, he slides back inside with ease, hands reaching for your tits once more as he set a better pace, rolling his hips and catching your clit with his pubic hair every pass.
“Fuckin’ hell.” He growled, mouth lowering to latch onto your nipples, tonguing over them as he continued his slow, grinding pace. “Such bonnie tits. Such a bonnie cunt too. Fuck lass, ye been holdin’ out on me. Could have fucked ye sooner if ye weren’t so stubborn.”
Between Soap’s praise, his rocking hips, and the insistent press of his cock inside your cunt, you felt like you were melting into the floor below you.
“Just like that, Soap. God, your cock feels so good in me.” Your hands dragged red lines down his back, causing his pace to stutter and pick up again. Moaning, you felt your second orgasm edging closer as he continued, bucking his hips up to grind against the spongy spot his fingers had fun into before. Ghost kneeled just off to the side, stroking his dick in time with Soap’s thrusts, grunting every time he swiped his thumb over the head.
“That’s it, Johnny. Keep fucking her like that. Doing a good job for once, pup. Touch her clit like she showed ya too.” Soap’s face was flushed as he nodded along with Ghost’s words, reaching down between you. His hips stuttered as you clenched around him at the contact, moaning as his pace fumbled again, legs shaking as his thrusts sped up, breath coming out in short pants. You whined softly, feeling your orgasm fade with the change in pace. Scoffing, Ghost moved behind him, gripping Soap’s hips to halt him once more.
“Losing your head again, pup?” He titters, shaking his head as he mouthed along Soap’s neck. “I’ll show you how to really fuck her, since you clearly can’t without blowing your load early.”
Soap smacked one of the large hands off his hips, glaring over his shoulder.
“Fuck off. I can fuck her just fine. You can wait ye fuckin’ turn, ye bastard.”
Instead of being offended, Ghost chuckled darkly.
“You’re losing her when it starts feelin’ too good for you. But don’t worry pup. I won’t be fucking her.” His arms reach down, tracing over Soap’s to place his hands on your hips as well, holding you steady. At the look in Ghost’s eye, you whimpered softly, cunt squeezing around Soap, causing him to twitch. “I’m going to fuck you into her. Still got that plug in ya, right slag?”
Your eyes widened, realising what was about to happen. Soap was practically vibrating between your legs, breath stuttering as his eyes became unfocused.
“Wouldnae be able to hold it if ye fucked me too.” His voice cracked as he stared over at Ghost.
“Too bad, pup. Already showed me you can’t fuck a pussy properly. Need me to show you how. You alright with that, sweetheart?” He glanced over Soap’s shoulder as his hands reached down to toy with the plug in Soap’s hole that you hadn’t noticed before. Your eyes were wide as you nodded fiercely before remembering Ghost’s earlier request.
“Yes sir… want you to fuck him into me please.” With the mask still lifted up above his mouth, you could see his appreciative grin.
“Good fucking girl. Don’t worry. I’ll make sure you what you need.” He reaches his hand down to your mouth, holding out his fingers. “Get them wet f’me, yeah?” Nodding, you lean your head up, sucking his fingers into your mouth, letting saliva pool on your tongue before swiping between the thick digits, tasting the lingering muskiness of his cock on them. Ghost let out a deep rumbling sound in his throat as he began to shove his fingers deeper, pressing down into your throat, gagging you slightly. Cooing softly, Ghost stroked the pads of his fingers along your tongue. “That’s it, love. Just like that.”
Between you both, Soap whined, tipping his head back to rest on Ghost’s shoulder.
“Please, Simon. Please.”
Withdrawing his fingers, Ghost pressed his thick digits into Soap, causing him to fall forward, hands either side of your head as his cock twitched inside you. Breathing softly, you watched his face crease, his brows pinching as his mouth hung open.
“Fuck Si… right there!” He gasped, breath hitching as he rocks his hips back onto Ghost’s fingers, and forwards into your wet cunt. His hands clenched into fists as he opened his eyes to stare into yours before leaning down and sealing his lips over yours once more, hips beginning that same slow, filthy grind. Wrapping your arms around his neck and holding him close, you pressed your tongue into his mouth in a messy kiss, swirling it around his.
Your head grew hazy as time passed and you felt your orgasm returning as Soap picked up the pace of his grinding, stimulating your clit as his hands tweaked at your nipples.
“Fuckin’ hell. Still so fuckin’ wet from earlier, pup.” Ghost withdrew his fingers before pressing the blunt head of his cock, catching it against the rim of Soap’s hole, causing him to jerk, fingers digging into your hips. “That’s it, pup. Open up f’me. Let me in ya.” One of Ghost’s large hands wrapped around Soap’s neck, pulling him up and breaking your kiss with him. The other gripped Soap’s hip, pressing in slowly with a loud groan until his hips sat flush against Soap’s. Releasing his neck, Ghost placed his other hand on your hip, squeezing you softly. He set a slow, but harsh pace, hips smacking into Soap’s, causing his cock to punch deep into you as he did so.
Letting out a choked gasp, Soap fell forward again, burying his face into your neck and peppering the sweaty skin with nipping kisses as his hips were pushed forwards into you. Rocking back against him, your hands clutched at his hair desperately, cupping the back of his head as your other hand reach out to Ghost’s thick forearm. Your head was spinning, a strangled noise leaving your mouth as Soap’s tongue dragged its way up your neck.
“Tastes so good, hen. Feel so fuckin’ good too. Wanna feel ye cum ‘round me, please.” One hand tangled in your hair as the other reached down to your clit once more, sending shivers down your spine.
Ghost continued his pace, the loud slapping of skin filling the room as his breathing grew heavier. Soap was also growing desperate, driving his hips forwards and backwards, stimulating himself over and over as his thumb continued to flick over your clit.
“That’s it pup. Doin’ s’fuckin’ well.” Reaching down, Ghost added his own thumb to the mix, flicking over your clit to make sure Soap didn’t lose his rhythm, his eyes catching yours. “Fuckin’ hell look at you, love. So bloody pretty. Can barely look at me, can ya? Cock feels that good, yeah?” He chucked, whispering something inaudible into Soap’s ear as you arched your back, feeling that brink edge closer.
“Ghost… Soap.” You weren’t sure which name to call as you felt your body twitch, pussy clenching around Soap’s cock as he continued to buck his hips into your wetness. You could feel yourself beginning to spiral, eyes locking onto Soap’s face as he panted heavily, a soft whine leaving his lips after every one of Ghost’s heavy thrusts.
“Bonnie… tell me yer close… I’m so fuckin’ close. Need tae feel ye cum first. Please… fuck, oh fuck please. Need it real bad.” Soap practically whispers, one hand clutching at your breasts, your hips, your legs as his other still pressed between you both, covered by Ghost’s larger one.
“Good fuckin’ pup, Johnny. Beggin’ for her to cum ‘n all.” Ghost’s voice was rougher, sweat beaded on his brow as he quickened his pace, fucking into Soap with angled thrusts that made him shiver and whine. “Come on love, you can do it. You can cum for him. Make the pup feel real good, yeah?”
All you could do was nod and moan, fingers digging into weathered skin as your cunt began to pulse rhythmically. One final hard thrust from Ghost pushed Soap up deeper into you as their combined thumbs over your clit sent you hurtling off the edge. As your toes curled with the sensation, your back lifted off the hard floor, hands clutching at the two men desperately as your head spun.
Soap followed soon behind, thrusting quick and sharp up into your clenching cunt before releasing inside, cock twitching and releasing his load deep inside you as he shook with pleasure.
As he shivered through his orgasm, Soap leaned forward, collapsing on your chest as your arms wrapped instinctually around him, both panting in tandem. Not wanting to be left high and dry, Ghost pulled his hips back and set a merciless pace, pounding into Soap’s hole until he began stuttering.
“So fuckin’ tight, pup. Both of you… so fuckin’ pretty. Good fucking sluts. So good f’me. Gonna fuck both of ya next time. Wanna see how good you sit for me, love.” He rambled, eyes half closed as his pace turned erratic until he slammed his hips forward with a low grunt, stomach clenching from the effort as he emptied his load deep into Soap.
Moaning softly at the feeling, Soap stirred, looking over his shoulder accusingly.
“Ye ken I hate shittin’ out cum, ye eejit.” He grumbled, nestling his face into your chest, his soft cock slipping out and resting wetly against your thigh. Grimacing slightly, you glanced up at Ghost, who had a dazed smile on his face. He looked at you, as though assessing the situation before he leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to your forehead.
“Get over it, Johnny. You beg me to cum in ya more often than not.” He shook his head before returning his attention to you, cupping your cheek softly. “Did so well for me, for us. You up for doing this again?”
Without hesitation, you nodded, eyes wide and hopeful as Ghost grinned, pushing back from the bed and standing up.
“I’ll get cloths from the bathroom. You take care of our girl, right Johnny?” Soap simply hummed, burying his face further between your tits as Ghost scowled, but smiled and walked away.
“I’ll eat ye out in the mornin’ hen. Good wake-up call fer ye.” He rumbled against your chest.
Grinning to yourself, you threaded your hand through Soap’s hair, holding him close as you felt yourself settle, being lulled to sleep by the warm body that was sprawled on yours. Price’s reports could wait.
#crash writes#john soap mactavish#john mactavish x reader#john soap mactavish x reader#soap x reader#soap smut#john mactavish smut#john soap mactavish smut#simon ghost riley#simon riley x reader#simon ghost riley x reader#ghost x reader#simon ghost riley smut#simon riley smut#ghost smut#call of duty#call of duty smut#simon riley x you#john mactavish x you#ghostsoap#ghostsoap x reader#ghost x reader x soap
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All Locked Up
Charles Leclerc x Reader
Summary: your boyfriend losing the key to your handcuffs was bad enough … but him calling Max and Lando to help look for them? You may never be able to show your face in public again
Warnings: 18+ content implied, mentions of accidental bruising, wrongful assumptions of violence
“Mon amour, have you seen the key to the handcuffs?” Charles calls out from the bathroom.
You strain against the metal cuffs locking your wrists to the headboard. “No, I thought you had it!”
Charles appears in the doorway, eyebrows knitted together. “I could have sworn I left it on the nightstand, but it’s not there.”
You rattle the chain connecting you to the bed. “Well you need to find it, because I’m starting to lose feeling in my hands here.”
“Right, right, I’m sorry,” Charles says, running a hand through his hair. He starts opening drawers and peering under furniture.
You watch him scramble around the room searching fruitlessly. After ten minutes you sigh. “Any luck?”
Charles slumps down on the edge of the bed. “No, it’s gone. I don’t know where it could be.”
You give him a pointed look.
“I know, I know, this is my fault,” Charles says. “Don’t worry, I’ll figure this out.”
He pulls out his phone and scrolls through his contacts. After a moment, he puts the phone to his ear. “Max? Hi, I need your help with something ...”
You groan quietly. Calling Max for help with this is guaranteed to be embarrassing.
“So here’s the thing,” Charles says into the phone, “Y/N and I were having some fun with handcuffs, and I seem to have misplaced the key ...”
You let your head fall back against the headboard. This day is just getting better and better.
“Yes, she’s still cuffed to the bed,” Charles continues. “I’ve looked everywhere for the key. Can you come over and help me find it?”
Charles looks over at you sheepishly. “Okay, see you soon.”
He hangs up and gives you an apologetic smile. “Max is on his way.”
You sigh. “Wonderful.”
Soon there’s a knock at the front door. Charles jumps up to answer it. You hear Charles and Max’s muffled voices for a minute before they enter the bedroom.
Max takes one look at you handcuffed naked to the bed and immediately spins around. “Whoa, okay, wasn’t expecting that.”
You feel your face flush. “Hi Max.”
“I told you she was still cuffed to the bed,” Charles says with a smirk.
Max keeps his back turned. “Right, you failed to mention she was naked though!"
“It must have slipped my mind,” Charles laughs.
“Can we focus please?” You cut in. “Find the key so I can get out of these cuffs.”
“Yes ma’am,” Max says. He and Charles start searching the room, checking under the bed and nightstands.
After twenty fruitless minutes, Charles collapses on the bed next to you. “It’s hopeless, the key is gone.”
You rattle the cuffs in frustration. “What are we going to do? I can’t stay chained up like this forever.”
Max thinks for a moment. “Maybe Lando can help? He’s good at finding things.”
Charles perks up. “Good idea! I’ll give him a call.”
You close your eyes in dismay as Charles calls Lando. This day just continues to spiral.
Soon Lando arrives, thankfully a little more tactful about the situation than Max. The three of them scour the apartment, but still no sign of the lost key.
You’ve resorted to making small talk with Lando to pass the time. “So how’s your season going so far?”
Lando leans casually against the dresser. “Oh you know, up and down. But I got a few podiums, so it could have been worse.”
You’re impressed. “That’s awesome, congrats!"
“Thanks! I think if I keep consistently scoring points, I might be able to beat Max in the championship this year,” Lando jokes.
“In your dreams!" Max yells from the living room. You and Lando laugh.
But then, Charles and Max return to the bedroom, both empty-handed.
Charles runs a hand through his hair. “I think we have to face it — the key is gone.”
You rattle the handcuffs in frustration. “So what, you’re just going to leave me chained up here forever?”
“Of course not, mon cœur,” Charles says, sitting down beside you. “We’ll figure something out.”
Max nods. “There’s always plan B.”
You look between the three of them hesitantly. “Do I want to know what plan B is?”
Lando grins and holds up a paper clip. “Lock picking. I found a YouTube video.”
Your eyes widen slightly. “That does not seem ideal.”
“Do you have a better option?” Charles asks, taking your hands in his gently. “I promise we’ll be careful. And if the paper clip doesn’t work, we can always call a locksmith.”
You sigh, relenting. “Okay, fine. Just please be gentle, my wrists are already sore.”
The three of them get to work carefully trying to pick the lock on the cuffs with the paper clip. You try to stay still, watching them fiddle with the tiny metal piece.
After several tense minutes, you finally hear a click. The cuff around your left wrist springs open.
“Yes!” Lando cheers. “Told you I could do it.”
Charles kisses your freed wrist gently. “See, that wasn’t so bad.”
With a bit more work, they get the other cuff unlocked too. You bring your arms down with a groan of relief, stretching out the sore muscles.
Charles pulls you into a hug. “I’m so sorry about all this. Next time we’ll be more careful.”
You laugh, hugging him back. “It’s okay, it all worked out in the end. But next time let’s stick to something that doesn’t require a key.”
Charles smiles. “Deal.” He turns to Max and Lando. “Thank you both for your help, I really owe you.”
“Anytime,” Lando says. “This was way more exciting than my usual Sunday plans.”
“Now, I believe you gentlemen should give me and my girlfriend some privacy,” Charles says, slipping an arm around your waist.
Max and Lando quickly start heading for the door.
“Have fun you two,” Lando calls over his shoulder. “But maybe put the key somewhere obvious when you decide on an encore!”
You and Charles collapse into laughter as the apartment door closes behind them. Charles pulls you into his lap and kisses you deeply.
“I really am sorry about all this,” he murmurs against your lips.
You smile, running your fingers through his hair. “It’s okay, it made for quite the adventurous morning! But going forward, let’s keep the handcuffs between just the two of us.”
Charles grins. “No complaints here.”
***
Later that evening, you and Charles are having dinner with his family. You’re seated at a table on the patio of a stunning Italian restaurant with a beautiful view of the water. The conversation flows comfortably as you all eat.
After the main course is cleared, you reach for your wine glass. As you lift your arm, the sleeve of your dress slides back, revealing the light bruising circling your wrists.
Pascale notices immediately, her eyebrows drawing together in concern. “Y/N, what happened to your wrists?”
You quickly tug your sleeves down, cheeks flushing. “Oh, it’s nothing. Just a little accident this morning.”
Lorenzo and Arthur lean in to peer at your wrists curiously. You self-consciously tuck your hands under the table.
“Are you sure it’s nothing?” Pascale asks gently. “Those bruises look quite bad.”
You open your mouth to respond, but Charles chooses that moment to get up from the table. “Excuse me, I’m just going to run to the restroom quickly.”
He squeezes your shoulder as he walks past, oblivious to his family’s concern. You watch him disappear towards the bathrooms, internally screaming.
Pascale reaches across the table to take your hand. “You know you can tell us anything, right? We just want to help.”
You shift awkwardly. “Really, it’s not a big deal.”
Lorenzo frowns. “Did Charles do this to you?” Arthur nods, looking worried.
“What? No!” You say quickly. “Charles would never hurt me.”
Pascale rubs your arm comfortingly. “You don’t have to cover for him, dear. If he’s hurting you-”
“No, no, it’s nothing like that!” You interrupt, face flaming. How do you even begin to explain this?
Just then Charles returns to the table. He immediately senses the tense mood. “Everything okay here?”
“Y/N has some bad bruising on her wrists,” Pascale says seriously. “Do you know anything about that, Charles?”
Charles’ eyes widen almost comically. “Oh, that! No no, it’s not what you think.”
“Can one of you please just explain what happened?” Lorenzo asks in exasperation.
You and Charles share an awkward look. There’s no getting out of this now.
Charles clears his throat. “So, Y/N and I were, uh … having some intimate time this morning. And I may have accidentally … handcuffed her to the bed … and lost the key.”
You cover your flaming face with your hands as Charles’ family stares at you both in stunned silence.
Arthur nearly spits out his drink. “Handcuffs? You kinky bastard.”
“Arthur!” Pascale scolds as Lorenzo tries and fails to hold back laughter.
Charles squeezes your shoulder apologetically. “It was just a silly accident. I promise I didn’t hurt her.”
You peek out from behind your fingers. “I tried to tell you it wasn’t a big deal.”
Pascale pats your hand affectionately. “I’m sorry for jumping to conclusions, dear. But thank you for being honest with us. Even if there are some things I wish I didn’t know about my son.”
Charles kisses your temple. “No more handcuffs though, lesson learned. Right, mon amour?”
You chuckle, relaxing now that the awkwardness has passed. “Right. I think we’ll stick to the fluffy ones from now on.”
#f1 imagine#f1#f1 fic#f1 fanfic#f1 fanfiction#f1 x reader#f1 x you#charles leclerc#cl16#charles leclerc imagine#charles leclerc x reader#charles leclerc x you#charles leclerc fic#charles leclerc fluff#charles leclerc fanfic#charles leclerc blurb#f1 fluff#f1 blurb#f1 one shot#f1 x y/n#f1 drabble#f1 fandom#f1blr#f1 x female reader#charles leclerc x female reader#charles leclerc x y/n#scuderia ferrari#charles leclerc one shot#charles leclerc drabble
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Podcasting “Capitalists Hate Capitalism”
I'm touring my new, nationally bestselling novel The Bezzle! Catch me in Torino (Apr 21) Marin County (Apr 27), Winnipeg (May 2), Calgary (May 3), Vancouver (May 4), and beyond!
This week on my podcast, I read "Capitalists Hate Capitalism," my latest column for Locus Magazine:
https://locusmag.com/2024/03/cory-doctorow-capitalists-hate-capitalism/
What do I mean by "capitalists hate capitalism?" It all comes down to the difference between "profits" and "rents." A capitalist takes capital (money, or the things you can buy with it) and combines it with employees' labor, and generates profits (the capitalist's share) and wages (the workers' share).
Rents, meanwhile, come from owning an asset that capitalists need to generate profits. For example, a landlord who rents a storefront to a coffee shop extracts rent from the capitalist who owns the coffee shop. Meanwhile, the capitalist who owns the cafe extracts profits from the baristas' labor.
Capitalists' founding philosophers like Adam Smith hated rents. Worse: rents were the most important source of income at the time of capitalism's founding. Feudal lords owned great swathes of land, and there were armies of serfs who were bound to that land – it was illegal for them to leave it. The serfs owed rent to lords, and so they worked the land in order grow crops and raise livestock that they handed over the to lord as rent for the land they weren't allowed to leave.
Capitalists, meanwhile, wanted to turn that land into grazing territory for sheep as a source of wool for the "dark, Satanic mills" of the industrial revolution. They wanted the serfs to be kicked off their land so that they would become "free labor" that could be hired to work in those factories.
For the founders of capitalism, a "free market" wasn't free from regulation, it was free from rents, and "free labor" came from workers who were free to leave the estates where they were born – but also free to starve unless they took a job with the capitalists.
For capitalism's philosophers, free markets and free labor weren't just a source of profits, they were also a source of virtue. Capitalists – unlike lords – had to worry about competition from one another. They had to make better goods at lower prices, lest their customers take their business elsewhere; and they had to offer higher pay and better conditions, lest their "free labor" take a job elsewhere.
This means that capitalists are haunted by the fear of losing everything, and that fear acts as a goad, driving them to find ways to make everything better for everyone: better, cheaper products that benefit shoppers; and better-paid, safer jobs that benefit workers. For Smith, capitalism is alchemy, a philosopher's stone that transforms the base metal of greed into the gold of public spiritedness.
By contrast, rentiers are insulated from competition. Their workers are bound to the land, and must toil to pay the rent no matter whether they are treated well or abused. The rent rolls in reliably, without the lord having to invest in new, better ways to bring in the harvest. It's a good life (for the lord).
Think of that coffee-shop again: if a better cafe opens across the street, the owner can lose it all, as their customers and workers switch allegiance. But for the landlord, the failure of his capitalist tenant is a feature, not a bug. Once the cafe goes bust, the landlord gets a newly vacant storefront on the same block as the hot new coffee shop that can be rented out at even higher rates to another capitalist who tries his luck.
The industrial revolution wasn't just the triumph of automation over craft processes, nor the triumph of factory owners over weavers. It was also the triumph of profits over rents. The transformation of hereditary estates worked by serfs into part of the supply chain for textile mills was attended by – and contributed to – the political ascendancy of capitalists over rentiers.
Now, obviously, capitalism didn't end rents – just as feudalism didn't require the total absence of profits. Under feudalism, capitalists still extracted profits from capital and labor; and under capitalism, rentiers still extracted rents from assets that capitalists and workers paid them to use.
The difference comes in the way that conflicts between profits and rents were resolved. Feudalism is a system where rents triumph over profits, and capitalism is a system where profits triumph over rents.
It's conflict that tells you what really matters. You love your family, but they drive you crazy. If you side with your family over your friends – even when your friends might be right and your family's probably wrong – then you value your family more than your friends. That doesn't mean you don't value your friends – it means that you value them less than your family.
Conflict is a reliable way to know whether or not you're a leftist. As Steven Brust says, the way to distinguish a leftist is to ask "What's more important, human rights, or property rights?" If you answer "Property rights are human right," you're not a leftist. Leftists don't necessarily oppose all property rights – they just think they're less important than human rights.
Think of conflicts between property rights and human rights: the grocer who deliberately renders leftover food inedible before putting it in the dumpster to ensure that hungry people can't eat it, or the landlord who keeps an apartment empty while a homeless person freezes to death on its doorstep. You don't have to say "No one can own food or a home" to say, "in these cases, property rights are interfering with human rights, so they should be overridden." For leftists property rights can be a means to human rights (like revolutionary land reformers who give peasants title to the lands they work), but where property rights interfere with human rights, they are set aside.
In his 2023 book Technofeudalism, Yanis Varoufakis claims that capitalism has given way to a new feudalism – that capitalism was a transitional phase between feudalism…and feudalism:
https://pluralistic.net/2023/09/28/cloudalists/#cloud-capital
Varoufakis's point isn't that capitalists have gone extinct. Rather, it's that today, conflicts between capital and assets – between rents and profits – reliably end with a victory of rent over profit.
Think of Amazon: the "everything store" appears to be a vast bazaar, a flea-market whose stalls are all operated by independent capitalists who decide what to sell, how to price it, and then compete to tempt shoppers. In reality, though, the whole system is owned by a single feudalist, who extracts 51% from every dollar those merchants take in, and decides who can sell, and what they can sell, and at what price, and whether anyone can even see it:
https://pluralistic.net/2024/03/01/managerial-discretion/#junk-fees
Or consider the patent trolls of the Eastern District of Texas. These "companies" are invisible and produce nothing. They consist solely of a serviced mailbox in a dusty, uninhabited office-building, and an overbroad patent (say, a patent on "tapping on a screen with your finger") issued by the US Patent and Trademark Office. These companies extract hundreds of millions of dollars from Apple, Google, Samsung for violating these patents. In other words, the government steps in and takes vast profits generated through productive activity by companies that make phones, and turns that money over as rent paid to unproductive companies whose sole "product" is lawsuits. It's the triumph of rent over profit.
Capitalists hate capitalism. All capitalists would rather extract rents than profits, because rents are insulated from competition. The merchants who sell on Jeff Bezos's Amazon (or open a cafe in a landlord's storefront, or license a foolish smartphone patent) bear all the risk. The landlords – of Amazon, the storefront, or the patent – get paid whether or not that risk pays off.
This is why Google, Apple and Samsung also have vast digital estates that they rent out to capitalists – everything from app stores to patent portfolios. They would much rather be in the business of renting things out to capitalists than competing with capitalists.
Hence that famous Adam Smith quote: "People of the same trade seldom meet together, even for merriment and diversion, but the conversation ends in a conspiracy against the public, or in some contrivance to raise prices." This is literally what Google and Meta do:
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Jedi_Blue
And it's what Apple and Google do:
https://www.theverge.com/2023/10/27/23934961/google-antitrust-trial-defaults-search-deal-26-3-billion
Why compete with one another when you can collude, like feudal lords with adjacent estates who trust one another to return any serf they catch trying to sneak away in the dead of night?
Because of course, it's not just "free markets" that have been captured by rents ("Competition is for losers" -P. Thiel) – it's also "free labor." For years, the largest tech and entertainment companies in America illegally colluded on a "no poach" agreement not to hire one-anothers' employees:
https://techcrunch.com/2015/09/03/apple-google-other-silicon-valley-tech-giants-ordered-to-pay-415m-in-no-poaching-suit/
These companies were bitter competitors – as were these sectors. Even as Big Content was lobbying for farcical copyright law expansions and vowing to capture Big Tech, all these companies on both sides were able to set aside their differences and collude to bind their free workers to their estates and end the "wasteful competition" to secure their labor.
Of course, this is even more pronounced at the bottom of the labor market, where noncompete "agreements" are the norm. The median American worker bound by a noncompete is a fast-food worker whose employer can wield the power of the state to prevent that worker from leaving behind the Wendy's cash-register to make $0.25/hour more at the McDonald's fry trap across the street:
https://pluralistic.net/2022/02/02/its-the-economy-stupid/#neofeudal
Employers defend this as necessary to secure their investment in training their workers and to ensure the integrity of their trade secrets. But why should their investments be protected? Capitalism is about risk, and the fear that accompanies risk – fear that drives capitalists to innovate, which creates the public benefit that is the moral justification for capitalism.
Capitalists hate capitalism. They don't want free labor – they want labor bound to the land. Capitalists benefit from free labor: if you have a better company, you can tempt away the best workers and cause your inferior rival to fail. But feudalists benefit from un-free labor, from tricks like "bondage fees" that force workers to pay in order to quit their jobs:
https://pluralistic.net/2023/04/21/bondage-fees/#doorman-building
Companies like Petsmart use "training repayment agreement provisions" (TRAPs) to keep low-waged workers from leaving for better employers. Petsmart says it costs $5,500 to train a pet-groomer, and if that worker is fired, laid off, or quits less than two years, they have to pay that amount to Petsmart:
https://pluralistic.net/2022/08/04/its-a-trap/#a-little-on-the-nose
Now, Petsmart is full of shit here. The "four-week training course" Petsmart claims is worth $5,500 actually only lasts for three weeks. What's more, the "training" consists of sweeping the floor and doing other low-level chores for three weeks, without pay.
But even if Petsmart were to give $5,500 worth of training to every pet-groomer, this would still be bullshit. Why should the worker bear the risk of Petsmart making a bad investment in their training? Under capitalism, risks justify rewards. Petsmart's argument for charging $50 to groom your dog and paying the groomer $15 for the job is that they took $35 worth of risk. But some of that risk is being borne by the worker – they're the ones footing the bill for the training.
For Petsmart – as for all feudalists – a worker (with all the attendant risks) can be turned into an asset, something that isn't subject to competition. Petsmart doesn't have to retain workers through superior pay and conditions – they can use the state's contract-enforcement mechanism instead.
Capitalists hate capitalism, but they love feudalism. Sure, they dress this up by claiming that governmental de-risking spurs investment: "Who would pay to train a pet-groomer if that worker could walk out the next day and shave dogs for some competing shop?"
But this is obvious nonsense. Think of Silicon Valley: high tech is the most "IP-intensive" of all industries, the sector that has had to compete most fiercely for skilled labor. And yet, Silicon Valley is in California, where noncompetes are illegal. Every single successful Silicon Valley company has thrived in an environment in which their skilled workers can walk out the door at any time and take a job with a rival company.
There's no indication that the risk of free labor prevents investment. Think of AI, the biggest investment bubble in human history. All the major AI companies are in jurisdictions where noncompetes are illegal. Anthropic – OpenAI's most serious competitor – was founded by a sister/brother team who quit senior roles at OpenAI and founded a direct competitor. No one can claim with a straight face that OpenAI is now unable to raise capital on favorable terms.
What's more, when OpenAI founder Sam Altman was forced out by his board, Microsoft offered to hire him – and 700 other OpenAI personnel – to found an OpenAI competitor. When Altman returned to the company, Microsoft invested more money in OpenAI, despite their intimate understanding that anyone could hire away the company's founder and all of its top technical staff at any time.
The idea that the departure of the Burger King trade secrets locked up in its workers' heads constitute more of a risk to the ability to operate a hamburger restaurant than the departure of the entire technical staff of OpenAI is obvious nonsense. Noncompetes aren't a way to make it possible to run a business – they're a way to make it easy to run a business, by eliminating competition and pushing the risk onto employees.
Because capitalists hate capitalism. And who can blame them? Who wouldn't prefer a life with less risk to one where you have to constantly look over your shoulder for competitors who've found a way to make a superior offer to your customers and workers?
This is why businesses are so excited about securing "IP" – that is, a government-backed right to control your workers, customers, competitors or critics:
https://locusmag.com/2020/09/cory-doctorow-ip/
The argument for every IP right expansion is the same: "Who would invest in creating something new without the assurance that someone else wouldn’t copy and improve on it and put them out of business?"
That was the argument raised five years ago, during the (mercifully brief) mania for genre writers seeking trademarks on common tropes. There was the romance writer who got a trademark on the word "cocky" in book titles:
https://www.theverge.com/2018/7/16/17566276/cockygate-amazon-kindle-unlimited-algorithm-self-published-romance-novel-cabal
And the fantasy writer who wanted a trademark on "dragon slayer" in fantasy novel titles:
https://memex.craphound.com/2018/06/14/son-of-cocky-a-writer-is-trying-to-trademark-dragon-slayer-for-fantasy-novels/
Who subsequently sought a trademark on any book cover featuring a person holding a weapon:
https://memex.craphound.com/2018/07/19/trademark-troll-who-claims-to-own-dragon-slayer-now-wants-exclusive-rights-to-book-covers-where-someone-is-holding-a-weapon/
For these would-be rentiers, the logic was the same: "Why would I write a book about a dragon-slayer if I could lose readers to someone else who writes a book about dragon-slayers?"
In these cases, the USPTO denied or rescinded its trademarks. Profits triumphed over rents. But increasingly, rents are triumphing over profits, and rent-extraction is celebrated as "smart business," while profits are for suckers, only slightly preferable to "wages" (the worst way to get paid under both capitalism and feudalism).
That's what's behind all the talk about "passive income" – that's just a euphemism for "rent." It's what Douglas Rushkoff is referring to in Survival of the Richest when he talks about the wealthy wanting to "go meta":
https://pluralistic.net/2022/09/13/collapse-porn/#collapse-porn
Don't drive a cab – go meta and buy a medallion. Don't buy a medallion, go meta and found Uber. Don't found Uber, go meta and invest in Uber. Don't invest in Uber, go meta and buy options on Uber stock. Don't buy Uber stock options, go meta and buy derivatives of options on Uber stock.
"Going meta" means distancing yourself from capitalism – from income derived from profits, from competition, from risk – and cozying up to feudalism.
Capitalists have always hated capitalism. The owners of the dark Satanic mills wanted peasants turned off the land and converted into "free labor" – but they also kidnapped Napoleonic war-orphans and indentured them to ten-year terms of service, which was all you could get out of a child's body before it was ruined for further work:
https://pluralistic.net/2023/09/26/enochs-hammer/#thats-fronkonsteen
When Varoufakis says we've entered a new feudal age, he doesn't mean that we've abolished capitalism. He means that – for the first time in centuries – when rents go to war against profits – the rents almost always emerge victorious.
Here's the podcast episode:
https://craphound.com/news/2024/04/14/capitalists-hate-capitalism/
Here's a direct link to the MP3 (hosting courtesy of the Internet Archive; they'll host your stuff for free, forever):
https://archive.org/download/Cory_Doctorow_Podcast_465/Cory_Doctorow_Podcast_465_-_Capitalists_Hate_Capitalism.mp3
And here's the RSS feed for my podcast:
http://feeds.feedburner.com/doctorow_podcast
If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:
https://pluralistic.net/2024/04/18/in-extremis-veritas/#the-winnah
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what are your most favorite tropes? :3c
IM SO GLAD YOU ASKED:
Near death experiences
Emotional revelations due to said near death experiences
Enemies to Friends to Lovers
Mutual Pining but they believe its unrequieted
"you're my worst enemy but you're so important to me"
Drunk chapter where at least One fist fight happens
Bridal carry after someone gets injured
Slow Burn...of course
"i got you this gift because it benefits me and im not telling you how" (the benefit is seeing the other person enjoy the gift)
Force Alliances or Temporary Truces
"I don't like killing but I'll do it for you"
"I prefer to kill my problems but I won't, for you."
Or: "This person has no idea how many people I've killed in order to protect or provide for them and I'm going to keep it that way."
Mean or Villian Character is actaully a really good Sibling/Parent/Child,ect and has someone they care about
Or better, Villian character adopts child AND is a good parent
Everyone knows the pairing likes each other except for the pairing
Temporary (or non-temp)Amnesia
"I learn your favorite things because I plan to use them against you one day" (proceeds to not do that) (proceeds to get them food or items that persons likes just because they like them)
Breaking and Entering. Literally.
Person A is in love, Person B says they're not but they're 10x times worse actaully
Slip-of-the-tongue/Accidental confessions. Doesn't have to be love confessions but just "whoops i was not supposed to say that"
Biting as a love language
One is feral and bloodthirsty but is put in the position of 'protecting an idiot' because the other is also feral and has no self-preservation. Both characters must be badass, just equally stupid
Kiss on the head/cheek while the other person is sleeping
Bloodstained kiss
Heat-of-battle confession about something
Protagonist refusing to become villian or repeat villian mistakes, not in a 'owo i cant do that its bad' and more like 'fuck you you dont get to see what you wanted to make of me'
Signifier of 'this is my friend/family/lover'. Could anything between a ring, a jacket over someone's shoudlers or scent marking, anything
"if im immortal, then you gotta be too or we both dyin"
Knight x Their Charge
Human x Non-Human
Sunshine x Grump
Character that looks sooooo cute. Oh he's a little fucked up actaully
"ahhaha he's such a freak haha. i need him carnally."
They are mortal enemies. They are also best friends.
Hostage / Rescued trope plus Hostage / Doesn't get to rescue because the hostage killed everyone already
Plot info that's missing that's vital to the story and it's revealed that One of the pairing or someone in the group knew the info the entire time
"I said mean things to you because I hate you, so why am I feeling guilty now"
There was only One Bed
Really competent and scary character is really GOOD at a harmless and charming small hobby completely uncharacteristic to their public persona
Nightmares. And then sleeping in the same bed because of nightmares
Cultural differences / Language Barrier
Character gets so surprised flustered they trip over something or break something and it topples and it starts a chain reaction like a cartoon
There are more but these are some of which I can remember off the top of my head. I've written many of these myself in several of my stories and will continue to do so until the end of time, esp my faves
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fragility — sunday.
summary: disagreements may often occur with sunday, but the two of you seem to always find a way to resolve it. (or, in which sunday is a little too devoted; lucky for you, you'd never have it any other way.)
notes: sunday character study, reader and sunday are arranged to be married/betrothed; not canon compliant, sunday might be ooc and i do not apologize he must be down bad 💯 reblogs are appreciated ! would love for u to tell me what you think about this experimental fic hehe
Sunday has always been the picture perfect image of control.
It is in the way his suit never has a single wrinkle, save for those he intentionally keeps to exude a more tolerable presence to The Family—and even then, he has always smoothed out every crinkle, every flaw; whenever they wouldn't look. It is seen in the way Sunday fights to calm his voice after a particular burst of his emotions, the way he almost obsessively tends to his plans to make sure nothing shall go awry.
If Sunday is a lone bird flying in the sky, then his control over himself, his conduct of his emotions is the chain that binds him to the earth below. Grounding him oft when he himself cannot.
If his sister is akin to a bird that spreads her wings to freedom, then Sunday shall clip his own, chain them down onto the earth if only to protect himself.
“Six gatherings.”
“Eight.”
However, there are often exceptions to his near flawless aspect of self-control; situations in which back him up into a corner, unable to retort.
“Seven gatherings and no more.” Like now, when you were being—for a lack of a better term—an extreme pain in the neck. Sunday exhales a weary breath.
“You can't be serious.” You frown at him. “Surely they'll be satisfied with six? They don't even care!”
“It would be best if we were to leave no possibility unaccounted for.”
“Sunday, you cannot subject me to any worse horrors other than prancing around being buddy buddy with those two-faced fogeys!”
He snorts at the barb. Trust that you use your rather extensive lexicon to state your mind in the most absurd of ways, most especially in the rather glitzy and pompous Family gatherings you both are required (read: forced) to apply yourselves to. Sunday should really ought to put in a word about it to you.
(He does not, however, tell you that your opinion is wrong.)
“I assure you that you will live. Acting like I'm sending you to your death is an immense exaggeration.”
Sunday drowns your complaints and listens to it with one ear. He knows, and trusts that you would relent anyway, so there was no reason in arguing over it any further.
Because, despite the innumerable ways in which your very existence rattles his, turning his carefully constructed world upside down in jeopardy, Sunday cannot stray away from anything you request.
(it would be blasphemy to do so. a sin he would never dare to oppose. you had that effect on him.)
You lounge leisurely at his personal quarters as though it belonged to you (it would, Sunday corrects himself, it will) and meet his eyes, liquid gold taking your existence in its entirety, as though it would be ripped away from him in an instant. He sees your eyes soften, just for a bit.
You put your fisted hand onto your cheek, squishing it slightly as you sulk. Sunday thinks he's finally gone mad when he considers running his fingers through them. (Would it be as soft as he had dreamed?)
Even with your face scrunched in a grimace, you are as radiant as gems and jade; your emotions splayed out before him like a clear spring reflecting the bright sky. (You are a reflection of the freedom he longs to embrace.) As wonderful as everything that Sunday is not.
Sunday knows your distaste is rooted in your aversion to the feigned lies and the prospect of sugarcoating your relationship as one of duty and not true affection (despite it being the complete opposite, he likes to assume) and being put on a pedestal by others.
But compliance is his owner, and Sunday is its dutiful servant.
“I know you're less than inclined-” Sunday starts to say, emphasizing the less. “-but now, with the Charmony Festival within full preparation, they want to see us there. United, as-”
“-As a happy pair.” you finish the thought with a rueful smile. “Something to calm them down while everything is in shambles. How characteristic of them.”
He nods. Meeting your gaze has always made him weak-willed. Sunday thinks that you could bring him down to his knees in reverence if you wish; he would not mind. “I know it goes against your principles.”
Because you believed in truth, that the chaos that Sunday abhors has a beauty to it he cannot understand; that you were a delightful paradox Sunday doesn't want the ugly claws of his control to grasp onto.
(He does not deserve you.)
“While I would gladly endure any gathering if it's with you…” you start, and his heart makes that familiar leap, like wings flapping in his stomach. “I don't want to keep up appearances to those who only see through the surface.”
“Then you shouldn't.” Sunday takes time to stand and stay seated next to you, if only to feel the actuality of you at whole. “You know better than anyone what we are.”
After all, Sunday sees no use in looking at the gazes of others when you are always at the forefront of his mind.
“...I know.” Sunday stiffens when you lean your head on his shoulder, your head brushing by the wing below his ear. He shudders. “I’m aware. More than anyone else.”
Your voice flutters in the wind like a bird soaring through the sky, and you illuminate his world in a stream of color. This is the most he gets to an ardent declaration of love, and Sunday would be damned if he would not reciprocate in any way.
(He does not deserve you, but you make it a point to disagree otherwise, every time.)
“I’ll be by your side at every step.” Sunday says, lacing his gloved hands in yours as a promise. “You need only be by my side.”
In the present, and even in the future, Sunday hopes. Your gentle squeeze of his hand is the content of your answer.
“I can't really say no to you, can I?”
Sunday chuckles. “I should say the same.”
If his mind is bound to seek control, then his soul is bound to seek your warmth. Sunday thinks this is as it should be. As he hopes will always be.
You laugh. “Eight gatherings it is. Though I suppose in the future it would be even more than that.”
“Mm. We shall hope it to be so.”
“Oh, it definitely will.”
All by his side, where his heart shall whisper your name and where your soul shall be forever intertwined with his.
© 𝐈𝐂𝐄𝐔𝐍𝐇𝐈𝐄 : do not repost, copy, or plagiarize my work.
writing process for this was vv inspired by a tiktok audio that i can't remember the name from but it encapsulated sunday so perfectly my keyboard started typing lol
#mhie's spirals#sunday x reader#sunday honkai star rail#sunday hsr#sunday x you#sunday x y/n#hsr x reader#hsr x gender neutral reader#hsr imagines#hsr drabbles
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Winter Gem
Thranduil x Female Elf Reader
Content & Warnings: soft!Thranduil, widowed!Thranduil, fluff, peril & rescue, mild hurt/comfort
Word Count: 1.8k
Seeking something precious for Thranduil, you're caught in a storm. When you don't return, he goes searching for you.
A/N: For @firelightinferno
ao3 // taglist // main masterlist // winter 2023 masterlist
“The first snows have arrived.”
“It has come early.”
Thranduil inclines his head in acknowledgement. “Indeed.”
You stand beside Thranduil outside the main gates. Five guards stand nearby but there is no danger. A steady snowfall drifts down from the sky. The snowflakes are slightly gray in appearance, almost like ash on the wind. You frown down at a few of the flakes that land on your leather vambrace.
“You look ready for your hunt,” observes Thranduil, gesturing toward your attire with the tip of his head.
“Yes,” reply softly. “I plan on heading out for a bit.”
His eyebrows rise toward his hairline. “In this weather?”
You glance up from the vambrace and meet his blue eyes. Thranduil’s gaze is startling and sharp. Piercing. Intense. It cuts right down to your heart. His gaze always holds you hostage, wrapping you up in his essence. Most might find Thranduil intimidating, but you know better.
“Is my king telling me I cannot?” You’re teasing him, and Thranduil knows this. His smile is one of soft amusement.
“As long as you return to me. You are free to do as you wish.” Even though Thranduil’s tone is gentle, you understand the deeper meaning.
Thranduil lost his wife many years ago. Other than his son, Legolas, you are his comfort. He wants you to be free, to enjoy the pleasures of life, but he also wants you to be safe, to return to him at the end of every leaving.
Thranduil glances over his shoulder. The guards on duty discreetly glance away, staring off into the distance as if they’ve suddenly found something of great interest. Thranduil leans in and shifts his body to block their view of you. He is close enough that it might appear that the two of you are kissing, but he does not meet your lips.
In the end, Thranduil is private about affection. He does not like to share your tender moments together in front of others.
“Enjoy your hunt. I eagerly await your return.”
You give him a half-hearted, sarcastic bow that immediately puts a wide smile on his face. Thranduil watches you until you disappear into the trees. Perhaps he lingers longer than that, wondering if you will turn around and come back to him.
It is true. You are on a hunt, but not for what he or anyone else is likely expecting.
Over a week ago, Thranduil went out in the woods with some of the guards on patrol. It’s the first time he’s been out beyond the walls in some time. Many patrols that ventured into the northern regions reported back on a strangeness in the air, and the scent of evil. Thranduil decided to investigate.
While tracking, he lost something precious.
Around his neck on a chain, Thranduil kept a silver ring. Within the ring is a precious gem, a blue stone so pale it almost appears white like a burning star. The chain that held it snapped while he and the guards chased a group of spiders that had made their way south.
He remembered it snagging, and while he did not show any distress upon telling you of its disappearance, you also know how much that ring and jewel means to him. It was a gift from his wife when they were newly married. She had a matching one, but upon her death, Thranduil moved it from his finger to around his neck.
This hunt—your hunt—is about that ring. You have a fairly good idea about where it might have fallen, and there is no reason for it to have moved since then. Few enter these woods unless they follow the road, and that is on rare occasions.
Tracking is your specialty, and your time is not limited due to the falling snow. But you’ve tracked in worse weather. The snow is unfortunate, but you can still search as long as it remains at its current pace. The tree cover will keep much of the snow in the higher canopy. There will be time yet before the snow completely covers the ground and you lose the trail.
Heading north, you retrace the path the patrol took. Yes, a week has passed, and nature reclaims much, but not everything is hidden so quickly. There are small disturbances that indicate the path ahead.
As you begin to draw nearer to the area Thranduil mentioned, the snow starts to pick up. It becomes thicker, not staying above in the canopy but instead making its way to the ground. It’s not ideal, but you can manage.
Thranduil mentioned two tree trunks growing together and then breaking apart. When you happen upon it, the snow comes down in thicker sheets. On the ground, it’s sticking. Collecting. Time is running out. Elves have good eyes, and you focus in on the ground, gnarled roots, and underbrush.
Near the base of the tangled tree, you notice a slight sparkle. Approaching it, you go down on one knee, brushing away some of the snow.
“Found you.”
The ring is there, resting in the roots. It appears undamaged, and that is a relief. Picking it up, you tuck it into an inside pocket, protecting it from the elements.
The snow crunches under your boots, and the wind howls. For the first time, you shiver. Cold is not and has never been an issue. Elves can withstand a great many things, including winter weather.
Frowning, you turn into the chilly wind. There is a disturbance. Something dark and foul. It sets the edges of your nerves tingling. A simmering suspicion bubbles up from somewhere within you, question whether this snow is natural or not.
Turning on your heel, you head back the way you came. But the snow is heavy, and your fresh tracks are starting to slip away, returning to the snow. As you walk, the snowfall becomes a storm. The wind whips up, swirling the snow around until you cannot see more than a few feet in front of your face.
Your instincts were right. This storm is not natural. It is too early for it, and storms like these are rare in the Woodland Realm.
The toe of your boot catches in a downed tree branch and you slam face first into the snow. It’s freezing. Temperature isn’t usually a deterrent for the elves, but this is beyond cold. It’s as if you’ve been swallowed whole by a massive glacier.
You walk and walk, and you have no idea if you’ve gained any ground. There are no visible signs, and you’re not sure how far you’ve gone, or if you’re simply walking in circles. The snow is deepening or perhaps you’re imagining it. Everything seems darker, like the world is closing in.
You’re not dressed for this sort of weather.
And you’re tired. So tired. Your knees and thighs burn, and sitting down for some rest doesn’t seem so bad. It’s fine. You can take refugee within the deep roots of a tree. You can stay warm there until the snow dissipates. Then, you can return. Thranduil will understand.
As if opening for you, the roots of a nearby tree expand, showing safety from the storm. You slink into it, curling up into a ball.
You drift in the howling wind. There is a haze that sits on your eyelashes. Whether you dream or not is irrelevant. Numbness oozes into your limbs, and that only forces you to curl up tighter, wanting to pull away from the cold.
A hand touches the side of your head. It is warm. Gentle. The fingers slide up to brush your hair out of your face. You hear your name but it is a whisper. Distant. So far away it doesn’t seem real.
There are arms around you. Lifting. Steady. And when you inhale, the scent is familiar. You know who it is instantly.
“Thranduil,” you murmur, and the answer is a gentle squeeze of your hand.
“I found you, my star.”
There are only short moments of consciousness. There is snow. Cold. The antlers of an elk. The gates of home, and then warmth. So much warmth that the numbness begins to recede.
You are brought back to the living world near a roaring fire. Beneath you is a makeshift bed comprised of pillows and soft blankets. You shift, and feel bare skin against bare skin. Slowly, you push yourself to sitting.
Your leather gear is gone, replaced with a soft robe that traps in the heat.
“You’re awake.” Thranduil’s voice is a gentle, comforting hug.
Turning toward his voice, you watch as he glides across the floor. Thranduil wears silver robes of starlight. In his hands in a small tray. On it is a steaming cup of tea and an assortment of food. Bending at the knees, Thranduil settles in beside you, placing the tray down on the blankets.
“You came looking for me,” you say, and your voice nearly cracks with emotion.
“Did you think I would not?” he asks, arranging the food around on the tray.
You know, deep in your heart, that Thranduil would come, but you also believed in your abilities as a tracker. “When did you start to worry?”
Thranduil lifts the cup off the tray and presents it to you. “When the storm picked up. Something about it felt unnatural.” You take it, and bring the warm beverage to your lips. “I gathered some guards and we set out. It is good that we found you in time.” He pauses. “I’m not sure my heart could take any more loss.”
The heat of the tea spreads throughout your body, the chill slipping away quickly. “I do believe you are correct. That storm was not natural.”
Thranduil nods. “There is a growing darkness to the north. The scouts on patrol have spoken of it often but have been unable to get close enough for more details.”
“Perhaps I strayed too close,” you murmur.
“Perhaps,” replies Thranduil, reaching out to take your hand. He lifts it, and brings it into his lap. Using both hands, he rotates your wrist until your palm faces the ceiling. Then, he guides your open palm to his lips, placing a soft kiss in the middle of it.
Instant warmth shoots out from that spot, running down your arm and piercing your heart like an arrow. Slowly, he curls your fingers in, creating a loose fist, and then brushes his lips against your knuckles before pulling away.
He does not release your hand. “I know why you left.”
“Thranduil—”
“You did not need to explain. I understand why.” Thranduil reaches out and cups your cheek, turning your face toward him. “I am thankful that you found it, but you are also precious to me, and losing you is a far greater loss.”
You turn into his touch. “That ring is important to you.”
“Many things are important to me. But the ring is just that. A thing. You are breathing. You are here. I would like to keep it that way.”
Your eyes drift close and you revel in the warmth of his touch. “Are you mad?”
“Never.”
“Will you hold me?”
“For as long as you like.”
taglist:
@foxxy-126 @glassgulls @km-ffluv @sweetbutpsychobutsweet @singleteapot @firelightinferno @glitterypirateduck @tiredmetalenthusiast @protosslady @childofyuggoth @coffeecaketornado @ninman82 @therealbloom
#thranduil#thranduil x reader#thranduil fanfiction#thranduil x you#thranduil imagine#thranduil fluff#thranduil fanfic#thranduil fic#thranduil x female reader#thranduil x f!reader#thranduil x fem!reader#the hobbit fanfic#the hobbit fanfiction#the hobbit fic#the hobbit imagine#the hobbit thranduil#lotr fluff#lotr fic#lotr fanfic#lotr fanfiction#lord of the rings fic#lord of the rings fanfic#lord of the rings fanfiction#the hobbit movies
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another sunny day — i. rin
handcuffed together + matchmaking gone wrong
synopsis. rin doesn't get how his "friends" can come up with such insane ideas. like, seriously. or: blue lock tries to play matchmaker with a flustered loser and their terribly unfriendly teammate.
wc. ~1.1k
— for @jenoutof10 🤞 | event masterlist ✉️
"don't be mad, but..."
rin's eye twitches.
4 words. 4 measly words is all it takes for his blood pressure to start rising. that, and the fact that isagi can't meet his bloodthirsty gaze.
in all the time that he's had the displeasure of knowing these morons, he's come to know one simple fact: nothing good ever happens when they break news starting with 'don't be mad'.
before his teammates can even get a chance to explain further, rin interjects.
"you lost it, didn't you? you fucking lost it."
bachira's lips just press into a thin line, mischief missing from his expression where it usually permanently dances. now, he just looks utterly terrified and a little guilty.
"hey, but there are worse people to be cuffed to!" bachira nervously states. and at that, all eyes land on you.
you'd been hoping that maybe rin's temperment would have drawn all attention away from you right now—that they at least wouldn't have to witness the absolute despair in your face realizing you've been cuffed to your long-term crush for an indefinite amount of time.
but their eyes are heavy on you, trying to scrutinize your reaction. you want nothing more than the ground to open up and swallow you whole.
the chains connecting you jingle impossibly loud as silence fills the room. you flounder slightly, caught off guard by the collective weight of everyone's eyes, and rin seems to understand how dire your situation is. he quickly gathers everyone's attention back to himself.
"you all better crawl on your hands and knees until you find that fucking key."
to think that an entire group of people could have gone through with something so stupid—rin doesn't get how his "friends" can come up with such insane ideas. like, seriously. handcuffing the two of you together as a last ditch attempt to solve the last puzzle of their escape room? he would probably be laughing at their idiocy if he wasn't the one locked to your side right now.
and why him, of all people? was it so obvious that he was maybe, kind of, sort of a little into you? no, impossible. he's incredibly good at hiding his feelings for you, so much that he's completely stone-faced while you're busy panicking beside him.
what should have been an innocent team-building exercise put together by their calm and collected manager has suddenly turned you into a blithering fool and him into a cranky asshole.
he'd always had suspicions that you'd liked him, never able to look him straight in the eye without fidgeting and messaging him out of the blue for seemingly insignificant reasons. ("did you try the new garigari-kun flavour?" or "i saw this cat that reminded me of you," and even "did you eat dinner yet?")
if you had told his teammates, you made a grave error. a fatal mistake. because they were all half-wits who would want nothing more than to try playing cupid, and he knows that only they could come up with a plan so stupid and still claim it to be foolproof.
frantically searching for the key, they get to work scouring the floor and drawers—anywhere they could have left it in the last twenty minutes. he takes the opportunity to focus on his breathing, as his therapist had advised him to do when he was feeling overwhelmed with emotion.
"you okay?" rin asks quietly, lathering a hand down his face in exasperation. you hum nervously, clutching yourself instinctively. it draws his hand closer to your body but he doesn't mention it, instead letting it dangle limply in front of you. the warmth emanating from you makes him realize just how frazzled you are.
he decides he should guide you to the next room where it's quieter, all the puzzles already solved and abandoned. he sits you down on the sofa, standing in front of you with your hands connected in the middle.
"what if we're locked together forever?" you murmur.
rin looks at you in confusion, perplexed by your sudden loss of functioning brain cells. you were always so rational, it's strange to see you so...
you meet his intense stare and the rest of his train of thought derails into a disastrous dumpster fire.
"i... don't think that'll happen."
"but what if we are?"
"there are worse people i could be locked to."
silence suffocates you. rin blinks at you, but doesn't back down as you fumble over your own tongue.
"you think so?" you finally manage out.
god almighty, you need to break this eye contact before he shrivels up and dies. okay, so maybe his feelings for you aren't entirely miniscule, but that doesn't mean he's going to get any enjoyment out of this.
he scoffs, gesturing to the next room. "at least it's you and not them."
you sputter in embarrassment, hand yanking toward your face as you try and cover your cheeks with your palms. his hand follows, nearly smacking you in the nose but you don't seem to care or even notice.
he slowly seats himself beside you, dragging your conjoined hands back between your bodies and settling on the couch.
"i hate this," you admit. "it feels claustrophobic."
rin knows exactly what you mean. your hand is inches away from being in his—he can hardly breathe. he would rather eat natto every day for the rest of his life than come to terms with that, though, so instead he just sneers at you funny.
"you have claustrophobia?"
"i just mean that we're so close right now."
"so?"
you gulp loudly. "and—" you sigh, breaths shaking. "well, you're sort of right. i guess it could be worse."
"...you're weird," he tells you.
your lips quirk up into a tiny smile, so small that he would have missed it if he weren't chained to your side right now. for a moment, he almost forgets all about why he's even in this situation in the first place.
"sorry," you stammer, fingers fumbling around with the hem of your sweater. "i hope they find that key soon."
he stares at you for a few more seconds, tries to trace the outline of your face with his eyes and memorize the curve of your smile.
"yeah," he lies. "me too."
("is it working?"
"i don't know, i can't hear them!"
"shh," chigiri hisses. "i'm trying to listen!"
rin puts his head into his hands at their volume, bringing your hand along with his motion. he glares in their direction, catching a glimpse of his team stacked on top of each other as they peer into the room.
"idiots..." he mutters. you look at him, puzzled. "i'm surrounded by idiots.")
© ALABOADOA 2023 — please do not translate or post my works to other platforms.
#— whispers in the wind: 1k event ✉️#so remember when i said i would be out of commission for a bit#that was a fucking lie#blue lock#bllk#blue lock fluff#blue lock drabbles#itoshi rin fluff#itoshi rin#itoshi rin x reader#itoshi rin x you#itoshi rin x y/n#rin itoshi#rin itoshi x reader#rin itoshi x you#rin itoshi x y/n#bllk fic#bllk x reader#bllk x you#bllk x y/n#blue lock x reader#blue lock fic
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"Revenge"
Rapper!Onyakopon x Rapper!Reader
Cw : Modern!AU , Smut, Bestfriends w/ benifits atp, love making to fucking, pictures, Onyakopon being vulnerable and crying, unprotected sex (yall don't be like onyakopon wrap it up), i lowkey ended outta no where.
Summary : Onyakopon, Y/n's bestfriend get cheated on and Y/n swoops in to the rescue to save him from public humiliation or something like that.
(I didn't proof read & I'm still pretty new to writing and it's short)
꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦
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Onyakopon's head jerked backward in frustration, and he flung his phone aside, his left hand instinctively rising to cover his face as he fought back tears. "Fuck is wrong now?" You asked picking up his phone, you knew him and his ex had broken up you didn't anticipate the depth of his pain. Unlocking his phone you look down at the video on Instagram of his Ex and one of Onya's opp's kissing as she licked and kissed on his neck before lowering her head down and making the male in the video gasp before it ended. "Oh shit.." You looked up at noticing he wasn't doing as well as you'd thought, sitting next to him giving him a side hug trying to comfort your bestfriend.
Almost instantly he'd return the hug back hiding his face in your chest starting to silently cry. You only noticed because you felt the tears through your tight crop top, feeling bad you hold him by the back of his head giving soft kisses. "it's gonna be okay.." you'd whisper as he held you tighter making you feel even worse, you've never seen him this upset before. "Hey, how about we uhm.." She'd think for a second as he brought his head up to look at her for a moment. "Re-Create a better version of that video with me." He'd mumble head still in-between her chest looking up at her. His eyes were low and red from the weed he had been smoking earlier mixed with his tears.
"Please mama?" He'd add noticing you were hesitating. You nodded your head sighing giving in as you stared back down at him with a soft smile. "How bout we post it on my account and then you add it on your story?" you'd ask and he just nodded snuggling into you shirt more. "alri, gimme your chain and clean up your face u look sad asl.." you add as he got up taking off his chain giving it to you before walking into the bathroom. "We should do it in the studio.." He'd call out from the bathroom while washing his face before drying it with a towel.
Onyakopon had a home studio so you both stood beside the recording booth door as the dim LED slights set the tone, while an unreleased song by you both played in the background. You both started recorder singing along to the song as you titled the camera up enough to see you grinding on him before bringing your head back and placing a kiss on his neck and then on his lips. Onyakopon couldn't help but feel it in his pants, dick twitching at the contact as his brought his tattooed hand to your neck brining you in for another kiss this time deeper. Forgetting the mission at mind you end the video beginning to kiss him back turning your body as he held you close to him pulling away to kiss your check. "You're so pretty yk that right mama?"
"Fuckk—! right there daddy.." You'd moan as your bestfriend slowly thrusted his hips into you fucking your slowly leaving sloppy wet kisses down your neck. "Mama? You like that?" He'd asked pulling away looking down at you. Crop top pulled up to expose your chest and your pretty short skirt pulled up to your waist as your pretty feet rested on his shoulders. His chain still on your neck, almost nutting at just the sight of you he picked up your phone from the side opening the camera at he took a picture. "Mama, you look a pretty look." He'd smile before tossing the phone back to the side flipping you over. Pushing your back into an arch he'd slowly start giving you deep and slow thrusts hitting your g-spot making your weak as tears started to fill your eyes.
"Daddy.. Yk you could fuck me harder.. Stop being so gentle with me." You moan playfully knowing you'd get a reaction, and you sure fucking did. Putting one leg up on the couch in the studio, he started ramming into you holding you closer by your neck as soon as he noticed you tried running. "Mamas, how you gon tell me— to go faster—fuck... and then try and run away from it?" He'd ask between huffs as he pulled you closer so you were now agasint his chest. "Try running again and I'ma stop."
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(help im so tired i was just brain dumping)
#onyankopon smut#smut#aot onyankopon#onyankopon x black y/n#onyankopon x reader#onyankapon#black reader#aot x black reader#aot#aot x reader#anime#y/n#aot x y/n#aot x female reader#aot x you#black y/n#x y/n
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Jungkook
𝐂𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐫𝐲 𝐂𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐲 🍒
Sometimes love doesn't make sense.
Tags/Warnings: Tattoo artist/Piercer Jungkook, Pastel!Reader, opposites attract, Strangers to lovers, Fluff, suggestive flirting, adult themes but no smut, consensual hand holding
Length: ~4k
There is no taglist for this fic.
Masterlist
⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ──🍒── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅
"Uhm-" you wonder, stepping inside the store to be greeted by the guy you know as Jimin.
"Hi, my friend has an appointment?" you say, and the artist stands up and walks closer. Your friend stays close to you, buzzing with the excitement of getting her first tattoo ever- too shy to say anything.
When it comes to that, you're a little ahead of her. As long as the person isn't intimidating, you're fine talking to them, asking for help or anything alike.
"Yeah, it was the dragon on her back, right?" and your friend nods. "I've got it all prepared already. Wanna come downstairs with me, I'll explain the rest of it there?" Jimin kindly says, taking her coat and leading her downstairs where you assume everyone works. "Oh, you can just wait in the back there, or stroll around town. It'll take a while." he says, and you nod, a bit unsure now after being left alone.
"Hm?" a voice chimes up, before he speaks again. "Oh, Thought I heard something." the guy comes into view, and suddenly you can't talk.
This is what you can't talk to.
Intimidating? Heavy boots and black clothes, silver chains and piercings and a fully inked sleeve including his hand present themselves to you, muscles free since he's only wearing a black sleeveless top that should be illegal for him to wear. His smile is the friendliest you've ever seen, reaching his eyes and his slightly wild hair just makes him look even better, sides buzzed down to mere millimeters left- you want to disappear from the earth and his memory forever.
Fuck. He's looking like every goth-girl's wet dream while you're dressed in a pastel colored dress and thick knee high socks to keep your feet warm in this cold weather. Great.
"You can sit here in the back with me, otherwise you'll catch a cold from all the cold air blowing in every time the door opens." he recommends, pointing to a couch in a corner that you assume is where they all spend their breaks. Awesome, he's a gentleman as well it seems, making it all even worse for you. "You want something to drink? I've got tea or coffee." he wonders, and you meekly press out a 'tea, please.', making him chuckle.
He probably thinks you're nothing more than a child, with the way you look so out of place.
You envy your friend in that department. She's got piercings, she knows cool friends, she has exciting stories to tell. Meanwhile you sit at home and knit sweaters and blankets, help out at the local animal shelter because you get to pet the cats and dogs all day, or work at the library where you aid tourists find the town's guide.
"Your friend was the tall girl, right?" he asks, coming in with two cups, one of which he sets down on front of you. "I'm Jungkook by the way." he introduces himself, smiling before he leans back in his seat. Of course he's interested in her, you think. She's exactly his type, though he looks quite a few years older than her.
Well- the least you can do is help her find a date.
"Ah, yeah, she's my friend. Best friend." you say, pulling the cup of tea closer. "Thank you, for the tea." you say politely, and he grins in front of you.
"No problem." he waves off.
"She's uh.. She works at a car-uh.. She does those paint jobs. Like, those complicated one's that look realistic and all that." you try and explain. "I.. Forgot what it's called though. But uhm.. You can ask her later maybe?" you say, and he shrugs, setting down his cup before he smirks impishly, tongue playing with his lip ring in a manner that you can only describe as illegal.
"I probably could do that-" he starts, before he tilts his head a little to the side, body leaning forward. "-but I'd rather get to know you a little more." he wonders, and you almost choke on your tea- but you're composing yourself. "Maybe I could start by asking if you've got a boyfriend?"
Well, so much for composing yourself.
Your wide eyes look at him scandalized, and he giggles at the sight of it. "I- uh, no, I mean no I don't have one, to be honest-" you laugh a bit nervously. "-guys don't.. I- most guys don't really look my way, you know. So I thought, you know, considering-" you motion up and down towards him, "-you'd be more interested in my friend." you ramble, and he just shakes his head, smiling.
"I mean, she seems nice- but, I don't know either." he shrugs. "Something about you- it's hard to explain."
You shift a little on the spot now, unsure what to do in a situation like this. Typically, you shut down guys quickly, scared of what's to come. But you also don't want to keep doing exactly that- not when you've got the chance of something right in front of you like that. For the first time, someone's actively interested in you. Someone who seems nice, that is.
"I don't want to make you uncomfortable, by the way." Jungkook suddenly rips out of your thoughts. He leans back again, giving you space, and it makes you feel a little deflated. Did you blow it already? Oh god you screwed it over, didn't you?
"No, you're not, don't worry." you say, looking down. "I just.. I'm not used to this. I'm usually always the wingman instead- or.. Wing-woman?" you think, and he laughs.
"Hard to believe, but I'll take your word for it." he says, still friendly. "So, I'm wondering- any tattoos? Piercings?" he wonders, and you nod- instantly making his eyes sparkle in interest. "Oh- can I ask what it is, or do you want to let me find out later?" he says, and you instantly turn red, making him laugh. "Sorry, sorry- I'll stop, promise." he waves off. "..for now."
You laugh at his antics, unable to keep a straight face by now. "You seem like you know your way around with girls." you say without thinking, before you hurriedly correct yourself. "I-I mean I don't mean that your like, a fuckboy or something or- maybe you are that's fine too! I don't judge but- oh god.." you put your head in your hand. "You know what? I'll just wait here for her, I'm so sorry." you mumble more or less.
But much to your surprise, he simply laughs, head thrown back for a second before he grins at you, front teeth slightly protruding, giving him a bunny smile.
"You're so cute, I swear." he says, shaking his head. "I- is it okay if I ask for your number?" he wonders, and you look at him for a good moment, squinting your eyes as if you test to see if he's serious.
"I.. Sure..?" you say, pulling out your phone with all the different charms attached. He grins and shakes his head amused, though clearly excited as you type in your number into his phone before calling yourself to make sure it's correct.
"So!" he grins. "Since your friend is gonna still be out of order for a good four hours downstairs," Jungkook stands up to hold out his hand. "You up for some boba for our first date?" he asks, looking down at you even though you're standing as well by now.
And you nod, walking next to him through the slight October fog outside in town, his hand warming up yours.
You don't even realize how.. easy it feels, right away. His hand holding yours is not demanding, giving you the option to let go at any point, but you don't mind holding it. It's warm, comfortable, and it also makes you wonder if that's something he enjoys. Did he date a lot already? He certainly looks like he got the choice, girls probably falling for him fairly easily.
Well.. you're already trusting him too. How ironic.
"Just tell me which one you want, I'll go order." he says later, holding out a hand in case you lose balance as you clean off the rain from your boots as to not bring it all into the small store. "I'll pay too by the way, no but's!" he grins, while you look up at him with a pleading look.
"No, I'll give you the money back for mine." you say.
"But then it's not a date!" he argues back, a whine in his voice as if to mock the way you just spoke to him. "then it's just- two people getting a drink at the same time."
"what's so bad about that?" you laugh, crossing your arms without thinking- an action he playfully copies, pushing out his chest, fabric of his jacket stretching over his biceps.
"That it's not a date!" he says, before laughing as he relaxes, talking more quietly now with a lower, more serious tone. "Alright, in all seriousness though, I'd still like to pay even if there's no date." he tells you.
"I- no, a date is fine, it can be a date.." you say. "I just don't want to.. Come off as a leech for taking your money if you end up not liking me-" you ramble, and he smiles warmly, holding your shoulders before his warm palms touch your cheeks for a second.
"You're overthinking too much." he giggles, before letting go of you. "right now, I like you very much. And even if we don't end up working out, I'm not that kind of guy to go around and talk shit about people." he shrugs.
You sigh at that, before pointing towards an item on the menu. "..can you- I don't like that much ice in mine.?" you say, and he nods, before walking towards the worker to order.
He's oddly okay with you, you've noticed.
Normally, people and especially guys get frustrated easily due to the fact that you've got trouble deciding things, or that you don't like ordering, or that you quickly feel bad because your brain thinks the worst about every single word that's said to you. But he seems nice enough, doesn't come off as annoyed or anything. Despite his way of talking and his outer appearance, Jungkook feels nice to have around.
You wonder how a guy like him can be single.
Or maybe he isnt? Maybe he's into the BDSM scene, a swinger, or in an open relationship, and he just want to offer you a threesome? He looks like he might be into that stuff, like a dominant guy that enjoys taking control over his partner in the bedroom. Does he tie people up? You've seen stuff like that before, and it's not something you'd be opposed to if he'd be the one to-
Wow, alright, exit was three miles ago.
"Everything alright?" he chuckles, snapping you out of your thoughts, amusing him as he notices the way you turn red. "Been staring at my ass? Can't blame you, honestly." he jokes, making you hit his shoulder playfully before you take your plastic cup from him. "Hey, this might sound super shady and you don't have to say yes-" he starts, stepping out the small store with you where it had started to snow again. "-but I've got my apartment a few minutes from here, and it's freezing cold, so-" he takes your hand and looks down at you. "-you wanna go to my place?"
You're nervous now, more than ever. Thoughts are entertaining, they're safe and most of all yours and not real, but the prospect of potentially going into an apartment you don't know, with a guy you don't know, is scary. What if he's actually a serial killer, or really into BDSM and you'll get involved in some shady fifty shades stuff-
"-you really don't have to say yes. We can just go back to the Tattoo shop and talk there, I don't mind." he reassures, and you still don't answer. "What's worrying you? Maybe I can help."
"I-" you start, unsure, and fingers already hurting from the cold cup as you both walk outside the small store, walking side by side. You enjoy this a bit more- without holding his hand, you feel safer having a discussion like that. "-you know, guys only take girls to their place for.. Stuff, and I'm not like that, but I also kind of want to be but at the same time it's scary-"
"Hey, no, I'm not out for blood if you mean that." he chuckles, holding out his arm to make sure you wait until a car has passed the road you're both trying to cross. "Like, I'm not gonna lie and say I've never had one-night-stands or quickies or whatever, but right now I'm interested in you, first and foremost." he explains, his rather blunt words causing an elderly lady to turn her head scandalized as she walks past. "Also, I'm into begging. I'll only fuck you if you ask nicely." he smirks down at you next to him, before laughing out loud at your wide eyes and red ears.
"I-" you struggle to form words. But you're also horribly cold. "Alright then. I mean not the fucking part, at least not right now maybe sometime in the fut- where was your apartment again?" you stutter, and he grins so hard his eyes almost close.
"You're so fucking cute, my god." he shakes his head, before taking your hand again. "It's right down this road." he simply tells you, before you both find yourself in front of an apartment building where he takes you upstairs to his door. "Ah, I didn't clean up, by the way. It's a bit chaotic." he sheepishly offers, before the door opens.
It's warm, inviting. Doesn't smell bad, and it's not as chaotic as he told you it would be, Jungkook walking inside before you walk around, inspecting the apartment.
"I've put your boots in my shower, in case you're wondering where they are." he says after emerging from his bathroom, opening a window a little to air out the apartment. "make yourself at home, don't be so stiff." he chuckles, smiling when you visibly relax.
He sits close to you on the couch, but keeps a respectful distance between the two of you. He watches as you inspect a hole in a blanket he's got on the couch, shrugging. "My friend has a dog. Small little shit tore a hole in there, but it's still good so I keep the blanket."
"It's an easy fix." you say. "If you take those two parts of the yarn and then those, you can just tie them together so it doesn't rip open any further." you explain, and he tilts his head a little.
"Oh? Do you knit?" he wonders, and you nod.
"I.. My hobbies are kind of lame. I knit, and I help at the shelter a little away from the town. Other than that, I just.. Kind of exist in my apartment." you tell him. "I work at a library near the main train station. So, I'm not really interesting." you say, while he shakes his head.
"Don't say that. I think that's all pretty cool." he reassures. "Sounds like you've made a cozy life for yourself. That's pretty impressive considering today's times." he says. "I've always been.. Unsatisfied. With almost everything." he shrugs, leaning back, socked feet resting on the edge of his couch you're both sitting on.
"How so?" you wonder, taking a sip from your drink, before putting it back onto the small table.
"I don't know." he explains vaguely. "I guess I always had way too big dreams and aspirations. And now that I'm at that age I back then wanted to be, I feel like I wasted all my time with nothing but short-lived successes and people who only wanted me for the moment."
"Kind of.. Reminds me of myself." you giggle. "I.. When I was young, even a teenager, I always said I won't have kids. But these days, I kind of think, in the future I want them. Not right now, but one day. I wanna have a family and stuff, live in a house and have a dog and a cat and a husband and all that." you giggle. "like I said, not right now- but in the future."
"Hmhm. I never wanted to marry either. Thought that's just bullshit." he says. "But now, after seeing some of my friends have that, I'm envious. I want that too. A partner for life, I mean. A boring life." he says.
You hum a reply, nodding to yourself, a bit of quietness falling over the both of you, before he moves again, sitting down more comfortably turned towards you.
"I.. Would really like to get to know you. Seriously, I mean." he starts explaining. "Like I said, I.. Don't know what it is exactly, but you're.. Fuck you make me all weird." he laughs. "I wanna stay in contact with you, if you'd like. We could watch a movie? Only Netflix, no deep-throating during commercial breaks, promise!" he jokes, before adding, "..except if you're up for it." he giggles when you hide your face for a good second, laughing.
"I don't even know how to do that!" you laugh, making him raise his eyebrows while playing with his lip ring.
"Oh I can teach you, don't worry about that." he teases.
"I'm sure you can.." you mumble more or less, sipping on your drink. But your sentence seems to make him curious, eyes gaining a challenging glimmer as he leans forward.
"No no no, let's rewind a bit there." he says. "Just so I know where I'm at. You a virgin?" he wonders, and you pull your legs closer to yourself.
"..no." you shrug. "But.. I highly doubt I'm as adventurous as you." you tell him, making Jungkook smirk a little, as if challenged.
"Are you? What do you think I'm into then?" he wonders. "I've got a feeling you've made up your mind about me more than I thought."
"I mean, I don't know?" you say. "You.. It's not that hard to have more experience than me. I only had sex like.. Twice, and it's honestly not really for me." you shrug. "it's weird to.. Ugh I don't know."
"No, you do know, you just don't want to say it out loud." he clears up for you, making you nod. "Did you ever have an orgasm?"
"Jungkook!" you bark out scandalized, making him raise his hands in playful defense.
"What? You gotta ask these days, men are shit in bed most of the time, I have to admit that!" he laughs, shamelessly talking about this as if it's nothing but the weather outside. "So? Did you?" he wonders, and you shrug. "So you didn't?"
"I- don't know!" you say, a little glad you can finally talk to someone about it, hesitation finally breaking as you get the chance to make your frustration some room. "It's different when I do it myself. Like, then I'm pretty sure I have one? But when I had sex it was different, like I was almost kind of there but also not.." you lean your head on the backrest of his couch.
"Sounds like you didn't then." he tells you. "See, there's women out there who can't cum from penetration at all. The key ingredient is being fucking attentive." he explains. "I got more than just my dick, is what I'm trying to tell." he says, wiggling his fingers in front of his face, several rings adoring some of them- and you laugh.
"You sound like you're trying to get me to have sex with you right now." you joke, but he just shrugs his shoulders, tongue poking against his cheek for a moment.
"I'd fuck you any day you'd let me." he simply answers, eyes on yours. "After all, I gotta check out those tattoos you said you have." he flirts, and you move around a little, air between you both getting thicker. At this point, you can't deny the attraction. And with the way he talks and treats you, you're sure you'd let him prove his point as well. Right now. No regrets.
He notices the way your eyes fall to his lips, getting attached at the silver piercings there for a good moment, before you find his warm eyes again. And even though he really did not intent to be so forward so fast, he still scoots closer, tests the waters, places his arms on either side of you before the tip of his nose almost touches yours.
"Been wondering for a while now.." he starts, licking his lips before he looks down to yours, face tilting a bit as he looks at you. "..what flavor that lipgloss might be." he jokes, before he can't help himself.
You've not been kissed often in your life, not even in relationships. But you know for a fact that there's no experience comparable to the way he kisses you- not only his lips, but also his hands craving you it seems, making you feel completely under his spell. He's not just kissing you with his lips. He's using his hands, his tongue, knows clearly how to create a moment.
Your phone rings.
His rings soon after.
He laughs- and so do you.
It's a little awkward for a second, before he sends a message informing his coworker that you're on your way back, his grin still evident, never vanishing it seems. "so..?" you wonder having stood up to go grab your coat.
"So?" he parrots back, standing up as well to walk closer to you.
"What flavor is it?" you shyly try and flirt, and he laughs, leaning down to kiss you again, just a peck, and another, and just one last one before he parts with laughter.
"I'd say cherry-" he grins, watching you tie your boots in his hallway before he cages you in at his front door again the second you stand back up, unable to resist you now that you gave him the chance to taste you.
"But let me make sure I got it right."
#bts imagine#bts fanfic#bts fic#jungkook imagine#jeon jungkook x reader#jeon jungkook imagine#bts jungkook imagine#jungkook x reader#bts jungkook fanfic#jeon jungkook fanfic
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