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dcxdpdabbles · 5 months

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DCXDP FIC IDEA: The Dauntless Matchmaker

Danny Fenton is short on cash. He has been short on cash almost all his adult life, but usually, he can pull through untill the last minute before breaking and asking his family for help.

It's a pain in a half trying to find a job that is flexible enough to accommodate his "Health" issues.

He needs time off to keep his agreement. See back when he was sixteen, he realized that the ghosts that had been bothering him were all trying to challenge him for his power.

At first he looked like easy prey- being new and all- but the more fights he won the more his reputation rose and that made the ghosts attack less frequently.

They just became harder since the big guns wanted a crack at him. Danny proposed that the fights be in neutral grounds- the ghost zone- since fights in Amity Park were ruining his haunt.

Haunt Rights were highly protected and respected in the Infinite Releams.

His adversaries agreed under the condition that Danny responded to the battles within two hours; otherwise, they would haunt him in the human world.

Ghost fighting in the Infinite Releams to keep the ghosts busy, and nowadays, only the strongest bothered him like a bi-weekly challenge from dead beings that don't understand scheduling.

It worked out.....until he couldn't explain why he was missing so often in the human world. With the help of some friendly ghosts, he was able to fake a diagnosis of some muscle disorder and has been living with the excuse that he would go MIA because of it. He missed a lot.

Often enough to have almost every job he's gotten to fire him.

This brings him to his current problem. Yes, Danny can argue that he has a disability but to do so would mean having someone look into it and realize it's not real.

So when Charlie from the Tea MadHouse tells him not to bother returning tomorrow after a four-day-long battle, he can only sigh and turn in his tea maker apron.

He might have to call his parents to ask for help on this month's rent. That's a bitter pill to swallow.

If only there was a job that he could do that had no problem with him taking multiple days off without notice.

"Pardon me. I need a moment of your time." a voice calls out. Danny twists around, turning his neck slightly downwards to meet the green-eyed stare of a young boy.

"I have a proposition for you. My elder brother requires a fake lover to fool our family butler into thinking that he has moved on from the heartbreak of his last disastrous relationship. Not that anyone could blame Dowd for ending things with Drake. In any case, seeing as I have witnessed your unemployment, I figured you would do well for the job."

Danny blinks "I'm sorry?"

The kid pulls out a wad of cash. Danny can practically hear the ca-ching sound surrounding the boy as he raises a brow.

He gapes as the youth slaps the cash into his hand without so much as a blink.

"Do we have an accord?" The boy asks while Danny slowly turns the money in his hand.

"Whatever you say, temporary in-law," He says after flipping through the bills only to realize it's a hundred-dollars. A quick count of how many he's been handed causes his eyes to almost pop out of thier socket.

It's more then enough for this month's rent-hell he has some left over for at least four months!

"Excellent, we are expected at dinner. If Drake acts surprised to see you merely tap the table six times, then four. He shall fall into line and build off our lie."

Danny scrambles after the kid, nodding to himself. "Six, then four. Got it. Ugh, does the dinner have a dress code?"

It sounds like it would since a young boy just gave out hundreds like it was nothing. Danny would feel bad showing up in an old pair of jeans and a faded t-shirt.

Maybe he has a formal shirt somewhere.

The boy's green eyes flickered to him, then his watch on his wrist. "An impressive observation. Pennyworth will not be impressed by a poorly dressed paramour. We have time to purchase a suit. Come along."

Danny has no idea how someone so small can walk so fast. He feels his breathing is coming in quick bursts, but the boy doesn't seem winded at all. He winces when the boy enters a well-known suit place that is very pricey. "Is this coming out of my pay?"

"No. This shall be covered by the company card," The strange child says, holding up a black card with a quick flick of his wrist. At the sight of it, two store attendants appear at their side, offering assistance. Danny has never seen such power.

"W-wait we have a company card?" He shutters, overwhelmed by the attendant pushing him into a changing room and a light blue suit in his arms.

"Yes. However, you have a limit on what can be spent with it. I shall review the details later regarding your medical, dental, and vision benefits."

"I GET DENTAL?!"

"Of course. America's ridiculous health programs will mistreat no employee of mine simply due to lack of funds. " The boy scoffed, sounding offended by the very idea.

Danny doesn't care how long he needs to pretend to be this boy's boyfriend, and he'll sign a contract right now.

_______________________________________

Damian waited for Fenton to finish trying on all the suits the personal sellers had pushed onto him. He personally thinks the light blue was the best but it doesn't hurt to try other options.

They need Fenton to look his best to woo Drake and get him to stop acting so pathetic.

Yes, Dowd had broken up with him for reasons Damian is unaware of, nor does he care enough to find them, but Drake has had plenty of people break up with him before and remain on good terms with him.

Just look at Brown.

Drake had also always bounced right back after the breakup, usually because he would get tied up in either work at Wayne Industries or Red Robin.

Yet, for some reason, unlike all the others, Dowd leaving has not only been messy it also threw Drake into a downwards spiral.

He has refused even to get dress- walking around in a bathrobe and fluffy slippers- eating ice cream and sobbing over photos of Dowd for hours on end. He taken a leave from Wayne Industries and mostly stayed on monitor duty as Red Robin.

At other times, he plays sad songs and watches romance movies with a dead look in his eyes. Usually there were crumbs of some unknown spicy chips all over his face too.

Really it was unseemly.

It's been four months of this, and Drake does not seem to be getting it together. Damian had researched online, and all of the articles indicate that he should have felt better by the third-month mark.

He would have left the fool well alone only Pennyworth is beginning to worry. And Damian refuses to let Pennyworth worry over something fixable.

His research showed that a "rebound" was highly recommended (if done correctly), in the healing process of a breakup. Drake refused to find one, so Damian assigned himself the task of finding one for him instead.

He considered Drake's past lovers' looks, interests, and personalities. Then creating a list of what was considered a good candidate he wandered around Gotham in search of someone who would be a perfect rebound.

His efforts led him to Tea MadHouse- a tea shop with a surprisingly good coffee menu- where Daniel Fenton worked. Over three weeks, Damian had watched him, categorizing the pros and cons that Drake would find within Fenton, and concluded that he would be perfect.

The fact Fenton has lost his job now only worked in his favor. He'll convince Drake that Fenton is a decoy for Pennyworth - since Drake was getting fed up with all the hovering- and he would never notice that the real target of this fake relationship would be Drake himself all along.

Fenton will woo him, sweep him off his feet, make him forget Dowd and ride off into the sunset with Drake none the wiser. It was full-proof.

Damian will make Drake rebound on Fenton, even if he has to throw the idiot at the other teen. He is getting awful tired of the concerned glances whenever Drake slumps his way into a room.

No other reason. He certainly didn't care about Drake that much nor did does he lay awake at night wondering how Drake is doing now that he does not have someone to hold him.

Drake doesn't sleep well alone.

"How do I look?" Fenton stepped out of the booth wearing the light blue suit. It made his eyes pop and framed his body well.

Yes, muscular. The body of a boxer. Drake will lose his mind over those biceps.

"Ravishing." He tells the nineteen-year-old. Damian barely bites back a smirk as Fenton flushed, painting a pretty picture. Drake enjoys talking his lovers up, and Fenton will do well to receive plenty of compliments. "Let us be off."

Drake won't know what hit him.

#dcxdpdabbles #dc x dp crossover #dead tired #The Dauntless Matchmaker #Damian Wayne really said if you want something done right do it your self #Danny went along cause Damian has that much of a commanding presence #hes also poor and needs the job #Tim is in the trenches from Bernard leaving him

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hezzabeth · 5 months

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"For the last time, that poem isn't romantic! It's insulting," Revati yelled over her shoulder as she began to pedal.

The layout of Olde Landon had been deliberately designed to keep tourists inside for as long as possible. There was only one way to access the front gates, and that involved defeating the Queen of Hearts' hedge maze. When the park was still open, tourists would be forced to spend at least an hour in the maze, stumbling upon tiny toy shops and food stands around every corner. The same thing occurred when they left, resulting in a very rich park and bankrupt guests. Now the maze was overgrown and easy enough to navigate.

Revati pedaled past the cart that once sold her heart-shaped sunglasses. Then she turned left, almost crashing into the wall of roses. The wall of roses stared back at her, their red blooms heavy and suspicious. Thanks to Bridgadeiro, she knew they were probably secretly insulting her.

The next turn consisted of an old stardust popcorn stand. Revati skidded to a stop and inspected the inside tray, where a few ancient kernels lay. Carefully, she picked up several of them and placed them in her jacket pocket. As far as she could tell, the kernels were seeds. Someone was shifting around the corner, causing the branches to shake.

"Aurora, is that you? Did you go ahead of me?" Revati yelled.

"While conferring in the labyrinth where false preachers reeked of death, the monster began to growl," a voice called from around the corner. An unfamiliar, flat female voice. Raiders. Raiders were, of course, an occupational hazard in any post-apocalyptic settlement. Normally, they never made it further than the broken glass pit at the park's gates. Sometimes Dityaa would bring one in, insisting they were "lovely," which always led to awkward dinners.

Revati slowly walked around the maze corner. There was a screeching metallic sound, and the weapon fell from Revati's hand. An android was slumped over on the ground. Once it would have been golden, but now it was rusty and covered in mud. Someone had ripped its legs off, leaving nothing but wires and tubes spitting bright blue fluid. Instead of a torso, there was a black empty hole with a concave door swinging on its bent hinges.

"And in the forgotten twists, footsteps quicken, hearts beat, and teeth are bared," the android chirped, its voice still distorted and far away. The android's face was a beautiful mask. Still-carved eyes. Unmoving sweet lips.

Revati powered up her solar gun and slowly walked forward, aiming it at the android. The android's metal eyes scraped in their sockets, turning towards her.

“Is that you? My darling Perdita?” The android’s voice whispered, the lips unmoving. The whispering voice had a posh lilt to its accent. Revati refused to answer. It was best to never engage with AI.

“Perdita, I clawed my way in! They know about you; the spider knows,” the android whispered before collapsing completely.

Revati slowly walked forward, still holding her weapon. With one foot, she kicked the android. It didn’t move. Its power had definitely died.

“Spider? Is that some sort of gang?” Revati whispered to herself. Gangs were always given stupid names.

“The spider is us; the spider is legion,” a flat robotic voice called out, and Revati spun around.

Queen Victoria was standing behind her, scorch marks all over her dress. A faint blue glow was erupting from beneath the skin of Queen Victoria’s chest.

#comic #magic #nanowrimo #nanowrimo2023 #science fiction #creative writing #occ #speculative worldbuilding #speculative fiction #scifi #yafiction #scifi comedy #life on mars

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mostlysignssomeportents · 3 months

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American education has all the downsides of standardization, none of the upsides

Catch me in Miami! I'll be at Books and Books in Coral Gables on Jan 22 at 8PM.

We moved to America in 2015, in time for my kid to start third grade. Now she's a year away from graduating high school (!) and I've had a front-row seat for the US K-12 system in a district rated as one of the best in the country. There were ups and downs, but high school has been a monster.

We're a decade and a half into the "common core" experiment in educational standardization. The majority of the country has now signed up to a standardized and rigid curriculum that treats overworked teachers as untrustworthy slackers who need to be disciplined by measuring their output through standard lessons and evaluations:

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Common_Core

This system is rigid enough, but it gets even worse at the secondary level, especially when combined with the Advanced Placement (AP) courses, which adds another layer of inflexible benchmarks to the highest-stakes, most anxiety-provoking classes in the system:

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Advanced_Placement

It is a system singularly lacking in grace. Ironically, this unforgiving system was sold as a way of correcting the injustice at the heart of the US public education system, which funds schools based on local taxation. That means that rich neighborhoods have better funded schools. Rather than equalizing public educational funding, the standardizers promised to ensure the quality of instruction at the worst-funded schools by measuring the educational outcomes with standard tools.

But the joke's on the middle-class families who backed standardized instruction over standardized funding. Their own kids need slack as much as anyone's, and a system that promises to put the nation's kids through the same benchmarks on the same timetable is bad for everyone:

https://pluralistic.net/2021/11/28/give-me-slack-2/

Undoing this is above my pay-grade. I've already got more causes to crusade on than I have time for. But there is a piece of tantalyzingly low-hanging fruit that is dangling right there, and even though I'm not gonna pick it, I can't get it out of my head, so I figured I'd write about it and hope I can lazyweb it into existence.

The thing is, there's a reason that standardization takes hold in so many domains. Agreeing on a common standard enables collaboration by many entities without any need for explicit agreements or coordination. The existence of the ANSI/SAE J563 standard automobile auxiliary power outlet (AKA "car cigarette lighter") didn't just allow many manufacturers to make replacement lighter plugs. The existence of a standardized receptacle delivering standardized voltage to standardized contacts let all kinds of gadgets be designed to fit in that socket.

Standards crystallize the space of all possible ways of solving a problem into a range of solutions. This inevitably has a downside, because the standardized range might not be optimal for all applications. Think of the EU's requirement for USB-C charger tips on all devices. There's a lot of reasons that manufacturers prefer different charger tips for different gadgets. Some of those reasons are bad (gouging you on replacement chargers), but some are good (unique form-factor, specific smart-charging needs). USB-C is a very flexible standard (indeed, it's so flexible that some people complain that it's not a standard at all!) but there are some applications where the optimal solution is outside its parameters.

And still, I think that the standardization on USB-C is a force for good. I have drawers full of gadgets that need proprietary charger tips, and other drawers full of chargers with proprietary tips, and damned if I can make half of them match up. We've continued our pandemic lockdown tradition of my wife cutting my hair in the back yard, and just tracking the three different charger tips for the three clippers she uses is an ongoing source of frustration. I'd happily trade slightly sub-optimal charging for just being able to plug any of those clippers into the same cable I charge my headphones, phone, tablet and laptop on.

The standardization of American education has produced all the downsides of standardization – a rigid, often suboptimal, one-size-fits-all system – without the benefits. With teachers across America teaching in lockstep, often from the same set texts (especially in the AP courses), there's a massive opportunity for a commons to go with the common core.

For example, the AP English and History classes my kid takes use standard texts that are often centuries old and hard to puzzle out. I watched my kid struggle with texts for learning about "persuasive rhetoric" like 17th century pamphlets that inspired anti-indigenous pogroms with fictional accounts of "Indian atrocities."

It's good for American schoolkids to learn about the use of these blood libels to excuse genocide, but these pamphlets are a slog. Even with glossaries in the textbooks, it's a slow, word-by-word matter to parse these out. I can't imagine anyone learning a single thing about how speech persuades people just by reading that text.

But there's nothing in the standardized curriculum that prevents teachers from adding more texts to the unit. We live in an unfortunate golden age for persuasive texts that inspire terrible deeds – for example, kids could also read core Pizzagate texts and connect the guy who shot up the pizza parlor to the racists who formed a 17th century lynchmob.

But teachers are incredibly time-constrained. For one thing, at least a third of the AP classroom time seems to be taken up with detailed instructions for writing stilted, stylized "essays" for the AP tests (these are terrible writing, but they're easy to grade in a standardized way).

That's where standardization could actually deliver some benefits. If just one teacher could produce some supplemental materials and accompanying curriculum, the existence of standards means that every other teacher could use it. What's more, any adaptations that teachers make to that unit to make them suited to their kids would also work for the other teachers in the USA. And because the instruction is so rigidly standardized, all of these materials could be keyed to metadata that precisely identified the units they belonged to.

The closest thing we have to this are "marketplaces" where teachers can sell each other their supplementary materials. As far as I can tell, the only people making real money from these marketplaces are the grifters who built them and convinced teachers to paywall the instructional materials that could otherwise form a commons.

Like I said, I've got a completely overfull plate, but if I found myself at loose ends, trying to find a project to devote the rest of my life to, I'd be pitching funders on building a national, open access portal to build an educational commons.

It may be a lot to expect teachers to master the intricacies of peer-based co-production tools like Git, but there's already a system like this that K-8 teachers across the country have mastered: Scratch. Scratch is a graphic programming environment for kids, and starting with 2019's Scratch 3.0, the primary way to access it is via an in-browser version that's hosted at scratch.mit.edu.

Scratch's online version is basically a kid- (and teacher-)friendly version of Github. Find a project you like, make a copy in your own workspace, and then mod it to suit your own needs. The system keeps track of the lineage of different projects and makes it easy for Scratch users to find, adapt, and share their own projects. The wild popularity of this system tells us that this model for a managed digital commons for an educational audience is eminently achievable.

So when students are being asked to study the rhythm of text by counting the numbers of words in the sentences of important speeches, they could supplement that very boring exercise by listening to and analyzing contemporary election speeches, or rap lyrics, or viral influencer videos. Different teachers could fork these units to swap in locally appropriate comparitors – and so could students!

Students could be given extra credit for identifying additional materials that slot into existing curricular projects – Tiktok videos, new chart-topping songs, passages from hot YA novels. These, too, could go into the commons.

This would enlist students in developing and thinking critically about their curriculum, whereas today, these activities are often off-limits to students. For example, my kid's math teachers don't hand back their quizzes after they're graded. The teachers only have one set of quizzes per unit, and letting the kids hold onto them would leak an answer-key for the next batch of test-takers.

I can't imagine learning math this way. "You got three questions wrong but I won't let you see them" is no way to help a student focus on the right areas to improve their understanding.

But there's no reason that math teachers in a commons built around the (unfortunately) rigid procession of concepts and testing couldn't generate procedural quizzes, specified with a simple programming language. These tests could even be automatically graded, and produce classroom stats on which concepts the whole class is struggling with. Each quiz would be different, but cover the same ground.

When I help my kid with her homework, we often find disorganized and scattered elements of this system – a teacher might post extensive notes on teaching a specific unit. A publisher might produce a classroom guide that connects a book to specific parts of the common core. But these are scattered across the web, and they aren't keyed to the specific, standard components of common core and AP.

This is a standardized system that is all costs, no benefits. It has no "architecture of participation" that lets teachers, students, parents, practitioners and even commercial publishers collaborate to produce a commons that all may share and improve upon.

In an ideal world, we'd get rid of standardization in education, pay teachers well, give them the additional time they needed to prepare exciting and relevant curriculum, and fund all our schools based on need, not parents' income.

But in the meanwhile, we could be making lemonade of out lemons. If we're going to have standardization, we should at least have the collaboration standards enable.

I'm Kickstarting the audiobook for The Bezzle, the sequel to Red Team Blues, narrated by @wilwheaton! You can pre-order the audiobook and ebook, DRM free, as well as the hardcover, signed or unsigned. There's also bundles with Red Team Blues in ebook, audio or paperback.

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/2024/01/16/flexibility-in-the-margins/#a-commons

#pluralistic #education #common core #commons #set texts #pedagogy #scratch #edtech

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macfrog · 7 months

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soaked

started replaying tlou1. can't get qz joel out of my head. inspired by this work of art by the insanely talented @thefriendlypigeon !!!

summary: boston qz. the days are slow, the nights are long. joel wakes up alone with a problem that needs fixing. enter: his shower (literally)

warnings: 18+ (minors dni!!!) joel jacks off in the shower. that's p much it

word count: 1.5k

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His fist locks tight around it; gives one long, slow jerk. The sensitive skin moves with his fingers. His hips shift forward, body asking him for more – and he obliges. He glides through his curved hand, halting when his fingers reach the dark hair at his hilt, slowly soaking under the messy spray from overhead.

He hasn’t slept all night. Not a wink.

It isn’t anything new. He rarely sleeps anymore; prefers to let himself drift in and out, teetering against the edge of slumber and then pulling himself back again. Staying in this life, instead of being dragged into a past one. Stops the nightmares. Stops the memories.

Usually, he can let himself rest, though. Let his eyes close over, let his ears deafen to the sounds of the world around him. Heavy footsteps fade into a numb knocking on the walls, the steady heartbeat sound of the QZ. Roars and yells from the street below are the blood twisting violently through the veins of the place.

But tonight – fucking hell, tonight. Tonight, he lies and stares at the distorted rectangle of amber light on the wall opposite his bed. When he closes his eyes, it’s still there. He can still see the peels of torn wallpaper, the way the harsh glow from the streetlight outside licks at the faded pattern like a flame, dousing his apartment in some ugly shade of nauseating orange. Like he’s living inside a fucking pill bottle.

Tonight, he teeters nowhere. He looks up at the pale ceiling – rotten paint slowly succumbing to the claim of the brown stain of damp. He looks at the apartment door – considers how easy it would be to kick down, how little effort it’d take against the rusted lock and molded wood. And he looks out of the window – to the inky black sky canvasing a jungle of buildings and power lines, lit by the moonlight of watchtowers.

Eventually, morning comes. The first break of day replaces that harsh, dirty glow with something softer, fresher. He runs his palms down his face, digs the heels into his eye sockets until he sees stars. His fingers swipe through his beard. His lashes flutter open.

It can’t be later than six. The sun’s only just clawing herself over the horizon. Peering over the ledge of his window, shooting like a bullet through the bottle he left on the table last night, rays refracting all over his kitchen.

When he pulls the mottled white sheets from his body and shifts to the side of the bed, there’s a tightness between his legs. A stiffness. It beckons his chin lower, draws his puffy eyes to the swelling in his boxers. The outline of himself, rock solid through the worn cotton. He curses under his breath and pushes from the mattress, groaning at the ache of his back and the throb of his cock.

The water only runs warm when no one in the surrounding apartments is using it. His only neighbor spends every night on the streets – Joel doesn’t bother to question why. He would’ve heard, though, if the guy had already hammered back into his own apartment; if he’d slammed the door shut, hinges rattling; if he’d sank into squealing bed springs. Joel would know.

So he hauls the curtain back, cranks the metal knob in a white-knuckle fist. The shower coughs up some pathetic spatter of freezing cold water, soaking the ends of his graying hair; and then, right before he yanks if off again with a sigh of contempt, it surrenders a burst of stronger, warmer water.

He holds an open palm under it for a few seconds. Turns his hand over, lets the water break across his wide knuckles. He feels a strain beneath his underwear. He tugs the fabric down and steps beneath the stream.

His cock slaps against the trail of rough, dark hair dappling his groin as he moves. He growls as the water cascades down his chest, running over the curve of his stomach and teasing tiny, pattering kisses along the wide base.

He glances down at himself. Spits into the palm of his hand, then uses it to cup his heavy shaft, running the pad of his thumb up the vein pulling at the surface of his skin. He shivers when he reaches the head, red and raw and angry, and swipes at the precome beaded there. He drags it back down, spreading it gently around, the skin glistening with saliva and sweat and arousal.

The direct stream of water is broken by the arch of his shoulders, splashing against the nape of his neck. The droplets of water race down his spine, sinking between the valleys on his back where his body slopes and swells with muscle. As he tightens his grip with his right hand, his left jumps up, palm smacking heavily against the grimy tiled wall.

His head dips, eyes full with the sight of his cock fucking his hand. At fifty, living in a wasteland with little companions outside of those he nudges past in the hallway on his way to the ration line, he forgot how it felt to fucking do this. He feels like a damn teenager – all hormones and chasing. Chasing a high, chasing a release. He doesn’t even remember the last time he felt himself this hard in his own hand.

It feels fucking good. Feels sweet. He smirks, letting his eyes slowly close, and imagines it isn’t his own hand wrapped around himself. Imagines the gentler, nimbler grip of someone else. The touch of another person, the warmth. The intimate feel of them around him, giving him what he needs, listening to the sounds he lets fall from his lips, responding to them. Doing what he asks for. Doing what he begs for.

He thinks of the last woman he had wrapped around him. Her pussy – warm, wet, velvet soft – squeezing him until he came. He was careful then – pulled out in time to coat her belly and the inside of her thigh with his come.

Right now, in the shower, with his eyes closed and his fist beating furiously up and down his length – he doesn’t pull out. He fills her deep with his seed. Fucks her so good until she draws in around him, pulling the orgasm from his body, taking everything he gives her. Every last fucking drop.

His wrist jacks. He whimpers, breathless and weak. It’s drowned by the time it hits the flow of water. She’s such a good girl. Takin’ it so good. Lettin’ me fill her up so nice. Prettiest pussy I ever felt, sweetest sounds I ever heard.

He’s close. His hips start to falter. Belly sucks in, tightening around the coil he’s desperate to let snap. Harder, faster, tighter. His finger curls around the top of his shaft, squeezing with his thumb to tug just below his tip. Harder. Faster. Fuckin’ – tighter.

“Fuck,” Joel breathes, and he realizes his entire body weight is being held up by his one hand, splayed out on the slippery wall in front of him. “Fuck, darlin’…”

His left hand drops to cup his balls, kneading slowly as his right focuses hard on nailing the arrow in the center of the target. The bullseye. He thrusts into his fist. His head falls back as it approaches. Mouth agape, filthy moans scratching from the bottom of his throat to the ceiling. The shower pours onto his chest, water trickles down his hairy torso. It’s following the rush, fleeing southward. Thundering through his body as his lungs start to freeze up, breath solidifies in his throat. His back begins to arch. Knees bend a little. And then –

His head snaps back down with a grunt to watch his release; thick, white ropes spurting from the tip of his cock and coating the tile, running down the wall towards the drain. The moans and curses which slip from his tongue follow at its heels, the water rushing them off to the shower floor and ushering them down the steel pipe. He groans, the noise reverberating against the shower walls, the echo of his own depraved sounds relaying in his ears only spurring him on more.

He's panting, hand slowing as he works his way through his climax. White heat floods over his body, crashing like tidal waves on his shoulders. His breath slowly returns, chest rising and falling again as his lungs restart, regain function. He feels dizzy. He feels shaky. His hand pulls up to the tile again, and his arm tenses as he leans forward, cock still dripping with come.

When he feels empty, satisfied, his hand stops. Holds his soft dick steady at the base, fingers gently massaging his balls. He’s still regaining composure, breath still finding a rhythm again. His entire body feels alive, thrumming and pulsating with energy and blood and the aftermath of his orgasm.

The water chokes in the shower head. The flow disappears, and then returns a second later, weaker and colder. The neighbor.

When he can feel his knees again, when his head feels like it’s back on his neck, body whole again – his weak fist twists the valve off.

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#joel miller #joel miller fic #the last of us #the last of us fic #joel miller smut #tlou #tlou fic #pedro pascal #pedro pascal joel miller

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brattyfork · 6 months

Text

can’t

summary: you’re having a hard time getting off, matt offers a solution

warnings: THIS IS SMUT, but there’s nothing crazy, this is pretty long tho

when i broke up with my boyfriend, i knew it’d be hard, knew it would take a while to get over him. what i didn’t expect was how much i missed him sexually. the whole time we were together i didn’t masturbate, i didn’t need to, if i was horny i just went to his house and he helped me. this leads me to where i am now, desperately trying to get off after almost two years of not touching myself. i tried everything, watched porn, read books, even bought like four different toys and nothing could get me over the edge.

i had just finished watching a pretty steamy movie with my roommates, three triplet brothers. i suggested the movie, not realizing how much sex was in it, the boys didn’t seem to mind too much. chris was on his phone, his head snapping up every time he heard a chick moan. nick had his headphones in watching tiktoks but matt was actually very invested in the movie. at the beginning, he was playing clash of clans on his phone but quickly got distracted by the movie and just kept watching. after the movie ended, matt was the only one paying attention. “im gonna go take a nap” i said, trying to sound as tired as possible. he just looked up at me, smiling and nodding as i walked away.

i figured now would be as good a time as any to try again so i got set up. got myself a water, grabbed my lube and various toys from my closet and pulled up pornhub on my laptop. i know porn rots your brain or whatever but at this point i didn’t care anymore. i grabbed my airpods off my bedside table and put one in my ear, so the boys couldn’t hear the porn but i could still hear them. setting up, i played one of the first videos i saw on pornhub, having no idea what to even search for, hit play and pulled my blanket over my legs, seeing as i had no pants on i was kinda cold.

while looking for toys, i stumbled across something called a wand, it had pretty good reviews so i caved and spent the hundred bucks on it. i plugged it into the power strip next to my bed and turned it on, it was loud but i figured the boys were doing their own things so whatever. i squirted the tiniest bit of lube on it, i was already pretty wet from the movie and i hated the greasy feeling of the lube. i flipped the switch and got to work, or at least i tried to. i was doing pretty good, the wand felt awesome and i felt myself getting close but it would just disappear out of nowhere. after inadvertently edging myself three times, i was basically crying. being so frustrated i threw the wand across the room, pulling it out of its socket. i pulled my knees to my chest, sobbing into them. seconds later, my door flung open, matt appearing behind it.

“y/n! is everything oka-“ he paused, his eyes widening at the sight in front of him, closing the door behind him.

“what’s happening? what is all this?” he gestured to my bed, moving closer. i didn’t speak or move, i just kept sobbing, hoping this was all some bad dream i would wake up from any second. i felt my bed shift from matt sitting down next to me. he placed a hand on my back,

“y/n?”. i just leaned into him, crying some more while he wrapped both his arms around me, still hugging my legs with a blanket still covering my lower half.

“hey, hey, you’re okay, what happened?” i figured there was no point in lying to him, he had already seen everything.

“i can’t come, i haven’t in gotten off in weeks” i said, my sobbing becoming more intense from the embarrassment of having said this out loud.

“don’t cry sweet girl, you’re okay, take a deep breath with me” he lifted my chin to look at him, taking a deep breath in through his mouth and slowly letting it out through his nose, i copied him, repeating it a few times before i could form coherent sentences.

“there you go, you’re okay. do you wanna tell me what’s happening?” he asked sweetly, making sure that i knew i didn’t have to tell him anything if i didn’t want to.

“i haven’t gotten off since i broke up w y/e/n, i can’t seem to do it myself, and as you can see,” i gestured to all the items on my bed “i’ve tried everything.” he stayed quiet for a second, obviously having no idea what to say.

“im so sorry y/n” he said finally , pulling me into a hug.

“it’s okay, thanks for listening to me cry” i chuckled out, trying to diffuse the tension.

“i uh have a suggestion, if you’d like to hear it…” i nodded against his chest, willing to try almost anything at this point.

“i could um try and help you” i pulled away from him, searching his face for any sign that he was fucking with me. his face was dead serious, concerned, with a slight ting of red on his cheeks.

“really? uh how?” i asked, knowing what he meant but wanting to make sure we were on the same page.

“well, i could finger you or eat you out? whatever you want really, whatever you think will help”

“are you sure? that’s a big ask”

“you didn’t ask, i offered. but only if you want to, if you don’t i’ll go and we can pretend this didn’t happen”

“no!” i said, louder and whinier than i meant to, “i mean um if you don’t mind”

“i don’t mind at all” he said as his eyes glanced down at my lips, letting his eyes move down my body to where the blanket was. he got up, moving around to the other side of my bed, picking up my laptop, closing it and setting it on my bedside table.

“ matt?”

“yes angel?”

“can you uh can we like maybe um-“

“words baby”

“can you kiss me?” a small smirk grew on his face.

he walked back around to the side of the bed i was on, standing in front of me he held my face in his hands, leaning over to place a small kiss on my lips, pulling away briefly before kissing me again this time pushing me back to lay on the bed. he hovered over me before settling down in between my legs, whimpering as i felt his bulge rub my clit between the blanket. he continued to kiss me gently before pulling away with my bottom lip in between his teeth. he smiled at me before grabbing my face, turning my head to give him better access to my neck. he started with light kisses, making me shiver before he started to suck a little bit, unfortunately not enough to leave marks. he then bit where he had been sucking before, licking the same spot causing me to whine. he came up, pressing another kiss to my lips before looking down at the blanket.

“can i take this off?” i nodded quickly. he pulled the blanket off exposing my bare pussy. he lifted my sweater slightly, placing kisses down the valley in between my breasts, moving down to my stomach. he let his knees fall to the ground, now sitting at the end of the bed. he wrapped his arms around my thighs, pulling me down toward him. i gasped at the sudden movement, looking down to see his piercing blue eyes staring straight back at me. he began kissing the insides of my thighs, not for too long, knowing how much i needed this. he looked at my pussy, glistening from all the attention, seemingly entranced.

“matt?” bringing him out of his trance

“sorry, you’re just so pretty” i blushed at the compliment. he leaned down, pressing a light kiss to my clit before licking a stripe up my folds making me let out a low moan. i could feel him smile against me as he continued to eat me out, my moans growing louder as he got more into it. lost in my pleasure, i felt something proding at my entrance before pushing in.

“oh fuck matt” i managed to whine out.

he began fucking into me with his finger while still sucking on my clit. it felt unreal but i still needed more.

“matt more please” i begged. lucky for me, he understood what i meant, adding another finger, making me let out a loud groan. i reached my hand down, searching for anything to grab onto. matt noticed, interlacing his fingers with mine. with another thrust of his fingers, he brushed my g spot, making me squeeze his hand.

“oh my god matt do that again please” he did as i asked repeating the motion, my moans growing louder.

“matt please don’t stop im so close please” i begged, grinding my pussy against his face trying to gain more friction. he held my thighs down, trying to keep me still so he could get me over the edge.

“fuck i’m gonna cum please don’t stop please please” i begged, babbling whatever words would come out of my mouth, not caring how i sounded. with a few more pumps of his fingers i came completely undone, my thighs shaking from the pleasure i hadn’t experienced in weeks. he continued eating me gently through my orgasm before coming back up to my face, kissing me. i could taste myself on his lips and it was intoxicating.

“better?”

“a little”

“a little??” surprised after my relatively intense orgasm

“matt” he looked at my inquisitively, searching my face for what i would say next.

“can you fuck me , please?”

“want my cock inside you princess ?” he said lifting his shirt over his head.

i nodded but i should’ve known better. he tilted his head to the side, giving me a look.

“you need to use your words baby, i can’t read minds” he reminded me

“ need you inside me please”

“so polite, sweetheart” he cooed, undoing his belt, completely mesmerizing me. he pulled his pants down, leaving him in just his boxers as he went to crawl on top of me.

“no, take those off too” i demanded, desperate to see all of him.

“so needy” he complied, letting his boxers hit the floor. i wasn’t surprised, i knew matt wasn’t small. i smiled excitedly, ready to just have him inside me. he reached both his hands out to me motioning for me to grab them. he pulled me up before grabbing the hem of my sweatshirt and pulling it over my head. he leaned down, wrapping his arms around my waist, kissing me. i wrapped my legs around his hips as i deepened the kiss, trying to get as close to him as possible. with his arms around my waist and my legs around his hips, he lifted me up before sitting where i had been before. he placed me on his lap gently, both of us groaning, him feeling my wetness spread down his cock, me feeling his cock against my clit.

“can you ride me angel?” he said pulling away from my lips slightly, planting them firmly back after he asked. i just nodded into the kiss, needing him so desperately. he pulled away from the kiss, taking one of his arms off my waist, bringing his hand up to my mouth. he gently pressed his index and middle finger into my mouth.

“get my hand wet baby” i sucked on his fingers for a bit before he decided they were wet enough but when he pulled his fingers out i grabbed his wrist, keeping his hand near my face. i licked above where my hand grasped his wrist, all the way up to his fingertips. his pupils dilated in an instant, i could barely see any blue, his eyes fully black with lust. he brought his hand down and stroked himself a few times before lifting me slightly off his lap, lining himself up. he looked at me, making sure he saw no discomfort in my face. i gave him a small smile before sinking onto his cock. he held my hips as my arms flung around his neck, burying my face in his shoulder. he guided me down, making sure not to rush me. i finally bottomed out and let out a big breathe. i sat there momentarily, enjoying how full i felt. i lifted my head from him, kissing him before pushing up on my knees, coming off his cock slightly before going back down. he let out a groan, and with his hands still on my ass helped me ride him, lifting me off him and helping me sink back down. after a little bit of this i could feel my legs getting sore, i didn’t say anything, feeling bad that i was too tired to ride him. despite me not telling him, matt noticed. he quickly flipped us over, him now on top of me, giving my legs a much needed break.

“did you get tired baby?”

i nodded, hoping that would be enough of a response for him.

“that’s okay, wanted me to take control?”

i whined at his words, grabbing his face pulling his lips to mine. he began to pound into me at an ungodly pace and i dragged my nails along his back, making him groan into the kiss. i disconnected our lips briefly.

“you feel so good, so deep inside me” i whispered against his lips. apparently he liked that as he reconnected our lips and started fucking me so hard i saw stars. i began to essentially scream into the kiss. he pulled away, “you sound so good for me sweetheart”

“matt i’m so close c-can i hnng” i struggled to finish my sentence.

“go ahead baby, wanna feel you cum on me”

with his permission, i let go, my legs began shaking as i let out the loudest moan that’s ever passed my lips

“fuck baby you look so good, can i cum inside you?”

“fuck, pLEASE” i croaked out, becoming overstimulated.

his thrusts became sloppier and he slowed down as he released inside me, completely filling me up. he pumped into me a few more times before pulling out.

“are you okay sweet girl?” he asked, concerned as my eyes were half lidded and fluttering open and shut.

“mhm” i responded, only able to mumble and whine.

“cmon let’s get you cleaned up” he lifted me bridal style, carrying me to my bathroom, setting me down on the toilet.

“go pee baby” he ordered as he made his way back into my room to clean up a little. after i peed i sat on the toilet, elbows propped up on my knees with my head in my hands. i heard matt’s footsteps as he made his way back into the bathroom, holding a t-shirt, underwear and your favorite pajama pants.

“can you walk?” he asked, sounding worried despite his smirk on his face, proud of how good he made me feel.

“maybe?” he reached out his hand for me to grab, helping me off the toilet. at first, my legs felt like i had no bones in them but i was able to stand after a few seconds. i slipped the shirt over my head before holding onto him to put on my underwear and pants. he walked me into my room, helping me into bed before handing me an unopened water bottle.

“drink this” he ordered, as he walked toward the door.

“are you leaving ?” the thought of him leaving after all that made me want to sob.

“course not baby, just turning off the lights” he said flicking off the light before returning to the bed, crawling under the blankets. he wrapped his arms around me, pulling me close before giving me a sweet kiss on the back of my neck.

“thank you matt” i said, intertwining my fingers in his.

“anything for you my love” pulling me closer if even possible.

A/N: hi, thanks for reading my first full fic :) i want feedback! constructive criticism is appreciated (just don’t be mean) also idk if the peeing thing is weird, i think it’s kinda cute so 🤷‍♀️

#sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #matt sturniolo #matthew sturniolo #sturniolo smut #sturniolo fanfic

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inkeyjay · 8 months

Text

🫀 Eucharist of the Ravenous 🫀

It started out as a bellyache, guts rumbling after two days of barely eating. An unfinished visage, featureless, fixing the blurry sockets it had for eyes into his soul.

The humble priest dropped his brush onto the cold floor of the chapel and stumbled backwards. The walls, towards the ceiling, all full of still fresh perfect faces framed by golden halos, that he had been carefully painting non stop for days. Faces of dead saints and prophets, long gone, commissioned by the high church as a display of power and opulence in an age of religious and political crisis. And this last saint, the one that still had some loose and tired brushtrokes for it's face. There was something about it that made the priest flinch out of his creative trance. He swore the paint moved, vibrated with anticipation at the touch of the brush.

He laid tired in the center of the chapel, exposed to a hundred pair of eyes that almost felt judgemental, knowing of the priest's internal thoughts. "Why am i doing this" "Why do i have to over exert myself with work to survive while i use pure gold to embellish... You. This" "Why"

And the faces remained still and silent.

"Why all this for long gone martyrs that had the fortune to die for their for their beliefs, or to let their God speak through their lips, bestow miracles through their fingers"

"Why this for a God that let them die at the heretical hands of the non believers. That leaves hundreds if not thousands of people to die of the pestilence outside this golden, rotten, WALLS"

The bottle of turpentine exploded and its contents dripped down the wall, dragging hours of work with them, dissolving like acid false flesh and gold leaf alike. And then blood, through the priest's hand, holding the neck of the bottle. He panicked and kneeled towards the wall, trying to undo the mistake with cloth, only to make a bloody mess. Red running through the gold, ichor like.

The priest cried holding his hand, a deep wound running through his palm, burning because of the chemicals. But the pain was not the cause of his tears.

"A sign" "I just need a sign"

But the faces remained still and silent.

The priest got up, slowly, and turned around towards the door. Why be here then. Why remain hungry, at the mercy of a dying church that kept their riches safe in mausoleums and layers of paint upon gold leaf upon stone, while its believers died in the streets famished and sick. The priest saw it clear now. If God did ever exist, it was long gone, uncaring for its creation. He might as well die outside, with his people. It would be like inviting the sickness into his chest but at least his last breaths wouldn't taste of incense. His steps echoed through the chamber, determined, reaching for the doors.

But the faces opened their lips. And with a cacophony of voices, each one vibrating with a torrent of beating wings, It spoke. No.

It sang.

Super happy to finally be able to show you this illustration i made for Tome of Pacts, a zine about warlocks, patrons and their pacts! There's a leftover sale going on right now! This is Pantheon, a shapeshifting entity that impersonates long absent gods and feeds on the faith of their followers, always hungry for more. But it's not for me to tell you.

! First of all, credits to @/gothhoblin, the writer of our team, for helping shape out this Patron "...and it spoke with a cacophony of voices, each one vibrating with a torrent of beating wings, a thousand or more." Is a marvelous line of her creation.

Tome of pacts has 11 more patrons and 24 warlocks for your enjoyment, all beautifully depicted by teams of artists and writers. Im super proud to have been able to participate in this project 💛

This short story is about an original character i created after the patron, just as an appetizer, pun intended. You get it right??

Hungry for a copy?

#dnd #tome of pacts #great old one #illustration #dungeons and dragons #magic the gathering #eldritch #patron #warlock #fantasy #dark fantasy #church

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vyglitchcraft · 7 months

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Can you write something on MK1 Smoke trying to give the reader a kiss but is nervous about it because it would be their first kiss?

"Toasty!"

MK1 Tomas "Smoke" Vrbada x Gen!reader

Content: short fic, fluff, tooth rotting cuteness, SFW

Plot: first kiss with Smoke and another Lin Kuei ninja

You and Tomas only started dating a week ago, you being his first and him being your first. The two of you never exactly kissed, Tomas always sort of smacked his mask against your forehead as a faux kiss of sorts. He saw Kuai and Bi do that with their dates so he also did it to you although a bit too hard, you swear you have a bruise right on your forehead just from him lovingly bumping his face against yours. It started to piss you off A LOT having to rub ointment on the bruise but you couldn't be mad at him, he's too cute!

One day, you asked Kuai Liang for some tips and he recommended to just go slowly and see where the two of you would end up. That leads you to the present. You confronted Tomas just as he finished training. You tapped his shoulder and pulled your bangs away showing the bruise. "O-oh! I am so so sorry" he softly grabbed your face, looking at the bruise "that...does not look good..." He mutters to himself.

"Hmm maybe instead of bashing your mask against my face, you should just kiss me instead!" You huffed, crossing your arms. Tomas heard this and froze in place as if Bi-Han used his cryomancy powers on him. "But, i think that is a bit too...risque is it not?" This reply was not unexpected, considering the Lin Kuei has a very strong focus on discipline, you bet that he barely knows anything about romance besides some movies he has watched but even then, those things were difficult to find considering the Lin Kuei temple barely has working electrical sockets even then Bi-Han likes to freeze them by accident causing it to short circuit. Even then he never had the time to indulge in such activities.

Tomas slowly took his mask off and nervously grabbed your shoulder, he didn't know what to do. He tried to remember those scenes he saw in the movies he watched. He moved one hand behind your head "do you...wish for me to...kiss you?" He asked first. For once your confidence was gone, now replaced with nervousness. Neither of you have any idea how to kiss, sure you always see people kissing each other but you never done it yourself. "Sure! Go...go ahead" your heart was beating in your chest, Tomas too.

He gulped, looking around making sure no one would see him. He slowly breathed in and out, calming down before slowly leaning in and kissing you on the lips. You closed your eyes and he followed soon. He held you close for what felt like hours. You held the sides of his face with one hand while the other was on his back, holding onto his shirt.

You hummed into the kiss, all that anxiety melting away. Why were you afraid? This feels amazing, natural even. He slowly pulled away and looked at you, his hand to his mouth, he couldn't believe it, he did it! He finally kissed someone. You covered your face as a hot blush spread through your cheeks "i-i can't believe it!" Tomas let's go of you "your lips felt amazing...very soft" he whispered.

"Yours too...you're a really good kisser" he smiled and pulled you into a hug, kissing you on the bruise he left from his mask "from now on, i promise not to crash my mask onto your face" you couldn't help but laughed "thank the gods!"

Although your romantic moment was interrupted by Bi-Han and Kuai watching you and cheering both of you, acting like the proud brothers they were, although Bi-Han was more serious, hitting Tomas on the back of the head while saying "congratulations" in Mandarin. Well your fault for expecting peace and quiet in this place.

#tomas vrbada #tomas vrbada x reader #smoke mk #mortal kombat x reader #mortal kombat 1 #mk smoke #smoke x reader

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im-totally-not-an-alien-2 · 11 months

Text

Tiny ideas 2

----

1. Danny, in his new and very human black and white vigilante outfit runs past Penguin who had gotten soaked when a car full of hooligans wearing clown masks ran threw a puddle and splashed him.

Danny, not knowing who this was, tapped him on the shoulder as he ran past, running his intangibility through the man and letting the water fall off him, leaving him nice and dry again.

Penguin makes note to pay both back in very different ways.

----

2. Phantom, having been exorcisized from Amity Park and essentially banished and unable to return, roams around the multiverse looking for something to do.

Upon coming across the creepiest doll hes ever seen in a trash bin, he decides to mess with some local bat themed vigilantes and possesses the doll.

His first victim is Red Robin. Danny in all his creepy doll glory toddles out from behind a chimney as his target is running across the rooftop in his direction. Birdy stopped dead (heh) and stared at the doll.

Danny picked good. The doll was porcelain and cracked, missing one of its glass eyes and moss growing out of the empty socket and around various parts of its body. Its dress was once a lovely blue or green velvet but was now patchy and worn.

He turned the dolls head around at an unnatural angle to fix its gaze on the vigilante, its frozen polite smile adding to its eerieness, and in a moment of impulse said, "I'll see you soon." In the most creepiest little girl voice he could manage, using his ghost powers to make the words seem to drift upon the air towards the hero.

And just like that, doll Danny was gone.

RR almost frantically contacted oracle, "Did you see that?!"

"RR your signal cut out for a few minutes, backup should arrive soon. What happened?"

-----

3. Jason has been getting followed around by this wierd kid who is prime Brucie adoption bait. Kid kept jumping out of nowhere without anyone being able to sense him to ask him the weirdest questions (Damian was so startled that he nearly stabbed the kid on reflex. Not that he'd ever admit it).

The questions where things like, "Do you like books? What are your favorites? Can you cook? Do you like red heads? Do you like dogs? How opposed are you to having supervillian in-laws? What if they give you free experimental weaponry? ....how about some laser cannons and a jet?

Jason ends up getting kidnapped by this kid and dumped in from of this pretty girl as the kid tells her, "I went out and got you a boyfriend who won't try to murder you. Don't screw this up!" Before the kid ran out of the room.

Jazz was mortified.

Jason is still on the floor where he was deposited earlier, "So..." he begins, "I heard you like Jane Austin?"

-----

4. Phantom faked his death in front of the people of Amity Park, just to see how they would react to his passing and kind of in hopes of something changing. He couldn't keep sacrificing everything for these people, after all.

He did not like how the people reacted. Danny had to move away cause if he heard one more person say it was a good thing "that monster" died hes going to hurt someone.

Gotham seemed lovely this time of year and its one place that neither his parents or Vlad would visit. Vlad because if he tried anything at all the worlds greatest detective would ruin him and his parents because they once tried to hunt Batman and Robin only for Batman to terrify them to the point of never returning after they hurt his bird.

Danny got hired at Wayne Tech after submitting a wide range of devices but couldn't do much thanks to still being a minor. Thankfully Mr. Wayne was very generous and kept him housed and fed while he finished his online schooling and graduated early.

(Heavy angst for Danny.)

---

5. Danny hadn't seen Cujo in a while, which wasn't too unusual, but it have been a long time since hed seen his puppy and he was overdue a visit.

Danny pulled out his dog whistle, one normally used for emergencies and that Cujo would never ever ignore.

Only...Cujo didn't come. Now Danny goes on a journey to track down his missing dog. Following clues and trails across different realities, dimensions and universes to find his lost dog.

He did not expect to meet a bird themed vigilante along the way, not for them to insist he help him on his quest. Robin seemed very wary of the Infinite Realms the first time he entered them and had tons of questions. But bird boy was great company and Cujo would love him so Danny could deal.

#dp x dc #danny phantom #fanfiction prompts #prompts #danny fenton #batman #tim drake #red robin #yum #body horror #tw: body horror #dolls

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hiskillingjar · 10 months

Text

'You're his pet now.'

Relationship: Ren Hana/Reader, Fox/Reader Rating: Explicit Contains: Gender-Neutral Pronouns, Injury Recovery, Power Imbalance, Coercion Length: Multi-chaptered, 2600+ words

Summary: After surviving hell, how do you navigate your relationship with the Devil?

AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/48528574

“Ngh…ah.”

You were supposed to be dead. That much you knew.

The second you woke up, the only thing that you could initially register was just how much your body hurt. It felt like you had been hit by a truck or trampled by a crowd or a pack of animals.

The next thing you registered, when you lurched forward and let out a long, pained groan, almost doubling up on yourself as your bandaged abdomen started to ache and twist, was that you were leaning up on a bed.

You weren’t on a thin mattress on the ground, nor were you in your cell or the dreaded 'filming room’.

You were on a normal bed, in a normal room.

Well, maybe not normal.

It looked a little like a hospital room, albeit a fancy one, when you blinked your heavy eye(s), peering around. A private suite with beige walls and tasteful decorations adorning them, pine furniture, a bedside table for get-well-soon cards and flowers. Your sheets were white and crisp and clean, and when you moved your arm, you could see a needle was pressed and taped inside, providing you with a drip feed. You could also feel a tube in your nose when you reached up to touch your face.

When you moved your other arm, though, you found it bound down to the side of the hospital bed. But the bindings were loose and made of expensive leather and fur that felt soft and soothing against your skin that had been rubbed raw by chains and metal.

Emphasising that they were there to restrain you, but not to hurt you.

When you gave the cuffs another tug, a thick chain rattled against the metal and an intense pain shot across your left shoulder, making you take in a reflexive hiss and squeeze your eye(s) shut.

The marred socket was still irritating and itchy, despite how well (you guessed) it was healing from the thick wadding that now covered it, covering half your face.

“You’re awake.”

You flinched at the sudden and familiar sound of...Fox, sitting on the other side of the room next to the closest window. He balanced an espresso cup on his knee and his legs crossed tight, sparing barely a glance at you as he looked out at the view outside.

It was nighttime. How long has he been waiting for you to wake up?

"Hope you've been enjoying your little nap." He continued, his tone dry but lighthearted like he was talking to a neighbour or a colleague, as he took a quick sip from his cup, keeping his eyes on the night skyline outside. A city. "I can see the nurses have taken good care of you."

"Fox?" You mumbled warily as you sat up a little more on your best, pressing your free hand to your abdomen, trying to soothe the pain as the cuffs were pulled taught and tight against your other wrist. "Where...where am I?"

"Now that's a good question," He said with a thoughtful hum, finally looking over at you with more interest, one of his thick brows raising and wrinkling his forehead in a subtle way (a handsome way).

He looked good, all things considered. He looked normal.

He was dressed nicely, in a high-neck sweater and a well-pressed grey suit, his hair combed back and his ears standing high to attention. He looked like a man who had just walked straight out of a business meeting, handsome, in control, and a little intimidating to those that opposed him.

You had to wonder how many other businessmen made their livings in snuff porn, though.

Probably a few.

"How about you tell me how much you remember?" He then asked around the rim of the espresso cup as he took another sip, his tail swishing to and fro behind him.

Your brow furrowed pensively as you tried to remember...well, anything.

You remembered the auction, the haze of colours, the bickering voices debating your worth, the burning stamp of red and blue (the occasional flicker of green) inside your lids. You remembered the announcer, his cheerful voice, and you remembered begging him to take you instead, to spare you from whatever these...people had planned for you.

You remembered the cameras and the screens, the haze of white imprinted that had still soaked into your vision. You remembered the heckling from an unseen audience that cheered and begged for your blood, your suffering.

You remembered the twisting ache of chains and bondage. You remembered your eye (or lack thereof), you remembered the demeaning costumes, you remembered the pain. You remembered the cell you were kept in and you remembered being so drugged up on painkillers most of the time, you could barely remember your name.

But you didn't remember why your abdomen was throbbing with agony or why every inch of your body was aching, and you didn't remember how you got here, or why you were still even alive.

Fox looked at your face, a light smile growing across his own (dimpling his deep smile lines and the markings on his cheeks) at the sight of your confusion and uncertainty.

"Do you remember anything?" He asked with a light chuckle after a few long moments, his ears flattening just a little on top of his head as he tilted his head. "Or is it all a blur?" He tutted softly with a shake of his head as his ears pointed again. “Poor dear. What’s gotten you so… lost?”

His voice turned a touch condescending and mocking as he spoke those last few words, a subtle tone of amusement and pleasure behind them which made your aching stomach twist.

"Why am I still alive?" You said softly as you leaned up more, sitting up against the recline of the bed. "Why are we in a normal hospital? Why am I not in my cell?"

He was quiet for a moment, taking another drink from his cup, savouring the taste with an indulgent roll of his shoulders as he ran his tongue over his fangs in a slow and considered way. He then lowered the cup back down to his knee, with a light clatter of porcelain.

"You really don't remember, hm?" He said dryly, glancing at you from the corner of his eye, his gaze golden and glittering with cruel amusement . You shook your head. "Well, what do you remember last? The auction, perhaps?"

"Uh…yeah, yeah, I remember that just fine." You said, a frown tightening the lines of your face (you wouldn't be surprised if you had more, you felt like you had aged decades). "I remember asking...begging, really, for you to take me instead of selling me to the others." You grimaced as you felt a sudden flare of pain in your shoulder, reaching up to idly knead at it and finding a thick swath of bandages stuck to your skin which spanned across your shoulder and down your bank. "It was...kind of a dumb choice, in hindsight."

"Well, that's one way of describing it." He continued, breathing out a short (practised) chuckle through his nose as a sharp smirk spread across his features, his fangs hooking over his lips the more he spoke. "But, and maybe I’m biased…I'd say it was probably the right choice." He then said, standing to his feet and pacing to the side of your bed, one hand in his pocket, his clawed thumb hooked around the fabric. "Wouldn't you agree?"

You weren’t too sure if you should agree or not, but he’d gotten you to a hospital and made sure you weren’t dead. What was the point in getting on his nerves now?

"I guess," You said with a shrug (despite your throbbing shoulder), letting your unrestrained arm drop back down to your side. The needle was starting to throb too, like you needed any more pain. "I'm alive, that's true...though I still don't really know why." You leaned back further against the hospital bed (the best you could), letting your head loll back on the cushions and considering him as he stepped closer. "You were going to kill me. I was sure of it."

"And yet, here you are!" He stood at the side of your bed, a wide and playful grin on my face as he set his coffee cup on the bedside table. “You’re alive, you’re healing, you're even relatively healthy, if your nurses are to be trusted. How lucky are you!”

Well, he was certainly right about that. Regardless of how much pain you were in, regardless of how much your body was throbbing and struggling just to keep you upright, you were healing.

He was making sure you were healing.

You swallowed hard, wondering why he was so determined for you to heal.

"I'm not going to.” He then said with a considered sigh. “Kill you, that is." You could see a little twinkle of mirth in his golden eyes as his head tilted again, his tail swishing behind him as he looked down on you. "What do you think that means, then? What does that mean to you?" He then asked, his voice playful and almost teasing, like he was telling you a good joke.

"I don't really know," You said, giving your cuff a little tug as you looked up at him with your good eye. “I…really don’t.”

"Well, since you’re so lost,” He grinned, his smile sharp and threatening (though you’re not sure he intended it that way). “Let me enlighten you." He perched himself on the side of your bed, resting a hand on your knee (underneath your blankets), the wide grin not leaving his face as he looked at you intently, his eyes bright and hungry . "It means… I like you too much to kill you. "

You took in a sharp gasp, your eye(s) widening in shock once he assured you of the thing you were so scared of, so unsure of, (so secretly wanting of).

"Is that a good enough reason for you?" He then said softly.

You could feel his warm breath across the side of your neck as he leaned a little closer to you, looking at you intently, his voice dripping, oozing with playful teasing. The touch on your knee tightened just a little.

"You...you like me?" You murmured quietly, so quiet that you were sure that only the two of you could hear it.

"Oh, darling ," He crooned softly as his grin eased just a touch into a smirk, his other hand reaching up to your chin to gently direct your gaze to his own, his eyes softening with fondness and...indisputable lust. "I adore you."

You swallowed a little tightly as he got closer to you, so close you could see the dimples of his smile lines, the creases around and under his eyes, and the freckles that dotted his cheeks.

You weren’t especially surprised by his admission.

It did make sense, in hindsight, in some twisted kind of way.

He had been quite sweet to you during the streams despite everything, taking the time to praise you when you behaved, to tend to your wounds, to assure you of his intentions and to make sure you were okay after all was said and done.

Maybe he did like you.

That didn't stop you from feeling nervous, though.

"And more than that..." He continued, his tail swaying just a little more (maybe it was even wagging…did foxes wag their tails?) “I want to keep playing with you , I want to make you beg for more, I want to own you." He leaned in a little bit closer, whispering in your ear softly, your faces inches apart as his soft, unruly hairs wisped against your cheek "I want to make you mine...and I always get what I want."

You were sure of that.

There were a few moments of heavy quiet, his breathing slow as he pulled away from you just a touch, enough that you could see his face, the soft flush to his cheeks, the mischievous, almost boy-ish twinkle in his eyes.

"So, what would your response be to that, then?" He whispered softly, his breath warm against your neck. "Do you want to be mine?"

"I mean…do I have much of a choice?" You asked quietly, though the warmth of his voice against your skin was…kind of nice and enough to make you shiver with a subdued rendition of pleasure.

"Not really, no," He said with a chuckle and a shake of his head, his expression fond and patient, almost like he had expected you to ask a question like that. "Either you become mine, or..."

Or.

You swallowed again.

He took another quiet moment to consider your expression, your stiff posture, the nervousness in your eyes, as if he was waiting for an answer, before he let out another little chuckle, shrugging his shoulders as he let go of your chin and gave you two light taps on the cheek.

You flinched, your face absolutely burning at the condescending little gesture. “Think about it!” He said easily, casually, like he was negotiating a business deal and not coercing you into a never-ending dynamic of ownership and servitude. He smiled and stood to his feet, letting go of your knee and giving his blazer a little tug to fix it into place. “You have plenty of time to, after all. And who knows?” He held his arms out in a wide gesture of casual friendliness. “You might come to like the idea!”

You didn’t say anything. Your cheeks were still blazing from the light taps.

“Well, get some rest, sweetie,” He then said, letting his arms drop to his sides with a quirked grin, showing you his fangs (again, you weren't sure if the threatening gesture was entirely on purpose). “I want you strong and healthy, after all! I’ll see you later.”

“Wait!” You said quickly, sitting forward and forcing the cuff on your wrist to pull tightly, almost digging into your skin as your arm was jerked back painfully. “Y-You’re going to leave me here? All on my own?”

“Mmhmm,” He nodded, putting his hands in his pockets and raising his brows at the quickness of your question, as if he was surprised that this was what you were concerned about. “There’s work to be done, after all. But I’ll visit you again soon, and your nurses will take great care of you.”

You sat back against the bed with a soft sound of defeat, looking down at your lap.

“Right, okay…” You murmured, fiddling with your fingers (the best you could with the cuff so tight). “...How soon?”

You flinched again when Fox let out a string of barking laughs, real and loud and authentic , his shoulders shaking with amusement and his tail wagging as he did his best to cover his amusement with his hands.

“Oh! Oh my, oh darling,” He said through his giggles, leaning towards you again, his hands on the bed and his smiling face near yours. “That is absolutely precious, it really is! You’re so needy already,” He grinned then and pressed his nose into your hair, like a quick affectionate nuzzle. It’s almost a kiss and it almost makes your heart race. “And oh-so-sweet. We’re going to have such a good time together, I can already tell.”

You didn’t say anything, but your flushing face said more than enough for him.

“Rest up. And try not to miss me too much, okay?~ ❤”

#the price of flesh #fox tpof #ren hana #ren hana x reader #ren x mc #fox x reader #fox x mc #ray's fics #i'm insaneeeeeee mental asylummmmmm #i wanna go full rebecca the yellow wallpaper with fox i'm sorryyyyyy

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a-dinosaur-a-day · 10 months

Note

Is there a known reason or possible explanation/s for why the Carnotaurs and other abelisaurs evolved even shorter arms than T-Rex's?

So, the muscles in the neck area, as a rule, get really buff when theropods become large predators - it happened in Abelisaurs, it happened in Allosauroids, it happened in Megalosaurs, it happened in Tyrannosaurs. This is because, as the animal gets bigger, it tends to interact with prey and the environment more with its mouth and jaws than with its arms, because the mouth and jaws are more powerful and efficient. The musculature in the neck region directly conflicts with musculature in the upper arm for space, as they are next to each other. As such, as the muscles in the neck grow, the muscles in the arm shrink. This leads to a corresponding shrink of the arms in these large predators. In each line, if they had continued to evolve, they may have lost their arms a la Moas.

Abelisaurs, however, kept their tiny arms, and what's weird, is that the arm is attached to a completely 360 degree rotational socket, unlike the sockets the rest of us have at the arm. As such, they were able to wiggle and move them a LOT. This leads researchers to think that they were used, specifically, for display.

Remember everyone: every single dinosaur, every single one, is a variation of the peafowl.

They live in *style*.

#display structures #dinosaurs #abelisaurs #tyrannosaurs #birds

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he-calls-me-kitten · 2 years

Text

"Please Me."

The demon brothers react to F!MC's spicy commands

"A good way to understand exactly how much power your pact has is to make demands they would usually not expect." Solomon explained.

"What if it's against their moral code? Something they genuinely don't want to do?" You asked. "It would be wrong to ask such things, wouldn't it?"

Solomon nodded in approval. "Indeed. That is why it's important to understand and know the demon well before using the pacts."

"Hmm...well I do have an idea about what to ask them to do. They would never do it on their own accord but... I don't think they'd mind if I asked." You said, your cheeks tinted red at your own intentions.

Solomon smirked. "Do remember that this is your assignment by me. Whatever you're planning I expect to hear it in detail. And I'll know if you're lying, okay?"

Back at the house, you seek out the one you want to test it on. "Come to my room." You said, taking them by the hand.

You took your seat on the edge of the bed. "Down. On the floor." You wagged your finger and down he went on his knees, looking up at you with suspicion.

Just for the sake of context, you undid the first few buttons on your uniform shirt. "I command you...to please me."

Lucifer

His eyes went wide for only a second before he took a bow and let his hands undo your belt. He was turned on by your sheer audacity - the way you so shamelessly disrupted his work...for this.

You want pleasure? He'll drown you in it.

He forced the belt off you and pulled down your skirt and panties in with one swift motion. You gripped your sheets in anticipation.

"Raise your arms, MC. I need to take that off." He tugged on the front of your bra.

"Okay..." You couldn't look into the intense red in his eyes. You already knew what was coming didn't you? You raised your arms shakily.

He pulled your top off and stared at you for a while, his cheeks flushing red. He swooped down for a kiss, while his hands unclasped your bra and pulled it off.

And now sat there, stark naked while he feasted on your body with his eyes. He tightened his jaw, gripping your waist. "Look forward to having your expectations exceeded...master."

Mammon

His eyes almost popped out of their sockets. His face grew red hot within seconds but your command kept him stuck in one place.

"WHAT?!"

"You heard me, Mammon."

Your sultry, inviting eyes weren't helping him at all. He gripped his knees to stop himself from falling over.

His hands ached and twitched to rip your clothes straightaway. But his mind was baffled by this turn of events. He was drinking you in with his stare.

"You need a little more encouragement, do you? Fine then. I'm a good master after all." You smiled before lifting your skirt hem with the tips of your fingers, exposing your thighs to him.

And that was it. Mammon went feral. Gripping, licking and biting at your sensitive skin so intensely you had to grab his head by the fistful.

"S-slow down, Mammon!" You squealed as he pulled away your panties and ripped off his own shirt.

"I'm just following your commands, human. So lift your legs over my shoulders already."

Leviathan

Levi let out a scream which he then subdued with his own hands. He didnt want to alert his brothers. He didn't want to them to see you...like this.

Fuck. It almost feels like he's trapped in a hentai.

"M-MC what are you saying all of s-sudden...I can't.. I can't...move away..."

Levi wanted to make a dash for it but here he was at your feet. You rubbed your thighs together for nonchalant emphasis.

"What a bad demon you are. Trying to disobey your master like this? Should I never come to you again?" You let your feet rest on his thighs.

"N-No! No anything but that, please! I'll obey!" Levi whimpered, sensitive to the touch. He grabbed your feet and held them to his chest. He was almost begging you to step on him.

You tilted your head to the side and waited for him to make his move. His hands inched upwards on you until they rested on your breasts and squeezed.

"Is..is this okay?" He asked, unsure. Your red cheeks and nodding was enough for him. He pushed all the fabric aside at once and put his mouth on your sensitive nubs, sucking hard like his life depended on it.

Satan

He was caught off-guard. Almost falling backward from the whiplash. But he was just as quick to recover.

"Are you quite sure you can handle it, MC?" He stared at you, solemn and serious. "Because I happen to be in one of my moods today."

Your body trembled at the implications. But you braved on, excited. He noticed and smirked.

"Hands up, MC." He undid his bowtie.

You did as he asked. He held bound your wrists together, so pretty with the bow. Wait, weren't you supposed to be ordering him around?

"Satan, wait, you can't- mmphh!" He silenced you, slipping his tongue through your open lips.

"I can't? But I just did... kitten." He let out a laugh before he ripped your shirt off you. You yelped at the sudden coolness of air touching your skin. He pressed warm, teasing kisses down youer jaw and neck down to your belly.

"We'll have to get you a new one. Have fun explaining what happened here, MC."

Asmodeus

He had never been more excited. He was going to burst from pleasure simply at the amount of lust filling your eyes right now.

"Where do you want me to start? How would like me, darling? Tender? Rough? I'm all yours..."

He was already getting handsy with his hands snaking under your skirt and pulling down your panties off your legs.

"Hmm I'd like to torment you, Asmo." You smirked. His jaw fell open at your boldness.

"Tie your hands with this. Make it tight." You tossed him your tie.

Within a few quick movements he was done. You smiled. "Good boy. Now open your mouth." You pulled out one of his ribbons and stuffed it into his mouth, gagging him.

He mumbled your name in confusion. You wordllessly unzipped his pants letting his member spring free.

"Now sit there and keep your eyes on me." You undressed completely. "I want to see if you're dirty enough to cum just by looking." Asmo was already erect at that.

Asmo almost toppled over, moaning endlessly, struggling against his binds, as you pleasured yourself in front of him.

Beelzebub

His eyes grew darker in subtle arousal. He simply nodded and proceeded to take off his own shirt.

J-just like that? No questions?

You blushed at his prompt response. And hot body of course. You were honestly intimidated.

"It'll be better if you laid down, MC." He gently laid you back in bed. He undid your skirt and pulled it off quietly.

You squeezed your thighs, squirming under his simple yet intense gaze. "Beel..."

"I'll be gentle." He said, holding your legs and slowly pushing himself between them. You could feel him big and bulging through his pants, rubbing against your panties.

How many times had he done this before? How were his movements so sure?

"Ah Beel!" You moaned as he bent down, placing wet kisses down your chest. He stopped at your panties and then proceeded to lick you through the thin fabric

"I love your taste, MC." He said as he pushed the fabric aside and thrust his tongue inside.

Belphegor

"Alright. Hop on." Belphie sat himself down on the floor completely and beckoned to you.

"Hop where?" You asked lowering yourself to the floor. Belphie pulled you into his lap with a sharp tug on your arms.

That was...quick.

"You look even better up close." He muttered grabbing you by the waist and pushing you closer into him.

"You aren't too bad either." You chuckled as he stripped your shirt off you. He shut you up with a kiss.

"Mhmmmh- " You couldn't say another word as he deepened it further. He tasted sweet before his lips left your mouth and he started undoing his own pants.

He started out soft and then went rougher than your ever had. You were his for tonight and he made sure you knew that.

#obey me #obey me solomon #obey me belphie #obey me beel #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me asmo #obey me beelzebub #obey me smut #obey me mammon

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the-californicationist · 6 months

Text

he hunts you down

Captain John Price is recruiting for the 141, and when he takes you on a field exercise to the middle of the woods, you try to show him that you have what it takes to survive.

This is Part 1 of 2. If y’all are interested in a Part 2, it’s here. Or, you can read it in full on AO3.

MDNI/18+

TW: primal play, dubcon, abuse of power

AO3 Link

The sun was setting through the verdant green leaves of the trees, beams of light sparkling through them, casting light and shadow on the forest floor as you raced through the underbrush. You were bending your feet, sprinting in the way that he had taught you, nearly silent as you leapt across rotting boughs and piles of fallen leaves. Controlling your breathing, you found a tight pace - fast enough to escape, but restrained enough to withstand it for a generous duration. The air felt sharp in your throat.

Captain Price had taken you on as the newest recruit to the 141. Many recruits had come before you, and many had failed to pass muster. So, here you were, top of your class in Westpoint, but young and unblooded, trying to keep up with the most fearsome group of hunters in the modern world. Terrorists filled the world with fear, and John Price filled them with fear in turn. He was the monster’s monster, and you were desperate for him.

When you’d first laid eyes on him, you were intimidated by his sharp confidence. He was snappy, impatient, but level-headed. He had his power under such a tight-laced control that you would have given anything to watch him unleash it on someone. A dark part of you wanted that someone to be you. When you sparred, he was ruthless. Soap was fun to wrestle, even if he let you win. Gaz was a challenge, but a fair fight. Even Ghost had let you get the upper hand once or twice, but Price had shown no mercy. After the captain was finished with your body, you’d go back to your quarters battered, bruised, and sore for days. He’d even dislocated your shoulder once in order to break your hold, and then he’d had the audacity to shift into a caring medic, helping it back into its socket, bringing you ice and meds that night, checking on you before rounds in the morning. He was enigmatic.

You had gotten your hopes up, that was the problem.

One night, you were putting in a late workout at the gym, fists digging into the heavy bag, trying to improve on your power and speed. Trying to get him out of your head, more like. Your handsome commanding officer and his huge, hairy, muscular form had been haunting you for weeks in the night while you lay in your bed alone. The smell of his cigars was enough to send shivers through you at this point. So, you came to work off some steam. It didn’t help.

You had wanted to shower after your self-flagellation session with the punching bag, but when you went to the locker room, your heart froze. The water was already running. Since no one had been in the gym with you for hours, that wasn’t possible. You were facing the door the whole time…well, most of the time. But no one moved that quietly. You would have heard them.

Thinking someone had left it on, you moved to shut it off. A voice stopped your hand right on the edge of the cold handle. Low and growling, you heard your name come from behind the wall, floating out from the shower. Haunted and in a state of shock, you stood stock still, listening for it to happen again. You took a breath and pulled open the stall door to find Price’s broad, scarred back, hunched forward in what may (or may not, damnit) have been a contortion of ecstasy. He’d spun around to catch his intruder, but you had already turned back toward the gym door, sprinting for your life out of the bathroom. You went to bed sweaty and wet for more reasons than one.

It was his idea to drag you out here. The rest of the team had remained back at base, but Price had decided to take you on a solo helicopter flight out to a remote Hebridean island, uninhabited and cut off from the public, completely alone.

You had geared up for the weather, anticipating the slight cold front, but Price had added a level of challenge to your first field trip that made you concerned. He had only allowed you to bring one set of clothes. You’d be out for four days - if he didn’t find you before then. Four days was a long time to wear the same underwear and socks. Especially now, at the middle of day three, you were noticeably pungent. You’d also finished off your canteen this morning, so as you moved through the wooded hills, you mapped the path to the closest stream. Honestly, you were proud of yourself for evading Price for this long. You wanted to make it the full four days. Maybe he’d even consider giving you a more permanent position. You kept losing every single grappling match, but you scored high on your marksmanship testing, and your survival skills were top notch.

Rushing, bubbling water came into view as you headed into a small glen. There was a gorgeous waterfall waiting for you, and you couldn’t wait to bathe. It was a huge risk, but you were itchy enough to take it. You quickly shed all of your layers and scrubbed them in the clean, cold water with loose gravel, trying your best to rub as much grime out of them as you could. Then, you laid the clothes out on the rocks to dry in the sun and slowly waded your way into the water. It was cold enough to burn, but you had to admit that even the frigid water felt nice on your skin. Quickly, you washed your face and body, keeping your braided hair out of it as much as you could, splashing your breasts and rubbing between your thighs for some relief on your most sensitive parts.

Satisfied, you returned to the shoreline. You blinked, stunned, finding the rocks bare and missing your garments. All of them. Your heart raced in your chest. Your hunting knife was stuck straight up on a nearby stump, placed there on purpose.

Price.

He’d seen you in the water. Why was that your first thought? You bolted in the opposite direction, not caring any longer to move silently. You thought you might be able to outrun him, but just as you were about to clear a fallen log, you were tackled to the ground, your breath knocked out of your chest. Instincts high, you fought for your life, kicking and clawing at your attacker. He was fully geared out, and his clothing made rough scrapes against your skin as he clutched your back to his chest, wrapping his hand around your throat and an arm around your waist.

“Fuck! No!” You shouted, unsure as to what you thought that might accomplish.

You heard a dark chuckle in return,

“Thought you got away from me, little bird? Hope that bath was worth it.”

He flipped you so that you were laying face-down on the ground, his heavy body pinning you, squeezing the air out of your lungs that you had fought to recover.

“Give up, Sparrow. You’re caught,” he growled, fighting with your writhing form.

“No! No…I was so close,” you stilled, finally giving in, disappointed in your failure, laying your forehead in the sticky leaves.

“Yes,” his voice had an eerie, sultry quality to it, and that surprised you. Your body responded, melting into him, trying to determine his intentions. He spoke into your ear softly, “You did so well. But, I knew you’d need water, and all I had to do was wait. I didn’t expect you to reward me quite as well as you did, but that was a bloody nice surprise.”

He punctuated that last sentence with a buck of his hips and then you felt it. You had thought it was his holstered gun that was digging into the crack of your asscheeks, spreading them uncomfortably wide. It was too rigid to have been any part of his anatomy, surely. But, you were wrong. The heavy, solid pipe that was rutting against your ass was Price’s impossibly fat cock.

You gasped, involuntarily.

“Mm,” he was smiling; you could hear it, “Hard as a stone, innit? All your fault, birdie. You out there in that fuckin’ stream, grabbing your tits for me in the water, running from me so I can watch this gorgeous arse jiggle. Tha’s like teasin’ a hound with a bone, sweetheart. My cock’s aching for ya.”

“Captain, we can’t…we - ”

“I can do whatever the fuck I want to you,” he snarled, shouting. The sudden increase in volume made your blood run cold, and your pussy clenched down tight, traitor that it was. He started to grope your asscheek roughly, talking to you the whole time, “You’re caught, and if I was the enemy, you’d be watching Peter look your name up in his big book right about now. So, I feel like your punishment should fit the situation.”

You couldn’t help but shiver. He was right, you were out here all by yourselves. There were no comms, and the seaplane wouldn’t dock back here for another day. If Price wanted to hurt you, he had all the time in the world, and you were in no position to fight him off.

“Yes, sir,” you muttered, listening to your own shaky whisper with shame.

You heard a buckle and a zipper, and then you felt a tell-tale warmth against your skin. He was rubbing his length across your body, hungry and dripping with precome. You breathed in through your nose, trying to hold back your shock.

“Say no, little bird. Tell me to stop. Say that you surrender, and I’ll take you back to the camp and warm you up. I’ll put you on that plane and send you back to New York with a letter of recommendation in hand. You have my word. Or…”

He paused for a long time, waiting for you to take it. You should. It was no small accomplishment to get a letter of recommendation from a man as infamous as Captain John Price. But, something in you wanted a punishment more than a reward.

“Or?” You asked, your voice sounded so small.

It was his turn to draw in a trembling breath. You felt the whiskers of his mustache brush the side of your neck as he tasted your skin there, sucking hot kisses and sending chills across your back.

“Or…” he replied, “I will fuck you right here into the goddamn dirt, and every night, when I get hungry for you, no matter where our task force goes, you’ll take my fucking cock how I want, whenever I want, no questions asked.”

You let his threat sink in. How could he expect such a heinous, feral thing? Did he want you on the task force? A thousand questions flooded through your mind, but you heard yourself saying,

“Okay.”

A warm, fleshy head prodded at the entrance of your cunt, slipping through your folds and spearing you, almost painfully, with his difficult girth. His cock was so fat that you could feel your walls expand to fit him, panicking at this new level of intrusion and flooding you to try and mitigate the situation. He let out a ragged sigh,

“Oh, fuck, that’s so good. Tight, so bloody fuckin’ tight,” he laughed quietly, a tone of disbelief on his lips, “Welcome to the team, little bird.”

#captain john price #captain price #john price #cod mw2 #cod mwii #call of duty fanfic #captain price x reader #captain price x you #cod #primal #feral #dubious consent

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wettvagina · 4 months

Text

DADDY'S HOME

synopsis: after fighting toji fushiguro and killing him. gojo had decided to take toji's son megumi into his ward, saving him from being sold into the zenin clan. he soon realizes that it isn't just megumi that'll be under his care when he meets you.

warnings:gojoxreader , p in v , creampie , shower sex, porn w plot

You sat lazily on the sofa of your, what you'd like to call hook-up buddy's apartment, you barely knew the guy, all you knew was his first name was Toji and he used you for two things: your body and for babysitting his children. It had been a hectic expense for some good dick, but you complied nevertheless.

You glanced up at the sudden noise from the kitchen, which was at least two steps away since this apartment was crammed, a small head of black hair rummaged through the fridge, taking out a bowl of rice, heating it up in the microwave. The boy looked at you with a blank expression, boring holes into your eye sockets as you simply laid there on the couch, the strap of your top falling lazily onto your shoulder.

"What?" you ask with a hint of irritation, as the boy continued to stare at you like a roach on the wall. "Microwave isn't working." he states simply, you scoff, standing to your feet as you walk into the kitchen, clicking on the microwave, only to realize it was actually broken. "Where's your sister?" you ask, "Dunno'." the boy says before walking to the couch, sitting like how you was previously while watching the drama on the TV.

You kissed your teeth, strolling to the small balcony as you walked in front of the TV Megumi was watching, he barely paid attention to you, "Tsumiki?" you call out her name, only to be shushed by her, she grabs your hand, pulling you closer to the railing of the balcony where she watched down at an extremely handsome white-haired man.

"What?" you questioned with a raised brow, "He's been here for at least 10 minutes." she nagged, you looked back down at the white haired man, wearing round lenses which sat on the bridge of his nose. "Come inside." you instruct, you both leave the balcony, "Just, stay here." you instruct, your instructions clearly fell onto deaf ears as you could feel Tsumiki and Megumi creep behind you as you slowly walk towards the door.

You slowly open the door, the unknown man's tall figure coming into full view, "Can I help you?" you ask, arms folded as you interogated this freakishly handsome man. "Does a Fushiguro Megumi live here?" he immediately asks, sporting an odd grin.

You lean onto the door frame, eyes squinting as you look at the man, "Who wants to know?" you question, "Listen, ma'am. If I must inform you, I am a very important man and you are in my way-" the man's voice was interrupted by a "Move." which came from Megumi, the small boy pushed you out of the way, looking up at the tall, white-haired man which towered over him.

"Hey! Didn't I say to stay inside." you groaned, "Right now, about your dad." the man started, "Toji Fushiguro is from this big-shot, well-known family called the Zen'in clan." the man explains, watching how you perked up when he mentioned Toji's name. "What are you even talking about? Who are you?" you interrupt him, "Are you the wife?" he asks, you could see your own reflection in his dark-tinted glasses, "No." you immediately answer, "Obviously." he rudely mutters, "What?" you instantly heckled, "Listen, I'm in charge of these children now, so you take your ass right back where you came from." you asserted.

You watched how the man's shoulders slumped, you grabbed onto Megumi's wrist, pulling him inside, "How rude of me." the man mutters, "I'm Satoru Gojo." he introduces himself, "Megumi is getting sold of to the Zen'in clan, a clan full of bastards who feed on strong powers, pisses you off doesn't it." your eyes meet his cerulean blue ones, "And what, you're here to save him?" you scoff, "Precisely." he extolled.

You give a look of understanding to the man, releasing your grip on Megumi, Megumi notices and looks up at you with a look of shock.

"Ah- I'm exhausted." you hear familiar voices ring, paired with a set of heavy footsteps, "Welcome home." you chirp, turning off the faucet of the sink, wiping the last plate dry, "Hellooo." you hear Satoru's habitual cheerful voice, as he wraps his arms around your shoulders, pasting a chaste kiss to your cheek.

"Food is on the table." you announce mainly to Megumi as he walks in, you place the dish to the side, feeling Satoru's hand unwrap from your shoulders, you three settle yourself onto the dinner table, bowls clanking as you dig in.

"So, how was everyone's day?" you ask cheerfully, "Mines was great, but it's greater now that I'm here with you." Gojo cheers, "And Megumi." you remind him, "Right." Gojo laughs while stuffing his face with rice, you roll your eyes, "What about you, Megumi?" you ask softly, "Fine." he says in between chews, "Jeez, should I have made more food?" you ask with a giggle, "Don't worry, I still have room for dessert!" Gojo chimes in, "I didn't make dessert." you say, "Oh, a different kind of dessert." Gojo winks.

You hear Megumi's chop sticks hit his bowl, "Goodnight." he says, "You need to stop that." you say, "Stop what?" Gojo asks, "Those jokes." you reply, "They're harmless." Gojo protests, "Whatever." you shrug, "What kind of dessert?" you give in when you hear Megumi's door close.

"Ooh, you dirty girl." Gojo coos, "I'll do the dishes, get yourself ready." you wink, standing to grab all the dirty dishes on the table. "Yay!" Gojo cheers while walking away, taking off his mask while strolling to your shared bedroom.

You finish with the dishes, drying your hands with a towel while heading to your shared bedroom, you hear the sounds of the shower in the bathroom, you smirk while stripping out of your clothes, stepping into the bathroom, Gojo hears the door open, "I'm not done yet!" he shouts, you roll your eyes and slide the shower door, "I said I'm not do-" Gojo stops mid-sentence, gawking at your naked body, "Oh." he lets out as you step in.

"You were excited, huh?" Gojo extolls, "Duh, Satoru." you utter while hanging your arms around his neck, his lips met yours in a soft kiss, droplets of water ran down your body as his skin came into contact with yours.

You felt his hands grab at the fat of your ass, "Turn around f'me." Gojo purs into your ear, and you follow his instructions, you feel his meaty cock hit the rim of your pussy. He pushed his entire length into you, drawing soft moans from your plump lips, his hips rocked in and out of your needy cunt, as your walls wrapped around him snuggly.

"Been thinkin' bout' you all day." he exclaims, groaning as he holds onto your hips, dick pressing onto your gummy walls, "M-Me too." you manage to moan out, "I can tell." Gojo says complacently, increasing the speed at which he's pounding into you, the pads of his fingers digging into the flesh of your hips.

"'Gonna let me come inside?" he asks, playing with your hair as he's pushing his dick in and out of you, "'Course, baby." you moan, feeling his heavy cock pulse inside of you, "Fuck- 'gonna- ah!" Gojo moans, feeling himself pushed over the edge when your pussy squeezes around him.

"Ah- Satoru!" you moan his name as you feel your walls being painted by his warm, sticky come. He pants in your ear as he wraps his arms around your waist, dick still inside of you, "'Love you." he whispers.

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