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dante-mightdie · 2 months

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Viking!Soap who goes off pillaging, as one does in their free time, and comes back to Price with the squealing, kicking daughter of their (now dead) enemy clan’s chief.

Basically, “Look what I caught,” he says as reader kicks at him to let her go, to no avail, as she calls him a brute. He looks at Price like a dog bringing its master a bird.

god I woke up and hour ago to check my inbox and you guys sent in so many good ass requests i’m so proud of all of you

c/w: basically kidnapping, anal, stripping, dub-con/non-con, mentions of alcohol and pillaging, I can’t write in a scottish accent leave me alone

price had already settled down for the evening, his heavy cloak was slung over the chair in the corner of the room. his long hair had been taken out of the same bun he puts it in everyday, mousse brown hair falling in waves all the way down to his shoulders

he had planned on relaxing in front of the fireplace, nursing a bottle of mead but those plans seem unlikely now judging by the sounds of chaos approaching his tent. loud boisterous footsteps and laughter combined with high-pitched shrieks and cries

john knows that it’s johnny before he even sees him, that scottish brogue is unmistakable. he lets out a deep sigh when he finally sees the warrior burst into his home, a wound-up girl slung over his shoulder. price narrows his eyes as he watches johnny manhandle you, your back to his chest as he holds you down with his arms around your waist

“look what a’ found for ye, chief.” johnny says, a big grin spreading across his face as you kick and thrash in his arms, screaming your head off about what a brute he is, “stop yer whingin’, hen.”

“found?” price grunts out, taking a sip of the honeyed alcohol with a seemingly unfazed look on his face. your aggravated thrashes have calmed down to quiet sobs as you plead for these big, horrible men to let you go

“Anno ye said tae leave that clan alone, chief but ah caught this one bathing in the stream and knew ye would like her.” you can practically hear johnnys tail wagging when the apparent chief stands up and walks over to you, gripping your chin to examine your face before letting out a pleased grunt

“ye like her?” johnny all but whines, dropping you to the floor when the chief jerks his head to signal to out you down. you scramble to your feet, taking a few steps back and backing yourself into a corner

price lets out a small amused huff at your fight, downing the rest of his drink in a few big gulps. he walks over to you, your attempts to push him away are pitiful as his hands grip the hem of your dishevelled dress and tears the fabric in two

you squeal and weakly punch at his chest as he strips you down with what seems like no effort at all. your hands only stopping to cover your completely exposed body. johnny takes this as his cue to leave, turning on his heel with a defeated look on his face

“get over here, boy. I’ll let you have a taste after i’m finished with her.” price says, not even turning to look at johnny. instead keeping his animal gaze on your tits as he gropes them with his rough hand, “need you to tire her out so she doesn’t keep me up all night.”

johnny doesn’t need to be told twice as he takes his spot next to the bed, hand sliding up his kilt to stroke at his cock which had been hard since he snatched you up from your burning home

john grabs your upper arm and manhandles you over to the bed, bending you over the mattress and pinning your wrists to your lower back with just one of his monstrous hands

“please.” you plead, “i’m already promised to someone!”

price lets out a proper laugh at that one, lifting his spare hand and bringing it down on your ass with a thundering crack that echoes throughout the room. you squeal out in bed, pushing back your hips when his hand soothes over sore skin

“then I guess i’ll just have to kill him.” he grunts with a weak shrug of his shoulders as he shamelessly gropes your ass. this does little to soothe you as you soon start up your useless kicking and thrashing again. price only responds to this with another hard slap to your ass, “settle down. I’m not gonna fuck your cunt tonight. I know a lady when I see one. I’ll treat you proper on our wedding night, yeah?”

john uses his grip on your ass to spread your cheeks, spitting a fat glob of salvia at the right rim of muscle above your pussy. two of his thick fingers prodding at your ass before slipping inside. you squirm in his tight hold, let out a loud whine

he lets you adjust for a little while, waiting until your cries had settled down to soft sniffles before beginning to fuck your ass with his fingers. johnny makes himself known with his soft grunts and the slick sounds of his cock being stroked under his kilt

your soft pleads for him to stop are coated with cracked moans as he stretches your ass out. ha scissors his fingers inside, pulling them out when he feels little resistance. he fishes his cock out from his trousers and pressing the tip to the entrance of you

you whine and wiggle your hips slightly, your pathetic attempts at trying to get away do nothing to help as he grabs his cock and pushes himself inside you. his fingers couldn’t compare to this burn of being stretched like this on his cock

johnny lets a choked moan, throwing his head back as precum dribbles from his tip

“quit your whining, mutt. you’ll get your turn.” john grunts, grabbing your legs and putting them over his shoulders as he begins to fuck into your ass relentlessly

his face is inches away from yours, the animalistic glint in his eyes is a sharp contrast to the glossy, subdued look in yours

“he wouldn’t know what to do with a wiley little brat like you, girlie.” he grunts in your ear, one hand coming down to rub your clit with his thumb. he lets out a loud groan when he feels your ass clamp down around his thick cock, “don’t worry, I’ll take all that fight outta ya.”

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thisisnotthenerd · 7 months

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something echoes of the solstice really pulled into sharp relief is just how good of a player sam riegel is.

like. the bait and switch of veth not going but luc jumping into the portal as a bratty teenager with stolen gear. level 5 arcane trickster and level 3 wizard (unsure of subclass, likely transmutation. edit: war magic). terrifying that a teenager is on a mission with god-level characters. horrifying to think about. i hope they have a fjorester wedding oneshot like dalen's closet that luc is still grounded at.

adding chaos to the party immediately. everyone put protections on him, as much as they could. he said i'm here to bring a reminder of what the mighty nein was and is. and buttering up the party was deeply funny. especially seeing the dichotomy between caleb and fjord's responses.

sidenote: shoutout to daniel sloss for being another spurt. fully a crash dummy drunken master monk in a kilt. it must have been so cool. triggering traps so the nein didn't take damage within the archive. put the fear of death in luc.

anyway, look at how effective luc was. the invisible mage hand. experimental potion from yeza, which i suspect gave him hp and asis temporarily, but not an expanded spell list. see invisibility in the house to catch trent, when none of the rest of the party could find him, which prompted the antimagic field, beau's hits, and the transition to the second battle map. enlarge on the t-rex for kaiju battle. and the first to damage the egg with a 28 on his attack roll with the security cannon. as a level 8 among level 20s. luc got so much experience out of that battle. no more dying in the fire plane for luc, no sirree.

only 1st and 2nd level spells at base. pretty much comparable to an 8th level spellcaster sidekick or 4th level spellcaster main. big moves from a small lad.

and he's still grounded at the end of the day.

anyway this is a sam riegel/luc "nott the reckless" brenatto appreciation post. he plays a rogue-wizard very well.

#critical role #cr spoilers #the mighty nein #echoes of the solstice #echoes of the solstice spoilers #luc brenatto #sam riegel

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theywhowriteandknowthings · 2 months

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The Kilt Stays on | John “Soap” MacTavish x AFAB/Female!Reader

Summary: You and Johnny attend a wedding together. You fuck. That’s it. Fluffy Smut. W/C: 3,657 [AO3] Warnings: semi-public sex, car sex, fingering, praise, the kilt stays on, unprotected PiV (no mention of BC, wrap it up in real life folks), established relationship, idiots in love, confessions, voyeurism, voyeuristic badgers. Thank you @noxturnalpascal and @angelofsmalldeath-codeine for doing beta and proofing work for me <3 ILU.

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18+ content below the cut, NSFW, minors DNI.

“Johnny!” You call from the hotel bedroom as you smooth down your dress, letting out a heavy sigh as you look yourself over in the mirror for what must have been the hundredth time this morning.

“What’s up, hen?” Soap asks as he pushes the door open with a broad palm. You look over your shoulder and your heart skips a beat as you see him in his finery.

He’s wearing a kilt in his family tartan, poppy-red with differing shades of blue interlocking in the traditional weave. His matching Fly Plaid affixed on his left shoulder, accenting his black kilt jacket and waistcoat as it flows over his shoulder and down his back.

A black bowtie dangles loosely from his neck where he’s clearly tried and failed multiple times to tie it himself. Your eyes wander down to the sporran and you can’t help but wonder if Johnny had followed tradition to the letter and forgone underwear.

“I need help with my zip,” you say as you catch his bright eyes looking you up and down in a perfect mirror to your wandering gaze.

“Funny,” he says with a chuckle as he closes the distance and lets his hands trail up your sides, “I need a hand with my tie, how ‘bout we do a trade?”

His fingers skirt up to your ribs and you sigh, leaning back against his hard form as he reaches around to cup your breasts gently. His mouth finds the side of your neck as his stubble scrapes delightfully against your skin.

“Johnny,” you moan as he hums contentedly, sucking softly as he noses against your neck, “Come on, stop fooling around, we’ve got a wedding to get to.”

“Mmm,” he hums as he teases his tongue against you, trailing his hot mouth up until his teeth sink into the soft flesh of your earlobe, “Not like it’s our wedding, ‘can afford to be late.”

“MacTavish,” you whine as he slides his right palm down over your sternum, sweeping over the curve of your stomach, “I mean it.”

“I know, hen,” he growls against the shell of your ear as he slowly retreats his thick fingers from your body, “You just look so bloody good.”

The metallic slide of your zip being pulled taut brings you back to your senses as you look at Johnny in the mirror. The pair of you are a picture, a glimmer in each of your eyes, you smile at him before turning to help him with his tie.

“You look rather handsome yourself,” you admit, looking him up and down as you finish up his tie, “Even if you shouldn’t be wearing a dirk in public, Johnny.”

“It’s ceremonial,” he protests as you lean down to snatch it from his sock.

“Yeah?” You challenge as you inspect the blade with your thumb, the scrape of the sharp blade against the grain of your fingerprint proves your point, “It’s an offensive weapon, John.”

“Aye,, do you have to say John like that?” He pouts and you hand him the blade, handle towards him, “Besides, I am an offensive weapon, blade or nae.”

“I know you are,” you roll your eyes playfully as he reseats the knife into its sheath, “Save it for the reception, yeah?”

“Anything you say, love.”

~*~

You’re swaying on the dance floor, shoes long discarded, as tiny feet rest atop your own. The flower girl, Anna, is one of the few kids still awake, her bouncy curls swaying with every movement as you move her around.

“You have a good day?” You ask as you smile down at the young lady, she’s one of Gaz’ nieces and she took a shine to you from the moment the wedding reception kicked off.

“The best,” she says with a big yawn, the events of the day finally catching up with her it seems, “I ate so much food.”

“Me too sweetie, me too,” you say as you cast your gaze around the pavilion. It must be late, most guests have left, and Gaz and his bride absconded at least an hour ago.

“Think it’s time for you to head to bed,” you hear Anna’s dad say from behind you and you slowly spin around, Anna’s little feet still glued to yours.

“But, dad!” Anna groans in protest but when she looks up at you, she’s met with a raised brow.

“I think your dad knows best, kid,” you say with a soft smile, “But thank you for the dance.”

“Thanks for looking after her,” her father says with tired eyes.

“No bother,” you wave him off as you hear a loud roar of laughter from a table behind you, “I’ve got a Scotsman to send to bed, so wish me luck.”

Anna’s dad gives you a sympathetic look before scooping her up into his arms and carrying her off to bed. You slip your shoes back on before scanning the nearly empty pavilion for Johnny.

You turn to see a throng of familiar faces sat at a table near the far edge of the marquee. Price and Simon are shaking their heads as Johnny splays out in a chair, kilt draped across his lap as he looks over at you. The moment he sees you, he downs the last of the amber liquid in his glass before mumbling something to the other men. You watch a blush spread up the back of his neck as Simon says something you don’t quite catch. You almost don’t want to know.

“Hey,” Johnny says with a slight slur to his voice as he wraps his arms around your waist, tugging you firm against him as he presses his lips to yours.

You gasp as his tongue darts across your bottom lip, your arms loop around his neck as you lick into his mouth. He groans at your dominance as you taste whiskey and cigars. You press your front against his, smiling at the jingle of his sporran as he pulls back to look down at you with lust-blown eyes.

“Take me to bed, lass?” He whispers as he rubs his nose against yours.

A sharp wolf whistle form Price jolts you out of the moment and you flip him off over Johnny’s shoulder, just as you hear Simon yell “Get a room!”

“Should do as we’re told,” Johnny chuckles as he presses a kiss to the corner of your mouth, “I’m not one for disobeying orders.”

“You’re a terrible liar, Johnny,” you say with a sigh as you step out of his embrace, holding your hand out to him with a sly smile on your face, “But yes, for once, do as you’re telt.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“God, I hate it when you call me that,” you say as you pull your phone out of your purse, booking a taxi as you lead Johnny through the venue’s gardens.

“Force of habit, lass,” Johnny chuckles as he wraps his arm around your shoulder, “Strong women are my weakness.”

The crunch of loose stones beneath your feet and the soft calls of owls fills the silence as you lean against him. As ever, he’s positively radiating heat, keeping you warm from the chill of the night air. He smells of the aftershave you bought him for his birthday, mixed with the tang of cigars and whisky and his own natural musk. You breathe him in as you feel your chest flutter, you’re in love with John MacTavish, you’ve known it for a while now. But never have you felt it more in this moment, alone under the stars, walking along a moonlit garden path.

“Hey, Johnny?” You say, voice barely above a whisper as your phone vibrates, alerting you that the taxi is waiting for you at the end of the path ahead.

“Aye?” He turns his head to look at you, cerulean eyes swimming with affection as his lips turn up into an instinctive smile.

You want to tell him now, profess your love to him under the starry sky.

“Thank you for asking me to come to the wedding,” you chicken out last minute, and he gives you a look, as if he knows that’s not what you were going to say.

“I mean,” Johnny says ponderously as he scratches his stubble with his free hand, “Ghost already had an invitation, so I couldn’t exactly ask him…” He trails off, face neutral, as you narrow your eyes at him.

But any anger quickly melts away as you see the smirk threatening to break out on his face the longer you scowl.

“You’re a right pain in the arse sometimes, John,” You huff as you give him a taste of his own medicine, shrugging off his shoulder as you stride ahead, waving at the taxi driver as you make a beeline for the car.

“Aw, hen,” he calls after you as he quickly matches your pace, grabbing you by the wrist and spinning you to face him, “Dinnae fash, I was kidding.”

You fall into his arms, pliable and willing as you grin up at him. The worried knot in his brow eases as he realises your ruse.

“You’re a devil,” he growls as he cups your cheek with his right hand, framing the side of your face as he dips his head down, “You know you mean the world to me,” your name slips from his lips, and you nod slowly.

“I know Johnny,” you whisper, “I know.”

Your lips fuse together and your arms loop around the back of his neck as you let him claim your mouth with his tongue. His free hand presses flat against the base of your spine as he holds you to him.

It’s heavy, charged with emotion as you feel the scrape of his coarse facial hair on your skin. Your tongues slide over one another as you groan into Johnny’s mouth. The beep of the taxi’s horn cuts the moment short.

You part, lips swollen and glistening as you pant into each other’s mouths.

“C’mon, Johnny, I need you,” you whisper against his lips as you glance towards the car, “And I’m not letting you fuck me in a bush again.”

“C’mon, it wasn’t so bad,” Johnny chuckles, but relinquishes his grip on you, instead keeping his hand at the small of your back as he guides you to the cab, “Besides, I thought being peeped on by a badger was kind of hot.”

“You’re gone in the head, Johnny,” you laugh as you let him open the door for you, “I’ve never been able to look at badgers the same again.”

Johnny simply shakes his head as he chuckles, shutting the door behind you before walking around to the driver’s side window. You arch an eyebrow as he whispers something to the guy in the front seat before handing him a handful of notes.

“Johnny MacTavish,” you say with accusation in your tone as he slips into the seat next to you, “What on earth-?”

You yelp as he pulls you onto his lap in one swift motion, you feel heat prickle over your cheeks as you feel his bare thighs on your own.

“Shh,” he coos as you feel his hands push up the fabric of your dress, bunching it up around your hips, exposing your lace panties to him, “Driver’s happy for us to fool around, just no getting come on the seats.”

“Johnny!” You slap his chest in admonishment as you look down to see his kilt bunched up around his thighs, his cock erect and leaking as he grins up at you, “This is so wrong.”

“Tellin’ me this doesn’t get you even a little wet, hen?” He hums as he trails his broad hands back down to your knees. His thumbs swirling patterns up your inner thighs as you feel the car lurch forward. You tremble above him as you feel arousal licking through your veins like fire.

“You know it does,” you whisper, not wanting to make too much noise with the driver directly behind you, “Christ, Johnny.”

You whine as his hands find their way back up to the apex of your thighs. His coarse thumbs brushing against either side of the drenched fabric of your panties as your eyes roll into the back of your head. You brace your hands on his shoulders as you lean forward, foreheads pressed together as you slowly relax.

“There you go,” Johnny whispers as he brings one hand up to take your chin between his thumb and forefinger, “Such a good lass,” he says, his voice thick with desire as he slips his free hand under the flimsy lace.

You gasp as he slips two fingers through your slick folds, bumping over your clit rhythmically as you bite your lip.

“Kiss me,” he commands in a hoarse whisper, and you moan into his mouth as he slides his fingers from your chin, wrapping his hand around to the back of your neck. He pulls you down to crash his lips into yours as his middle and ring finger ease the gusset of your panties aside.

“Johnny,” you pant into his mouth as his thick digits ease into your tight cunt, “Fuck.”

“Shh,” he hushes as he pulls your bottom lip between his teeth, pulling just hard enough to make you whine, “Y’take me so well, gorgeous,” he growls before pressing his thumb down hard on your clit.

You feel like your body is on the brink of shattering as you vaguely register the dark, peaceful countryside outside the windows blurring into the bright lights of the city.

You’re almost at the hotel.

You grasp for Johnny’s cock, your fingers ghost along his precome smeared tip for a second before he snatches your wrist, letting go of your neck as he tuts at you.

“Not yet,” he admonishes you as he moves your sticky fingers to rest on his Fly Plaid, “Can’t risk coming until we’re out of the cab.”

“Fucking need you, Johnny,” you whine as you feel the way your walls clench around his thick fingers, you’re so close.

“Come like this for me,” he says with a hum as he swipes his thumb back and forth over your swollen bud, “Hurry babe, we’re almost there.”

You kiss Johnny, a flurry of tongues and teeth as you add to the friction by fucking yourself on the digits impaled in you. Your teeth knock against his as you come hard, a desperate whine escaping the back of your throat as he continues to pump his fingers up into you.

“Good girl,” he coos in your ear as you drop your head to his shoulder, “Good fucking girl.”

“We’re here,” the gruff voice of the cab driver makes you yelp, like ice water sliding down your spine as you remember where you are.

“Thanks, Drive,” Johnny says cheerily, as if his fingers aren’t currently sliding out of your cunt. He pulls your panties back into place with a wolfish grin on his face as you feel the tips of your ears burning with embarrassment and arousal.

“Y-yeah,” you breathe shakily as you slide off Johnny’s lap, “Have a good night.”

The driver scoffs noncommittally as you clamber out of the cab, your panties clinging to your drenched folds as you stumble onto the pavement.

“You’re an absolute menace, MacTavish,” you hiss as you watch him awkwardly adjust himself under his kilt. The tenting material beyond conspicuous without underwear to keep his cock contained.

“Yeah, and you fuckin’ love it,” he purrs as he slaps your ass, “Come on, let’s get moving, I might get arrested for public indecency like this.”

“Fucking hell,” you laugh as you push him inside, the two of you giggling as the clerk at the front desk raises an eyebrow at you both. She quickly notices the tenting in Johnny’s kilt and smirks before winking at you. You grin back sheepishly before pressing the call button for the elevator.

Johnny pushes you through the doors as soon as they open, pinning you against the back wall as his lips find your neck.

“Looked fuckin’ stunning tonight,” he rasps against your skin in between wet drags of his tongue and hard sucks against your pulse point that threaten to leave marks, “Was at half-mast most of the damn day, d’ya know how hard that is to hide in a kilt?”

His tone is feverish as he nips at your earlobe, groaning as you trail a hand up his thigh, feeling under his kilt.

“Isn’t that what a Sporran’s for?” you ask with a groan as you finally wrap your hand around his length. Soft, velvet foreskin gliding under your touch as you pump him slowly. You don’t care that you’re still a few floors from your room, there’s even a little thrill at the thought someone might walk in.

“Sassy fucken’ mouth,” he growls as he nips at your jaw, his stubble catching on your skin as you press your cheek against his.

“You love it,Johnny,” you whine as you feel the elevator shudder to a halt, two floors before yours.

The doors glide open, and you look on in horror to see a group of men in their twenties appear before you.

“Take the next one!” Soap barks as he looks over his shoulder, you catch the fire in his eyes, and you can’t help but shiver at the way his body presses harder against you. It’s possessive, protective, as he bucks his hips into your hand. The doors close again as you hear the hollers of encouragement from the young men as the elevator continues its ascent.

You arrive at your floor, stumbling out together with breathy giggles and barely concealed groans. You fall over the threshold of your room, mouths fused together as Johnny kicks the door closed behind you.

You fall back onto the freshly made bed and pull Johnny down on top of you, parting your legs wide, granting him access as he practically crushes you into the mattress. He starts to pull off his jacket and Fly Plaid, but you stop him. Your hands circling his wrists as he looks down at you with exasperation.

“Fuck me like this,” you breathe as you lower his hands down to your hips, “Keep the kilt on.”

“Don’t have to tell me twice, love,” he groans as he yanks your panties down and off, flinging them somewhere in the room before lining himself at your core.

“Fuck me, please, Johnny,” you plead as he runs his tip through your drenched folds.

“So fucken’ wet,” he groans as he bumps your clit with his tip before guiding it back to your entrance, “Didn’t know you were such an exhibitionist, hen.”

“Jonny, please,” you mewl as you buck your hips up, pushing his tip inside you.

“So needy,” he rasps as he buries himself inside you in one desperate thrust.

You cry out at the stretch; you’re impaled on his thick length and your vision blurs at the edges as he splits you open.

“Touch yourself, hen, I’m not gonna last long,” Johnny growls as he falls forward, elbows either side of your head as he captures your lips in his.

You moan into his mouth as he slides his tongue past your lips, licking into your mouth as he drags his thick cock almost all the way out before snapping his hips back down into you. You slip your dominant hand down to your clit and rub at the swollen bundle of nerves in earnest as he pounds into you at a desperate pace.

“Looked so fucken’ sexy today,” Johnny rambles in your ear as he pulls back, gasping for air as he locks eyes with you, “Couldn’t stop imagining you impaled on this cock.”

The wet sound of skin slapping against skin fills your ears as you feel the burning heat rip down your spine as your orgasm builds. Johnny’s breath is hot on your face as his pace begins to falter, he’s close. You redouble the pressure on your clit as you chase your own release.

“Where’d you want me?” He pants as he ruts into you with erratic, devastating force.

“Inside Johnny, fill me up,” you beg and that does it.

You feel the tight twist in your navel as you come hard, your cunt squeezing hard around Johnny’s cock as he buries himself deep inside you as he comes. You scream as you feel euphoria wash over you, the hot pulse of Johnny’s come coating your walls has you floating as your back arches off the bed.

You wrap your ankles around his waist as you pull him in closer, making him groan in your ear as he collapses on top of you.

“Fuck,” you breathe as Johnny’s weight presses down onto you, almost suffocatingly heavy as you press soft kisses to his temple.

“Yeah, fuck,” he responds breathily as he nuzzles into your neck.

Eventually you peel yourselves apart, making sure to pee and wash up before diving under the covers and nestling against Johnny’s chest as his strong arms wrap around you.

“I love you,” he breathes against the crown of your head as he places tender kisses in the wake of his words.

“I love you too, Johnny,” you sigh as you loop your leg over his hips, nipping gently at his chest as you nuzzle your nose into the tight curls of his chest hair, “Was going to say it earlier.”

“I know, didn’t want to push,” he sighs as he trails his fingertips down your arm, sending goosebumps rippling across your skin, “Just needed you to know I feel the same.”

“You’re a sweet man, Johnny,” you smile as you take his nipple between your lips and hum.

“Only for you, lass,” he chuckles as he peppers more kisses about your head as you snuggle in even closer.

Tags: @amyg1509

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theladycarpathia · 2 months

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Billy’s not expecting the call from his dad.

“Billy?” Hop sounds distant, the faint sound of an idling engine in the background. Billy blinks, because his dad is at work and as far as Billy knows that usually means sitting behind a desk at the station and arguing with Flo.

“Don’t you have paperwork to be doing?” Billy says and Hopper snorts. There’s the sound of background traffic that’s then shut out by the clang of a car door.

“Don’t give me cheek, I am still the chief,” Hopper says as though that means anything in a small town where the most crime that they get is some drunk idiot attempting to rob the gas station.

“Yes, sir,” Billy quips and changes the channel. No one else is home and he’s bored. Jon and Joyce are still at work, and El and Will are doing weird nerd activities. The diner didn’t have a shift for him today and he doesn’t have a date, so he came home. He’d half expected someone to be here, instead of getting stuck with a protein bar and old reruns.

“That’s more like it,” Hopper says and then clears his throat awkwardly. “I was just wondering…are you definitely single?”

“Dad,” Billy says, attention now fully away from the TV set. Hop’s called him before, to ask him shit like do they need milk and to take the trash out. He doesn't call to talk about Billy's love life. They never talk about that, not after that time Hopper came in his room without knocking. “What is your next question, because this could make the next family dinner a little uncomfortable.”

“Don’t be a dick,” Hopper gripes. There’s the sudden cackle of laughter in the background and Billy sits up.

“Are you with someone?” he asks and then sucks in a breath at the implications. “Did you put me on speaker?”

“I may have done,” Hopper says, sounding sheepish. “I just picked up a young man outside the movie theatre and he’s about your age…”

“I’m nineteen!” the mystery guy hollers from the backseat. Hopper keeps talking like the guy hadn’t spoken.

“I don’t know, I just thought he was your type.”

Billy presses a hand to his temple, unable to believe that his dad has just said those words. “What’s my type?” he asks, wondering if he’s going to combust right here and now. Hopper makes that little awkward throat clearing again, like he can’t believe the situation either.

“You know,” he says stiffly. “Sort of…pretty.”

Oh God. Billy can never look Hopper in the eye again.

“You think I’m pretty?” the guy asks curiously, and Billy can’t blame him for sounding a bit weirded out.

“I think you look like a lot of the doe-eyed pretty-boys my son brings home,” Hopper snaps. Despite his obvious discomfort, Billy can’t help the rush of affection at Hopper trying to be supportive. Neil would have beat the shit out of him. Hopper tries to hook him up with appropriately aged delinquents in the back of the police car.

“A lot?” the guy asks and Billy flushes. He then regrets it because he has no idea if he even wants to impress whatever guy Hopper has picked up.

“It’s not a lot,” he says defensively because Hawkins isn’t exactly big on the gay scene. His last boyfriend he met at Tina’s Halloween party and to be fair, if you wear a kilt and not a lot else to a party in October, Billy’s absolutely going to beg you to rail him in the downstairs cloakroom. The relationship hadn't exactly worked out.

“Look, I get the feeling I’m never going to hear the end of this so here’s the situation,” Hopper says, sounding tired. “This is my son, Billy. He’s about to finish high school, he likes cars and burgers and loud music. He has shit taste in men even though he’s attractive, clever and a smart mouth. Billy, this is Steve. I was on my way back from the mayor’s office when I caught him peeing in an alley. Judging by his big brown eyes and the fact that public nudity doesn’t seem to be a problem for him, I thought of you.”

“Aww,” Billy drawls, sitting back on the couch. There are lights in the drive so someone has just arrived home. Which is good because he needs to tell everyone this story so they can give Hopper shit about it over dinner. “Pops, that’s so sweet.”

“Don’t say I never do anything for you,” Hopper says, like he hasn’t already done everything for Billy by getting him out, giving him a home. “I’ll take an extra polaroid when I process him.”

“I had to take a leak!” Steve protests and Hopper sucks in air through his teeth.

“There are public bathrooms, kid, I’ve heard those work pretty well. Billy, help your mom with dinner when she gets home.” Sucks for Hopper, it’s Jon heading up the path, keys dangling from his fingers. Billy can’t wait to tell him this story.

“Or what, you won’t bring me any more dates?” Billy asks, but he’s only half-joking. Hopper means well and kind of fucks it up a lot but this time he might have hit it right on the money. He thinks he might like Steve.

“Do I get a picture?” Steve asks. “Or does the Hawkins Police just pimp out young innocent men with full bladders?”

Oh yeah. He’s definitely going to like Steve.

“I have a picture on my desk,” Hopper admits grumpily. There’s the jangle of keys in the door as Jonathan lets himself in. “You can look at it if you’re good.”

“And what if I’m not?” Steve asks and Jonathan walks in just in time to raise his eyebrows at Billy.

“I can help punish him, if he’s not,” Billy suggests, and Hopper hangs up the phone just as Steve begins to laugh.

This has probably been done before because it's based on that famous tumblr post but it's so dull during school holidays I have nothing to do but write. And I have no in progress Harringrove fics which is probably a problem I should fix.

#harringrove #ficlet #billy hargrove #steve harrington #jim hopper #hopper being a well meaning but slightly awkward dad has my heart #he'll tell this story at their wedding #as revenge for billy telling everyone that hop set him up #seriously though I have a dozen fics in progress rn #not one of them is harringrove #what's wrong with me

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evergreenfields · 30 days

Text

In Another Life

Hurt, no comfort, angst, I’m ready to break my own heart.

Your flatmate is dating Soap and he’s everything you want.

Pairing: Soap x your female flatmate, one sided female reader x Soap, Captain Price x reader.

CW: MDNI! low self esteem, character death (spoiler, not explicit), catcalling, voyeurism, masturbation, PIV sex.

A/n: I hella projected lol. Reader is broken.

——

Soap is dating your flatmate.

Most men that your flatmate brought home were wet wipes, but this guy was some kind of special forces. His eyes were electric blue and he had the thickest eyelashes, he went by Johnny but he also went by Soap, you never learned why. You had to mentally pinch yourself while staring at him, he was everything you wanted in a partner. You hated the creamy mess in your underwear when you were in his company.

He was muscled and shaped like an upside down triangle, you had to look away when he would pop out from their room in the night. Muttering “sorry ‘scuse me” as you squeeze past the narrow corridor, ignoring the rumble of his “no no, I’m taking up all the room, lass.”

You caught his thighs and bulge in his compression shorts when he left for a run in the morning. Later, your flatmate traipsed into the kitchen muttering “I can hardly walk after last night, let alone run!”

You laugh and slap her arm playfully as you leave the room. You’re an expert at that now. That’s not to say you were never happy for her, but your phone was currently not blowing up with your latest dating app matches.

——

On the off chance Soap arrived when you were coming out of the shower, he only ever looked at your eyes and quickly got out of your way. He only had eyes for your flatmate. You got to your room and stood in front of the mirror and wondered what your flatmate and other women had that you didn’t.

——

Soap was full of energy, ready for a laugh but very protective. You would listen from your room when he dropped her off late at night after a raucous night out on the town.

“Call me tomorrow, alright?” His voice is muffled.

“I’ll be fine.”

“Just call me when you wake up. You look like you need a lie in tomorrow. I’ll bring you breakfast.”

Tomorrow morning comes and Soap is early with a bag of food from a brunch spot nearby, he even brought you a coffee too. You thank him too much, maybe it wasn’t the coffee you were thanking him for.

——

Your flatmate and Soap came home late one night absolutely drunk out of their minds, they wobbled through the front door trying to dance to a song playing on his phone. They see you and it’s like they have heart eyes.

“Y/n, it’s y/n, THE GOAT!” Your roommate yells.

“The GOAT!” Soap hollers.

They both flop into the sofa either side of you. They’re too drunk to notice your teary eyes. You pushed the soggy tissue into your sleeve.

A dance tune starts up and before you can even recognise it, Soap bounces up with hands held out towards you both.

Your roommate grabs one hand.

You’re next.

You take Soap’s hand and you arc off the sofa, he’s strong.

You’re pressed up against his side. He’s hard, large and warm, you try not to enjoy the bodily contact as you all boogie to the song. You start to smile until you remember he isn’t yours.

——

“It’s only 2 days but I’m so excited,” she talks about her friend’s wedding in the south of France, “I’m wearing this dress” she flicks through her phone gallery “and Johnny is going to wear a kilt!” Muscled calves, big smile and rugged hands clasped at his front, Johnny looked like a million bucks.

“I love it, you’ll match!” You managed to squeeze out. You imagine the memories they’ll make and photos they’ll take. That night you have a 2nd date, you are excited by the fact he has asked you out again. It filled you with something resembling happiness.

You are meant to meet at a station out of town but you couldn’t find him at the small station and the path towards the car park was unlit and dodgy. When your date found you, he was annoyed that he had to pay for parking. He kept throwing red flags at you.

But still you slept with him because you wanted to feel touched and desired. You regretted it and then you had to take the train home later that night because he “had an early start to work tomorrow.” You wrapped your jacket around yourself to keep out some of the cold, trying not to be annoyed that he didn’t even attempt to make you orgasm or show any aftercare. You delete his number from your phone.

Later that weekend, the duo arrived home.

“We bought you back some chocolate!” Your flatmate says, Johnny swings his bag off his back, he passes it to you with 2 hands like it's a bar of gold. It could have been, with the way you looked at it.

“Aww guys you didn’t have to.” Your mouth is dry.

“Johnny found it, I didn’t know you were a sea salt and caramel fan!”

You put the chocolate in a drawer because you didn’t want to get used to tastes you couldn’t indulge in.

——

“He’s a prick, forget about him.” Your flatmate says pointedly about a new guy you were dating.

“Oi who’s a prick?” Soap walks into the kitchen, taking your flatmate’s waist in his hand.

“No one-” you turn away.

“A fuck boy that y/n isn’t seeing any more.” Your flat mate sounds proud by what wasn’t her decision.

“He isn’t a fuck boy.” You know you’ll regret clarifying the point, “we didn’t fuck, so he’s not. He’s just a prick.” You and the conversation. Soap whistles.

Later that night when you’re washing the dishes, Soap approaches you.

“Listen, forget about that guy,” he says low, you’d follow that voice anywhere.

“Thanks.” You squeak quietly.

“You will find what you're looking for, keep pushing and you’ll look back on this shite with a smile, maybe a misty eye, ey?” He bends forward to catch your eyes as you were trying to avoid them.

He smiles, you smile. He leaves, you remain.

The suds disappear and you turn off the tap, left in silence.

That night, they have muted sex, you hear their attempts at muffling moans and stifling strained grunts. You hear the bed frame squeak on the last hardest thrusts, then silence for a while. You imagine they feel warm, tingly and flushed, chests heaving. Eventually you hear footsteps come and go from the bathroom, the toilet flush going and the door shuts again. You wait for your heart rate to stabilise and your heart ache to subside.

——

“We’re going to the pub, wanna join us? Johnny’s friends are going to be there.” Your flatmate asks you.

You wonder if they’re as hot, funny and protective. You tell yourself you’re just going along for a chat, but part of you hopes it leads to something more; you put the hopeless in hopeless romantic. Put yourself out there, that’s what everyone says.

You wear a nice outfit that makes you feel pretty, your confidence isn’t abundant but you’re feeling yourself.

You arrive at the pub, you meet them, you chat, you drink, you leave.

Nothing about the evening was bad, his team were really nice, all huge and charming in their own ways. Their Captain was a greyhound with an intense gaze that seemed to follow you. Gaz’s girlfriend arrived and you thought you heard some rumblings about Ghost being pushed to date.

The Captain was receptive to you, leaning in to listen, you thought you saw him glance at your lips and legs. He helped you off the tall stool you were sitting on, taking you by your waist to help you down. You know not to push, men hated when women pushed. Well, they hated when you pushed. And you didn’t want to make anything awkward between you and your flatmate. So you left without asking for his phone number or a date, but he hugged you tightly and held your gaze for longer than you thought usual.

When all three of you got home, your flatmate shouted at the top of her lungs “you and the Captain huh?! Practically undressing each other with your eyes!” You laugh and immediately feel your ears going red. You were stoked that someone else noticed because you thought it was all in your head, as it usually was.

You didn’t notice Soap put a hand out to stop her.

“Babe. Babe-” he says “don’t go there.”

Your heart tightens. Your flatmate puts her hands on her hips, confused and a little offended as if to say ‘I know what I saw.’

“It ain’t like that, the Captain is… Price is… Look, he’s married to the job.” Brows knitted, the jovial spirit replaced with seriousness, “we don’t sit around and talk about it but he ain’t the type to mess around.”

You play it off “we were just talking, it’s not a big deal.”

It hurts when Soap says “good, because he’s a lifer.”

You close the door to your bedroom and mull Soap’s words in your tormented mind. The fuzziness you felt replaced by emptiness.

Part of you willed it to be wrong, that you were the woman to pull the Captain out of his self fulfilling and self imposed prophecy. You almost laughed at your audacity.

“I can’t even get a text back, why would he be interested?” You stare at the ceiling, the alcohol left your system and the room was uncomfortably still.

——

“You like tha’, lass?” you hear Soap rasp, you’re not sure if he’s taking her from behind or if he’s on top of her. The faint slaps, skin on skin, indicate it’s either doggy or the standing position your flatmate had once whispered about. The loud moans indicate it’s good.

You don’t breathe. You just listen.

“Oh god, Johnny please!” Your flatmate whines, the force of his thrusts evident in her stuttering voice.

You close your eyes and see yourself with Soap under you, knees folded under his bulging arms, hips pistoning into you with ferocious need. You argue with yourself but then you quickly surrender and slip your hand into your knickers. You draw tight circles on your clit while your eyes burn with tears unfallen. Undiluted shame and need fills you. You breathe sharply through your nose and then hold your breath, staying as quiet as possible. Both of your hearts raced, thumping against your ribs.

“Tha’s it,” you hear his muffled voice grunt. You imagine his massive hand grasping your breast, your hand follows. Their bed frame groans but yours is silent. Your flatmate’s voice gets higher in pitch and she comes loudly, he grunts, swears, the mattress squeaks. You push two fingers into yourself and quickly find your spongy spot, electricity rolls through you.

You come undone shakily and silently, tears springing immediately from your eyes as you ride the wave of your orgasm. Your hand clasps across your mouth as you try to stem the noise of your sobs. You feel disgusted and disgusting. You wipe your eyes with your sleeves. You check your phone, no text from him. You manage to fall into a restless sleep.

——

One night, you and your flatmate encountered an asshole at the station.

“Nice bit of skirt, that.” He leers at your flatmate.

“Fuck off, you prick!” You shout back without breaking stride, not caring he was bigger than you. This confidence was new to you. Or was it anger?

When you arrived at the music venue, your flatmate told Soap what happened, you couldn’t hear them as the music was loud and you were at the bar. You could see the look of concern and regret on his face. He stormed over to you and he pulled you into a bear hug.

“Thanks for taking care of her,” he says to your temple. He releases you but keeps his arm around your shoulder as you wait at the bar, his weight is comforting and protective. He then helps you carry the drinks over.

He adds “I’m sorry Gaz and Cap couldn’t make it, paperwork.” You’d heard that one before but this time you gave yourself the benefit of believing it.

During the gig was a slow acoustic song that hit a little too close to home so you snuck out to the toilet to wait it out.

But you could still hear the music as you leaned against the stall and picked at your nails, doing breathing exercises you’d read about, through your tears.

——

You began to feel like the only man in your life. You even treated yourself to a massage because the touch deprivation reached a fever pitch.

You scroll through the website trying to find an available masseuse. Their headshots were small but you were on the lookout for a man with a thick neck and prominent traps, you knew the silhouette you were looking for. Your masseuse didn’t have a Mohawk but he was close enough that when you closed your eyes, his hands, his pressure and weight became Johnny’s.

——

You were invited again to a party with the squad, moods were good but there were hints of them being away for an extended mission. While you heeded what Soap said about Price, you wanted to know it from the horse's mouth. You bantered with the Captain, and he bantered back, at first. It turned to flirting and you playfully slapped his bicep, joking that you could drink him under the table, knowing well enough that you couldn’t. You ignored the looks from Gaz and Ghost - it’s like they knew something you didn’t. And they did.

You found yourself outside with Price. He’d asked only you to come outside, you felt giddy at the prospect of him wanting to be alone with you. He was smoking a cigar, you stared at the lit end, hoping it revealed some kind of secret you could finally be privy to.

It was cold outside, bitterly cold.

“You’re a lovely girl, y/n, you’re smart, pretty, ballsy,” he says, almost to himself. You’re immediately familiar with the tone. What came next would hurt. Your breathing quickens and there’s a pit in your stomach.

“I’m not in a place where I can give you what you want, what you deserve, darlin’.”

The alcohol seemed to dissipate from your system. Rejection was one hell of a way to sober up. You look down at your shoes and chew your lip to stop it from trembling.

You knew better than to beg, to make compromises, to ask for a chance. Nothing would convince him. Maybe another woman could. But not me. So you turned to humour because it was safer than being vulnerable.

With wet eyes and a wobbly voice that you couldn’t hide, you say “so you think I’m pretty?”

He hits you with a look that you’ll never forget.

“In another life-“ he quietly began.

You cut him off, agreeing, “in another life.”

You both went indoors and you summoned a smile from the deepest recesses of your being. You left early that night.

——

It was with bated breath that you left your room ready for your date. You were in a beautiful outfit that did wonders for your confidence. You spun around a few times in the mirror.

Johnny was at the foot of the stairs and he looked at you with his big blue eyes, you’re sure you saw his pupils grow. Your phone buzzed but you ignored it because you enjoyed being under his gaze.

“Look at you! He’s a lucky lad!”

“Wait, let me see!” Your flatmate's voice came from the kitchen.

Your phone buzzed again. You pull it out to see a stream of texts from your date.

“Oh you look gorgeous, girl!” You barely hear your flatmate. Blood rushes to your ears.

You read out the text message.

“Sorry can’t make it, hungover lol.” You sound distant, as if it wasn’t related to you.

“Fucking prick.” Soap says with no hesitation.

“Y/n…. Babe.” Your flatmate pulls you into a hug but you’re limp and embarrassed.

“Fuck it, I’m going out anyway!” You exclaim, pretending to be okay you practically rush out of the door.

The door shuts behind you. You want to cry but you squeeze your eyes shut and start to walk towards the station. You don’t last long, your vision is wet and nose runny. You end up at a riverside cafe, watching the world go by without you. What a shitty year, you tell yourself.

——

You hear a hushed conversation a week before Soap is due to leave for a few weeks. You kept your headphones on and nodded at them when you walked past, giving them privacy.

You wish you could be in someone’s inner circle, but instead you were grateful you could float around theirs. You put a mental reminder in to take your flatmate to dinner while Soap was away and to keep her from watching the news.

——

“Turn it down!” You yell at your flatmate while you go to answer the door, the radio is on blast while you both cook.

Through the peephole you see the unmistakable beard of Captain Price.

“Oh John, hi!” You can’t hide that you’re happy to see him. But then you notice his grave expression.

“Hi love, sorry to come by unannounced,” he’s standing straighter and his smile doesn’t reach his eyes. “Is your flatmate around?”

“Yeh, come in.” Your stomach drops. You didn’t need to call out, your flatmate is already by the door.

“No,” she recognises the look.

“I’m so sorry, love.” Price says quietly.

“Oh god no!” She cries out and sobs, her entire body shakes.

You put your arms around her but your eyes are on Price, wet and unflinching, waiting for the confirmation of the news.

His blue eyes are overcast and tired, he nods and looks down.

“We’ll have to take you onto base if you wish to go through matters,” Price says quietly. You helped your flatmate get her coat on, understanding that you couldn’t go with her.

Price dropped her home later that night, you plated up some food for her but she couldn’t eat. You hugged each other on the sofa until one of you fell asleep first.

It felt like Soap would be bursting through the door with his infectious energy at any moment, but the silence was deafening.

——

You weren’t invited to the funeral as it was behind closed doors. You didn’t know what to do with yourself, you went from crying to intense panic attacks to bouts of guilt. You missed him, you missed his presence. You thought about the way his eyes would light up when you suggested shots at the pub, how he’d walked you both home and how safe you felt. Sure he wasn’t holding your hand but for a moment, you felt wanted, taken care of and significant. You felt terrible for mourning someone else’s partner so deeply and intimately.

Price came by a few times in the next few months, sometimes you were home, sometimes you weren’t. When your flatmate finally came out of her room, her eyes red and complexion weak, she would walk around the house like an apparition.

“I can’t do this without him!” She would plead, “I miss him so much.” You rubbed her back, silently wiping your tears, telling her you were sorry, over and over.

“John came by today, he sends his best.” She says.

“Bless him,” you say quietly, trying not to read too much into it, because all the meaning you longed for wouldn’t come.

“You never told me what happened with you both that night.” She asks, brows knitted in concern for you while her heart was shattered.

“Soap was right about him.” You said, “and that’s okay.” You breathed, hoping the more you said it the more you would believe it.

——

‘What cannot be said will be wept’ you read the quote over and over, you’d seen it online and it immediately brought Price into your mind.

His visits became less frequent, but he came by again to check in with your flatmate. He looked like he was carrying the world on his shoulders and you wanted nothing more than to pull him into an embrace and comfort him.

“Come in, she just got in the shower, want a tea while you wait?”

It had been 6 months since the news.

“How are you holding up?” Price asked.

“M’okay, trying to be there for her as best I can.”

“I know it isn’t easy for you either.” He said, “you’re doing good by her, you’re a good friend.”

Guilt and shame rushes through your system, you didn’t feel like a good friend.

“He was so good to her-” you start to sob, hands across your mouth, willing it to stay inside so you never have to confront how you really felt about him.

You’re surprised to be suddenly in his embrace. John consumes you, you’re completely surrounded by him. You grip his jacket, afraid to let go. His right hand rubbed your shoulder blades and his left hand held onto your waist tightly.

“I’m sorry love,” he whispered, “and I’m sorry I wasn’t good to you.”

“You don’t have to apologise for anything John, you haven’t done anything wrong.” You sounded throaty.

“I made you believe in something I couldn’t give you.” His voice is quiet, you feel it against his chest.

“In another life,” you manage to sob his phrase back to him, he can feel you inhaling hard, trying to catch your breath.

“Another life.” He says back, kissing your head.

“Take care of yourself, John” you say with a ragged voice looking straight into his eyes. You grab your bag and push past him out of the door. You can still see his sad eyes in your mind.

Immediately you regret leaving while he was still available and present. But then you think if he wanted to say more he’d have done so. Life is choices, he made his choice. And I wasn’t one of them. Your legs take you away from him, into the bitter cold.

#cod fanfic #captain price x female reader #captain price x y/n #captain price x you #john price x female reader #john price x y/n #captain price x reader #john price x reader #john price x you #john soap mactavish #soap cod #soap x reader #codfanfic

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ingravinoveritas · 3 months

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Michael on the Zoe Ball Show this morning talking about David at the BAFTAs and I am dying. Notable excerpt:

ZB: "Ah, Michael Sheen, must say, well done to your mate DT at the BAFTAs." Michael: "Ohh, he did good. The boy did good!" ZB: "He did so good!" Michael: "And he looks good in a kilt as well, doesn't he?"

So...ten seconds into Michael's appearance on the show and David comes up (on St. David's Day, no less). And apropos of absolutely nothing, Michael brings up David looking good in that kilt. Unprompted. For no reason whatsoever. I need to lie down...

#michael sheen #welsh seduction machine #david tennant #soft scottish hipster gigolo #the zoe ball show #BAFTAs 2024 #very very married #favorite look of the night by far #and i am not at all surprised that it was Michael's too #i'm very much enjoying the soft!Dom/top energy of this #it's giving shades of 'i have found a boy i like and i have his photo'#michael is about as subtle as a drunken llama on roller skates #at this point the subtext might as well be a billboard #i can't #time to add this to the list of Michael publicly thirsting over David #which at this point is the length of a Dead Sea scroll #amazing #ineffable lovers

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blingblong55 · 10 months

Text

Model- 141+ König NSFW

Based on requests:

1.OKAY BUT 141+KÖNIG WITH A READER THAT DOES DIGITAL ART🏃‍♂️ 2.Can you write about TF141+König with an S/O what draws, animates, etc? I was thinking more digital art, but traditional is cool too. If you only wanna do one character, can it be Ghost? Thank you!

GN!reader, digital artist/painter!reader, established!relationship, civilian!reader, smut, 18+, MDNI, Sub!Male, Dom!reader

A/N: Some will be short...and you'll definitely notice who is my favourite on this one

As someone with the talent and skills to create art with your hands and a clean canvas, you always find yourself looking for a model. Thankfully, he is there now, in that position, just for you.

Price:

You mentioned before that you needed a model to help you with proportions for your art. Your strong and bulky boyfriend decided to be just the right model you needed. For months you and him work late at night, and he props himself up for you, wearing whatever you need to bring your ideas to life. The people who buy said art always admire how realistic your art looks, and how no other artist does what you do. And it's all thanks to him.

At the moment, he is on the sofa, dressed in a black suit, a collar around his neck, eyes looking at you, pleading for you. "Stay still, I have to get this angle." You sketch his body onto the canvas of your tablet. You had been teasing him since he woke up, vibrator to his sensitive cock. You had tied him up before this session, mainly because he kept touching himself for some release. Now, staying still and obeying was his punishment. And for him, it was the worst one so far.

"How...much...more...please..need-.." he said in between whimpers and moans. You approach, looking at him, taking in how needy he was being. You get down on your knees, and he moves a little only to find you sketching this position. He whines and closes his eyes, whimpers getting louder by the second. "Stay still or do I have to teach you another lesson?" The masochist in him wanted to be taught a lesson, "Please..please do" You grin, and slap his face lightly causing him to whimper in response. "Don't make any noise, I'm busy.." For an hour, he stayed still, cumming from just the way you teased and looked at him. For sure, this site would end up in someone's dungeon.

Gaz:

When he and you started to get more intimate and he'd make you look at what you and he were doing through the mirror, that's when you knew he had to be the model you'd use for your creations. It took time to mould him into who he is for you but it was all so worth it. Currently, he is leashed to your canvas' stand. Looking up at you, the bite marks and hickeys you had done hours prior still worn proudly on his neck. He was wearing nothing but the collar on his neck and the fishnets you made him wear. His face is slightly red from the heated makeout session you two had since he was a good boy for you.

Your paintbrushes colouring the canvas in front of you, he looked up at you. How sexy you looked when you were so focused on your art. You know he likes it when others watch as you fuck him. How well you can ride and how well he can listen to you. So, you brought a mirror into the art studio. Made him look at his reflection as you ride him, each time he would ruin a line in your art, it was another slap to his already abused face. Tears ran down his cheeks but a wide smile as he enjoyed the thought of how others would look at the canvas and see a moment where you once more made him yours.

Paintbrushes used to mess with his already-hardened nipples. His hands gripped your hips, guiding you to go faster, but you resisted, not wanting to ruin the creation you were making. Some paint smudged to his chest, your hand prints on them when you'd get carried away and ride him faster.

Soap:

He was the one who offered himself up, wanting to please you not just physically but visually. You had made him wear his kilt, war paint on as he spread his legs open for you. Hands in between his thighs, he leans forward, looking up at you with puppy eyes. You had been working with him in this position for too long now and all he needed was just some attention, physically. You knew you wanted this painting to feel more personal, needed a touch of yourself and him in it. So, you picked out the paints that were safe for the next activity you had in mind. You laid the cloth of a canvas on the floor and commanded him to go to it and get on his knees to wait for you.

Poured some of the safe paint on his chest, and you and he began to make out. The cloth filled with paint, art made from your bodies. By the time you and him were done paint was all over your bodies. He requested, as a reward, that you and him take a shower and if you wanted, he could also pose for you in the shower.

Ghost:

He loves to be your sub so when you mentioned that you needed a model for your art, he wanted to be the subject of all your attention. Currently, you have him tied up with leather ropes. A cock ring on him as you paint his position. He looks up at you with puppy eyes, his mask lifted only far up for you to see his lips. Every now and then, he closes his legs to get some friction, only to have his inner thighs spanked by you. He whimpers a little, asking for forgiveness since he knows what you will do to him after you are finished painting this position.

He looks at you, doe-eyed. "Please, please just touch me...just once." But you ignore his pleas. He shuts his eyes and begins to think of how you would touch him. That was the only way he could find some release while he was tied up. You look at the canvas, paint and figures finally making sense, and then you hear his loud moans and cries of pleasure. He was cumming at the thought of you, no one around to touch him, just his mind playing for him.

His whimpers were louder as he couldn't stop cumming, it all leaked everywhere, spurting out as he bucked his hips. "Oh...yes...oh..mmm." he moans. Leather leaking his own mess as you watched with a pleased smile.

König:

It all started with asking him for help in a position you weren't quite sure you knew how it worked or looked. He offered to help and now months later, he has become the man you please and base your art on. Tonight, you had a sudden idea, a man in a suit, touching himself as he wore some rather rougher ropes around his suit. König, is never opposed to the idea, he loves to listen to you and if he knows he can please you this way, then as your good submissive boy, he will obey. The tie he was wearing was now used as a choker that you pull any time he moans too loud.

When you finish sketching his position he looks at you, brows furrowed. "Can I please be touched now? I was a good boy...please" his voice soft, whimpers low. You stand up, the pen which you used to sketch his position in hand. You trail the cold pen along his skin, reaching his sensitive parts. He begins to move his hips, hoping you could go faster, to touch him sooner. Your hands are on his hip when his already hardened cock begins to throb, pre cum leaking as he looks at you. "Meine liebe, I'm so..." he moans. "I'm your messy boy..." he whimpers.

A/N: Maybe this was not part of the request...but a girl has her own needs...anyway..bye

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