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Flashpiper: Eobard took advantage of both Hartley and Barry, in both mind and body, during his time as Harrison Wells. They turn to one another for comfort.

Apologies to anyone who's expecting Flashpiper sexy times, but I felt that something fluffier was better suited to end the prompt.  Then again, this fill is mostly angst; thou hast been warned.



Eobarry - In the original timeline, Barry had an affair with Eobard. In the current timeline, Eobard as Harrison Wells is sleeping with Barry, but Eobard can't stop comparing the two timelines and keeps on wondering if he did all this just so he can have Barry to himself.

Kudos to whoever found/selected the accompanying gif; it's a-freakin'-dorable.



Imagine Oliver finding out that Barry and Ray are dating, and complaining to Felicity & Digg about not knowing which one he needs to give a shovel talk to.



Ray and Barry are both kinda slutty, but that's okay, 'cause Len likes his boys slutty.

Gah this gif'll be the end of me!



Barry/Mick/Len - Barry gets himself a fancy collar with some wiring and a few LED lights, then "accidentally" stumbles upon Captain Cold and Heatwave's latest heist, pretending that some evil villain stuck a speed draining collar on him, so now he is helpless and vulnerable (and hoping that his villains will get with the program).

I added Meta!Mick and Meta!Len because I can :3



Dom Mick, Subs Oliver & Ray. Praise kink, bondage, gags, dirty talk, cuddling and snuggling after.

Behold! My first fill that doesn't have Barry in a pairing, threesome, or moresome.  Lots of stuff to juggle here, folks.  Kudos to anyone who's brave enough to tackle this prompt; it's complicated as f.



Singh & Rob know Barry's the Flash, 'cause *duh*, of course they know. It took them a lot longer before they realized Barry had an increased sex drive due to being the Flash. Not that any of them are complaining - Rob & Singh adore their baby, and Barry adores his Daddy & Papa.

The prompt I filled so competently, I filled it twice!  Lol. Nah, it's just that I think the daddy kink was too subtle in A, and it was short, so I felt compelled to add onto it; plus, I wanna see Barry throwing tantrums more often.



Coldflashwave- mick appreciation porn. Mick is tied down, fucked, ridden, and praised until he's shaking and crying

I added in Mick’s aphasia cuz frankly, that needs to be addressed more often.  I also added “kitten” as a pet name for Mick cuz I didn’t know I needed that in my life.  I also also have Mick referring to Len and Barry by nicknames cuz I wanted to....

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You love Barry with all your soul, yet you don’t realize why it feels strange being with him until it slaps you in the face: he worships you as much as you worship him.  Wells—Thawne—essentially prostituted himself for your mind, but it was always on his terms.  You were his favorite, which warranted special privileges: losing to him in chess, sucking his cock with his oxford on your crotch, him yanking you off to stain your face and favorite shirts, humiliation lingering long afterwards.

He cast you aside once you became detrimental to his goal.  Shame iced your tears because once again, you weren’t good enough—you’d never be being good enough—to keep.

Then you met his goal: an uncultured Energizer bunny named Bartholomew Henry Allen.  This was the chosen one? A homewrecker in red leather???  Thawne had the gall to give this churl your suit!  You figured that Thawne had him dress up in all sorts of costumes in bed.

You couldn’t have been more wrong.

Thawne took advantage of Barry’s enhanced healing abilities to cut deeper and lash harder than any normal person would survive.  Barry didn’t know that they should’ve set up safeguards.  Thawne never paused for a beat even when Barry was crying and begging for him to stop; sometimes, Thawne would become even more frenzied upon sight of blood mingling with tears.  The fastest man alive didn’t run away because his honey voice convinced him that Barry was the most precious soul in the multiverse, that Wells would never truly harm him.  Barry was as praised starved as you, and Wells was the only one quenching his emaciated soul.

Barry shattered when Wells left.  Unlike you, Barry wasn’t used to rejection.  You found him collapsed next to a half-finished wall after the singularity crisis.  The data you stole on his physiology told you that he hadn’t been eating enough—if at all—to sustain his nonstop community service.

He woke too weary to stand.  He claimed to have been atoning for causing the disaster.  Listening to his story made it clear what Thawne had done.  Thawne convinced him that he’d never be happy without him, that he’d never succeed without him.  Thawne chained and bound his soul as easily as yours.

To this day, Thawne still haunts both of you.  Perhaps he’ll never be fully exorcised, but you can quiet his gossip-mongering with tender touches and sincere endearments.  Your shoulder is his favorite pillow; his heartbeat is your favorite background noise.  You remind him to eat; he reminds you to sleep.  Thawne left you both broken, yet you’re steadily repairing each other.

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You finally have everything you want: Flash all to yourself.  No partner to distract him with guilt every time he touches you; you’re his partner this time.  Years of observation and not-so-subtle donations to his schools—including a scholarship tailored specifically for him that paid his tuition, textbooks, and then some—have finally paid off.  He’s yours.  Inarguably, indisputably, incontestably yours.  Heroes by day, lovers by night.

So why can’t you be happy?

The original Flash was a whirlwind who gave as good as he got.  Both of you constantly conspired to usurp the other for dominance both in bed and battle.  You were the definition of rivals: Reverse and Flash.

In this timeline, you’re mentor and mentee.  He hangs on your every word and eagerly obeys every command.  He worships you.

He’s cuddly.  The original Flash never stuck around to cuddle.  This one latches onto you any moment he can.

He’s so much younger, too.  The original Flash was bombastically confident in his abilities; this one shatters if he fails.  He’s so fragile, but you know how to put him back together.

Maybe that’s it.  You could effortlessly shape him in your own image, but is that truly what you want?  His own image was delectable.  This one... well... admirers are a dime a dozen; this one just has superpowers.  You conditioned him to cherish you.  No wonder he’s so boring.

Except those wide, hazel eyes shine with more than mere admiration: adoration.  He loves you immensely.  He’ll never love anyone else, just like you’ll never love anyone else.  Sure, you cling to the memories of his previous incarnation, but that was lust.  This is love.  You’re the shoulder he cries on when he’s not fast enough to save every last civilian, you’re the arms he throws himself into for comfort when nightmares haunt him, you’re the mind he looks to for guidance.

“Heh-Harrison?” he breathes when you take advantage of his sensitivity to tickle him.  You dive down to suck another mark onto his neck.  He writhes from this assault of sensations.  He’s a giggling mess by the time you stop.  You look down into those gorgeous eyes of his and realize that no matter how clever or older the previous Flash was, he never gave you his laughter.

You’re content.

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Barry and Ray are dating!?

When did that happen!?!

Once the shock wears off, you realize that you need to give a shovel talk... to which one!?!

You’ve got your head pillowed in one hand and beer clutched in the other.  Digg pats your back after your next sip, “They’ll be fine, Oliver.”

Felicity coos at the latest Flashatom photo and shares it with everyone.  The Legends of Tomorrow’s Facebook page likes it, but @ReverseFlashpointCrisis threatens to disembowel Ray if he even thinks of ever being cruel to Barry because “that’s my job, Ant-Man”.

With that settled, you take a train to Central and head out to Barry’s house in full Arrow regalia.

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It’s always the mild ones who are wild in bed, so you aren’t surprised to find your boyfriends entertaining each other when you step into the bedroom. They’re both swollen-lipped and shining with sweat. You drink in the sight of Barry chasing after Ray’s lips when the latter breaks away once he sees you. Barry’s tunnel vision focus prevents him from noticing the new person in the room.

Barry whips around when you clear your throat. Lust darkens their eyes, and yours go a shade darker at the idea of making them watch and wait. You smirk and snap an order, “Opposite ends of the bed, eyes on me.”

Ray obeys immediately like a good little boy, yet Barry’s begging for a punishment by the way he whines for attention. They can’t reach each other in their new positions. They also can’t reach you since you’re leaning against the door.

You wrestle your watch off and place it on the dresser. You step forward, slither out of your parka, and hang it up in the closet before laying down a few more rules, “Touch yourselves—tweak your nipples, pump your cocks, suck your fingers—I want my sluts as horny as possible, but hands off each other.” They get right to work. Ray teases himself, drives himself crazier while Barry goes straight for his cock. “Ray, you may cum whenever you want; Barry, you’re not allowed to cum until you’re inside me.” Barry squeaks. His hands fly behind his head, fingers tangling in his hair to avoid temptation. You tsk; you want him sorely, delectably tempted, “No stopping now, Barry, you’ve been a naughty boy today.”

You continue once he does. His long, pretty fingers slow down as you unstrap the cold gun, grab its case from under the nightstand, unlock it, set your weapon inside it, lock the case again, set it back in its place, and place its holster on top. Barry’s in tears from teasing himself. He’s a product of his generation and his powers: waiting a second feels like waiting for a lifetime to him.

You unlace your boots and chuck your socks in the laundry basket; then shimmy out your thermal pants, making a show of running your hands over your thighs. Ray doesn’t last long after that. He throws his head back and spills into his hand with a scrumptious shout. The sound stains your briefs until you remove them, and Barry has to pinch uncomfortable places to obey you. He whimpers at your goggles and sweater; you’re nowhere near done yet.

Ray lies back behind Barry when you give him permission to. His cock makes a valiant effort to harden again, yet you suspect that his and Barry’s earlier activities have tuckered him out. You cross the room to tend to him—praising him, wiping him down—ignoring Barry entirely. He’s pleading for you to touch him, for permission to cum, for any attention at all. He gives you his dampest puppy dog eyes, yet his hazel orbs won’t lure you away from this mission. He’s shaking as you lazily take off your goggles and set them beside your watch.

Last but not least, your sweater. You blow your boys a kiss which elicits a dopey smile from Ray and an oh god fuck me from Barry.

“Pa~tience, Barry,” your gravely drawl has him reeling and leaking. You bring a finger up to your mouth and hush him with a shhhhhhhh that’s as drawn out as the rest of your strip. You roll your sweater off and deliver it to Ray’s face. He snuggles with it as if it’s a you-scented teddy bear. He gives it a sensual sniff while you pad over to Barry.

You stroke Barry’s scalp to steady him. You settle back on the bed beside Ray so Barry can prepare you. His tongue worms in and swirls around. He moans against the irritatingly too much yet not enough scratch of the blankets against his dick. You tug him off. His pupils have conquered his eyes which will certainly explode if you keep him waiting any longer.

You peck his forehead before lowering him to lie on his back. He’s nearly blurring with anticipation as you lower yourself steadily and smoothly. You groan at the sensation of him filling you. He’s longer, Ray’s thicker, but they’re both perfect. You roll your hips until you’re moaning as wantonly as Barry is.

“Who’s the slut now, Lenny??? You’re the one whoring yourself out to two heroes,” Ray says too boldly to ignore.

You chuckle—Barry whines—when you slide off of him to wrap your sweater around Ray to serve as a makeshift blindfold. You return to Barry and sigh, “You boys would be having much more fun if you behaved. I know you can, yet you two seem to be under the impression that you’re off the hook once the masks come off.”

Barry keens as he bucks up into you, “Please please please let me cum. I’ll be a good boy—I’ll be so good, Lenny! Please!!!”

Your gaze lasers him as you toy with your own cock, “Oh, don’t go changing for me.” You lower your voice and continue, “I like my boys slutty.”

That’s enough to make him blur and flood your insides with cum. You paint his stomach with yours while he’s floating down from his high. You treat him to the same praises and cleaning you gave Ray before unwrapping Ray’s blindfold and tending to yourself. Two sets of lanky limbs latch onto you when you settle between your boys. You kiss them both goodnight and smirk when Ray’s snores and Barry’s sleep-talking fill your ears.

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Tape looked unprofessional, and let’s not talk about the mess you made with glue.  You finally craft a masterpiece five collars and many more LEDs later.  You jam it in your messenger bag along with the Flash suit and wait for Captain Cold and Heatwave’s latest heist to begin.

They select the elegantly enterprising location of Central City National Bank.  You zip out of your lab, don your gear, and stumble in declaring that you’ll catch them despite your speed-dampening collar.  Cold and Heatwave quirk their eyebrows up behind their goggles as you usher civilians to safety at normal speed.  The criminals look at each other, then smirk at you.

Viewers at home and reporters on the scene gasped at Heatwave and Captain Cold spiriting you to parts unknown.

An hour later in one of their nicer safehouses, you’ve got Len chilling your mouth and Mick blazing in your ass.  You’re humming and moaning contently around Len while Mick slams into you with relentless vigor.  Suave icicles squirm all over your scalp and tangle in your hair.  Calloused hot rocks coil around your hips, bruising and using them as leverage to claim you inside and out.

Len throws his head back after a particularly brutal slam pushes you deeper against him, “Mmmmm, Fl~lash, are you holding up your end of the bargain?  Because I can’t see how you became this skilled on your own.”

“If someone did lay their mitts on our Scarlet, we’ll ice ‘em—burn ‘em to ash!” Mick grunts, plowing into you harder and faster than ever.  His thrusts become more erratic until he stills, roaring as molten lava erupts in your ass.  He stays inside until you swallow Len’s liquid nitrogen.  Your breath hitches as Mick plugs you tight and Len kills your erection with an icy grip around your cock.

Your villains settle on either side of you after cleaning up, praising how well you did.  Their words, kisses, and cuddles melt you into sleep with those loving, protective arms wrapped around you.

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“Alright, kittens, who wants Papa to fuck their mouth and who wants Papa to fuck their ass?” Mick towered over his fully-dressed subs—proudly naked save his boots.  Mick set his sights on staining their suits.  Haircut was wrapped up in a three-piece while Ollie was dressed up as Arrow.  Both of them were on their knees with their wrists bound behind them.

Ollie wriggled his ass while Haircut opened his mouth.  Mick chuckled darkly.  He hadn’t told them not to talk, but they weren’t going to be doing much of that tonight no matter where he took them.  He grabbed a few toys.  He gave Ollie a penis gag to suck on and a dildo to fill him in the meantime.  Ollie gasped a groan around the former when Mick lightly lubed and inserted the latter.  Haircut began squirming and leaking within seconds of Mick flicking on a vibrator.  Mick fastened a ring gag snugly on Ray before guiding himself into Haircut’s eager mouth.

Mick fucked him lazily and petted Haircut’s hollowed cheeks to contrast with the shivering vibrator.  Haircut abruptly stopped and melted into putty from overstimulation.  Mick exited him with a slobbery cock.  The vibrator remained relentless inside him while Mick removed the gag and caressed Haircut’s aching jaw.  Mick purred when his eyes flickered down to a shadow sprawling from Haircut’s crotch to his inner thighs, “Look at how much prettier you are now, kitten.”

Haircut’s eyes lolled downward.  His cock ached to cum again, but alas, he was spent.  He looked up and gave Mick a pained groan while the pyro was whisking him onto the covers.  Ollie croaked around his gag at Haircut’s noises.  Mick savored the sound before manhandling Ollie face first onto the bed.  Mick shucked off his boots and pulled off just enough of the suit to enter him.  Ollie’s breath became strangled when Mick slowly twisted the dildo out of him.  Ollie dreaded the imminent feeling of emptin—Mick rammed into him.

Mick growled possessively, “Wear this suit and show those pretty girls Arrow ain’t a cuntslut; he’s a cockslut.  No cunt’ll ever be as good as my cock, boy—and don’t even think of dreamin’ a strap-on’ll fill you up like I can.” Ollie groaned wantonly.  Mick savored this sound as well.  He pitched his baritone even lower, “Maybe your huntresses and cupids need an object lesson.  Pick your favorite alleyway, kitten, and I’ll shove you against it.” Mick punctuated his words by spearing Ollie’s prostrate.  Ollie’s eyes retreated to the back of his head when a constellation of stars crackled across his vision. “Nobody handles you like I can, nobody marks you up like I can, and nobody,” Mick came deep inside Ollie with a satisfied thrum, “tells you how good you are like I do.” Mick hovered next to the younger man’s ear, “You’re such a good boy; you’ve done so well for me today, kitten.  I know you’ve had a rough time lately—and not the kinda rough time you like—so let’s wrap this up and cuddle, yeah?” Haircut’s legs were twitching against the indefatigable vibrator.  Mick pitched his voice louder so both of his kittens could hear, “I’ll put the toys away as soon as you cum.” Haircut pleaded helplessly though his ensuing groan.  Ollie gritted his teeth around the gag and spilled into his leather.  Mick pulled himself and the gag out of Ollie and the vibrator out of Haircut and plugged their ears with praises and kissed their wrists.  He only interrupted himself to grab supplies in order to clean off his boys and their toys.

Oliver preferred leaning into Mick’s solid, warm weight while Ray plastered over everyone.  Mick had long since mastered how to accommodate their needs.  He and his kittens snuggled naked under the covers, content to stay in that room for the rest of the night—and most of the morning.

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The fact that Rob figured it out before you is just embarrassing.  You’re surprised all of Central City doesn’t know Barry’s the Flash because his ability to keep secrets is as nonexistent as his punctuality, hence how you two discovered his insatiable libido, vibrations, sensitivity, nonexistent refractory period, and other side effects which make your bedroom activities much more intense.

Barry’s blurring with Rob seated atop him and toying with the boy’s nipples.  He lets up long enough for you to tilt his head towards your adoring eyes.  Even just your breath against his lips and your adoring eyes locked on his hardens him.  Verbal coaxing alone has him obeying your command, “Cum, Barry, cum for us, baby.”

He lets out a something between a yelp and a groan as his cock exhausts itself for tonight.  Rob rides him through this final orgasm as you overload his senses with a slow and sensual kiss.  Overstimulation glazes Barry’s eyes by the time you and your husband part from him to clean up and settle down for the night.

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You’ve never seen anything like it before.  You knew Albert and Allen got along like cats and dogs, but you could hear them shouting from your office.  By the time you ventured forth to investigate, they’d been screaming and snarling at each other for so long that they completely forgot what the original argument was about.

“Albert, Allen, go home!” exasperation spikes your voice.

“Yes, sir....” mumbles Albert.  He collects his belongings and leaves immediately, yet Allen stands defiant.

You close in on him and whisper, “Barry, if you’re not home in thirty minutes, you’re not cumming tonight.”

Allen’s eyelid twitches.  He packs up and leaves in a manner just shy of super speed.  Rob confirms that your baby arrived on time; Rob also confined him to the bedroom with no electronics for the rest of his aborted shift.

You kiss Rob slowly and surely when you come home.  Barry watches with intense interest crackling in his eyes alongside lightning.  You lean to kiss him on the lips only to peck his forehead instead.

Rob and Barry set the table for dinner while you change into more comfortable clothes.  Barry stays silent unless he’s directly addressed.  Neither you nor Rob are ignoring him; he’s just not feeling particularly chatty tonight.  He knows what will follow.  After all those times he’s passed out from hypoglycemia, you don’t let him cross the street without eating something first.  He helps Rob place the dishes in the dishwasher until you summon him to the bedroom.

He shuffles in with a flush blossoming across his cheeks and down under his shirt.  He strips at your order, revealing that it reaches all over his chest.  He’s sweating by the time you haul him over your lap.

You rub his ass, ask him how many spanks he thinks he deserves, and explain what you’re going to do and what you expect him to do.  Rob’s not into spanking, so he’s watching TV in the living room for now.  He’ll join you later if Barry behaves himself.

You negotiate him down to twenty.  He’s got a guilt complex larger than Texas and Alaska combined, so he’d initially selected fifty.  The most you’ve ever given him is thirty, but that was when he ran himself ragged every night repairing the city after the singularity crisis.

He counts 1-10 alright, yet he’s struggling to endure the pain and an ignored erection against denim by 15.  He wriggles for friction, so you hold him still with your free hand gripping his hip.  He pants through three more then yelps through the last two: quick and powerful.  You hold him in your arms, murmuring praises at how well he did.  Rob hears his cue and comes in to help your baby settle down for the night.

His eyes roll back into his head while he’s sucking Rob.  You chuckle affectionately as you pat your baby’s cheek, “How does Daddy’s milk taste, baby?”

Barry responds with a sprawling, incoherent moan from deep in his throat.  He’s still leaking even after coming from your hands, Rob’s hands, giving him blowjobs, and him giving you a blowjob.  His cock twitches when you gather his precum on your fingers and lavish your tongue with more of his sweet, succulent flavor.  You share it with Rob through an enthusiastic kiss, pushing Rob over the edge, your baby quickly following beneath him.  You direct them into pre-sleep snuggles after wiping them down.  Afterwards, you clean yourself off and join them.  You and Rob surround your beautiful baby.  You two are his Daddy and Papa no matter how well or how poorly he behaves.

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“Barry, please come home!” Rob was shivering in a tower of rubble at one in the morning.  If he was cold, his darling had to be freezing!

Bricks kept popping into place.  Barry couldn’t bring himself to look at Rob because if he did, he’d break down and nothing would get fixed tonight.  He didn’t see the buildings he’d already repaired, he just saw the ones that were still debris.  How could he come home to Rob and David each night when so many were without one because of him?  How could he take a day off from work when countless more were jobless because of him?  His loathing would remind him of all the families he’d devastated due to his selfish wish to bring his back together.  He was still motherless and now so were hundreds more.  These orphans cried out to him in his nightmares each night.  He worked nonstop because nobody can sleep with screams ringing in their ears.

“Barry, please!” Rob pleaded, stepping forward to embrace him.

Barry flashed him home then flashed away.  He halted when alarms blared to his left.  All the thieves saw was a golden blur before they were tied to a lamppost.  Barry was putting what they attempted to steal back in place, intending to dart away before any cops showed up.

Instead, silent shoes padded across the floor.  Familiar arms looped securely around him as David whispered firmly behind him, “Barry, come home.”

Barry phased out of David’s grasp.  David swooped in to catch him when a swirling feeling stirred in Barry’s head.

Barry woke up at home with Rob hovering worriedly beside him, cupping his cheeks.  Sobs erupted from Barry.  His actions had killed so many people, and he was just laying here instead of doing something to ease the sorrow of those left behind!

David found Rob hunched over a mug of tea when he came home from work.  A tearful look and a sniffle told David that nothing was working.  Their lover was broken and trying to fix himself all on his own.

David entered their bedroom where Barry was lying stiffly on the bed.  He was barely eating and sleeping even less.

“Barry,” David commanded attention. “Barry, sit up.”

Barry delayed until David quirked an eyebrow.  Barry perfunctorily did as David said, his legs hanging off the edge and his gaze on the floor.

“Look at me.”

Barry’s eyes were lavender-lidded and lifeless, his mirthful spirit drained by despair.  David sat next to him.

“You didn’t cause the singularity crisis.”

Barry turned away until David forced him to look at him again.

“Your mentor preyed on your heart to lead you where he wanted you to go,” David continued, looking straight into Barry’s eyes. “You are not to blame for the singularity crisis, nor for Eddie’s death, nor for Ronnie’s death.  You are to blame for your actions afterwards.” David changed out of his uniform and into comfier clothes. “Over my lap, pants down.”

Barry perked up.  He’d been punishing himself for weeks on end.  Relief washed over him at someone finally doing it for him.

David kneaded Barry’s ass as he explained what he was going to do and why, “I’m going to give you thirty spanks: ten for worrying Rob, ten for worrying me, and ten for not taking care of yourself.  I’ll check between each set of ten.  Count or say green if you can continue, say yellow if you need me to pause, and say red or your safeword if you need me to stop.”

Barry hoped he’d spank him fifty times; his accelerated healing could take it.  He firmly believed five-hundred spanks wouldn’t be enough.

Barry didn’t magically transform into his typical chipper self, yet he didn’t feel numb anymore as David soothed his ass and murmured praises and reminded him that the Speed Force chose a great and caring champion.

Rob cuddled him after Barry put on pajamas while David took over preparing dinner.  Barry finally accepted gentle touches, whimpering softly.

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The silk bending binding your angles ankles and wrists to the bed feel so soft, they’d blind you if the cloth warped wrapped around your eyes didn’t already have that covered.  The bed dips under the white weight of three men.  Your garters partners had been fucking and riding you for hours, drowning you in praise.  Your tears have long since soaked the blindfold.  You’re trembling like an earthquake against fluffy sheets, Snowy’s confident hands rubbing your chest, and Scarlet vibrant vibrating around your dick.

They’re so gentle, so loving, so adoring.  It hurts—it hurts so much—you’re torn between wanting more and knowing you’ll crack if you continue.  You don’t—you don’t want to be venerable vulnerable, but how are you supposed to be the muscle when you can’t even find the right word half the time!?

“You’re doing so well, kitten,” Snowy stage whispers.  Even their voices are gentle tonight.  They’re raccoon cocooning you in so much softness, you’ve melted into bush mush.  Even your favorite nickname is fuzzy and precious and warm—that you’re something in need of protecting.  Oh god, Snowy keeps going! His vocal kneading as relentless as his physics physical one. “You’re so wonderful and strong.”

Bullshit! You’re not strong anymore!!!  Did the Oculus give him brain damage!?!

“But you don’t need to be strong; we love you for you, not your strength,” says Scarlet. “Let us be strong for you now.”

“Let go, Mick.”

You finely finally clasp collapse into the mattress.  Time becomes a haze of sensations as you drift under their ministries ministrations.  Snowy frees and soothes your writs wrists while Scarlet does the same with your ankles.  They keen clean themselves and you up before they ravish lavish you in all the cuddles you never thought you wanted.  You’d forgotten that contact with another entity didn’t somatically automatically mean you’d get hurt.

“You were perfect today, kitten,” Snowy pecks your forehead after he unwinds the blindfold.  Your eyes adjunct adjust from black darkness to blue darkness: a supple subtle gradient.  Snowy and Scarlet won’t even let light hark harm you.  The last thing you peel feel before you sleep is their fingers massaging your scallops scalp.