#ARE YOU EVER FLOORED BY YOUR OWN WRITING!? | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

arbitrarykiwi · 3 days ago

Note

HI SO LIKE CAN YOU PLEASE WRITE A SMUT OF NAMGYU🙏🙏 like hes your deadbeat baby daddy boyfriend who just stays out and away doing drugs and drinking and comes home at ungodly hours while youre taking care of the baby and one night he notices the little weight you put on after giving birth and how it made your breasts swell and got curvier and shit, n like yall are arguing because he came home really late and youre sick of his shit and its kinda a hate/angry fuck kinda thing?? THANK YOU I LOBE UR FICS

Reckless Temptation

I’m so sorry this took so long!! This was such a fun ask! Admittedly, I’m not the best with topics that involve angst (I love when the reader gets a happy ending and I’m such a ween when it comes to angst endings) so i struggled a bit…BUT I tried my best!!!! It was such a fun challenge for me, I really hope you like it 😩🫶

Warnings: smut (18+) , toxic themes (nothin crazy, he just a bum babydaddy) , toxic relationship , relationship issues , drug / alcohol mention , oral (f receiving) , p in v sex , choking, dirty talk , hate fucking (relatively tame) , rough sex , nam-gyu is a warning himself in this one , creampie , breeding kink , read at your own risk

You don’t know why you stayed or why you continued to let him fuck you over.

Well… you did know…

Every time you looked at the infant in your arms, the one that has her dad’s smile and eyes, you literally couldn’t bring yourself to leave.

You swear sometimes when she laughs, it sounds like his laugh and you want to call him over and show him how precious the sight is- but he’s hardly ever there. He’s never in your shared apartment. He’s never there to help out with your child.

He’s always late coming home- sure you know the club promoting gig he’s got has weird hours but even on the days you know he’s off, he’s not retuning until 3am. He’s also always high, on what, you could never figure it out it changes week by week it seemed. Sometimes he’d smell like a walking ounce of weed when he’s stumbling through the door, other nights his pupils are just blown and he’s jittery.

Admittedly, neither of you planned to have a child. It was a surprise that had you floored. Nam-gyu was the last person you ever thought of who would be a parent, and when it happened, you were sure he was going to leave you when you told him the news. But he didn’t. That had to mean something.

You took care of your daughter, only you. He would show up whenever he pleased to your shared apartment- even though he hardly ever stayed the night he was still on the lease- to drop off his share of rent money (it was never enough), grocery money (maybe $10 if you were lucky), or the occasional thing you had to beg him to pick up the store. He would bitch and complain about how you always bothered him at the worst times, how he has to do everything for you; That’s hardly the case, but he likes to tell you it is.

To say the least, he was garbage, a deadbeat, no good for you. But, there was some days when you would come out of the shower and see him looking over the crib cooing at your daughter- playing with her with a goofy smile on his face. Those moments make all the bad times fade to the background.

Only to be pulled back to the foreground when he stands quickly, stepping away from the crib. He grabs his jacket, turns around, and walks out the bedroom door- shoulder brushing against yours as he pushes past you- muttering a “don’t wait up tonight”.

You know the drill you never do.

Tonight was no different, you had stayed up late dealing with the baby. She was about 4 months at this point so you got into a decent routine even if it did nothing for your sleep schedule. You say sprawled out on the couch, legs up on the cushion and your baby in your arms. Your shirt was up over your shoulder, your baby drinking away happily at the milk that your breast gave. You couldn’t help the way your head nodded every so often as your eyes fought to stay open. At least she wasn’t crying, you thought. You looked down at her with a soft smile, fingers brushing over her cheek gently.

The sound of a car pulling into your driveway makes your head snap up. You rubbed your tired eyes with one hand, groaning, you knew that sound and that meant he was home. Looking to the clock on the TV stand, it blares a vibrant red hue that makes your eyes strain to see the time. 2:57 am.

You groan to yourself, preparing for the drugged out man that was about to stumble through the door. And when he does he’s wearing the usual pissed off scowl he has- like coming home to you and your child was the bane of his existence. You’ve had enough.

He was going to open his mouth to spew some bullshit excuse for being home late, one he’s used thousands of times before, but you stop him by raising your hand. You’re clenching your jaw, eyes wide and threatening as you hiss out a low “Don’t even fucking start.” You adjust the infant in your arms who was starting to slow down on breastfeeding and begin to grow tired.

Nam-gyu scoffs, his scowl deepening, his mouth flops open once again to speak. You cut him off once more- sitting up off the couch and returning his glare with one of your own. “I said…” You seethed through clenched teeth, “Don’t fucking start.” You growl lowly, taking a step towards him, infant still latched onto one of your breasts. “She’s about to fall asleep. I will put her to bed. And then, only fucking then, can you grace me with whatever lousy excuse you have tonight..”

Your tone is one that throws him off, sure he knew he was not a great boyfriend or father, you had every right to be pissed. Normally, you weren’t this confrontational- normally you would sit there sulking when he would come in the door, an adorable pout on your face that he knew wasn’t a cute expression but one of genuine upset and disappointment. He would brush you off telling you he was hungry and wanted you to cook him something.

You finish getting off the couch, it’s an awkward movement as you’re trying not to jostle the baby that had fallen asleep in your arms. Nam-gyu watches, the room is spinning and he’s trying to act like he’s sober because he doesn’t want to get into that argument again tonight- he is far too blitzed to have a coherent argument where he can manipulate it in his favor.

He watches intently, his eyes tracing over your body. You were wearing a large t-shirt and some shorts, nothing new there….but you were fuller. He felt his mouth go dry as you turn and walk down the hallway to the nursery. Your hips were wider and he swore your ass was bigger. The soft, plush flesh of your hips dug into the waistband of the shorts you wore, some of the flesh above the waist band spilling over the slightest bit- perfect to dig his hands into.

You turn into the room, disappearing, presumably putting the baby down in the crib. When you’re no longer in his sight, he lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. It’s been a long while since you two had been intimate, the already rough relationship was not helped by a newborn, and he was pent up. As shitty as he was, not helping with the baby, not being home, partying and doing drugs- he never cheated. He can’t remember the last time you two had fucked, probably when he got you pregnant, but fuck- seeing your curves, how much fuller you were- he realized how much he missed it. How much he missed fucking you.

You return out the room you put your daughter in, thankful she was a decent sleeper because she was sleeping perfectly in the nursery as soon as you placed her down. He catches you fixing your shirt, getting a glimpse of your tits before the fabric falls back over the swollen flesh. You return back in front of him, standing in the entryway where he was still frozen. “It is two…no, three in the fucking morning.” You hiss out in a hushed voice.

“I got caught up at work.” He scoffs trying to walk past you and head to your shared bedroom. “Bullshit!” You laugh sardonically, “You were out partying with Thanos again weren’t you??” You accuse, taking a step closer to him.

You were partially right, he was out partying- but he was also working. With Thanos rap career taking off and Thanos needing VIP privileges at Club Pentagon, if he was there he was getting paid extra. Sure he did more than his fair share of drugs and came home plastered hours after he stopped working and getting paid- but he was still making money! “I was with Thanos but I wasn’t partying. I get paid double when he’s booked.” Nam-gyu growls lowly, lying through his teeth.

“Fucking hell!” You catch yourself raising your voice and quickly lower it to not wake your baby. “..do you think I’m fucking stupid?!” You’re seething out in a tone laced with venom. “You were fumbling with the damn keys, your words are slurred and your fucking pupils are blown!!” You gawk, he really had the audacity to try you?!

He seemed taken aback, surprised you could even see his eyes and how his pupils were dilated heavily in the low light of the living room. He had to remind himself, you were once like him, partying and down for whatever- that’s how you two met, he did coke off your thighs- you could tell the signs a mile away.

He envied you for that, quitting all the drugs you once did with him a year or so before you even got pregnant. You were stronger than him in that sense, had more willpower than him. You never got sucked back into the scene, even when your child was born you kept stead fast in your ways and weren’t tempted. It was like you thought you were better than him, and you were, but that just pissed him off more.

“God forbid I try and have some fun.” He says as he glares down at you. You go to speak, fuming at this point, “That’s not what-“ you almost want to scream, your words cut off when you see him roll his eyes, “roll your fucking eyes at me again and I will rip them out of your fucking skull.”

Your voice drops, you’re speaking through your teeth and getting up in his face. It would be threatening, he knows you would be the one to do it- but all he can think about is how thick your thighs look against the shorts you wore. He remembers those shorts, they used to fit looser, but now they dig into the plush flesh so deliciously has his mind is going blank. But the way you’re in his face- scolding him like some child, finger waving inches from his nose- is pissing him the fuck off.

His hand darts up in a quick motion that you have no way of intercepting. His hand wraps around your wrist, ringed fingers digging into your skin. “All you do is fucking run your mouth.” Nam-Gyu growls, he knows you have every right to yell at him, to be pissed, but he wouldn’t tell you that. Your eyebrows furrow, even more than they already were. Jaw clenched and chest heaving, you’re staring up at him oh so defiantly even if he was much larger than you.

“And all you know how to do is be a fucking deadbeat.” You counter, getting closer to his face by standing on your tippy toes. “You get to go out and party, probably rail some whores, while I have to stay here with your child and take care of her by myself.” You add. It’s an abrupt shift, he becomes even angrier, pulling you forward into him by your wrist he still holds.

To say he’s enraged would put it lightly- was he a deadbeat? Yes. But, he still tries to give you what he can, club pentagon only paid so much and he had a drug habit he didn’t care to address. Did he stay out and party and leave you at home to take care of the baby? Absolutely, he can’t argue with you on that one. But he never cheated. As fucked up as he was, as shitty as a father and boyfriend he was- one thing he would never do was cheat on you. To him that’s a type of low he always told himself he would never reach.

You fall into him, a gasp coming out of your lips when you meet his chest. When he feels your tits press against him, the enlarged flesh squishing against him- you watch as his eyes flutter shut, he bites his lip and breathes out a large breath, like he’s trying to ground himself.

He is.

He drops your wrist from his grip, hands coming to rest on your hips in a vice like grasp, caging you into him. “Watch your fucking mouth.” He seethes, eyes fluttering back open to glare down at you. “Say whatever the fuck else you want…I have never cheated.” He growls lowly, fingers tightening even harder around your plush hips. He wanted to continue to be mad at you, but the way his finger sunk into your flesh made the blood rush to his cock.

“You’re out late all the time and I can’t even remember the last time you touched me…” You say lowly, all your senses focus on the hold he has on your hips. His hands are cold, the rings on his fingers dig into the flesh and bite at your skin. He’s holding you in place like he’s sure you’re going to run away. “So excuse me for thinking you’re cheating. You also dont exactly hang around the best crowd.” You reason even further, now trying to fight against him and pull away.

He grimaces, he doesn’t even know how it’s possible that you manage to piss him off even further than normal. “You have my location. I’m always at work.” He scoffs dismissively. He wasn’t wrong but when he’s at work, he’s hardly working- he’s taking drugs, drinking, and doing god knows what else- you’ve seen the pictures he’s in the background posted on Thanos timeline.

“That’s not what I mean and you know it.” You seethe, trying to yank your hand out of his grasp yet again. It’s a futile attempt. “Okay! So you’re at work!? Where’s the fucking rent, huh?!” You say, voice raising, he’s a day late. He looks at you like you’re crazy and reaches into his back pocket and tosses a wad of cash over onto the coffee table- all while keeping you trapped in his grip. “Still late-“ your works are instantly cut off, “Wrong.” He mocks, reaching back into his pants pocket to pull out his phone and show you the date on his phone.

He was right. But it wasn’t your fault, your days had mixed together because you get no sleep with the baby and your child’s father comes home at 3am every day! God forbid you mix up your days. He also was no stranger to paying you late. You normally wouldn’t care about the mix up, maybe even own up to it- but today it just adds validity to his manipulative argument. “You’re still home at 3 in the fucking morning, you reek of booze and your pupils are blown!” You growl, not even caring that the day was wrong. You simply don’t care anymore. “And you’re doing all of this while I’m home taking care of our child!”

You’re leaning into him, getting up in his face with knitted eyebrows and barred teeth. He’s far too fucked up to deal with this, with you- because he knows you’re right. He never wants to face his issues, he never has wanted to, and every day you attempt to make him confront how shitty he was little by little, most of the times without even knowing it. You had always been too good for him, he knew that. He was lucky that you stayed and gave him a thousand chances instead of walking out on him. Maybe tomorrow he would address it and make a change for once in his life. But, right now, his head is pounding, the room is spinning and your hissing growl of a tone is only making his headache worsen.

His grip on your hips tightens, and he lowers his face so very closer to yours. His eyes are dark, angry, but there’s an odd glint of hunger in them that you haven’t seen in ages, it makes your body heat up in ways that due to not having felt it in so long, if now feels foreign. “You seriously don’t know when to stop fucking talking.” He growls lowly, like an animal about to feast on its caught prey. When he speaks his lips nearly brush against yours, the feather light contact tickles and sends electricity straight to your lower stomach. His voice has a hiss to it, like a viper, it should scare you but it doesn’t; it makes you hotter.

You two stand like that for a moment, the only sound you could hear was the sounds of your breath mixing with his. Every time the both of you heaved an angry breath, the hot air would mix between the two of you. Neither of you broke the other’s gaze, trying to win the silent stare off that started.

Nam-gyu breaks first, his eyes dropping to your chest, watching the rise and fall of your enlarged breasts from under the shirt- his resolve is out the window. He’s on your lips in an instant. You’re letting out a muffled sound of protest into his mouth, fighting against him and trying to pull away. But with the grip he still has on your wrist and the frantic movement of his lips keeps you still. You find yourself melting into it- you missed his kisses. Missed him.

As much as you want to pull back and continue to fight with him-you can’t. You relax into him, lips moving with his- almost rivaling his eagerness. When he feels you give in, his hands drop to your waist, nails biting into your plush flesh over the fabric of your shirt. You’re panting helplessly into his mouth, so desperate for the attention you’ve been deprived of for months. He’s pushing you backwards, guiding you further into the living room.

In a mess of lips and spit, you’re falling back first onto the couch and he’s following you, coming to straddle your thighs- hovering over you. His hands are back on you in an instant, running up your thighs and squeezing. His lips are back on yours, it’s a messy kiss that reminds you of how you two were when you first met. It’s sloppy, full of spit, and oh so Devine. You’re arching up into his touch, his cold hands running up your sides and then back down to your shorts. He wastes no time in gripping the waistband and tugging the fabric down your hips.

He’s pulling your shorts off you hastily and you help kick them off, whining into the kiss. Your lips don’t part once, he’s sucking your tongue into his mouth expertly, he knows exactly what to do to get your mind to go blank. He’s rough, hands gripping and kneading at your flesh like he can’t get enough.

He pulls away from the kiss to lift your shirt over your head. He wastes no time in pulling the fabric over your head and tossing it to an unknown corner of the living room. When the cool air hits your bare skin you’re overtly aware of your bare form. You two haven’t been intimate since you got pregnant. Your body has changed in ways that admittedly you weren’t fond of. A wave of self conscious that rolls through you when you see Nam-Gyu above you, eyes flitting down your naked from like he’s trying to memorize you.

It makes you want to cover yourself- so you do. Your arms fall over yourself to cover your breasts and stomach, shielding yourself from his gaze. His brows furrow and a growl resounds from his throat. You cant even fight him when he grabs your wrists and pulls your arms away from your body, pinning them to the couch. “Don’t you dare fucking hide from me.” His voice is low, almost threatening, and does nothing to help the wetness that grows between your legs.

“Yeah…that’s it, ma.” He rasps, nodding his head slowly, eyes trained on your body. His hands let go of your wrists, you know better than to move your arms back over your body- he would get up and leave you hot and bothered if you disobeyed- he lets out an accepting hum when you keep your arms by your sides.

“Mmm…beautiful fuckin tits…” he coos in a low, gravely tone, his hands reaching up to grasp at the doughy mounds of flesh. He’s kneading your breasts, you can feel the way his cock is straining against his pants, twitching and growing against your thigh with each movement of his hands. “So swollen now, huh?” He says as he leans down, his mouth latching onto one of your nipples.

You’re so sensitive, it’s almost like an electric jolt that runs up your spine. He hums into your skin when he feels your body shake against him. The breast that isn’t being attacked by his mouth is being kneaded in his hand. He’s pinching your nipple, rolling it between his fingers to bring the bud to a stiff peak. You’re helpless underneath him and his mouth is relentless. He can’t get enough of your enlarged tits, he’s switching his mouth to the breast that once was in his hand- wanting to give the same amount of attention to both of the picturesque tits before him.

He pulls off your nipple with an obscene ‘pop’, the sound only adding to the overwhelming feeling you’re experiencing. All this attention after going months without it, it felt surreal. You knew you should push him off and scold him, kick him out, but it feels so good- you just can’t bring yourself to push him away- it feels too fucking good.

“Mmm,” he hums against your skin, you can feel him begin to grind the forming erection in his pants into your leg as he continues his relentless onslaught of bites and kisses, leaving blue and purple patches that blossom across your skin in his wake. His hands are moving across your body, groping at the doughy flesh like a cat kneading a fluffy pillow. “Gotten so curvy, pretty thing….” He mumbles, biting down particularly hard right under your breast. “Such a good mama…” his lips tickle your skin when he speaks.

You can hear how his words are slurred, his hands are jittery, he’s definitely on something and you know you should stop this and not let him swoon you like every other time he’s stumbled in the door fucked up late at night. He’s doing this to soothe your anger, to get you off his case. At least that’s what you thought.

That wasn’t his motive, although that reasoning could apply- he was really doing it to get your guard to lower. You accused him of cheating, scolded him like a child in his own home, you were gonna feel his anger. And he was strategic, manipulative even, you should be aware of it you’ve been with him long enough…but for some reason you’re not. He looks down at you and he sees you softened, you’re panting under him, pupils dilated like his now, hands gripping the fabric of his shirt like you’re trying to ground yourself.

He makes an insanely quick, rough, combination of movements- shifting one of his legs between your legs, pressing up into your cunt, and one of his hands darts down to grip your neck right under your chin, awkwardly forcing your face upwards to meet his gaze more directly. “….but you don’t know when to shut the fuck up.” He has a sadistic, mocking grin twisted across his lips.

You let out a pathetic, surprised squeak that falls into a moan. The rough fabric of his pants pressing into your throbbing pussy has your eyes crossing and fluttering shut. You reach a hand up to grip at his wrist, opening your eyes to glare up at him with some measly attempt of a scowl, trying not to let him win so easily, trying to not give him the satisfaction of your docility.

“Yeahhh…” he mocks, a wide grin on his face, his hand that grips your neck and jaw wiggles your head around to further his mocking, like he’s rubbing something in, “keep that smartass scowl on your face. So fuckin’ sexy when you’re angry.” He hisses, his free hand comes down and roughly slaps your breast, his eyes watch the flesh recoil and ripple under the impact, and when you arch into the touch and let out a pretty whimper his hand is groping at the plump flesh harshly. Of course your defiant scowl has faltered.

He lets out a low laugh and trails his hand down your stomach, his grip on your neck tightening ever so slightly, “see…can’t even keep it up…ya ain’t mad…” he coos in an annoying, sardonic tone. His hand releases your breast and runs down your stomach, nails dragging into your skin just the slightest bit. His hand grips at the flesh of your stomach- like he’s admiring it, basking in the feeling of your softness in his hand. “No~ you’re not mad…” he continues, hand running over your pubic bone, thumb catching the top of your pussy, just above your clit- pulling up the slightest bit.

His view of your cunt is shrouded by your thighs clenching around his leg that is between them. You’re heaving against his touch squirming your hips into his hand, silently begging for more. “Not mad at all…just needy. Need me to play with your pussy, hm?” He says in a low growl, his thumb inching the slightest bit closer to your clit- still not where you needed it most. You’re ashamed of the little resolve you have left, you’re still trying to twist your face into an angry scowl while writhing under his hand. It’s like your hips have a mind of their own, desperately rolling into his touch even though the rest of your body is telling you to stop this and have some resilience to his ways….but you simply can’t stop.

“You’re acting all mad like ya hate me…...” He says, leaning down closer to you, his hand that was still pinning you to the couch by your neck squeezing more. He shifts his knee, pressing it deeper into your cunt. You let out a wanton sigh in response, your eyes screwing shut as your hips grind mindlessly into his leg. His other hand moves off your pubic bone and runs up your leg. When he gets to your knee he’s shoving your legs apart and parting your other leg open with his knee that was grinding up into your cunt.

It’s such a fast motion that you have no option to fight him. Your glistening pussy is now on full display for him to see. It’s shameful, your folds stick together with your own syrupy arousal, thick streams of wetness seep out of your entrance and begin to drip on the leather couch under you. Nam-gyu’s eyes are captivated by your cunt, he’s biting his lip and breathing heavy like a lion about to eat a bountiful feast of meat- animalistic, primal. “Ohoo~” he says with a mocking tilt of his head, “yeah, you can act mad all you want…but, she’s not mad at me.” He says, his fingers sliding inwards and down your spread leg, pulling your folds to the side to see you fully.

“Ohhhhh….” He drawls out, licking his lips at the sight. His hand on your neck loosens its grip and trails down your body to mirror his other hand, spreading you completely. You’re on full display, there’s no hiding the effect he had on you, there’s no denying that your anger has long since been overrun by lust and need, and he’s staring so hard- it’s so embarrassing. He can see how your cunt clenches around nothing, quivering as if to further show your bashfulness. “Already fucking soaked, what a slut. Barely even have to touch you and your needy pussy’s already crying f’me.”

Your eyebrows turn upwards, you’re biting your lip hard enough to draw blood, trying to keep your noises suppressed. With your lips pulled apart by his thumbs, your puffy clit is on full display. Nam-gyu is cursing to himself, pulling away one hand to hastily undo the button of his pants and unzip the zipper. He’s pushing his boxers and his pants down his thigh to free his aching cock from its confines. He’s thick, veiny, and has a mean upward curve that no matter how hard you try, you can never forget how good it makes your pussy feel.

He pumps his dick a few times, groaning at the sensation. He stops to return his hand back to your inner thigh, thumb brushing up and down in quick motions over your clit. Your hips are immediately canting upwards off the couch, a gasp is pulled from your throat and your nails bite into the couch- threatening to tear the fabric. He would normally bask in that reaction, relish in it, thumb your clit over and over until you’re singing like a song bird for him. But, that was normally; it wasn’t now.

“You better keep your hips still, brat. This isn’t a reward for you.” He barks, looking up at you with dark, narrowed eyes. “I’m jus’ takin whats mine, ‘s not for you.” He scolds, you know he’s still set on punishing you. And for some reason, you let him. You’re looking down at him desperately and panting, eyebrows furrowed together in concentration as you try so hard to keep your hips still so you can get the attention you so desperately need. It’s a downright sinful, completely and utterly desperate expression, your flushed cheeks just the most perfect accessory.

His scowl turns into a wicked grin when he sees the last bit of resilience you have crumble completely and you turn into a pathetic heap on the couch. “Mhmm…” he nods slowly, “S’ what I thought. Just a lil needy thing ain’t ya?” You whine at his words. He’s speaking in a mean, sardonic tone that makes your mine spin. You don’t even think about it, but you find yourself nodding, letting out a muffled ‘mhm’ in hopes of getting on his good side.

He seems to accept your meek response because he’s settling down onto the couch, lowering his face until it’s level with your cunt. You’re gripping the couch and biting your lip until it’s bleeding, trying to keep your hips still. His breath fans over your folds causing a soft mewl to fall from your lips. Your head falls back onto the armrest of the couch as he licks a wide strip up the entirety of your cunt.

He’s groaning into your pussy when he gets his first taste of you. It’s been too long since he’s been buried tongue deep in your sweet cunt, he doesn’t know how he’s gone without it for so long. He doesn’t ease you into it, he doesn’t slowly coax soft whines from your throat- no, he’s delving in and eating you like a man starved. His tongue is vicious, licking through your folds, teasing your entrance, only to trace back up and twirl in mind-numbing figure eights against your clit.

“O-oh my god…” you breathlessly moan, thighs closing around his head. His eyes roll back and flutter closed when he feels the soft, thick flesh of your thighs tighten against his head. He wraps his arms around your thighs, dragging you up and down his flat tongue, slurping down every drop of arousal that seeps from your pussy. His lips wrap around your clit, sucking it into his mouth. The sensation makes you jump and moan out a broken call of his name, your hips grinding down on his tongue in a pathetic attempt to seek even more pleasure.

When he feels your hips cant upwards, chasing his tongue he’s growling into your pussy. Hands splaying across your lower stomach to push your hips down- a warning. “Keep fuckin’ still.” He hisses, his words vibrating against your clit. Nam-gyu makes a show of eating your cunt. He’s messy, making obscene slurping sounds as he coaxes more and more sticky arousal from your spasming walls. This wasn’t for you, this was for him. He was going to enjoy the heavenly flavor of your cunt his way. You want to grind against his tongue, become impossibly closer to him and sink his tongue deep within your walls- you know if you do, you’ll be going against his orders. He’s deliberately making this a challenge for you. He wants you to disobey him. Wants you to give him even more of a reason to fuck you into complete submission.

When you feel his tongue begin to prod its way into your entrance, you’re keening and bringing a hand up to cover your mouth. You muffle your wrecked moans as he tongue fucks you. It’s such a devine feeling for him, your cunt clenching around his tongue, the flavor of you covering his tastebuds, thick thighs clenching around his head, pussy wetting his chin, and nose breathing in your scent as he grinds it into your clit. All of it reminds him of why even after all the horrible shit he’s put you through, he’s never cheated and he always returns home to you. He wants to savor it, draw it out. Maybe you’ve learned your lesson and he can be nice- give you both what you want.

But he can’t, because you’re sobbing out muffled pleas from behind the hand that covers your mouth and jerking your hips up, swiveling them down on his tongue to try and drive him even deeper into your walls. You don’t even mean to do it but when you realize you were going against his orders it’s too late.

His dark eyes peer up at you through thick lashes, you can feel the sadistic grin that twists across his lips against your sopping folds, you know you fucked up. You pull your hand away from your mouth, “N-no, no, ‘m s-sorry. Can’t help it! Y-you’re not making it easy!” You’re pleading with him as he’s pulling away from your cunt. “P-please! I n-need it.” You try to beg more, trying to get back on his good side and get his tongue back against your clit but he doesn’t accept your offer

Nam-Gyu sits back up on his knees, his hands moving up to your waist and squeezing, “I gave you more than enough chances…” he coos, eerily sweet, “was eating your sweet cunt good, wasn’t I?” He scoffs with a raise of his eyebrow. You nod frantically, your hands reaching down to cover his, running up his arms, trying to sweeten him up, “Mhm! S-so good! ‘S why I couldn’t keep still!” You praise, batting your eyelashes up at him.

You think for a split second that you managed to win him back over, a relief washes over you when you think you’re going to be granted the salvation of his tongue on your throbbing pussy once again. But his grin widens and his hand slide down, grasping at your hips with a primal grip.

“Well, since you want to act like a bitch in heat…” he says, the low timbre of his voice sends shivers violently jolting through your whole body. You’re suddenly picked up off the couch by your hips and flipped over. You inwardly scold yourself at how you almost instantly fall into a position on all fours with your back deeply arched. You hear him scoff at your eagerness, “…then you’re gonna be fucked like a bitch in heat.”

When his sentence finishes you can feel him drag the bulbous tip of his cock between your folds, mixing your arousal and his pre-cum into a stick mess that coats your pussy. You let out a shaky breath, you can feel your heartbeat in your throat. Pushing your hips back, you whine, trying to sink him into your heat. But you weren’t the one in charge here…he was.

He was going to make sure you felt every, single inch of his cock sink into your tight cunt. And he was going to savor you desperately trying to fuck yourself back onto his cock like you have no other thought on your mind other than to be fucked.

“Already makin’ such a mess on my cock. You were so mouthy earlier…” he begins to slowly sink into your cunt only to pull all the way back, “…so bold, all up in my face…” he pushes back in to the tight ring of your pussy ever so slightly, “…so feisty.” And with that, his cockhead finally slips into your cunt. It makes a sickening, wet sucking sound as your pussy greedily sucks him in. “Now look at you.”

A moan is ripped from your throat, the extensive period of time that you have gone without fucked and the devilishly slow entrance of just his tip into your sopping walls already has your toes curling. A moan is ripped from your lips as you drop your chest fully onto the couch, your back arched sinfully deep for him, pressing him deeper into you.

“‘S just the tip and you’re already creamin’ around me like a slut…” He muses, leaning forward a bit to grab both of your arms and cross them behind your back. Both your wrists are restrained by one of his hands. You gasp as your pulled upwards, your face pulled off the leather of the couch. “Heh…. I’m gonna break ya sweetheart…”

His hips become flush with yours in a split second, his cock is balls deep within your cunt. The sudden intrusion has you letting out a silent sob. Instantly, you’re so very full. Nam-gyu is stretching you around him, molding your pussy to the shape of him, removing the thought of leaving him from your mind completely. How could you when he filled you up oh so perfectly.

He stays balls deep inside you for a moment, bringing his hips to a slow grind. “Yeahhh….that’s it… ya feel how deep I am?” He asks, his voice rough and breathy, “Only I can give this pussy what she needs…” he growls, pulling his cock all the way out and then immediately slamming right back in. You’re crying out, eyes crossing and your vision goes hazy. “I’m the only one who can cum in your greedy cunt….” He says, repeating the same motion. When he’s back to being balls deep inside you, he’s leaving over your back and bringing his lips ring next to your ear, “you carried my child.”

He’s emphasizing the word “my” by rolling his hips against your ass, grinding the tip of his cock against your cervix. You hated it, but he was right, the moment you carried and gave birth to his child- you were his. From the moment you two met- you were his.

You’re moaning helplessly, gasping an incoherent mix of his name and curses, you’re becoming boneless in his grasp. It feels so fucking good. He gives you no time to adjust before he’s sitting back up and pumping his cock in and out of your tight cunt. The thrusts are vicious, mean even, his thick girth is stretching you impossibly wide and your pussy welcomes him openly, greedily sucking him in.

“Mhm…there you go…she missed me didn’t she?” Nam-gyu rasps, using his grip on your wrists to drag you back to meet every single one of his hard thrusts. His eyes are focused downwards, he’s entranced by the ripple of your ass everytime it comes back to meet his hips. You’re much thicker, curvier, softer than before. Pregnancy had changed your body in ways that sparked a primal hunger inside of him.

You helplessly sob out, the overwhelming pleasure completely taking over your body. Your hips are pushing back to meet his thrusts, trying to sink his cock impossibly deeper into your tight heat. He laughs from above you, realizing your desperation for more. “Greedy fuckin’ thing…” he growls, it’s a dark, gravely tone that sends goosebumps down your arms, “what, ‘s not enough for you?” He chides like you’re giving him a challenge, you can hear the sadistic grin that is spread across his lips.

You’re gasping, shaking your head frantically “n-no ‘s e-enough! ‘S so good!” You try to plead with him by praising his efforts, fearing the impending overstimulation that is about to be thrown on you. He’s drawing his hips back until just the tip of his cock is inside you, he’s humming like he’s thinking to himself. “Hmm…” he lets out, just trusting his cockhead inside your sopping pussy, “you can still talk…so I don’t think it’s enough.” You can hear the mocking pout in his voice, teasing you further.

Nam-gyu lets go of your wrists he was holding behind your back, hands finding their spot on your hips, squeezing the doughy flush in his fists. He’s pile driving his hips flush against your ass in one thrust, sinking balls deep into your gushing cunt. Instantly, he’s stretching you deliciously, pushing into your spasming walls until the tip of his cock is flush against your cervix. A wrecked sob rips through your throat and you’re falling forward onto the leather couch.

He leaves you no time to gather yourself, his hips draw back until just the tip is inside you and then thrusting balls deep inside your warm cunt in rapid, devious strokes. As much as you wish it wasn’t true, he knows your body like the back of his own hand, he knows every little thing that makes you tick, he knows just how to make you cream around his cock- and he wants to make you a mess. He’s driving his thrust upwards at a mean angle, making sure every thrust is hitting that sweet spot deep inside you. All you can do is moan out pathetic babbles of his name and praises.

“Yeahhhh, that’s it…” he coos mockingly, his hips slamming into you at a brutal pace, “‘s all you needed huh? A good fucking to calm you down.” His tone is hushed, his hands are leaving a bruising grip on your hips. He can’t keep his eyes off the way your ass jiggles with every thrust, the way his cock disappears between the soft flesh and reappears covered in your syrupy arousal.

Admittedly, he was right, you did need this. It had been months since you two fucked and the way his cock was stretching you out, hammering against the deepest spot within you, had your body so overwhelmed. Your hand is clasped helplessly over your mouth, muffling the moans that spill from your lips. His grip on the globes of your ass is nearly painful, using it as leverage to pull you back onto him.

“Missed this fucking pussy..” he growls from behind you, “reminds me of why I got you fucking pregnant…” he rambles on, “gripping me so tight, s’impossible to pull out.”

His words make your eyes roll into the back of your head. Every thrust of his hips bullies his cock up against your cervix in a way that has you gasping for air. You’re sobbing incoherently against your hand, every drag of his thick cock reminded you of how you even got to this point in the relationship- the dick was insanely good.

He releases one of your hips to slap your ass, it’s a resounding smack that stings and has the flesh recoiling under the contact, “fucking hell….” He muses, one of his hands coming up and brushing his hair back out of his face, his eyes never straying from the view of your ass slamming against his hips. “Fuck yourself back against me..c’mon, wanna see it.” He rasps out.

He slows his thrusts, nearly stopping completely. Chasing a high you haven’t felt in ages, your body complies. You immediately begin thrusting back, impaling yourself on his thick cock. It’s a delicious, devine stretch that has you biting the palm of your hand. You repeat the motion, speeding up with every wet slap of your hips against his. “Good fuckin’ girl.” Nam-Gyu is praising.

You can feel yourself getting closer to the delicious release of your orgasm, it’s quick, embarrassingly so, but you’re stretched so full and every time you sink him balls deep into your tight heat- a mind numbing wave of pleasure is sent up your spine. It’s an addictive feeling that you keep chasing desperately without even realizing it. You’re speeding up the backwards thrust of your hips, every time you meet his thighs with your ass a wet ‘clap’ resounds through the room.

“O-h fuck, that’s it… j-just like that. D-don’t you dare fucking stop.” Nam-gyu hisses out, a hand coming to thread itself in your hair and form a fist. He cranks your head back, a silent scream falls from your lips as you keep up the motion of your hips, sinking your cunt down onto him. You couldn’t stop even if you wanted to. “Look at that fucking ass…” He muses, praising the body you were worried he didn’t even like.

He’s leaning forward a bit, his head hooking over your shoulder so his lips were right by your ear. His new position causes the movement of your hips to still, he picks up the slack by rolling his hips into a slow grind. “Gonna cum so f-fucking deep in your cunt.” He growls into your ear. You can hear that he has his teeth clenched, he’s speaking through his teeth like you and your pussy would be the death of him. “O-ohhhhhh, you like that… can feel you squeezing me..y-you want me to cum inside?” He pants, the hand in your hair turns your head to the side so he can leave harsh bites along the column of your neck as he grinds his cock impossibly deeper into you.

“C’mon answer me.. wan’ me to cum in you? Get you pregnant again…” He mocks, “…keep ya like this.” He growls lowly, his hand releasing your hair to grip at the fat of your hips and lower stomach, he’s even punctuating his words with a devious roll of his hips that grinds his cock into your g-spot. A wanton whine falls from your lips. Your back arches even more, deepening into a sinful curve that has Nam-Gyu spinning.

You should say no, call him some name and tell him to go fuck himself. “Nnghh… f-fuck y-yes!” You cry out in a hushed plea, you can’t help it. You need it. trying to thrust back onto his cock. You can feel how wet you were, making a mess of the backs of your thighs and the couch below you. “I-inside please!” You sob, eyebrows knitted together in a pleasured expression. You need so badly to once again experience the feeling of his thick cum filling you.

With both hands holding your hips he’s drawing your body back violently, impaling you on his girth. Every thrust is echoed by a lewd, sticky, ‘schlick’ sound that only proves how much of an influence he has on you. His cock has a mean curve that reaches so deep within you it has you seeing stars. The warmth of your orgasm beginning to blossom over your body and tingle deep within your cunt.

Every time he draws back his hips he’s dragging his cock out of your sopping walls until just the tip rests in your fluttering entrance then driving his hips forward to sink balls deep into you. You know you’re about to cum, embarrassingly fast. Moan after moan falls from your lips as your eyes cross and roll back in pure bliss. “T-that’s it, make a mess on my cock f’me.” Nam-gyu growls through clenched teeth, one hand reaching around to rub quick circles on your clit. The feather light touches that glide across your throbbing bundle of nerves is enough to send you over the edge.

“Ohmygodholyfuck.” You babble out incoherently, fingers digging into the fabric of the couch as you fall head first into a violent orgasm. Your pussy flutters around his cock, squeezing him like a vice. “Mhmm…f-fuck yeah that’s it…” He hisses, his thrusts becoming sloppy, his other hand on your hips drops under you to grab at your swollen tits in frantic motions, the feeling of the doughy flesh in his hands jiggling with each of his thrusts is all it takes to drive him over the edge.

He’s working you through your orgasm with skilled fingers, your body shaking against his as he cums deep inside your cunt. You can feel it, it’s so much. It fills you even more than his cock already did, coating your gummy walls in its milky white color.

He thrusts lazily a few more times, making sure he properly fucks his cum into your spasming cunt. Your body is shaking and jolting violently against the couch, you can hear the obscene, wet, ‘plap’ of the mixture of your cum and his falling out of your cunt and hitting the sofa below you. The room is filled with alternating heavy breaths and the smell of sex. He slides his hands up and down your sides before resting back on your hips and slowly grinding his cock into you. He can barely bring himself to pull out, the warmth of your cunt is literally sucking him in. He can hear your overstimulated whines of protest with each slow roll of his hips and it drives him wild.

Eventually, he too gets overstimulated- your cunt is simply too good, his personal drug he’s addicted to, his own vice (but he’s never tell you that)- he’s pulling out his softening cock with a hiss, sitting back on his heels to watch his cum slowly seep out of your pussy that still is gaped with the shape of his cock. He groans, eyes rolling back into his skull as he tries to imprint the visual in his brain.

He collapses back onto the couch, one hand on your hip to make you follow suit, gently landing back first on his chest. You try to catch your breath, limply turning yourself over to fall back onto him. When you tuck yourself into his side his arm drapes over your waist. He places a kiss on the top of your head that’s so quick and gentle that you almost can’t feel it. You nuzzle his head onto his chest, you can hear the rapid thrum of his heartbeat. You can’t form words. All you can do is let out a shaky sigh. It’s quiet in the room, only sound you can hear is your heaving breaths that eventually fall into sync with each other.

“You have got to change.” You say, the edge in your voice just emphasizes that you’re hanging on by the thinnest thread possible. You want this to work out- you do- you love him and you adore your child. You want to be a regular family.

“I know.” He says, his voice breathless. His arm tightens around the curve of your waist, pulling you into him like you might suddenly get up and run away-because you might- he can tell with your voice it’s different this time, you’re serious. And he wants to change, he does…he just doesn’t know if he has it in him.

I hope you guys enjoyed this one 😙😙😙 I really appreciate all of y’all’s support it means so much!! I’m working through the requests I have and whipping up some noice fics! Yall have fantastic minds 😩 all the requests are so scrumptious

Im trying to gather all my marbles after being sick so the queue I had goin is a little wonky. im working through it and will update yall on said queue of requests next post! Love yew guys !! - kiwi

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mev-fizzah-writes · 3 days ago

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𝐒𝐮𝐫𝐯𝐢𝐯𝐨𝐫𝐬 𝐆𝐮𝐢𝐥𝐭

A/N: This was cross-posted on AO3, and is just the backstory. Promise there will definitely be more writing soon, i've been really busy and my life is just filled with endless tasks. This was also written a while back so it..kinda sucks!! TW: Suicide, Child abuse, Child endangerment, SH, SA, Murder, Graphic violence.

Alone.

You were always alone.

In the rowdy clubs, your mother dragged you into, alone.

The school halls, alone.

The run-down food courts, alone

It was peaceful though, as peaceful as Gotham gets really. You and your mother against the world, or so you told yourself. Deep down, you were aware of her late-night partners and the way she indulged in moments that blurred your reality. It was just drugs—everyone did them... It never crossed your mind just how foolish she was being. Perhaps it was her drooping eyes that gave her an air of tranquillity, or how she cuddled you when the alcohol clouded her judgment. Maybe it was simply that she didn’t hit as hard when the redness overtook her gaze.

She wasn’t a good mother; you understood that from the moment you could understand language.

No mother should ever let their child know they’re a constant reminder of deep-seated failure, yet she did. But she was all you had, and so you clung to her hand—the same hand that marked your skin with black and blue bruises—hoping, just hoping, she might hold you back, if only once.

You don’t ever remember her holding you.

But it didn’t bother you, not really. Touch was never something you craved anyway. Still, it would have been nice, just once, to feel her warmth against you for one last time before she slipped away into a pit that she dug within her mind.

How could you have known? It was just like any other Friday afternoon.

The winter mist hit your tired eyes, making them sting just like your bruised lip. It was another fight, the same two idiots that always got on your nerves. Today they decided to pick on some small street kid, you had seen his curly head of hair before. He lived on the floor above or used to, it had been a while since you heard a complaint from his mother. It was normal for the kid to get in trouble, and of course, you had to throw yourself into his trouble.

Jason, was that his name? He was maybe a few years younger than you, you can never tell with the small ones, but recently he seemed healthier. It was almost as if he had been eating well, but he still had that look in his eyes.

Desperation, to prove himself.

You couldn’t help it, the kids on your street always pulled on your heartstrings. So you helped him out and got injured in the process. Just a small busted lip, nothing you hadn’t dealt with before. Plus you had other things to worry about, like peeling mom's ‘work’ clothes off and making sure she’s clean.

Mom, probably, didn’t cook and most likely didn’t eat so that’s another thing you have to take care of. Was there even anything in the fridge?

You can’t remember, you’ve been living off your friend's school lunches since Mom deserved fresh homemade food. Lately, her boss had been giving her longer hours, some nights she would come back covered in hickey-like bruises that made scrubbing her wince in pain when she lay down. You didn’t like her boss, whenever she complained about him it sent a shiver crawling down your back, all you can remember about him is his calloused hands. You hated his hands, they were rough and seemed to have a mind of their own. You shook your head, pushing the thought of Kyle away, getting home mattered. With a turn of the corner, you were met with home. Once vibrant red bricks now a withered brown, poking from the badly painted grey that matched the concrete entrance. It was bleak, it had dead trees tethered around it, somehow still standing. The old stairwell creaked with every step you took, usually, you would rush upstairs but today your legs felt like they were going to crumble apart. The thought of turning away gnawed at your brain the closer you got to your door. The familiar croaking of the wood underneath your feet now felt threatening, you rubbed your index finger against your thumb, and your hands now felt clammy. In your pockets lay your keys, yet you felt like there was no need to pull them out. In front of you stood the tall red door to home, was it always towering over you? It was almost suffocating. The worst part of it all is that it’s quiet, why is it quiet? The usual lively hum of the building seemed to be non-existent. It wasn’t always a happy hum but there was always a hum-where is the hum? The silence was deafening, it was like the world had been put on pause. You pressed your ear against the door, hoping to try and hear the clinking of bottles or the sound of an obnoxious static-like laughter instead you almost tripped over yourself.

The door was unlocked.

It feels like all the air in your lungs has suddenly been pried out, the sound of the creaking door sends a jolt of fear up your body. The familiarity of the apartment was now shattered, replaced with chilling wariness. The chaos was gone, every surface seemed to be wiped spotless and the clutter was just…gone! The once broken glass was replaced with a sterile orderliness that made your heart drop. You had only seen the apartment be clean a few times and it was usually met with the sight of a dear mother and a few syringes around her. In the corner of your eyes, you saw the bathroom light flicker, everything in your mind was telling you to run, just go get the neighbours, it was the safe thing to do. But your heart, your heart needed to see her, your heart needed to see her just cleaning the bathroom. That’s all she had to be doing, it was Christmas soon, so surely she wouldn’t. She couldn’t.

“Mom? Mom…” Your pathetic voice called out, your legs moving faster than your mind. As you reached the door you felt your jaw drop. The white lights bounced of the wall tiles and landed on your Mothers face. She lay in the bathtub, her breathing laboured and her eyes low. The flickering light distorted her shadows, along with the shades of the empty bottles and forgotten syringes. Your eyes widened with fear as the stench of it all hit your nose like a drunken Saturday punch, you felt your hands shake and your knees buckle. “Mommy?” You called out, a sob bordering your lips as you dropped your jacket and climbed into the bath next to her. No matter how much you shook her cold body, there was no response.

“No. No! You can’t do this to me again…please,” the tears pooled in your eyes, but you wouldn’t dare to cry. Not until she responded.

“I love you my little Luna…tic.”

It was weak, and her voice was hoarse. It was already so far gone, there was no emotion behind her eyes but she managed to bring her hand to your face. She rubbed her thumb against your cheek, rubbing a stray tear that escaped your eyes, there was no car in the gesture. You felt her blood smudge on your face as her wrist went heavy and her arm fell to her side.

It was only until you felt the heaviness of a blanket being placed over your shoulders that you finally snapped out of whatever you were doing. The day was a blur, you didn't even know why the cops had been called. The silence around you was loud, it was overwhelming. No one in the station spoke, they acted like a sigh would break you. Your nails dug into your palm, what a load of shit, no one even seemed to care. Expect one man, he had a thick bushy moustache and he was the only one looking at you-no he was staring at you. It felt like a spider was crawling down your back with the way you shivered. His eyes were tired, probably like yours at the moment, but he couldn’t stop staring.

His face remained neutral as he spoke but inside a bubble of confusion sat inside him. Commissioner Gordon had seen those eyes before, he had seen those shaken hands and he had seen the anger. There were loads of kids like her who had the same pitiful look in their eyes, but he had seen her eyes before. He had seen them on a boy years and years ago. He felt his mind blank for a second, he couldn’t help but stare. Not only did this add to his increasing headache, but it also made the girl's case worse. The funny thing is, the mother's body had clear signs of struggle, there were clear fresh, red hand marks on the woman's neck. But the worst part? The kid knew.

You knew. It was obvious that someone else was with her, sure Mom was a ditz, but she knew not to leave the door unlocked. There was no point in sitting here crying over her, there was no point in crying. You shut your eyes, feeling the panic slowly set into your mind.

#fizzah's ff #batfam x batsis #batman x reader #batsis!reader #batboys x batsis #batfam x reader #dc fanfiction #angst #batfamily x reader #batfam #bruce wayne x reader #alfred pennyworth #jim gordon

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drippingghoneyy · 3 days ago

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Making Some Progress -Viktor x Reader x Jayce

Summary: As Viktor's assistant, Viktor, Jayce and you have been working in a lab for many nights, pushing the boundaries of science and magic. The air thickens and the tension grows.

Genre/ Pairing: m/m/f, Jayvik x reader, dom!Viktor x sub! fem!Reader x switch!Jayce,

WARNINGS: mdni! nsfw, smut, pwp, poly sex, tension, teasing, dom!Viktor, sub! fem!Reader, switch! Jayce, lab sex, couch sex, threesome, handjob, voyeurism, praise kink, cuckolding, edging, dom/sub dynamics, piv, oral sex (m and f receiving), missionary, vag fingering, big dick Viktor, pet names, begging, friends-to-lovers, voice kink, obedience kink, stretching, nipple play, sharing, degradation, "Sir", overstimulation.. (lmk if I missed any!)

Word Count: 6.3k

Notes: This is my first writing…ever… So please give me any feedback! where could I do better? I thought there wasn't enough Jayvik smut, so I made my own…

If you find any spelling errors, no you didn't. If you don't like nsfw content, please don't read it!

You, as Viktor's devoted assistant, had been with them since the early days. The three of you had spent countless hours in this very lab, pushing the boundaries of science and magic.

The three of you have been set to work for many nights, the air crackling with anticipation. You could feel the tension building as you worked alongside Jayce, your fingers dancing over the delicate components, weaving the new configuration into the existing framework. All the while, Viktor hovered nearby, offering guidance and encouragement.

The hours ticked by, the lab lights flickering as the night grew old. The air grew thick with the scent of burnt metal and the faint ozone smell that accompanied powerful magical surges. You were acutely aware of Jayce's proximity, his arm occasionally brushing against yours as you both leaned in to examine the minutiae of your work. Each touch sent a shiver down your spine, and you couldn't help but steal glances at him, his eyes focused and intense.

You look over, studying Viktor as he works, his sharp features cast in shadow and light by the flickering screens. His hair, usually a wild mess of unruly curls, was now slightly slicked back with sweat. His eyes were a piercing amber, intense with concentration as he monitored the system's response. The lines on his face, a testament to countless nights of tireless research, had deepened, making him look both older and somehow more handsome.

The quiet stretched, punctuated only by the rhythmic ticking of a clock on the wall. You couldn't help but feel a pang of concern. You knew how much pressure he put on himself to ensure their work was perfect.

“Viktor, are you quite alright?" You couldn't help but ask as you noticed his furrowed brow and the intense concentration that had taken over his features. The blueprints scattered on the table between you whispered of secrets and innovations that could revolutionize the world of Hextech. The warm glow of the pendant lights danced off the metal surfaces, casting a serene ambiance over the cluttered lab.

Viktor's head snapped up, his eyes focusing on you after a brief moment. "Ah, yes, Y/N," he replied, his voice a touch deeper than usual, gruff with exhaustion, as he tapped the tip of his metal cane against the floor. "Just ensuring that the calibration of this device is flawless."

The cane was an extension of him, a testament to his ingenuity, a tool that defied the limitations of his damaged leg. "Jayce, would you be so kind as to fetch me the calibration matrix?"

Jayce nodded with a smirk, his eyes glancing from the blueprints to you, a knowing smile playing on his lips. "I've seen that look before," he said, his voice low. "Viktor's mind is racing."

You couldn't help the flush that crept up your neck. You'd caught the way Jayce had emphasized 'racing', his eyes holding yours for a beat too long. Was he referring to the thrill of discovery or something more?

The air grew thicker with each passing second, the unspoken tension between you and Viktor palpable. His gaze remained fixed on you, the intensity behind his eyes. Only for a second, and he glanced away.

No.

That was nothing more than acknowledgment.

He acknowledged me.

"Y/N," he began, his voice a gentle command that sent shivers down your spine, "I've noticed that you've been particularly attentive to my work lately. Is there something on your mind?"

He had been stressed, you knew. The deadlines for the Hextech project were approaching, and the weight of the world's expectations seemed to rest heavily on his shoulders. The lab was his sanctuary, but even here, the whispers of failure lurked in the shadows.

You took a deep breath. "I…I just want to help, sir," you replied. "You and Jayce are doing something incredible here, and I want to be a part of it."

Viktor smiles, glancing at the work displayed in front of you. "You are an invaluable asset, Y/N," he says, his voice soft and smooth as this praise falls. But there is more to our work than meets the eye." He pauses, his gaze falling back to you. He smiles once again before turning.

Jayce returned with the matrix, tossing it casually to Viktor. "Here you go, old man," he teased, the nickname rolling off his tongue with ease. The tension in the room lightened slightly, but the underlying current remained. Viktor caught the matrix with ease, his grip tightening around it.

"Thank you, Jayce," he said, his tone clipped. He turned to you, his gaze lingering on your flushed cheeks. "Y/N, would you be so kind as to assist me with these final adjustments?"

His request was not a question, but a gentle command. You nodded, stepping closer to him.

Viktor acknowledges your attentiveness and stresses the depth of their work. Despite Jayce's playful interruption, the atmosphere remains charged. You express your desire to help and assist Viktor with his task, moving closer to him at his request.

Together, you studied the complex matrix, your eyes darting over the numbers and symbols that danced before you. His scent, a blend of oil and metal, filled your nostrils as you leaned in closer, trying to make sense of the intricate calculations. Viktor's finger hovered over the paper, tracing a line of data that didn't quite add up. "Here," he said, his voice low and gruff with concentration. "This equation is incorrect."

Jayce sauntered over, his eyes sparkling with curiosity. "How did you catch that?" he asked, leaning over your shoulder.

Viktor's expression was one of mild annoyance at the interruption, but he replied evenly, "It's elementary, Jayce. The discrepancy in the power coefficients is glaringly obvious."

Jayce leaned back, raising an eyebrow. "I guess I'll leave the 'elementary' stuff to the professor," he quipped his tone teasing but his eyes gleaming with genuine respect for Viktor's intellect.

Viktor's gaze didn't waver from the matrix. "Your contributions are appreciated, Jayce, but my methods are my own," he replied, his voice firm. "Now, if you would be so kind as to rerun the simulation without the error, we might actually make some progress."

Jayce's smirk grew wider. "Alright, Viktor. Let's hope you're right," he said, sauntering back to his workstation. The room grew quiet again, filled only with the sound of the machines whirring and the occasional clank of metal on metal.

“But…what does it mean for us?" you said, abruptly, “If the equation runs correctly?”

Viktor's eyes snapped to yours, the intensity of his gaze making it hard to breathe. "It means," he began, his voice measured and deliberate, "that we've reached a new level of understanding." His hand hovered over the beginnings of the Hexcore as if he could feel the power surging within it, and then he looked at Jayce, a question in his eyes.

Jayce nodded, his smile widening slightly. "It means," he said, his voice low from across the room, "that the three of us have created something incredible together."

Viktor leaned closer to you and pointed at the matrix. "As I said, the mistake is here," he murmured, his finger landing precisely on the errant symbol. His proximity was intoxicating, and his confidence in his own abilities even more so. You nodded, trying to focus on the task at hand, but your mind kept wandering.

"Tell me, what is wrong with this calculation? " His accent was heavy, and his speech was softer due to his proximity. Your heart raced as you swallowed hard. "It seems like there's a misplaced coefficient," you managed to reply, your voice a mere whisper. "It's affecting the output power of the device."

He nodded, his gaze flickering over to Jayce before returning to you. "Very good, Y/N," he said, his voice a warm caress. His hand slid gently down your side, his fingertips barely grazing your skin. It was a simple gesture, but it sent a jolt of electricity through you. He stepped back, his eyes never leaving yours.

"Jayce," he called out, his voice now a command. "I must admit, Y/N has proven to be quite the asset. Her insights and diligence have not gone unnoticed."

Jayce paused in his work, looking over with a grin that was both proud and mischievous. "Yeah," he said, his eyes sparkling, "she's a natural. Who knew she had such a knack for this stuff?".

Viktor's smile grew, a hint of pride in his voice. "Indeed," he said, his eyes lingering on you. "I believe she deserves some… recognition for her efforts."

Your heart thundered in your chest as the implication of his words sank in. This wasn't just professional praise; it almost seemed like something more. You watched as Jayce's grin grew into a knowing smile, his eyes flicking between you and Viktor, and back down again. Collecting his work.

Viktor's hand reached out again, his metal-tipped fingers brushing against your bare arm, leaving a trail of heat in their wake. "You have a keen eye for detail, Y/N," he said, his voice a gentle rumble. "It's been invaluable in our work."

His eyes searched yours, and you felt the intensity of his gaze. The praise was a warm balm to your soul, a gentle reminder that you belonged here, in this lab, with these two brilliant minds.

"Thank you, Sir," you murmured, trying to keep your voice steady as you felt the blush spread across your cheeks. His smile grew wider, there seemed to be a hint of something in his gaze.

It's soft, dark.

Jayce, ever the observant one, took a step closer. "You know, Viktor," he said, his voice casual but the glint in his eyes anything but, "I think Y/N is entitled to a bit more praise than that, " He winked at you, and you felt the heat in your cheeks rise even higher.

Your mouth opened and closed as you tried to formulate a coherent response, but all that came out was a nervous giggle. "I…I just want to do a good job," you stuttered, trying to shrug off the sudden attention. "It's nothing special."

Viktor's gaze sharpened his grip on the calibration matrix tightening. "Is that all you wish for, Y/N?" he asked his accent now giving his voice a deep, velvety purr. "To simply…do your job?"

You looked up at him, the amber of his eyes piercing through the haze of your hectic mind. "N-no," you managed to reply, your voice trembling. "But I don't want to distract you from your work."

He stepped closer, the warmth of his body radiating against yours. "You are not a distraction," he said, his voice firm. "You are an essential component of our work. Without you, we would not be where we are." His hand reached out, his thumb brushing against your cheek.

Frozen.

He gives you a moment to pull away.

Thoughts going a million miles a minute.

Softly leaning into his touch, you felt a shiver run down your spine. His eyes searched yours, looking for confirmation, for consent. You nodded, your eyes never leaving his. Viktor's expression softened, his thumb tracing the line of your jaw, his touch gentle and reassuring.

"If this is something you wish to explore," he began, his voice low, His eyes searched yours, looking for any hint of hesitation. You swallowed, your heart racing.

Jayce stepped closer, his eyes gleaming with excitement. "Only if you're comfortable, Y/N," he said, his voice a gentle rumble. He leaned in, his breath warm against your ear. "And if you're up for it, we're more than willing to give you what you need."

You took a deep breath, your body trembling with anticipation. The air between the three of you was charged with an unspoken understanding. "I…I want to," you murmured, the words barely escaping your lips..

Viktor's smile grew, his eyes lighting up. He stepped closer, his cane clicking sharply against the floor. "Excellent," he said, leaning down, capturing your mouth in a kiss, both gentle and possessive.

His hands slid around your waist, pulling you closer to him. The metal of his cane dug into your side, but you didn't care. You were lost in the sensation of his lips on yours, the taste of him, the feel of his body against yours.

Jayce watched for a moment before moving in, his hands reaching up to cup your face, his thumbs tracing the line of your jaw. "Viktor's right," he murmured against your ear. "You're not just a distraction, you're a muse." He kissed you, his lips a stark contrast to Viktor's, insistent and demanding. You moaned, your arms wrapping around his neck, pulling him closer.

As your kisses grew more passionate, you felt a thrill at the thought of being watched by the two of them, of being the center of their attention. Viktor stepped back, his eyes dark with desire as he took in the sight of you with Jayce. He nodded, a silent command, and Jayce's hands began to wander, slipping beneath your shirt to caress your breasts.

"Jayce," you whispered, breaking the kiss. "I…I want to watch you too."

Jayce chuckled, a low, throaty sound that sent a shiver down your spine. "As you wish," he murmured, his hands moving to the fastenings of his clothes.

He stripped away his shirt, revealing the defined muscles of his chest. His eyes never left yours as he unbuckled his belt and let his pants fall to the floor. You watched, transfixed, as he took his cock in hand, stroking it slowly.

Viktor's gaze was intense as he watched Jayce, his desire clear. He reached out, his metal-tipped fingers tracing a line down Jayce's chest before wrapping around his erection. Jayce gasped, his eyes fluttering shut as Viktor began to stroke him in time with the rhythm of his movements.

"Now, my dear Y/N," Viktor said, his voice deep, he kissed Jayce, dominating the kiss with authority. "Let us see what awaits you, love."

He nods to Jayce, allowing him to pleasure himself freely before turning to you, his eyes gleaming with excitement. "Strip, please" he ordered, his voice a low, velvety command that sent a shiver down your spine.

You complied, your trembling fingers undoing the buttons of your shirt, your eyes never leaving his. You felt Jayce's gaze on you, his eyes dark with desire as you revealed your body to them.

You stepped out of your shoes, your heart racing as you slid your pants down your legs, leaving you in only your underwear. Viktor's gaze was unyielding, his cane tapping impatiently against the floor as you stood before them, vulnerable and exposed.

"Everything, love" he murmured, his eyes raking over your form.

You took a deep breath, feeling the fabric of your bra and panties hugging your body. The set was black, the bra cups pushing your large breasts up. The panties were sheer, leaving little to the imagination, the lace tracing the contours of your ass cheeks. With trembling hands, you reached behind your back to unclasp your bra.

The act of undressing in front of them was a new experience, filled with a thrilling mix of excitement and vulnerability. You could feel their eyes on you, hungrily taking in every inch of your exposed skin, and it took all your resolve to keep your gaze from dropping to the floor. Instead, you focused on their faces: Jayce wore an expression of eager anticipation, while Viktor's demeanor was one of intense concentration.

Your breasts spilled free, the cool air of the lab causing your nipples to pebble under their heated gazes. The feeling of exposure was exhilarating, a thrill that sent your pulse racing and a blush creeping up your neck.

You couldn't find the words to express the emotions that bubbled within you, a potent mix of shyness and desire. You felt their eyes on you, Jayce's with a glint of mischief and Viktor's with a more intense, possessive hunger.

"Very good," Viktor murmured, stopping before you continued to your underwear, his eyes taking in every inch of your exposed flesh. He stepped closer, his cane tapping with each step. "Jayce, I believe it is time for us to show our appreciation."

Jayce grinned, his hand still moving leisurely up and down his length. "With pleasure," he said, stepping closer to you. His eyes never left your breasts as he leaned in, his tongue flicking out to tease one of your nipples. You gasped, the sensation sending shockwaves of pleasure through you.

Viktor reached out, his hand sliding down your spine to cup your ass. His grip was firm, almost possessive. "You are exquisite, love," he said, his voice a soft growl. "So very beautiful." His thumb slid beneath the waistband of your panties, teasing the sensitive skin. You squirmed, the anticipation of his touch making you wet.

As he felt the dampness, his eyes lit up with a predatory glint. "Ah," he said, his voice filled with satisfaction. "You are quite eager for us." He turned to Jayce, his smile wide and triumphant. "It seems our little assistant is more than prepared for what we have planned."

Jayce chuckled, his eyes never leaving your exposed body. "Always eager to please, aren't you?" He leaned in, his mouth closing over your other nipple as he pinched the first, rolling it gently between his thumb and forefinger. The dual sensation was almost too much, your knees threatening to buckle.

Viktor's hand slipped into your panties, his fingers sliding through your folds to find your clit. He began to rub it with slow, deliberate strokes, his thumb pressing down firmly as he watched the pleasure build in your eyes. "You're so wet," he murmured, his voice thick with desire. "So beautiful."

You moaned, your body responding to their touch, their dominance. Jayce's mouth left your breast, kissing a trail down to your navel, his tongue swirling around it before dipping lower, teasing the fabric of your panties.

With surprising gentleness, Jayce hooked his thumbs into the waistband of your panties, his eyes holding yours. His touch was feather-light, but the promise of what was to come was anything but. He peeled them down slowly, inch by inch, before allowing you to step out of the wet pool of fabric.

Viktor's hand tightened around your waist, his voice a soft command in your ear. "Let's move this elsewhere, sweets," he said, his words a gentle rumble that sent shivers down your spine. He led you to the couch in the corner of the lab, the same couch where you had spent countless hours discussing theories and crunching numbers. But now, it felt different. It was a stage set for a different kind of exploration.

As you sat down, the plush fabric of the couch enveloped you. Viktor positioned himself in front of you, his eyes never leaving yours. "It is not proper to keep a lady standing," he murmured a hint of amusement in his voice. The couch was a stark contrast to the cold metal and gleaming technology that surrounded them, offering a semblance of intimacy in the harsh, brightly lit room.

Viktor knelt before you, his eyes never leaving yours. He placed his cane aside, his hands sliding up your legs.

"Are you certain, Y/N?" he asked, his voice thick with need. You could see the desire in his eyes, the way his pupils had dilated. You nodded, your cheeks aflame.

"I am,"

You whispered, the heat of your words hanging in the air as you stared into Viktor's eyes. The intensity of his gaze made your knees wobble, but you held firm, the need to feel his touch again overwhelming any shred of doubt.

Viktor's smile grew, a predatory light sparkling in his eyes. "Good," he said, his voice a velvet caress. He leaned in, his breath warm against your cheek. "You will not regret this decision, my sweet."

He slid his fingers through your folds, his touch gentle but insistent. You gasped as he found your clit, his thumb circling it with a precision that spoke of his mastery. His fingers slid lower, slipping inside you with ease. He began to move them in a slow, deliberate rhythm, the sound of your wetness mingling with the low, guttural noises that escaped your throat.

He watched you with a focused intensity, his eyes hooded and dark with desire. Every stroke was calculated, every touch designed to push you closer to the edge. Each thrust of his fingers was punctuated with a twirl of his thumb against your clit, sending sparks of electricity through your body.

Jayce's mouth found your neck, his teeth nipping gently as he sucked and licked. You arched your back, the dual sensations pushing you closer to the edge.

"Please..," you moaned, your voice a plea.

Viktor's smile grew darker, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction. He knew you were close, but he wasn't quite ready to let you fall. "Beg for it," he said, his voice a low command that sent another shiver down your spine.

You nodded, your breaths coming in short gasps. "P-please, Sir," you whispered, your voice trembling. "I need… I need more."

Viktor's eyes lit up with fierce joy at your words, the power dynamic between you two now crystal clear. "More?" he questioned, his fingers moving faster, his thumb pressing harder against your swollen bud. "You wish to be pleasured more?"

"Yes," you whimpered, your hips bucking against his hand. "I need… I need you to… please don't stop."

He chuckled a dark sound that sent a thrill through you. "As you wish," he murmured, "But you must be more specific, my dear. Tell me exactly what you want."

You looked up at him, your eyes glazed with lust. "Your mouth," you panted. "I want your mouth… there."

Viktor's smile grew wider, his teeth flashing white in the dim light of the lab. He leaned in, so close to where I needed him. I could almost cry… "You wish for me to taste you?"

You nodded frantically, your eyes closing. "Yes," you breathed. "Please, sir. Taste me."

With a groan, he obeyed, his mouth replacing his thumb. He licked and sucked at your clit, his tongue delving into your wetness with a hunger that left no doubt as to his enjoyment. The sensation was exquisite, and you couldn't hold back the cries that spilled from your lips. Each stroke of his tongue sent a fresh wave of pleasure crashing over you, your body tightening around his fingers.

Jayce, ever the attentive lover, took advantage of your distraction, his mouth moving from your neck to capture one of your nipples, once again. He bit down gently, the slight pain mixing with the pleasure from Viktor's ministrations. Your moans grew louder, filling the room with the sweet symphony of your desire.

This was unlike anything you had ever felt before. The combination of their expert hands, their knowing touches and kisses, was overwhelming. You had always craved this kind of connection, this kind of intimacy, but had never allowed yourself to indulge. Now, with the two most brilliant men you knew worshiping your body, you felt like you were floating on a cloud of pure, unadulterated pleasure.

Jayce's cock was hot and heavy in your hand, the veins pulsing with the beat of his heart. You leaned in, your breath hot against his skin. He watched you with hooded eyes, his chest rising and falling with his ragged breaths. You licked the tip, tasting the salty precum, and he groaned, his hips jerking involuntarily.

Viktor watched with a hunger that matched your own, his own hand still working your clit with a precision that was both thrilling and terrifying. "Take him in, love," he whispered, his voice a soft command. "Show him how much you crave his attention."

You took Jayce's cock in your mouth, feeling him grow even harder. You sucked gently, your tongue swirling around the head, tasting the saltiness of his precum. His eyes widened and his grip on your hair tightened, a silent plea for more.

You obeyed, taking him deeper, feeling his cock hit the back of your throat. He groaned the sound melding with the wet sounds of your mouth working him.

Viktor watched, his eyes gleaming with approval. "Very good, love," he murmured, his own hand still working your clit with a maddening rhythm. "So eager to serve."

Jayce's whimpers grew louder, his hips thrusting slightly as he lost control. "Fuck, Y/N," he gasped, his voice strained with pleasure. "That's so good."

Viktor's eyes never left yours, his gaze intense, watching every flicker of pleasure that crossed your features. "Are you close, love?" he asked, his voice a gentle rumble that seemed to resonate in your very soul.

You nodded, the tension in your body coiling tighter with every second. "Yes, please..," you gasped, your own pleasure building.

"Mm," Viktor murmured, his eyes darkening with desire. "Come for us, sweet girl." His words were a command, a promise, and a challenge all rolled into one.

Their combined efforts pushed you over the edge, and you shattered into a million pieces, your body convulsing as wave after wave of pleasure washed over you. You cried out, your orgasm a symphony of pleasure that seemed to go on forever.

As the last tremors of your climax subsided, Viktor leaned back, his eyes filled with pride. "So beautiful," he murmured, his thumb still gently stroking your clit. "Such a Good Girl for us, love."

You panted, your cheeks flushed with the aftermath of your release.

Viktor sat back on his heels, watching you with a look of pure satisfaction. "You are exquisite, my dear," he murmured, his thumb still ghosting over your sensitive flesh. "Your responsiveness is… enchanting."

Jayce had moved to the edge of the couch, his hand moving faster now, his eyes glued to the sight of your body. "Vik," he gasped out, his voice tight with need. "I'm not gonna last much longer."

Viktor chuckled, a low, rich sound that seemed to resonate through the room. He leaned back, watching as Jayce's hand moved faster and faster, his eyes glazed with lust. "Always so eager, Jayce," he murmured, his own fingers sliding down to trace the crevice of your ass, teasing you gently. "But do not come yet."

Jayce groaned, his eyes flickering between you and Viktor. He knew he was close, but the desire to please was stronger. He slowed his pace, his hand tightening around his shaft as he fought for control. You watched him, your own desire mirroring his, the need to give him the same pleasure he had given you.

Viktor stood, his movements graceful despite the cane. He leaned in, his breath hot against your cheek. "Would you like to finish him, love?" he whispered, his voice a seductive invitation.

You nodded, eager to show your submission to both men. Jayce's eyes lit up with excitement, his grip on his cock faltering. Viktor's hand slipped away from your pussy, giving you room to move. You leaned over, taking Jayce in your mouth once again. You felt him quiver at the first touch of your tongue, his eyes rolling back in his head.

"Fuck," he gasped, his voice strained. "Y/N, you're so…so good."

You took him deep, swirling your tongue around the head, feeling his cock pulse with every beat of his heart. Viktor's hand slid to the base of Jayce's shaft, his long fingers wrapping around him as he began to stroke in time with your movements. The room was filled with the sounds of wet sucking and skin on skin, the scent of arousal thick in the air.

Viktor's other hand reached out, tangling in your hair, guiding your movements. You could feel his dominance growing, his need to control the situation becoming more pronounced. You moaned around Jayce's cock, the sound vibrating through his shaft, making him groan even louder.

"Please, Sir," he breathed, his voice strained. "Can I… can I come?"

Viktor's eyes flicked to Jayce, his expression unreadable. With a regal nod, he said, "You may."

Jayce's breaths grew ragged, his hips bucking slightly as he approached the brink. "I'm…I'm gonna…"

Viktor's grip on your hair tightened. "Swallow," he ordered, his voice a dark, command.

Jayce's eyes rolled back in his head, his body tensing as he reached climax. You took his hot seed into your mouth, swallowing it eagerly. He groaned, his grip on your hair loosening as he slumped back against the couch, his chest heaving.

Viktor's gaze never left yours, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction as he watched the scene unfold. He leaned back, his gaze raking over your naked form with a possessive hunger.

"Your dedication to our work, and to us," he began, his voice a low purr that seemed to resonate through the very air, "has been nothing short of extraordinary." His hand reached out, stroking the side of your face, his thumb brushing over your swollen lips. "But now, it is my turn."

You nodded, your voice a mere whisper of agreement, the anticipation building within you like a coiled spring.

Viktor leaned back, his gaze never leaving yours. "Stay," he said, the command in his voice unmistakable. Jayce nodded, his eyes still glued to the two of you, his own need palpable.

Viktor turned his attention back to you softly smiling, his hand sliding down your body, tracing the curves of your waist and the dip of your hips before settling on your ass. His eyes roamed over you with the intensity of a scientist studying a rare specimen. "Your beauty is truly mesmerizing," he murmured, his voice a warm caress in the cool lab air.

He leaned in, his breath hot against your skin as he whispered in your ear, "Are you absolutely certain this is what you wish for?" His question was a final checkpoint, a gentle reminder of the control you held in this moment of shared vulnerability. You nodded, your voice a breathless whisper of agreement.

"I want this, sir," you murmured, the words leaving your lips with a sense of urgency that seemed to echo in the quiet lab. Your heart was racing, your body still trembling from the aftershocks of your orgasm. The anticipation was almost unbearable.

Viktor's eyes searched yours, looking for any sign of hesitation. Finding none, he nodded, a look of determination crossing his features. "Very well, love," he said, his voice a gentle rumble.

Jayce watched with rapt attention, his own desire palpable. He leaned back, his hand still idly playing with himself, his eyes never leaving the two of you.

Viktor's hand slid down, his fingertips brushing against the slickness of your folds. He circled your entrance, teasing, before sliding two fingers inside you. You gasped, your body responding immediately to his touch.

You felt your walls tightening around him, your body begging for more. "Please," you gasped, your voice a needy plea. "I need… I need you to fuck me."

Viktor's eyes darkened at your words, his desire for you now impossible to hide. He withdrew his fingers, and for a moment, you felt a pang of loss. But it was quickly replaced by excitement as he stood, his own need now clear. He unbuckled his trousers, his cock springing free, long and hard. His cock that truly captured your attention. It was thick and long, a testament to his size despite his lean frame. The sight of him made your stomach clench with want.

"As you wish, my love," he murmured, his voice thick with lust. "But I must ensure you are adequately prepared for me." He stepped closer, his hand stroking himself slowly, his gaze never leaving yours.

"Your body is so tight," he said, his voice a gentle rumble. "But fear not, I will prepare you." He reached for a jar of lubricant, his movements deliberate and precise. He smeared it on his fingers before sliding them back inside you, stretching and preparing you for what was to come. The sensation was both thrilling and a little intimidating, but you knew you could trust him.

With a wicked smile, he leaned in, his breath hot against your ear. "I am quite… substantial," he said, his voice sending shivers down your spine. "But I will take my time. I want to feel every inch of you, to hear every moan and gasp as I claim you."

Jayce's eyes grew darker, his own need mirroring the desire in your eyes. He watched as Viktor slid three fingers into you, his thumb pressing against your clit. The sound of your moan filled the room, mingling with the steady throb of the arcane machinery. Viktor's fingers moved in and out of you, his thumb working in a slow, deliberate rhythm that had you writhing on the couch.

"Look at me," he ordered his voice a gentle command that sent a fresh wave of heat through your body. You obeyed, meeting his gaze as he continued to prepare you for his possession. His eyes never left yours as he withdrew his fingers, the lubricant glistening on them. He reached down, guiding his cock to your entrance, the head of his shaft nudging at your slick folds. You held your breath, the anticipation unbearable.

With a single, powerful thrust, he claimed you, his cock filling you to the hilt. You gasped, your eyes widening at the sudden, delicious fullness. The pain was a sweet agony that made your toes curl.

Your moans filled the lab, mingling with the steady thrum of the machinery. Viktor's eyes never left yours, watching as your pupils dilated with pleasure. "So tight, my love," he murmured, his voice a deep growl of satisfaction.

He began to move, his hips rolling in a slow, steady rhythm that had you clutching at the couch cushions. Each stroke sent a new wave of pleasure through your body, your muscles clenching around him, urging him deeper. The room spun around you, the only anchor the feel of his cock stretching you, filling you completely.

Jayce watched with a raptor's intensity, his hand moving faster as he stroked himself. "Vik," he breathed, his eyes locked on the two of you. "Let me see more."

Viktor's smile grew, his strokes becoming more deliberate. He reached down, his thumb brushing over your clit, sending sparks of pleasure through your body. You arched up, your nails digging into the couch, your moans growing louder.

"Sir, please," you begged, the words slipping from your lips like a mantra.

Viktor chuckled, the sound dark and thrilling. "Your desire is intoxicating," he murmured, his eyes never leaving yours. He leaned down, his cock still buried deep within you and kissed you. It was a gentle, claiming kiss, one that seemed to reach down into the very core of your being.

The room around you faded away until there were only the two of you, locked in this dance of power and passion. You felt every inch of Viktor, his dominance enveloping you as surely as his cock filled you. His strokes grew faster, more demanding, and you could feel your orgasm building again, a sensation that seemed to coil tight in your belly.

Jayce's hand tightened in your hair, his other hand stroking his own cock as he watched. "So fucking hot," he murmured, the words barely audible over your moans. "Look at her, Vik. Look at how much she wants it."

Viktor's strokes grew more powerful, his hips slamming into you with an urgency that was both thrilling and overwhelming. You felt yourself slipping, losing yourself in the sensation, but Jayce was there, his hand on your cheek, turning your face to his. He kissed you, his tongue delving into your mouth, tasting you as you moaned around the sound of your own pleasure.

"I've got you," he whispered, his voice a soothing balm in the storm of sensation. "Just let go."

And you did. You let go, your body shattering around Viktor's cock, the sound of your climax echoing through the room. Viktor's eyes widened, his own release following swiftly behind, his cock pulsing deep inside you as he emptied himself.

As the aftershocks of your orgasms began to subside, the three of you lay tangled together on the couch, breathing heavily. Jayce's arms were wrapped around you both, holding you close as you both came down from the intense high of your shared pleasure. The room was still, save for the steady hum of the arcane machinery and the occasional clank of a loose gear.

Viktor was the first to break the silence, his voice a low rumble. "Your performance was… most satisfactory," he said, his hand stroking your back in a gentle, almost soothing manner. His eyes searched yours, looking for any sign of regret or discomfort.

You couldn't help but smile at his formal choice of words, feeling a warm glow spread through you. "Thank you, Sir," you murmured, the endearment feeling natural on your tongue. You turned your head to look at Jayce, who was smiling down at you with an affectionate glint in his eyes.

Jayce leaned in to kiss you softly, his hand stroking your cheek. "You two are amazing together," he said, his voice filled with wonder. "I can't wait to see what we can all do together."

Viktor pulled out of you gently, his eyes never leaving yours. He helped you sit up, wrapping you in a warm embrace. "Indeed," he said, his voice a low rumble. "Our bond has grown stronger tonight."

The three of you dressed slowly, the mood in the lab now one of contentment and satisfaction. You couldn't help but feel a sense of belonging, a feeling that you had found your place among these two brilliant minds.

As you put your clothes back on, you noticed the way they both watched you, their eyes filled with something more than just lust. It was a look of possession, of claiming, but also of care and affection.

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cloudyluun · 19 hours ago

Text

Epilogue: Home. | single-parent!harry

Summary: Life with Harry was already perfect—but now, it’s getting even bigger. Between lazy mornings, chaotic family dinners, and one very unexpected but very wanted baby on the way, you finally have the life you never thought you’d get. Telling Theo and Lily is a disaster (obviously), Harry won’t stop touching your belly, and somehow, your home is even louder, messier, and more full of love than ever before.

And you wouldn’t change a single thing.

A/N: Listen. I know what I did. And I’d do it again. 😌

Was this entire epilogue an excuse to write Dad!Harry in his domestic, protective, lovesick era? Yes. Did I also write it because I got this request that literally said “This will make you feral and want Harry’s babies”? Also yes.

But honestly, was I wrong?

Harry cooking breakfast with Theo and Lily while Y/N waddles around pregnant and happy?Harry whispering sweet nothings to Y/N’s belly every night like a lovestruck fool?Harry completely wrecked over pregnant!Y/N, praising her like a goddess, and making sure she feels worshipped?

No. I was absolutely correct. And I stand by that.

Anyway, I hope you love this, I hope it makes you emotionally unstable, and I hope you walk away knowing one universal truth:

Harry Styles was made to be a husband and a dad.

Love you. Mean it.

Wordt Count: 3k

Warnings:

Sickeningly sweet domestic fluff (read at your own risk)

Pregnancy (planned but unexpected, lots of soft moments, protective!Harry in full force)

Theo and Lily being tiny menaces and taking full credit for everything

So much baby talk, you might want to start nesting yourself

Harry’s hands permanently attached to Y/N’s belly

Bonus smut: Pregnant sex, praise kink, filthy but loving, Harry being absolutely wrecked for his woman

Aftercare that will make you cry

The phrase "I love our baby so much" whispered like it’s the most sacred thing in the world

☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆

You never thought this would be your life.

Not the lazy Sunday mornings tangled in Harry’s sheets, his body warm and solid beside you.

Not the quiet evenings where you cooked dinner together—where he stole bites of food off your plate and kissed your forehead like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Not the mornings filled with coffee and pancakes and laughter, where Lily and Theo sat on the floor with their coloring books, bickering over which one of them was the better artist while Harry rolled his eyes fondly.

You never thought you’d get to have this.

But you did.

And God, you wanted to hold onto it forever.

It had been months since that night.

Months since you’d stopped running.

Since you had let him in.

And in that time, everything had changed.

Not in the loud, dramatic way you used to fear.

Not in the way that left you panicked and breathless, waiting for the other shoe to drop.

But in the quiet way. The sure way.

In the way that made Sunday morning grocery runs feel like an adventure, because Harry let the kids pick out ridiculous snacks while you pretended to scold him for sneaking extra things into the cart.

In the way that made movie nights feel like home, because Theo would fall asleep halfway through, and Lily would always insist on using Harry’s shoulder as a pillow, and you’d end up curled into his side—his arm draped around you, fingers tracing lazy circles against your skin.

In the way that made your chest ache, because this wasn’t temporary.

This wasn’t something fragile.

This was real.

You realized it fully one evening, standing in Harry’s kitchen, watching him without him realizing it.

He was helping Theo with his homework, brow furrowed in concentration as he leaned over the table, listening intently while Theo explained something about a science project.

And Lily—Lily was sitting beside him, doodling absentmindedly in the margins of her own worksheet, occasionally nudging Theo and smirking when he huffed in annoyance.

It was so simple.

So mundane.

And yet, something inside you broke wide open.

Because this wasn’t just Harry’s house anymore.

It wasn’t just his space.

It was yours, too.

A place where your daughter laughed freely. Where you left your books scattered on the nightstand. Where there was a drawer of your clothes in his dresser, your toothbrush beside his in the bathroom.

You had slipped into his life.

And the most shocking thing was that…

You fit.

Perfectly.

Completely.

Like you had been meant to be there all along.

You didn’t say anything that night.

Didn’t mention the realization, didn’t try to put it into words.

But Harry noticed.

Because he always did.

When the kids had finally gone to bed, when you had curled up beside him on the couch, his fingers tracing absentmindedly along your thigh—he looked at you.

And just like that, you knew.

He knew it, too.

This was it.

This was forever.

The first time Harry called you his girlfriend was at Theo’s soccer game.

It was casual, slipped into conversation without a second thought.

One of the other parents had asked about the two of you, smiling in that knowing way people did when they’d already assumed the answer.

And Harry—**without hesitation, without looking at you first to check if it was okay—**had just said, "Yeah, Y/N’s my girlfriend."

Like it was obvious. Like it was something he didn’t even have to think about.

And the best part?

It didn’t send you into a spiral.

Didn’t make you want to run.

Because, for once…

You weren’t afraid of being someone’s.

Not when it was him.

The first time you said it back, you didn’t even realize you had.

It was late.

You were all piled onto the couch, the kids asleep between you, the credits rolling on some animated movie none of you had really been paying attention to.

Harry’s hand was resting low on your back, his breathing even, the room quiet, still, peaceful.

And you—**without thinking, without hesitating—**had whispered, "Love you."

Not as a grand declaration.

Not as something huge or dramatic.

Just as a fact.

As something that had been true for longer than you’d been willing to admit.

And Harry—still half-asleep, still groggy and warm and impossibly perfect—had hummed, pressing a lazy kiss to the top of your head.

"Love you, too, sweetheart."

Like it was the easiest thing in the world.

Like it was inevitable.

Like he had never once doubted it.

The first time you talked about forever, you were cooking dinner.

Harry had been chopping vegetables, Theo sitting on the counter beside him, chattering about his day.

And Lily—with zero warning, with the blunt force of a child who didn’t know how to sugarcoat things—had just said, "Mummy, are we ever gonna live here?"

You had frozen.

Harry had paused.

And Theo—completely oblivious to the weight of the moment—had just shrugged.

"Yeah, you basically already do."

And Harry—

Harry had just looked at you.

Not with pressure.

Not with expectation.

Just with certainty.

Like he knew the answer already.

Like he was just waiting for you to catch up.

So, you did.

Three months later, you packed up the apartment you had built your new life in.

And you moved in with him.

With Theo.

With your family.

And you didn’t second-guess it.

Didn’t overthink it.

Because for the first time in your life, forever didn’t feel like something that could fall apart.

It felt like something you could hold onto.

Something that had been waiting for you all along.

One night, long after the kids had gone to bed, long after the house had settled into comfortable silence, you curled into Harry’s side, pressing a kiss to his bare shoulder.

"Did you ever think we’d end up here?" you murmured, voice soft, sleepy.

Harry hummed, pulling you closer, fingers threading through your hair.

"Yeah," he said, pressing a kiss to your temple.

You smiled against his skin. "Really?"

"Mmhm." His lips curved against your forehead. "Theo and Lily decided for us, remember?"

You laughed, shaking your head.

Harry pulled back, tilting your chin up until your eyes met his.

His expression softened.

"Best thing that ever happened to me," he whispered.

And you—

You kissed him.

Because there was no doubt in your mind anymore.

He was it.

Forever.

Your life was full.

It was good.

And soon, it was about to get even bigger.

You’d known for weeks.

The first sign had been exhaustion—more than usual. You’d chalked it up to late nights, to work, to trying to keep up with two chaos-wielding children and a ridiculously affectionate boyfriend who didn’t know how to keep his hands to himself.

Then came the mood swings.

The tears over a burnt pancake.

The sudden, undeniable craving for oranges at midnight.

And finally, the truth had stared you in the face in the form of two pink lines.

Pregnant.

You had sat on the bathroom floor for a long time, staring at it, heart pounding, head spinning, stomach flipping.

Because you were happy.

Really, truly, unbelievably happy.

And that was the part that scared you the most.

Because happiness like this? It felt too good to last.

But when you finally told Harry—**voice shaking, heart in your throat, fingers twisting nervously in his t-shirt—**he had just smiled.

And then he had kissed you.

And then he had knelt in front of you, hands on your waist, pressing his forehead against your stomach.

And then, voice thick, barely a whisper:

“We’re having a baby?”

And when you had nodded—when the words had finally settled between you—he had wrapped his arms around you, held you like he never planned to let go, and laughed.

Like he couldn’t believe his luck.

Like you had just given him the world.

Telling Theo and Lily was another story.

Because they were menaces.

Because they would absolutely take credit for this.

And because you had no idea how they were going to react.

You and Harry had spent an entire week going back and forth. How do we tell them? When do we tell them? Should we make it fun? A surprise? A game?

But in the end, the kids decided for you.

Because of course they did.

You were sitting in the living room, curled into Harry’s side, your hand resting lightly over your stomach as Theo and Lily played a game on the floor.

And then, out of nowhere, Theo looked up and said—

"When are you guys having a baby?"

You choked on your tea.

Harry tensed beside you.

Lily scrunched up her nose. "Theo, you can’t just ask people that!"

Theo shrugged. "Why not? They’re obviously in love. People in love have babies."

Harry pressed his fist against his mouth, shoulders shaking.

You glared at him. Don’t you dare laugh.

Theo looked between the two of you, suspicious. "Wait a second…"

Lily gasped. "ARE YOU HAVING A BABY?"

Silence.

Harry turned to you, one brow raised, a smirk tugging at his lips. Your call, love.

You sighed, setting your tea down before glancing at the kids.

And then, softly:

"Yeah. We are."

For a second, nothing.

And then—

Absolute chaos.

Lily screamed.

Theo cheered.

Lily launched herself at you, hugging you so tightly you thought you might fall over. "I KNEW IT! I KNEW IT! I’M GONNA BE A BIG SISTER!"

Theo, meanwhile, turned to Harry and held out his fist.

"Nice one, Dad."

Harry barked out a laugh, bumping his fist against Theo’s. "Thanks, mate."

And then, just like that, the room was filled with laughter, excitement, a million questions.

When is the baby coming? Can we pick the name? Do we get to help? Are we sharing a room? Is it a boy or a girl? Can we have a puppy, too?

Harry pulled you against him, pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

"See?" he murmured. "Told you they’d take it well."

You smiled, watching as Theo and Lily started making a very dramatic list of possible baby names.

"Yeah," you whispered. "You were right."

And for once—**for the first time in forever—**you weren’t afraid of being happy.

Because this?

This was home.

And now, it was just getting a little bigger.

Life after that was loud.

It was chaotic.

It was perfect.

Mornings were a blur of sleepy kisses and coffee and Harry pressing a hand to your stomach every time he walked past you.

Afternoons were spent at doctor’s appointments, picking out baby clothes, letting Theo and Lily argue over whether they wanted a little brother or sister.

(Theo wanted a brother. Lily wanted both. You and Harry were mildly terrified.)

And nights—nights were yours.

Wrapped in Harry’s arms, his hands tracing over your belly, his voice a soft murmur against your skin.

"Can’t believe we’re doing this.""You’re so beautiful like this, love.""I’m gonna love this baby so much. And you. Always you."

And every single time, you felt it—the weight of what you had built. The life you had made. The family you had created.

You wouldn’t trade it for the world.

And neither would Harry.

Because ever since you told him you were pregnant, he had been soft with you—softer than ever before.

Not that he wasn’t always soft with you—but now?

Now, it was different.

Now, it was gentle hands on your stomach whenever he passed by. Now, it was offloading all the housework, refusing to let you lift a finger. Now, it was pulling you onto his lap at night, rubbing slow circles into your back until you melted against him.

It was sweet. Perfect, even.

But tonight?

Tonight, you needed more.

And you could tell, by the way Harry was looking at you—dark eyes flickering between your lips and the swell of your belly—that he needed more, too.

So when you shifted against him—**rolling your hips just slightly where you straddled his lap, teasing, testing—**he sucked in a sharp breath.

"Careful, love," he murmured, his fingers tightening on your thighs.

You tilted your head, running your hands up his chest. "Why?"

His jaw ticked. His grip tightened.

"You know why."

You smirked.

And then, deliberately—slowly—you rolled your hips again.

Harry groaned. "Fuck, Y/N—"

"You’ve been treating me like I’m fragile," you whispered, pressing your mouth to his jaw, kissing along his neck.

He exhaled sharply, his hands trembling against you. "Because you are."

You pulled back, meeting his gaze, your fingers tracing the edge of his t-shirt. "Harry. I’m pregnant. Not breakable."

He swallowed hard, eyes flickering down to where your belly pressed against him.

You could see the hesitation in his face. The battle between wanting you, needing you, and being afraid of hurting you.

So, you leaned in—pressing your lips to his, slow and deep, whispering against his mouth—

"Please, Harry."

And that?

That was all it took.

Because in the next breath, he had you on your back.

Mouths crashing together, hands desperate, his body pressing you into the mattress.

"You want me like this?" he murmured, his lips trailing down your neck, over your collarbone. "Like this, baby?"

You whimpered. "Yes. Yes, please—"

He groaned against your skin, one hand sliding between your legs, teasing you through your underwear.

"Fuck, love," he rasped. "You’re soaking."

You gasped, arching into him, thighs trembling as his fingers stroked over you, teasing, torturing.

"Been neglecting you, haven’t I?" he muttered, his voice thick, wrecked.

You couldn’t even respond—not when he was slipping his fingers beneath the fabric, not when he was spreading you open, groaning when he felt how ready you were for him.

"Christ," he hissed, pressing a finger inside you, curling it just right.

You cried out, gripping his biceps, barely able to breathe.

"More," you begged. "Harry, more."

And fuck—

He gave it to you.

Another finger, stretching you, working you open, his mouth hot against your neck, his breathing heavy.

"Love having you like this," he murmured. "All soft and warm and—fuck—taking everything I give you."

You whined, grinding against his hand, so close, so close—

But before you could fall, before he could push you over the edge—

He pulled away.

You gasped, nearly sobbing. "Harry—"

"Shh, sweetheart," he murmured, kissing your belly before sitting back on his heels, shoving his sweats down, fisting himself in his hand.

Your mouth went dry.

Because—fuck—

You had felt him against you before, had been with him countless times, but somehow, seeing him like this—

Hard and desperate and completely wrecked for you—

You clenched around nothing, whimpering, needing him inside you, needing everything.

"Harry, please," you whispered.

And he gave you exactly what you asked for.

He pushed inside you in one slow, deep thrust, groaning as he sank into you, his head falling forward, his hands bracing on either side of your head.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck," he muttered, his voice wrecked.

You gasped, wrapping your arms around him, pulling him closer. "Harry—"

"Christ, love," he panted, pressing a kiss to your forehead, your cheek, your lips. "You feel so fucking good."

And then, he moved.

Slow at first. Deep. Precise. Like he wanted you to feel every single inch of him.

And you—fuck, you were drowning in him.

The way he touched you, the way he filled you completely, the way he kept murmuring the sweetest, filthiest things into your skin—

"Love you like this." "Never been more beautiful." "Carrying my baby, taking my cock so fucking good—"

You were gone.

It didn’t take long.

Your body was already buzzing, already so close from the way he had touched you earlier.

So when he slipped a hand between you, rolling his fingers over your clit, whispering, "Come for me, sweetheart,"

You shattered.

Your entire body clenched around him, your orgasm crashing through you, pleasure rippling through every inch of your skin.

And Harry followed.

With one last deep thrust, one last ragged moan of your name, he spilled inside you, his body shuddering against yours, his forehead pressed to your shoulder.

For a while, neither of you moved.

Just heavy breathing, warm kisses, whispered I love yous.

And then—

Harry pulled back, gazing down at you, eyes flickering between your face and your stomach.

And softly, reverently, completely wrecked:

"I love you, and I love our baby so fucking much."

You exhaled, cupping his face, brushing your thumb over his cheek.

"I love you, too," you whispered.

And then, you kissed him.

Because this was it.

This was everything.

One morning, months later, you woke up to find Harry already gone from bed.

Frowning, you padded into the kitchen, only to find him standing there—Theo on one side, Lily on the other, all three of them squinting at a pan of very questionable-looking pancakes.

You raised a brow. "What is happening here?"

Harry turned, smirking. "Makin’ breakfast for my girl."

You snorted. "For me or for the baby?"

Lily gasped. "The baby wants pancakes!"

Theo nodded sagely. "Yeah. Mum’s gotta eat double now. She’s basically a superhero."

You bit back a smile, stepping closer as Harry handed you a plate, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

"Morning, love," he murmured.

You exhaled, looking around at them.

Your people.

Your home.

Your everything.

"Morning," you whispered.

And then—

You smiled.

Because your life?

It was exactly how it was supposed to be.

☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆

Thank you so much for reading! I appreciate any support so remember to comment, reblog, & like ❤️‍🔥

taglist:

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#harry styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fic #harry styles fluff #harry styles imagine #harry styles one shot #harry styles smut #harry styles writing #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x reader

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artstennisracket · 12 hours ago

Note

HEEEAARRR ME OUTTT

size queen! art donaldson

oh anon I hear you LOUD and CLEAR. this was easy because Patrick does have a big dick (Tashi confirmed). i had so much fun writing this so I hope you have fun reading :)

cw: big dick energy LMAO, throat training of sorts, dirty talk

Art could describe his sex life in a lot of ways. Fun is the first word that comes to mind, but lately it’s been more like…boring.

Ever since him and Patrick starting hooking up last semester, Art has realized that when Patrick’s on tour, Art tries to fill the Patrick shaped hole in his life with meaningless hookups. And at first that was fun.

Sleeping with different guys and girls, hooking up at parties, drinking, smoking, all that fun stuff. But lately Art’s been feeling less and less fulfilled, specifically with his guy hookups. He couldn’t quite put his finger on why.

Until last night when he was hooking up with this guy (Taylor or Tanner? he can’t remember) in his dorm. Once the guy had pushed in and bottomed out, Art felt underwhelmed. It wasn’t that Taylor/Tanner had a small dick, maybe it just wasn’t big enough.

Long after Art had kicked Taylor/Tanner out of his room for the night, he gets a text from Patrick at 1am, gonna be there tomorrow, can i crash at yours?

Art has a smile on his face as he texts back, and what if I said no

p: then id say i will fuck that attitude right out of you

a: in your dreams old man

p: that’s not what you said last time, it was more along the lines of “fuck me please don’t stop”while you moaned like a girl

a: whatever 😒

Art shuts his phone off going to lay down for the night and that’s when it hit him. Sex has been boring lately with men specifically because no one’s dick is as big as Patrick’s. Art tried not be a size queen and give everyone a fair shot but he definitely preferred dicks on the bigger end of the spectrum. Patrick was the biggest dick he has ever been with and he’s not mad at that fact. Nothing really compares to the feeling of being split in half on Patrick’s cock.

He quite enjoys the burn and stretch he feels when Patrick pushes into him for the first time. Or the inescapable gagging and choking when Patrick fucks his mouth, forcing Art to deep throat. But he can never fit it all in his mouth anyway. Patrick’s dick was long but also very girthy. Fuck.

Art can feel his own dick peaking interest from his line of thinking. He tries to focus on something else so he can go to sleep so tomorrow can come faster and then Patrick can fuck him properly.

…

When Art gets back to his dorm later the next day he finds Patrick already inside seated on his bed, wearing only boxers and a t-shirt.

“how did you—?” Art questions dropping his backpack in the floor by his desk.

Patrick smirks as he shrugs, “i have my ways”

Honestly Art doesn’t even care how he got in but he’s happy he’s here. Art wastes no time going to straddle Patrick’s lap, pulling Patrick into a heated make out session.

Art can feel Patrick’s growing interest underneath him (literally) and grinds down on Patrick. Patrick sneaks his hand into the back of Art’s shorts, slowly pushing his finger into Art’s hole.

“ah—missed you, missed this,” Art mumbles into Patrick’s mouth.

Patrick adds another finger, pulling away from the kiss so he can watch Art grind desperately on his fingers. Fuck, he’s so fucking hot. “stanford boys not doing it for you?” He smirks.

Art shakes his head no, “no, fuck, not even close.”

“why don’t you show me just how much you missed my cock baby,” Patrick responds pulling his fingers out.

Art smiles climbing off of Patrick’s. He goes to lay down on his back, with his head hanging off the side of the bed.

Patrick raises an eyebrow. He smirks as he stands up, “is that what you want?”

Art bites his lip looking at Patrick as best he could from his position before he says, “you already know the answer to that question.”

Patrick glides his tip against Art’s lips smearing his pre-cum, “dirty, dirty boy.”

Art sticks his tongue out to lap up the rest of the pre-cum on Patrick’s tip before he opens his mouth up to let Patrick in.

Patrick takes his time pressing deep into Art’s throat, watching Art’s throat bulge, “fuck” Patrick whispers under his breath before he starts fucking Art’s throat.

Art tries to keep his throat relaxed because he wants to see if he can take more of Patrick than he did last time, but once Patrick starts thrusting down his throat all bets are off.

Patrick moans, “there you go, taking me so well baby fuck.”

Between all the noises Art’s making choking on his cock, his balls slapping against Art’s face, and watching his cock go in and out of Art’s mouth Patrick can feel himself getting close so he pulls out.

Art sits up, swallowing all the spit that’s accumulated in his mouth. He wipes his mouth on the back of his hand before he starts shedding the rest of his clothes, “need you to fuck me, please”

Patrick takes off the rest of clothes before he lays Art on his back, positioning himself between Art’s legs, “how bad do you need it? tell me,” Patrick smirks before leaning down to kiss up Art’s neck.

Art knows that Patrick just wanted him to feed into his ego but Art was too horny to care at this point. “need you to fuck me so bad, want you to split me open on your cock,” Art whines.

Patrick lines himself up with Art’s hole, teasingly tapping his cock against it, “yeah? missed my big cock stretching out your tight hole?”

Art nods. He’s growing impatient, “yes so can you please just do what you said you would do and fuck—”

Art is cut off by Patrick shoving himself in and bottoming out. Art lets out an egregious moan, just short of a scream, “ah ah- yes fuck please, need your fat cock yes”

Patrick picks up the pace of his thrusts, drilling into Art, “these stanford boys weren’t fucking you properly hm?” Art shakes his head no because Patrick is right, none of them seemed to satisfy him the way that Patrick does.

Patrick smirks, “they dont know how much a greedy cockslut you are, just want the biggest dick possible huh?”

Art nods again moving his hand down to start stroking his own cock.

“tell me how much you love my cock baby,” Patrick grunts out, making sure to punctuate every other word with a particularly hard thrust.

Art is rambling at this point. He’s so close and Patrick knows it too, “i fucking love your cock so much fuck, think about it all the time, everyday, just want you to fuck me all the time, fills me up good, nobody fucks me as good as you- oh fuck i’m gonna cum.” Art spills over his fist and his tummy.

Patrick grabs Art’s hips and starts thrusting faster before he spills inside of him. Hearing Art say all those things really got him going but he wondered if it was true.

He pulls out and grabs a rag to clean them both up. “did you mean what you said?” Patrick questions lying down next to Art on his bed.

Art half smiles letting out a breath, “maybe I did, maybe I didn’t.” He shrugs, he wasn’t going to feed into Patrick’s ego anymore, he already got what he wanted (to be fucked).

Patrick scoffs shoving Art playfully, “so you’re saying I’m not the biggest dick you’ve been with?”

Art rolls his eyes. He knows Patrick won’t let this go without an answer. “are you the biggest dick Tashi’s ever been with?” He smirks.

Patrick smiles letting out a chuckle, “i think so yeah.” Tashi’s actually only ever slept with one other person besides Patrick and that was the guy who took her virginity. He’s almost 100% sure that his dick is bigger than that other guy, I mean his dick is bigger than 95% of the population.

Art starts to close his eyes, getting ready to take a nap, “well then there’s your answer.”

#anon ask #challengers #art donaldson #patrick zweig #artrick #art donaldson x patrick zweig #challengers 2024 #artrick smut

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glossypolaroidkisses · 2 days ago

Text

3/3 - Between Love & Leaving

Part 3/3

— Final part based on request from anon: “thinking about long-term relationship reader and lu and how their interactions would look like right before he cut contact w/ everyone … “ Grab your tissues.

link to part 1 <3 (appartement’s floor plan is here)

link to part 2 <3

The next morning, you woke up with a light grin on your face as you reminisced on the moments before you had fallen asleep. You rolled over, reaching your arm out expecting it to land gently on Luigi’s strong chest, as it usually does. Your hand falls further than expected, hitting the mattress. Your brows furrow, eyes still closed. You attempt to force them open, the bright, sunny room blinding you as you try to see. All you see are blurry, white sheets. Empty bed. You slowly lift your body, sitting up, rubbing your eyes with urgency. “Baby?” you call out, your voice weak and groggy. Usually if he doesn't respond the first time, you hear the sizzling pan on the stove, or the faucet running for the dishes. Nothing. “Luigi???” you raspily call out, much louder this time. Forcing your tired body to carry its own weight, you stumble out of bed.

You rush into the kitchen, standing just outside your bedroom door to observe the living space. It’s as if the world is frozen, the way everything is untouched. Everything is still, silent. One could assume you live alone. No dishes in the drying rack, everything clean and tidy. Luigi’s keys aren't hanging and his wallet is gone from the counter at the front, where they usually are.

You take a couple of steps further, your heart beginning to race. The air smells faintly of Luigi’s cologne, but something about it feels wrong, almost like it’s been lingering for so long that it’s become stale. A weight sets in your chest, confirming something must be wrong. You go from practically standing still, frozen, to rushing around the apartment, desperate for clues.

His toothbrush is missing from the bathroom, weatherproof jacket gone from the coat rack, favourite backpack missing from the closet. His shoes, the ones he always leaves by the door, aren’t there.

In the midst of your panicked search, you rush into the living room and your heart drops. You stop dead in your tracks, almost falling forward. The only room in the apartment that you’ve come across that isn’t perfectly neat or missing items; It has something left behind.

You sit on the couch in front of the table– where you start every morning –to find your usual breakfast. Morning coffee with jam on toast is made, just how you like it. Next to it, a large box with a folded note on top of it, perfectly centred. Scared to meddle with potentially the last untouched part you have of Luigi, you gently grasp the mug’s handle. It’s cold, so is your toast.

You take a deep breath, feeling lightheaded, head almost fuzzy. Picking up the note, you slowly unfold. There it is, the sight of Luigi’s handwriting.

You immediately break down at the sight of his nickname for you, in that writing you’d always make fun of him for.

Mia stellina,

I don’t know how to explain this in a way that will make it hurt any less. I’ve turned the words over in my mind a thousand times, but there’s no version of this that feels okay. But, you guessed it. I’m not backpacking. Don’t kill me. I don’t know if I’ll ever be back.

I never wanted to lie to you, but the truth felt impossible to say out loud. I have a feeling a part of you already knew. No way to make leaving you feel like anything other than a mistake, even when I know I have no other choice.

How can I explain walking away from the one person who gave my life meaning? How can I make you understand something even if I don't fully understand myself?

What I can say with certainty, the only thing that matters, is that I love you. I love you more than I thought it was possible to love anyone. You’ve given me light in a life that’s known too much darkness, and that light has saved me in ways I can never repay. Being loved by you was the greatest gift of my life. You are my heart, my home, my peace.

And still, I have to leave.

I can’t tell you why. I can’t explain. Not because I don’t want to, but because I can’t find the words to make it make sense. There are things I have to do, things I can’t let touch you. Please don’t think this is your fault or something you could have stopped. It’s not. This is my choice, and as much as it’s breaking me, it’s one I have to make.

I know you’ll hate me for not saying goodbye in person, for not giving you a chance to stop me. But if I had stayed one more minute, looked into your eyes one more time, I wouldn’t have been able to leave. And I have to go. Even if it kills me. Even if it means walking away from the future we dreamed of.

Last night, as we looked at the stars, I tried to memorize every second. The way your face lit up when you found a constellation. The way your fingers found mine without a thought. It’s all burned into my memory now, something I’ll carry with me, no matter where I go. Just like I will carry the memory of that summer evening at the lake—the two of us sitting on the dock, your feet in the water, my arm around you. I think about that night often—how safe it felt, how you made everything else disappear. Maybe one day, if the stars align again, we’ll meet there. I don’t know if that day will ever come, but if it does, you’ll know where to find me. I will look for you in every night sky.

Also, last night, I’ve replayed the moment a thousand times. When you mentioned our future kids, I should have said something then. I should have told you that I've always wanted that, that’s all I’ve ever wanted. That I dreamt of our life together, of raising children with you, speaking Italian together. But in that moment, I froze. I couldn’t find the words, not because they weren’t there, but because I knew, deep down, I was about to leave. I knew I wouldn’t be there to make that future with you. And I couldn’t bear to tell you that. I couldn’t bear to break your heart more than I already was.

I wish I had said, "Yes, that’s all I’ve ever wanted. A family with you." I wish I had told you how much I loved you, how much I wanted a life filled with laughter, with our children running around, with us speaking Italian in our home, just as you imagined.

Please don’t think for a second that I didn’t want that with all my heart. But the truth is, I couldn’t give it to you. And I couldn’t leave without telling you this now, even though I know it may hurt you.

By the time you read this, I will be gone. I don’t know if we will ever see each other again. Maybe we will, maybe we won’t. I don’t have that answer, and that uncertainty will haunt me for the rest of my life.

But I need you to live. Don’t let this letter, or my leaving, hold you back. Don’t let it steal the light from you that I love so much. Live boldly, laugh loudly—obnoxiously, please—love deeply. Be everything you’re meant to be, and do it for both of us. Do all the things we talked about, even if it’s without me. Live the life you deserve, my love, because that’s all I’ve ever wanted for you. Even though the thought of you finding happiness with someone else kills me, I hope, with everything in me, that you find it. I need to know you will live a life full of joy and beauty, even if I can’t be there to witness it.

I will hold onto you for as long as I live. Your laugh, your smile, the way your hand fits in mine; they’re all a part of me now, they always will be. No matter where I go, no matter what happens, I will never stop loving you. You are my greatest joy, my only regret, my eternal hope. You are the love of my life.

I couldn’t leave you with nothing, not when you’ve given me so much. I know it won’t make this any easier, but I need you to have these pieces of me, even if they don’t feel like enough.

The hoodie. Yeah, THAT hoodie. The one you always teased me for wearing because I practically lived in it. You’d roll your eyes and say, “Again? Don’t you have any other clothes?” I can hear your voice as I write this. You’d tease and whine, then steal it off me when I wasn’t looking. I saw how you’d wrap yourself in it, how your shoulders would relax like you were safe. So it’s yours now. It’s yours for good. Hold onto it. Pull it tight when you need to feel me close. I sprayed it with my cologne, the one you love, but most of it is just me.

Your top three favourite books. Don’t worry. I bought new, hardcover copies because I know you would hate if I ‘damaged your originals’. I annotated the margins. So, if you ever want to reread them together, my thoughts intertwined with the words, it’s as if I’m speaking to you through them. Whenever you miss me, let’s read together.

The cash—it’s not a gift, and it’s not pity. It’s practicality. I know you’ll try to argue with me, even if I’m not there to hear it. But you’ve got dreams, my love. I want to make sure you can chase them. Whether it’s traveling to all the places we talked about, starting that project you kept putting off, or just giving yourself time to breathe, use it. I beg that you use it. Live the kind of life you deserve, not for me (okay maybe a little for me), but for you.

Also, because I can’t be there to take care of you anymore, I did something you might be upset about, but I don’t care. The apartment is yours. Paid off, in full. No mortgage, no rent. You’ll never have to worry about it again. Consider it my last selfish act, because I couldn't stand the thought of you struggling, of you losing the one place that still smells like us. Keep it. Sell it. Burn it down, if that’s what you need to do. But I wanted to leave you with something more than memories, and this way you have a choice.

Even if I can’t be there, at least this can.

The ring… I don’t even know where to start. I’ve been carrying it around for weeks, waiting for the perfect moment to give it to you. Clearly there isn’t a perfect moment now.

It’s engraved with our birthstones and initials on the inside. I don’t know what to say, except that it was always meant for you. Keep it, wear it daily, your ring finger, or not. Throw it into the ocean, wear it on a chain– whatever you need to do. But know that when I bought it, it was with forever in mind.

Okay, my turn to admit to being greedy. I took a few things of yours, too. I know it’s selfish, but I needed something of yours to hold onto, too. Something that feels like you in the most private, unfiltered way. Here goes,

Your favourite lingerie. It wasn’t just about how beautiful it looked on you. It was about the way you carried yourself in it, the way your confidence would flicker into something soft when I traced my fingers down your spine. I took it because I couldn’t let go of that feeling. A private keepsake of the way we fit together, of the moments that were just ours.

Your sleep shirt, the one you always stole from me.. now it’s my turn. It still smells like you, like the warmth of early mornings and the way you used to curl into me, allowing your body to fully rest within each other in my grasp, before you were fully awake.

Before you get mad, there’s something else. I tore a page from your diary. Just one. Not one of the heavy ones, not the pages where you spilled your worst days or your fears (those are sacred to you, and I would never take them from you). The page I took was different. It was about an ordinary day, the kind you’ve probably forgotten. The way the sun’s warmth felt on your face, the way your coffee tasted just right, the way you caught yourself humming one of those songs you love but never remember the name of, a cute caterpillar you saw. You wrote about how the smallest things made the day feel special, and how grateful you were for moments like that.

I needed that. Your words, in your own handwriting, a reminder of how you see the world. How you find joy in the little things, how you make everything brighter just by being in it. That page is proof that you’ll find those moments again, even without me. I’ll keep it with me always; a piece of your light, folded into my pocket.

I know none of this will fill the space I’ve left. None of these things can hold you when you feel alone. They won’t make you laugh when you need it, or tease you when you roll your eyes at me. But I hope they remind you that I loved you. That I will always love you. That no matter where I go, you’re with me.

I need you to live, my love. To laugh so hard you cry, to wake up and feel like the world is wide open for you. Live for the both of us, okay? That’s the only way I’ll ever be able to forgive myself for leaving.

And if the world bends in some miraculous way, if life brings us back together when we least expect it, you’ll know it’s me when you see someone wearing that one stupid shirt, since the hoodie is yours now. You know the one.

For now, this is goodbye. But you’ll always be my light, my constant, my everything.

If there is a chance for us, a day when fate brings us back together, I will find my way to you. I promise. But if that day never comes, please remember that I loved you more than words could ever say. Our love is the kind of love that I thought only existed in, well, not MY books, but your books. Fairytale love.

I don’t have the words to say goodbye, not really. I was supposed to finish writing five minutes ago. I don’t think there’s a way to end this that doesn’t feel wrong. So I’ll just say this,

You were the best thing that ever happened to me. And I’ll carry you with me, always. I love you. I love you. I love you.

Forever yours,

Luigi

You were on that couch for hours, a mess. You had no idea you were capable of shedding so many tears, wailing in ways you didn’t know your body could endure. You retraced every piece of Luigi in your life, the moments you shared, the quiet mornings and stolen glances, the touch of his hand, the sound of his laughter. But there was nothing left of him now, just empty space.

His location, a mystery. Your texts, unanswered. Your emails, unread.

You searched for other missing things, tiny remnants of his presence that might still linger—something, anything, to hold onto. Other things he may have taken of you. For example, a sample of your signature perfume. You noticed because the bottle was out of place on the shelf, a few drops spilled carelessly onto the counter.

He invaded your dreams, every single night; And you were in his.

In those dreams, You’re there with him, and somehow, he's there with you, even when you woke up to the empty silence of your room. You couldn’t believe it. Luigi had gotten to say goodbye, and you hadn’t. What you would say if you could just hear his voice again… if you could just tell him everything you never had the chance to say.

Some nights in your grief, you scream out from the balcony. Your voice echoing into the still night, raw and aching. A neighbour always reminds you, shouting from another balcony that you aren’t alone in this world. You get embarrassed, but it doesn't matter. In those moments, you felt like the universe had turned its back on you, and there's no one who could truly understand.

Sometimes, you whisper conversations in the dark, pretending Luigi still beside you. You’d look into the telescope’s eyepiece, pausing for a moment, waiting for him to look as well, as if he were still there, watching the stars with you. You continued to make meals, always enough for the two of you, but the second plate would always sit untouched, always ending up as leftovers in the fridge.

You reread your favourite books, each line a memory of something you had shared. You laughed at the comments you could still hear him saying, written in that handwriting, his voice alive in the words of the stories you both cherished.

You continued your days, waiting. Not fully sure what you were waiting for, or if it was even possible, but waiting nonetheless. You worked through accepting this new reality, and sometimes that meant you were cradling his hoodie, rewatching old videos, or fiddling with the ring on your finger as you fought back tears.

In the quiet moments, something shifted. No answers, no closure, just the faintest possibility that the story wasn’t over. The world moved on, and bit by bit, you did too in the slightest, even if your heart wasn’t ready. You wondered if you'd ever see him again or if the scattered bits of memories and physical pieces would ever come together.

But that was a question for later.

For now, you carried his memory, wrapped in your heart.

a/n: wwwwwooooweeee! see why it took me so long to finish that? LOL omg the amount of times i have cried…. anyways. If you want me to continue this, feel free to comment or send anon requests to how you see it continuing. Explaining why he left, if they’ll reunite. As always, i’m open to any and all feedback. love u guys. hope u enjoyed. mwah.

#luigi mangione #luigi fanfic #fanfic luigi #ff luigi #luigi imagine #fanfic #luigi ff #luigi mangione fanfic #luigi oneshot #luigi x reader #luigiff #lugigi anon asks #anon asks #luigi requests #luigi au

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abductedhiko · 2 days ago

Text

Excuse me, Officer ?

I laughed way to hard writing this lmfao

Highly unrealistic but fuck it we ball

To the secret police agent guys in my phone probably watching me as I type this: I hope you assholes are having a good laugh

Tags: @oh-phoenixx @sunshinewhosketches @butyoureastarr @im-a-mess-of-a-person @printershorts @invasiveroadkill

Enjoy

“Jesus, Reg! Slow down! You’ll get us pulled over!” Sirius yelped, gripping onto the seat to keep himself anchored.

“Shut up.” The boy said calmly, before harshly slamming on the breaks at a red light. Everyone (Lily, James, Dorcas, Remus, Marlene, Peter, Sirius.) lurched forward at the sudden stop, letting out little cusses and cries of protest. The car was filled to the brim with bodies, many having to sit on each other’s laps or in other uncomfortable and awkward places to fit in.

“How come Dorcas gets to sit Bagsy?” Peter complained. He was in the back, sitting with his knees to his chest on the floor in front of James (and Marlene, considering that she was on his lap.)

“Because I like her better than you lot.” He hummed thoughtfully. “Minus Remus.”

Sirius suddenly spoke up. “Oi! You pick Remus over your own brother?”

“Remus is nice to me. And don’t act like you didn’t do the same to me with Potter.” Regulus spat, gripping the steering wheel tightly.

Sirius was quiet at that.

“Baby Black’s got a point!” Marlene cackled. She slung her arm around James’ neck as she kicked her feet over Lily’s legs casually. “I just wish it was Dorcas’ lap I was in. No offense, James.”

James snickered, leaning his head against the window. “None taken.”

“You can take my place!” Peter offered desperately. “My ass is gonna be so sore after this.”

“We don’t want to know about your ass Pete.” Sirius said dryly. Everyone laughed at that, even Remus in the trunk behind the seats. He was high and lying on a few pillows and a blanket they had given him to coax him there.

As the laughter died down, Lily spoke up. “Uh hey Regulus? there’s a cop over there, slow do-“

She didn’t get to finish her sentence before the sirens were blaring.

Red and blue whirled around as Regulus began to pull to the side.

“Shit- fuck! Dorcas, get me a read on this guy.” Regulus ordered as the cop got out of his car. Everyone watched in silence as the man strutted to their own car.

“That��s a gay man if I’ve ever seen one.” Dorcas answered.

“Perfect.”

Regulus rolled down the window as the cop approached, taking a quick deep breath in before leaning back against the seat.

“Can I help you, officer?” Regulus asked sweetly, batting his long lashes.

All the blood left Sirius’ face as Lily slapped a hand against her mouth, stifling laughter.

“D- do you know why I stopped you?” The cop stuttered. He wore thick sunglasses that he let slip down his nose to get a better look at the beautiful man in the front seat.

“I have no idea. Please, explain.” Regulus asked innocently.

“You were speeding.”

“Hmm, was I?”

The cop gulped nervously. “Yes, you were.”

“You look like a nice man, Officer…?”

“Davis, Officer Davis.”

“Officer Davis, see, I’m a little short right now. I simply cannot afford to get a ticket. You know, I wouldn’t usually resort to this but… surely there’s another form of…” Regulus looked him up and down. “…payment?”

The cop coughed roughly into his hands. Lily and Marlene were now biting on their sleeves to keep from bursting out loud. Sirius looked about ready to cry.

“I- uh-“ The cop spluttered.

Regulus snagged a stray piece of paper, scribbling a random number down. He slid it towards the man. “Can I go now?”

The man snatched it up quickly. “Yes! Yes, have a nice day.”

Regulus rolled up the window and drove off.

Lily and Marlene exploded into raucous laughter, unable to hold it back anymore.

“What the fuck,” Sirius whispered in pure shock,” did I just witness?”

“That was fucking BRILLIANT!” Marlene cackled, slapping James’ shoulder. She wiped some of the tears from her eyes. “Oh my god, I’m never letting you live this down.”

“I think I’m gonna be sick.” Sirius said.

Regulus’ ears burned with embarrassment, his eyes strictly on the road. “Not a word. To anyone about this.”

“Yeah- yeah alright officer.” Lily teased.

“Shut. Up.”

“Oh officer! Officer! Let me repay you!” Marlene cried, clinging to James.

“Yes! Anything you want, beautiful man!” James wailed back.

The whole car broke down into giggles, save for Regulus.

“Do not make me crash this car.” Regulus hissed.

#hiko writes #marauders era #the marauders #marauders #regulus black #marlene mckinnon #james fleamont potter #james potter #lily evans #dorcas meadowes #sirius black #sirius and regulus #sirius orion black #marauders microfic #ao3 writer #ao3 #harry potter fandom #harry potter

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redcoralpot · 2 days ago

Note

Hiii!!! I’ve seen that you’re slow w writing and I don’t mean to nag or rush you at all but I just wanted to know if you’re still going to be/planning on updating smudged ?

Smudged Chapter Eight - Is it Effort?

Chapter Summary: You and Rodrick work on the final touches of your projects in his room, not that work stops you from messing with him.

Warnings: N/A

Word Count: 1.1K

“How have you ever managed to pass middle school?” You rolled your eyes, raising your eyebrow at where Rodrick was perched on the floor, markers and pencils scattered around him.

He scoffed, “Pure coolness, uh, how’d you think I did it?”

You spun lazily on a nearby chair because God knows you wanted to avoid sitting on Rodrick’s, of all people’s, bed. It’d been a week since you set off with the two biggest, and one sweetest, dumbass into the forest to fail at any sort of prolificacy. Your own project sat half-finished on the desk in front of you, along with abandoned scissors and colored construction paper. The birds outside the window sang tunes as the sun prepared to exit the sky, some sweet and others a little annoying, but the days were getting notably shorter. A sigh here, a shrug there, and you started to chip back at your project again.

“Coolness? Yeah, right, maybe los–” The final word caught on your tongue, and it struck you how much that made you sound like Heather. Fuck, that made you cringe. But if Rodrick even got a whiff that you were feeling pity for him, he’d never let you forget it.

“Maybe by making teachers lose their shit.”

Rodrick scribbled glue onto the back of a photo, and when he stuck it on, the corners immediately sprung back, “That’s practically a synonym to what I just said!”

“Woah, there, sweetcheeks. That’s a big word,” you said, sarcasm dripping from your lips like venom, or perhaps honey to a guy like Rodrick.

He sat up on his elbows and turned around to stick his tongue at you. By doing so, you got a good glance at what he’d just stuck on his project, a sight that made you stand up in offense and lean over him, “Dude, what the fuck? That’s my best photo– at least glue it on right so it doesn’t fly off and get trampled on in the hallway.”

“Uh,” Rodrick stared up at you, lips wet and slightly parted before finding their way into an indignant sneer, “who says I’m driving to school on time?”

“Ah, that’s right! It’ll get violently abused in the back of your van, much better.”

You knelt down and picked up a marker. The feeling of your binder cutting into your skin, something that will definitely leave a bright red line on your stomach by tonight, made you frown. But still, you persisted, and lodged the end of the marker in between your molars before tugging hard. It opened with a pop, the lid still stuck between your teeth while you signed the photo as quick as the lightning doodles Rodrick had drawn on the margins. Oh, yeah, those aggravating cursive lessons in elementary school sure came in handy now.

Spitting the cap onto the smelly, stained carpet underneath Rodrick, you tossed the marker in his direction, which unfortunately ended with a streak of black on his cheek before it actually landed in his hands. You chuckled at the sight, and even more so at his gaping jaw.

“Consider it a souvenir to remember me by after your teacher takes your ass to detention, cornball.”

Rodrick scowled, “How do you have a better signature than me, an actual, very real, very awesome rockstar?”

“Guess.”

He rolled his eyes, whining, “It always circles back to school with you.”

“It sounds like somebody’s catching on! Welcome to real life, we’re so pumped to have you.”

Squeals and banging footsteps echoed from downstairs, a sure sign that Greg and Rowley were home from terrorizing the neighborhood in one way or another. You kind of hoped Greg hadn’t and wouldn’t pick up on Rodrick’s old treatment of Heather, because you took notice of the way his ears went all red when Holly looked his way. Yes, that’s right, you thought. Old treatment. Despite Heather’s continuous offstandish behavior whenever Rodrick came over to your house, as was her right, he no longer threw infamous jokes her way, nor did he stare in the direction of her room. It was a tad bit weird having him be so focused– at least for him– on a school project.

Hell, you were a little proud.

Rodrick reached towards his cheeks, and you instinctively curled your lip and turned away in preparation for the dirty move he was about to pull, the one he knew never failed to make you queasy. But instead of pulling down his bottom eyelids, Rodrick loudly exclaimed, “Ugh– aw, damn it! Why didn’t you tell me my eyeliner leaked?”

You glanced towards him and a snicker bubbled up from deep in your chest. A decently large smudge that matched the one on his cheek sat on his fingertips, “Yeah, you got a little… marker.”

The gesture to your own face made him scowl.

“Fuck you. Ten times over.”

“Well, I really have the opposite preference, but that’s none of your damn business.” You shake your head, smirking, “Let me just–”

Spitting into your hand, you spread your saliva over your fingers, and reached over to rub it all over the stain on his face. At first, it appeared promising. Wisps of hair fell over his eyes, blending into the still intact eyeliner, smelling of cheap hairspray he probably got at the local gas station. Strangely enough, you could smell traces of cologne and pine soap, two things you could swear were Mr. Heffley’s deal. It only slightly masked the smell of grease.

But then, as you drew back and wiped your hand on your black shirt, you found that the stain was still there. Bigger. Maybe a little more opaque on the sides? You scratched your neck.

“I think it was a waterproof marker.”

“What the hell? No, nuh-uh,” Rodrick launched to his feet, “you’re so gonna pay for that!”

Your body cracked into motion before you even processed that an incredibly angry, lanky boy was barreling towards you, and hopped on the bed towards the window. It wasn’t locked, nor did it have a screen, as was expected. Fuck the no bed rule, it didn’t apply in war.

You managed to wiggle it open and slide out, balancing on the roof like you’d been doing for the past few days– who knew avoiding the Heffleys’ prying questions about your recent appearances would actually be helpful? Rodrick leaned out the window, cackling, “No fair, that’s foul play! You know I don’t have shoes on.”

“Duh.”

“Yet.” He disappeared into the dark of his room, and you didn’t waste any time trying to find out if he was serious. You knew him well enough that chances are, he was.

Waving your hand, you yelled, “See you tomorrow morning, Heffley!”

The studs on your belt scratched against the shingles as you climbed down, landing swiftly on a few boxes you had previously stacked. You didn’t turn back, sturdy soles clicking in a rhythm against road pavement as the sun finally settled to sleep.

#male reader #x male reader #lgbtq #gay #male y/n #trans male reader #trans ftm #punk #rodrick heffley x reader #rodrick x reader #diary of a wimpy kid rodrick #cross posted to ao3 #i am still here

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chogiwow · 13 hours ago

Text

it’s not a metaphor, this ache.

pairing: jay x reader

wc: 3.5k+

genre: fluff, suggestive, angst

warnings: allusions to sex (not described), jay eats reader out and well that’s been detailed out somewhat…vulnerable moments between yn and jay, jay just wants to kneel for yn whenever he can he’s devoted like that

a/n: conceptual writing – just need a man to get on his knees and worship me

summary: all the times jay has gotten down on his knees for you.

one – tending to your wounds.

the tiles under your bare feet are cool, a feeling that is pleasant with the onset of spring, but jay meticulously lifts your limb and places it in his lap. his own knees resting against the floor as he carefully inspects the patch of crimson spots on your skin. nimble fingers gently maneuver your feet, unconsciously stroking the skin that he has come to love with its scratches and past wounds; and yet, he frowns at the promising little wound that will definitely scar. well, he’ll love you regardless, broken skin and all.

“i told you not to rush,” his reproval is a grunting complaint, even as he softly blows on the antiseptic he applies, “it’s going to scar now.”

his breath fans against your skin, a fleeting sensation that sends a shiver up your spine, though you don’t move away. you stay quiet, his words more comforting than painful, your feet warm in his lap, the fabric of his jeans tickling your skin. you let him patch you up, soothe the burn and place the tiniest most gentle kiss when he’s done. it’s like a reward for you, and yet you think you are debted to this man your entire life. this man that kneels for you.

the antiseptic dries, leaving behind a faint sting, but jay’s touch is steady, grounding. his thumb brushes over the bandage, as if testing its security, as if reassuring himself that he’s done everything he can.

his knees remain pressed against the tile, unmoving, like he belongs there—like this is where he has always belonged. it’s a thought you shouldn’t entertain, not when his hands still cradle your foot with such undeserved reverence. but you do. you let yourself imagine a lifetime of this, of his fingers tracing over old scars and new wounds, of the way he kneels before you without question, without hesitation, like it’s second nature.

a silence settles between you, thick and weighty, but not uncomfortable. the kind of silence that speaks volumes, filling the gaps between words neither of you dare to say out loud.

jay exhales softly, finally lifting his head to meet your gaze. his eyes are dark in the dim light, filled with something unreadable, something you don’t think you’re ready to decipher. his fingers tighten ever so slightly around your ankle, grounding himself just as much as you.

“you’ll be more careful next time?” he asks, and you know he already knows the answer.

still, you nod. it’s a harmless lie he lets you indulge in.

jay huffs, the corner of his lips twitching upward in something close to a smile, though there’s still a shadow of worry behind it. his hand gives your ankle one last squeeze before he lets go, but he doesn’t move away just yet. instead, he stays there, close, his presence a quiet reassurance.

you wonder if he knows. if he realizes that it’s not just the wounds on your skin that he tends to, but the invisible ones too. the ones that linger beneath the surface, the ones you don’t know how to heal on your own.

and maybe he does. maybe that’s why he stays.

two – apologising.

you can’t stay too mad at him, nor for too long.

jay rarely upsets you, in fact, he doesn’t really have a reason to. its in the playful moments of life that you two bicker but those can hardly be called fights. they’re anything but fights. but very rarely, moments of doubts and frustration creep up. and when they do, you’re both left trying to lift the burden of its pressure pushing down on your shoulders and those moments are tense.

your house gets reduced to the four walls they physically embody, trying to keep your emotions together before they burst at the seams and rip though your hearts in torrential waves.

jay isn’t one for conflict, he doesn’t give you a reason to be upset at him irrationally. when something’s wrong, it's both your faults, and you know it all too well. you also know that no matter what, jay is going to be the first to try and patch things up. he’ll give you plenty of time to first simmer and fester in your feelings, then he’ll approach you calmly, parting a path through the angry waves of your emotions that threaten to drown him, if not for your own hands that keep him afloat slightly begrudgingly. afterall, you love him.

when jay reaches your shore, he’s careful to step on the hot sand that is equally burning, your stubborn back leaving little to his imagination but he’d deem himself royally fucked if he lets this fester any longer.

you’d be on the bed, on the couch, sitting in your chair – it doesn’t matter; he’s already kneeling down, taking a seat right beside you. you tense at the unintentional brush of clothes, the tingling across your skin where he touches you cautiously and a preparatory sigh that escapes your lips.

jay doesn’t speak right away. he knows better than to push, to try and pry your thoughts out of you before you’re ready. instead, he waits – patient, steady, just there.

his fingers brush against your knee, barely a touch, as if testing the waters. you don’t pull away. it’s not forgiveness, not yet, but it’s something.

“i don’t like fighting with you,” he says, voice quiet, almost tentative. “i know i messed up.”

you exhale, a slow, measured breath, as if trying to keep yourself together. he’s always like this – kind, even when he shouldn’t be, even when you wish he’d argue back, give you a reason to stay mad. but jay isn’t built that way. he doesn’t fight with fire. he fights with patience, with gentle persistence, with the kind of love that makes your resolve crack at the edges. with a kind of gentleness that you’re not accustomed to.

“it’s not just you,” you murmur, because it’s true.

his hand inches closer, fingers curling lightly around yours. you don’t grip back, not yet, but you don’t pull away either. his touch lingers, grounding. but you let him pull his body closer, his head finding purchase in the curl of your lap, pressing against your waist as if would just become a part of you if he could.

your fingers tighten around his, just enough to let him know that you’re done being upset, that he’s already won you over without even trying. his lips twitch, almost a smile, but he doesn’t gloat, doesn’t tease.

he only squeezes your hand in return, as if sealing the unspoken truce between you.

three – falling apart.

jay wears his heart on his sleeves when it comes to you. still it is the carefully curated moments of happiness and adoration that he bares. the quieter, more turbulent ones, he keeps them hidden well away from you.

until he can’t anymore.

it happens on an evening like any other. the sky outside is a muted shade of blue, the kind that lingers before dusk fully settles in. the air hums with the distant sounds of life – cars rumbling past, a faint murmur of laughter from somewhere beyond your window – but inside, within the confines of your space, there is only quiet.

jay stands in the doorway, his silhouette backlit by the hallway light, shoulders slightly slumped, hands tucked into the pockets of his hoodie like he’s holding himself together. something in his posture makes you pause. the way he lingers, hesitant, as if he’s unsure whether to step forward or turn away entirely.

“hey,” you call softly, setting your book down. “come here.”

he exhales, a slow and measured thing, before finally moving. he walks toward you, each step deliberate, until he’s close enough that you can see the tension bracketing his jaw, the exhaustion settled deep in his features. he looks tired – not just physically, but in the way that seeps into the bones, that wears a person down from the inside out.

you expect him to sit beside you, to fold himself into the space next to you like he always does, but instead, he kneels. on the cold floor that could hardly be comfortable, he kneels and presses his forehead against your thigh, hands coming up to grip the fabric of your sweater like it’s the only thing anchoring him. his face is hidden in your sweater, you feel him inhale deeply. then a shuddering breath escapes his lips; his fingers tremble across your back, pulling you closer this time, digging his face deeper into your touch.

you go still, caught off guard by the quiet desperation in his touch.

“jay?” you murmur, threading your fingers through his hair. he’s warm beneath your touch, the strands soft, slightly disheveled. “what’s wrong?”

he shakes his head, a barely-there movement, but you feel it – the way he presses closer, the way his hands migrate around your waist, circling them around your frame, fingers tightening.

“i don’t know,” he admits, voice low and rough. “i just–” a pause. a breath. then, softer, “can i stay like this for a little while?”

your chest tightens.

you don’t ask any more questions, don’t press him for answers he’s not ready to give. instead, you let him stay. let him curl into you, his weight warm and solid against your side. you trace gentle patterns along his back, slow and soothing, the way he’s done for you countless times before.

time stretches, marked only by the quiet rhythm of your breathing. eventually, his grip loosens, his body relaxing ever so slightly, though he doesn’t move away.

“you don’t have to be okay all the time,” you say, barely above a whisper.

jay lets out a shaky exhale, something between a sigh and a laugh, though there’s no real amusement in it. “i know,” he murmurs, but you don’t think he really does. not yet.

so you hold him a little tighter, hoping he’ll understand it one day.

five – comforting you.

and when the tables turn, which is quite often, because you seemingly shut your mind off whenever jay’s nearby and blindly trust yourself in his hands, he’s always there to hold on to you.

he makes it that simple to let go of your reservations and fall into his embrace.

it happens naturally, like breathing, like second nature. he doesn’t ask, doesn’t pry – he simply knows. the way your shoulders slump just a little more than usual, the way your fingers twitch like they need something to hold onto but you won’t reach out first. the way your silence carries more weight on some days, heavier than words ever could.

jay notices it all.

tonight is no different. the world outside is damp with lingering rain, the scent of petrichor weaving through the half-open window. the apartment is quiet save for the soft hum of the refrigerator and the faint crackle of a candle burning on the coffee table. you’ve retired into the corner of the couch, legs tucked beneath you, hands supporting your head, body curled up into a fetal position, your gaze unfocused on the television screen playing something neither of you are really watching.

jay, from his place in the kitchen, doesn’t say anything at first. he finishes pouring a cup of tea, setting it aside for a moment before finally crossing the room. he doesn’t ask if you’re okay – he already knows the answer.

instead, he lowers himself in front of you, spine curling gently to meet your eyes that blink back at him in a naive confusion, but it's all there written for him clearly in the way they become glassy the second he offers you a gentle smile, his fingers tangling themselves in your hair. his lips press hot against your cold cheeks, a reassuring kiss that makes your eyes flutter.

you hesitate for only a second before letting yourself lean into him, burying your face against his shoulder. his arm wraps around you instantly, hand settling against your back in slow, steady strokes. he doesn’t rush you, doesn’t try to fix anything with hurried words or misplaced solutions. he just holds you, like he’s willing to carry whatever weight you can’t bear tonight.

“i don’t know why i feel like this,” you mumble, voice muffled against the fabric of his hoodie.

jay hums softly, resting his chin atop your head. “you don’t have to know,” he says simply. “you just have to let yourself feel it.”

you exhale, shuddering slightly, and he pulls you closer. there’s something about the way he does it – so naturally, without expectation or hesitation – that makes the knot in your chest loosen just a little. like it’s okay to be vulnerable here, to be seen without needing to explain.

time stretches between you, measured only by the steady rise and fall of his breathing, by the way his fingers trace slow, absentminded circles against your back. at some point, he shifts slightly, pressing another gentle kiss to the top of your head, lingering for just a second longer than necessary.

you close your eyes, breathing him in.

and just like that, the world feels a little quieter. a little easier to bear.

six – fixing the hem of your dress.

it’s also the much more intimate moments that linger in the pockets of transitional time. he brings a calm to the chaos of your daily life – a steady presence amidst the frantic rhythm of your mornings, the restless energy of your nights. a moment of composure when you’re rushing about, stressing over the final touches to your makeup, your hair, worrying over a wrinkle on your dress that refuses to smooth out no matter how many times you tug at it.

jay watches from where he sits at the edge of the bed, amused but patient. he’s already ready, dressed in his usual effortless way, the sleeves of his shirt rolled up to his elbows, his hands clasped loosely between his legs. he could offer to help, but he knows you’d only wave him off, muttering about how you have it under control.

so he waits.

and sure enough, a moment later, you huff in frustration, turning towards him with the tiniest of frowns. “this won’t smooth out,” you say, tugging at the hem of your dress again. “i should’ve worn something else.”

jay only shakes his head, standing. “come here,” he murmurs.

you hesitate, but only for a second before stepping toward him. he meets you halfway, hands already reaching for you. but not to pull you into an embrace, not yet. his knees bend of their own accord, his own dress pants rustling as he kneels before you and it takes your all to hold yourself back. his fingers find the hem of your dress, his touch featherlight as he works on the worrying patch across your thigh.

the sight alone makes something stir in your chest.

he smooths the fabric carefully, methodically, as if this is the most important thing he’s done all day. the pads of his fingers graze over the material, flattening every imperfection with quiet precision. you could do this yourself – you should do this yourself – but somehow, standing here with his hands on you, with the warmth of his palms ghosting over your thighs as he works, you feel yourself settle.

“there,” he murmurs after a moment, brushing away an invisible crease. “perfect.”

you exhale, tension easing from your shoulders, but he doesn’t get up just yet. instead, his hands shift slightly, fingers curling gently against the sides of your legs, his thumbs brushing over the smooth skin above your knees. it’s not intentional, you think, but it lingers – this moment, this closeness.

jay tilts his head up to look at you then, a small, knowing smile playing at his lips. “better?”

you nod, not trusting your voice. you nod, because you see the glint in his eyes, the way he kneels and looks up at you like his prayers to the god he worships have come true.

maybe it is intentional, the way he submits himself to your service this easily, only to have you crumble in his hold instead. then, as if sensing the shift in the air, he leans in, pressing a soft kiss against the fabric of your dress just above your knee. it’s brief, fleeting, but it sends warmth curling through your veins, your breath catching slightly, toes curling painfully.

when he finally stands, his hands find your waist, steadying you, grounding you. “you always look beautiful,” he murmurs, smoothing his palms over your sides. “wrinkles and all.”

you roll your eyes, but your heart stumbles in your chest.

and just like that, the chaos of your day feels a little less overwhelming.

seven – truly worshipping you.

if there’s one thing you know, it’s the way jay always acts like he knows exactly what he’s doing. and he probably does. every movement is deliberate, every touch measured. he moves with intent – slow, sure, devastating in his precision. every press of his lips against your bare skin is a searing touch, a promise that leaves you breathless.

you’re long gone, of course. from the second his lips found yours, from the moment his hands gripped your sides, fingers digging into the soft fabric of your dress – wrinkling it, ruining the careful smoothness he had so patiently fixed not even hours ago. but you don’t care. you couldn’t, not when jay has always been more intoxicating than the anticipation of any perfect moment.

his hands are warm, wandering, mapping out the curve of your body as if he’s relearning you all over again. there’s reverence in the way he touches you, in the way he presses his lips to your jaw, your throat, the space just below your ear where he knows you shudder. his name leaves your lips in a breathless whisper, and he hums against your skin, like he’s committing the sound to memory.

he never rushes. he never has to. because he knows exactly how to unravel you, how to coax the tension from your body with the press of his fingers, the slow drag of his mouth. he lets his hands slip lower, skimming over the fabric he had so carefully straightened earlier, only to now push it up, exposing more of you to him.

and then he looks at you. really looks at you.

his eyes are dark, heavy with something unspoken, something that simmers just beneath the surface. you feel it in the way his hands tighten against your hips, in the way his breath is just a little unsteady when he exhales.

and just like that, he’s kneeling again, this time at the end of the bed that you lay on top of, naked and writhing in pleasure and ecstasy. your fingers curl themselves around his hair, his head buried in the heat of your body that only he brings about. every kiss, every moan, every little push of his head sends you into ecstasy you only yearn more of.

his hands grip your thighs, holding them for you, never letting you fend for yourself as you willingly submit yourself to his love and touches.

his touch is both firm and reverent, like he’s worshipping something sacred. he holds you like you might break, but his mouth tells a different story – hungry, insatiable, taking everything you offer and demanding more.

you can feel the way his breath stirs against your skin, hot and uneven, the sound of it mingling with your own quiet whimpers. his hands tighten on your thighs, thumbs pressing into soft flesh, keeping you steady, keeping you right where he wants you. and you let him, let yourself sink deeper into the pleasure of his touch, his lips, his tongue tracing reverent paths along your skin.

your fingers tangle in his hair, pulling, pleading. he groans at the sensation, a deep, satisfied sound that sends a shiver down your spine. he likes it when you lose yourself like this – when you let go, when you stop holding back.

“jay,” you gasp, his name breaking apart on your tongue, breathless and desperate.

he hums in response, the vibrations sending sparks of pleasure straight through you. he’s thorough, methodical, drawing out every little sound he loves, every little reaction he craves. he doesn’t stop, doesn’t waver, doesn’t let up until you’re trembling beneath him, body arching, fingers tightening against his scalp.

and when you finally come undone, when your entire body tenses and then melts beneath him, he doesn’t pull away. he stays there, pressing soft, open-mouthed kisses along your inner thighs, soothing, grounding, bringing you back down from the high he so effortlessly pulled you into.

when he finally looks up at you, his lips are slick, his expression dark with something you can’t quite name. he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand before crawling up your body, his weight pressing you into the mattress, his heat overwhelming you in the best way.

“you’re beautiful,” he murmurs against your lips, voice thick, low. “so perfect for me.”

his mouth meets yours before you can respond, stealing whatever words you might have formed. but you don’t mind. you let him take, let him press himself against you, let him remind you with every slow, burning kiss that he isn’t done with you yet.

#okay am i just projecting or what....?#enhypen imagines #enhypen jay imagines #jay enhyppen imagines #park jongseong imagines #enhypen jay angst #anhypen jay fluff #enhypen angst #enhypen fluff

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