#But I am determined to finish the prompt list!

[febuwhump]

You know it's getting series when I make a febuwhump folder in my drive

i write all my challenge fics in the same document and then finish the month with like 60k and having to scroll forever to find the right fic on the right day

[justcallme-ange]

Week 3 - Haunted House. For Loyal’s Rivals Duo Spooktacular event.

What if you’re the haunted house?

The prison never leaves, and Techno finds Dream somewhere else Techno can’t follow.

Inspired by Elk Tour Suite Pt. 5 from Centaurworld.

“Oh, this feeling, it came right in again and again

A feeling there just beneath the skin

And I tried so hard not to let it in

But you can't keep the ghosts out

When you're the one who's the haunted house

And you can't kick the ghosts out

When you're the one who let them in”

[wigglebox]

Destiel Pride - Day 23; Don’t ever change

[kohakhearts]

now that the insomnia fic is finished i can focus on the other fics i want to write but one of them is huge. giant. and here i am. writing it for a silly little rarepair

[pomefioredove]

Hiya! Hope you're doing okay, and take it easy if you haven't been!

For the flirty prompts starters list, could you maybe do: "Stop saying things that make me want to kiss the hell out of you." with Vil? I think it'd be a good one

Thanks!

(I hope you have fun writing this if you do! No biggie if you don't or if someone else already asked!)

GIGGLING SO MUCH

summary: "stop saying things that make me want to kiss the hell out of you" type of post: short fic characters: vil additional info: romantic, reader is gender neutral, reader is yuu, Vil experiencing cuteness aggression.jpg, not proofread a part of this event

Vil considers himself to be an eloquent man.

After all, how one speaks is just as important as how one carries themselves, and every last inch of him, from his looks to his body language to his words, have been refined to perfection. Each a golden thread in the dazzling tapestry that is Vil Schoenheit.

And yet, despite that, he still can't seem to find a way to describe you.

Frustrating is not quite right. Epel is frustrating. Those first years you insist on spending your precious time with are frustrating. But you...

You are not annoying, nor are you incompetent. His usual vocabulary for the students of NRC is useless when it comes to you.

...And different is too vague.

Vil just seems to forget what to do with his hands when you're around.

You look so soft in the golden afternoon light of the lounge, which is distracting enough as it is. Now you're giggling in the way you do, and he can't concentrate, and... what was he doing, again?

"Stop that," he says, plainly, not looking up from the textbook he'd been reading. Or trying to, anyway. He'd lost his place some time ago.

You make this... sound, this confused little hum, and he pictures you tilting your head to the side like a puppy. Sevens, you're just so...

He huffs. "I said, stop,"

"Stop what?"

Clueless little thing. Vil sighs, finding it within himself to make eye contact. He'd given up on finishing this assignment early, anyway.

"You know what,"

You stare back, unblinking. Are you really so oblivious? No, there's no way you aren't doing this on purpose, whatever it is, just to get on his nerves. Did those friends of yours put you up to this?

He should scold you. He invited you to study with him, a luxury which many would pay millions for, and here you are, being...

Ugh. He still can't think of the right word.

"Am I being too loud?" you ask, a confused lilt in your voice.

Sevens, you are so dense, he wants to just grab you and squeeze you like a stress ball until a thought comes out of that empty head.

The thought of that is no help. If anything, it just bothers him more.

He pinches the bridge of his nose. Are you really not doing this on purpose? "No. You're distracting me,"

"Oh... sorry,"

...In such a soft, meek little tone, like you really feel bad about it, looking up at him with those eyes of yours... ugh. He wants to bite you, squeeze you in his arms until this overwhelming, restless feeling passes. You're so...

"It's... fine," Vil relents. "I don't think I would've gotten much done today, anyway."

You actually tilt your head to the side this time, worsening his condition. "Something on your mind?"

Sevens, what are you doing to him? He can't sit still. He pictures himself reaching across the table to pinch your cheeks, to kiss that sweet, worried expression off your face. The effect you have...

And you're not even doing anything!

"No," he says, his voice strained with the weight of the lie. "Just burnout. It's a busy time of year for me."

You seem to take that as a cue, standing from your seat with wide eyes and holding out a hand, much to his chagrin.

"You should be resting, then. Overworking yourself will only make things worse. Come on, let's go back,"

Such a determined expression on that pretty face of yours. There's just something about how you respond so innocently, so intent on caring for him, you're...

You're so...

Vil feels his heart drop. Oh, Sevens. That's the word.

You're so cute.

"Stop that," he snaps. He can feel his face warming. "This is the last time I'll ask."

A little flash of annoyance crosses your face at his dismissal. How adorable...

"Stop what?" You repeat.

Even your scoff is cute. His face feels hot. He can handle beautiful. Gorgeous, pretty, sexy, even, But not cute. And now he's getting himself all worked up over it, and you're being so sweet, and...

"Stop saying things that make me want to kiss the hell out of you!"

Nothing has ever had such an effect on him before.

After all, it would take something incredible to fluster Vil- and here he is, blurting out every thought he has, blushing like a schoolgirl as he realizes what just came out of his mouth.

Vil Schoenheit, suddenly terrified of being rejected. It was as if he'd woken up in a parallel universe.

Or died, and went to his own personal Hell.

The shock slowly wears off your face, and you... laugh.

You laugh.

"You're very forward,"

"I'll take that as a compliment, and not the way you meant it," he mumbles, crossing his arms over his chest. "Though I'm failing to find what's so amusing."

You move around the table to sit next to him, eyes gleaming. "How would you like me to react, then?"

Vil stares back. Was that... flirtation? Perhaps you're not so oblivious, after all...

But still cute.

Still very cute.

He sighs, though there's a smile playing at his lips now. "Save me the embarrassment of being rejected,"

"Hmm... I suppose that can be arranged,"

And with that, he cups your face in his hands and draws you in for that kiss.

[arsenic-catnep]

So

About the Spice Prompt List 😶‍🌫️

4, 31, 40

Aaand character sugestions: Law, Luffy, Shanks

Please

Monkey D. Luffy, Shanks x AFAB!Reader

Exhibitionism, vibrators, orgasm denial

AN: I left out Law because I haven't seen the anime in years and I'm afraid I'll butcher him horribly

Monkey D. Luffy

He'd really done it this time. Luffy tries to be a good boy, but it's hard. Especially when he's bored, which is almost all the time.

You can't get anything done when he's hounding you for attention, so you get an idea.

"I want to play a game."

Luffy is excited by this idea, but he's going to be sorely disappointed when he realizes your full plan.

He's laid on his back in bed, a bullet vibe tied the tip of his cock, and it's been set to high.

You told him that if could hold his orgasm until you're done with work, then he can fuck you all night long.

Luffy didn't think of the technicalities of that agreement before he was nodding eagerly and pulling his clothes off.

You're sat at the desk across the room, finishing something or other. Truth be told, the work had been finished nearly 30 minutes ago, but you just wanted to torment Luffy a little longer.

He'd been a whining mess since the beginning, but after about 15 minutes of his cock throbbing and bouncing against his stomach, he began to beg.

"Please, please. Can't I just touch myself? I can make myself cum, you don't have to touch me!"

You reminded him of the agreement which earned a loud cry from him. It was hard not to give in, you'd stolen glances at him as you worked. The sight was absolutely divine.

His tummy was soaked in precum and his cock looked painfully hard and red. The sheets beneath him were wrinkled from how tightly he gripped them. Part of the agreement was not being able to touch himself.

You're shocked he'd actually lasted this long. You expected him to have cum all over himself within minutes, but he's determined to prove how much of a good boy he is.

Maybe you'll stop torturing him and let him finally drain his balls.

Shanks

"Started without me princess?"

His voice startles you, and you stare at him wide eyed.

Shanks is leaned against the doorframe, staring you down, a smirk on his lips and a devilish glint in his eyes.

You pull the vibrator from your clit, expecting him to come to you and make you feel good. He just clicks his tongue.

"No no, if you're start without me then you're gonna finish without me."

He sets himself in the chair by the desk, looking at you expectantly. You feel like prey under the eyes of a predator.

"Well? Show me how you get yourself off."

You press the vibrator against yourself again, your hips jolt as it hits your clit. The delicious waves of pleasure washing over your body once more.

Your thighs are wet with slick and sweat and you close your legs to feel more friction. Shanks narrows his eyes at this, "Darling, how am I gonna be able to see that beautiful, dripping cunt of yours if I you got your legs shut?"

He moves forward and grabs your knees, spreading you open and smirking at the sight.

"That feel good princess? Better than my fingers?"

You quickly shake your head 'no' and a whine leaves your lips as your orgasm draws near. Your wrist swivels the vibrator and you gasp at the pleasure.

Shanks admires your body, sliding his hands up your thighs and using his thumbs to spread your folds.

"Fuck that's good."

[httpsdana]

could u do a gavi fic with prompt 7 and 9 pleaseee? and they are just up till 5am in the morning, with the sun starting to rise and he misses training because he falls asleep..something like that? i loove ur fics (especially ur gavi ones) thank you so much!!💞💞

Midnight Cookies~Pablo Gavi

*Pictures are from Pinterest*

in honor of our golden boy coming back, heres a cute fic abt him. missed him sm 😖 enjoy <3

request from here

master list -> part 2

players/drivers I write for

7-"my favorite new pillow" "I can't breathe" "I don't care"

9-"it's 2 am, go back to sleep"

The plan was simple—Gavi had agreed to stay up all night with his girlfriend. It was something spontaneous, a silly idea after spending the whole evening watching movies together.

y/n had suggested pulling an all-nighter just for fun, like when they were kids, and he was quick to agree, excitement gleaming in his eyes.

But now, at 2 AM, with Gavi asleep beside her on the couch, she started to think maybe she should’ve known better. His head was resting on her shoulder, his body curled up against hers like she was his personal pillow. The movie playing on the TV was long forgotten, just background noise to his soft breathing. y/n , on the other hand, was still wide awake, mind buzzing with the fun of staying up past a reasonable hour.

She shifted slightly, trying not to wake him, but he stirred anyway, groggily lifting his head. His eyes blinked open, squinting at the bright screen, and then he looked at her, his voice sleepy as he mumbled, “It’s 2 am, go back to sleep.”

“I thought we were staying up all night,” she whispered back with a grin, teasing him.

He frowned, rubbing his eyes. “Yeah, but I’m tired.” He looked ready to sink back into sleep, but she tugged on his arm playfully.

“Come on, let’s bake something or watch another movie! You can’t fall asleep now, we’re only halfway through the night.”

Gavi groaned but laughed softly, clearly amused by her determination. “Fine, but only because you’re cute.” He sat up, his hand slipping into hers as he stretched. “What do you wanna bake?”

“Cookies!” she said excitedly, already getting off the couch to head to the kitchen.

“Cookies at 2 AM,” he muttered, shaking his head but following after her. “Only you would think of that.”

In the kitchen, y/n gathered the ingredients while Gavi leaned against the counter, watching her with sleepy eyes. "You should be helping," she teased, nudging him with her elbow as she measured the flour.

He smirked and walked over, slipping his arms around her waist from behind, resting his chin on her shoulder.

“I’m supervising. It’s a very important job.” His voice was low and gravelly, making her smile.

She mixed the dough, Gavi’s arms still loosely wrapped around her. Occasionally, he'd sneak his hand forward, poking at the dough or stealing a bit to taste.

“Hey!” y/n scolded playfully, slapping his hand away.

“I’m just checking to make sure it’s good,” he said with a grin, licking the dough from his finger. “It’s perfect.”

She rolled her eyes, trying to focus as she added the chocolate chips. “If we don’t finish this, it’ll be because you ate half the ingredients.”

Gavi chuckled, placing a kiss on her cheek before letting her go. He moved around the kitchen, grabbing baking sheets and helping her scoop the dough into perfect little rounds. It was oddly domestic and comforting, the quiet intimacy of baking together in the middle of the night.

“I didn’t think you’d actually help,” she teased, glancing at him as he carefully spaced the cookies on the tray.

“I’m not that useless,” he quipped, giving her a mock-offended look.

“No, you’re not,” she agreed with a smile, leaning over to kiss him quickly on the lips.

After putting the cookies in the oven, they both sat on the counter, legs swinging as they waited for them to bake. Gavi leaned his head on her shoulder, eyes heavy with sleep again. y/n reached over to gently run her fingers through his hair, feeling him relax against her.

“Hey, don’t fall asleep yet,” she whispered, pressing a soft kiss to his temple.

“Not asleep,” he mumbled, though his eyes were closed. “Just resting my eyes.”

y/n laughed softly and let him be. The cookies filled the kitchen with a warm, sugary smell, and she couldn’t help but feel a soft flutter of happiness in her chest. Moments like this with him were her favorite—simple, sweet, and full of love.

•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•

The morning sun streamed through the windows, casting a warm glow across the room. y/n blinked awake, feeling the weight of Gavi still resting on her. His face was nestled into the crook of her neck, his arm draped lazily across her waist, his breath soft and steady against her skin. She was warm, almost too warm, but she didn’t want to move just yet.

It wasn’t until she glanced at the clock on the wall that reality hit her. It was well past 10 am. Gavi’s training session started at 8.

“Pablito,” she whispered, nudging him gently. “Gavi, wake up.”

He grunted, shifting slightly but refusing to fully wake up. She tried again, shaking him a little harder. “Pablo, wake up. You missed training!”

That got a reaction. He groggily lifted his head, squinting at her with bleary eyes, trying to process what she was saying. "Huh?"

“You missed training,” she repeated, pointing to the clock.

His eyes widened as realization sank in. “Oh, shit!” He scrambled up, his hands flying to his head as he sat up fully, looking around in a panic. “I’m so dead, I can’t believe—”

“baby, relax!” she laughed, sitting up beside him. “Just call in sick.”

He shook his head, still in a mild state of panic. “I’m gonna be in so much trouble.”

She reached over and placed a hand on his arm, squeezing it gently. “It’s okay. You can say you weren’t feeling well.”

He groaned, covering his face with his hands for a moment before peeking at her through his fingers. “This is all your fault, you know,” he muttered, though there was no real bite in his words.

“You love it,” she teased, leaning over to kiss his cheek.

“sadly, I do,” he admitted with a sigh, wrapping his arms around her again and pulling her back into his chest.

“ my favorite new pillow.” he murmured into her neck

y/n rolled her eyes playfully but didn’t resist as he held her close. His body was warm and heavy against hers, and she could feel the soft rise and fall of his chest against her hands that were resting there.

“I can't breathe” she teased, fake gasping as if she was choking.

“I don’t care,” he muttered, his lips brushing the top of her head as his grip tightened around her waist.

y/n laughed, trying to squirm out from under him, but he only tightened his grip. “Pablo! you're crushing me.”

Finally, he loosened his hold and kissed her again, this time on the lips. His lips were soft, lingering for a few seconds before he pulled away slightly, his voice still sleepy but full of affection. “You’re not going anywhere princesa”

She smiled, running her fingers through his messy hair. “But you missed training…”

He groaned again, sitting up reluctantly. “Alright, alright. I’ll call in sick.” He grabbed his phone, but before making the call, he leaned in to kiss her one more time, longer this time, savoring the moment.

And even though he was technically in trouble, neither of them cared. Because right then, in each other’s arms, nothing else mattered.

[virtualvault]

Full Body Workout

Pairing: Miguel O'Hara x f!reader

Summary: You challenge Miguel to a sparring match.

Warnings: SMUT, NSFW, 18+ ONLY, teasing, begging, oral (m/f receiving), unprotected p in v, wrestling/ grappling for control, too many positions to list lol, mirror sex, dirty talk, creampie

WC: 3.4k

A/N: This prompt won the poll that I put out AGES ago. Sorry it took so long, personal life and work life have been getting in the way and my mental health tanked so I didn’t have it in me to write anything. But, I’m back and feeling inspired again so I was able to finish this. Also, let me know your honest opinion on the positions I wrote reader and Miguel in because holy shit that was harder than I thought it was going to be. I wanted to really capture the feeling that they were wrestling around on the floor, but didn't want to make it too confusing. Please let me know if it made any sense lol. It was a challenge, but fun to write so I hope you enjoy and as always, feedback is encouraged and appreciated!!

Miguel is excited that you agreed to join him for his mid-morning workout. But excitement quickly turns to regret as you begin stretching on the mat in front of him. “This was a mistake," he mutters, and you look back and give him a questioning look.

 “How am I supposed to focus when you’re doing that?” He gestures to your ass on full display, sticking straight up in the air.

 You smile cheekily. "Well, if you don't want to watch me stretch, why don't you help me instead?" You teasingly wiggle your hips to entice him. It works, and he comes over to kneel on the floor behind you. Little do you know, he's planning to do a little teasing of his own as payback for distracting him. 

 He runs his hands up the backs of your thighs and gives your ass a light squeeze before maneuvering you onto your back. He raises one of your legs up and throws it over his shoulder, then leans over you. The tension in your hamstring causes a familiar burn and a thrill runs through you. When he switches legs, you feel his hardening bulge rub up against you and a soft moan slips from your lips. You try to move your hips against him, but before you can he places a quick kiss to your forehead and sits upright.

 "Alright, I think you've been thoroughly stretched out, now let's get to it." He shoots you a wink as he stands. You had been hoping he'd let his dick do all the thinking and forfeit his original plans for an entirely different, and way more desirable, form of workout. But he seems determined to stick to his normal routine, much to your disappointment.

 You get up, begrudgingly, to begin your own workout. It's leg day and you decide to start with some lunges. You intentionally face him, not wanting to miss the show. You love watching him workout. His sheer strength never fails to amaze you. Not only that, but he always does everything with such finesse and ease,, and you usually end up just bailing on your workout to watch him, your mouth watering and eyes glued to his body.

 It's not only his movements that are entrancing, but the sounds. My god, the sounds he makes. All the heavy breathing and grunting causes a wet heat to flare between your legs. If you close your eyes, you can picture him above you, fucking you with the same power and agility he's showcasing right now.

 He's in a pushup position, doing reps with a weight bigger than your head. Every time he pulls it up to his chest, he lets out a jagged exhale through his nose and you wish desperately you were feeling it on your neck while he pounds into you from behind.

 You find yourself completely mesmerized by the sounds he's making, the furrow in his brow, and the sweat glistening on his skin. It's a delicious sight and you realize you've completely stopped moving and are simply standing there, staring at him.

 He takes notice as he moves the weight to the other hand and catches a glimpse of you out of the corner of his eye. You quickly look away but judging by the smirk on his face you know he caught you. He's too distracting, so you decide to finish the rest of your workout on the elliptical, just waiting for him to be done and hoping he'll take you back to the apartment and relieve you of the ache he's created between your legs.

 As you set your pace on the machine, you curse yourself for not bringing headphones. You can only just barely see him out of the corner of your eye, but you hear him as he's laid out doing bench presses. The grunting is going straight to your core and you feel a warmth starting to form in your belly. Now alight with burning need, you step off and go to stand in front of him. If he's not willing to postpone his workout to fuck you silly like you want, then you think you've got the perfect compromise.

 You walk over and stand in front of him, hands on your hips. “Let’s spar."

 "What?” he asks, finishing the set and then sitting up.

 "You heard me. I wanna spar. C'mon. Or are you scared I'm going to kick your ass?" You goad, knowing full well he could squash you like a bug if he actually tried.

 He smiles at you, amused by your trash talk, but hesitates. "I don't know if that's such a good idea…" It seems like he wants doesn't want to risk the chance of hurting you, which you both know he wouldn't let happen, but he's really just trying to fight the urge to fuck you. He's been struggling since he saw you saunter out in your tight workout clothes this morning. If you were to spar, he knows being that close to you would make him lose what little control he's clinging to.

 "C’mon, I just want to give it a try. I promise, I'll go easy on you," you joke.

“Okay," he chuckles, "but nothing too crazy. Just some basic grappling stuff." He rises off the bench, and lets his eyes roam your body. He curses himself for it as he feels himself growing hard. His eyes stay glued to your ass as he follows you to the mat in the middle of the room.

 He verbally walks you through a few maneuvers and you pick one to try. He gets into position behind you and holds you up against him, and you're supposed to duck out of his grasp. You attempt the move, and fail, so he pulls you back into him to try it again. You get into position, gripping his arm, and wait for him to give you the go ahead. He leans down to speak softly into your ear. "Good, just like that. Now try it again, but just a little faster."

 His words send a tingle across your skin and your grip on him loosens. With your guard effectively down, he spins you around and sweeps your feet out from under you. You let out a squeak and feel brace yourself, but he grabs you before you hit the mat and lowers you to the ground. You notice he now has you completely trapped under him. He holds your arms to your sides and uses his leg to pin one of your own down. He leaves one leg free, and you plant it on the ground, attempting to push yourself out of his hold, but it's useless. You let out a frustrated sigh.

 "Ready to give up?" he taunts, eyes gleaming with mischief.

 "It's not fair. I'm at a disadvantage," you whine, still attempting to free yourself from his grasp.

 "And why is that?" he questions. There are a million reasons you're at a disadvantage going up against him, but your answer is not one he is expecting.

 "My pants," you state plainly.

 "Your…pants,” he echoes, amused, but waiting for clarification.

 "They’re too restrictive. I don't have full range of motion." You wriggle under him and his eyes fall to your shorts. He admires the way the taught fabric hugs your thighs.

 “Hmm. Well, we wouldn't want this to be an unfair fight, would we?” He leans back and grabs the top of your pants and frees you from their confines. He sits back on his haunches and tosses the clothing side. Then, with as much force as you can muster up, you use your feet to push against his hips, effectively knocking him off balance. He topples over and his back hits the mat with a light thud. He's quite impressed, but before he can sit up and praise you, you crawl over to him and straddle his hips.

 "Nice move," he comments, and looks down to see you resting on his bulge and he can feel the wet heat of your core through his shorts. "Thanks. I learned from the best, " you say with a wink and begin grinding on him, causing the fabric to drag along your folds. You quicken the motion as you feel him twitch beneath you.

 After a few moments, you turn the other way and attempt to rid him of his shorts, giving him a glimpse of your bare ass in the process. The second you finish taking them off, he's pulling you back to hover over his face. You steady yourself and go to scold him for taking back control, but before you can say anything he pulls you down onto his face. Your eyes squeeze shut, and you gasp as he begins exploring you thoroughly with his tongue. You shiver at the warmth of his mouth against you.

 When your eyes finally flutter open, you catch a glimpse of his tip dripping with anticipation, begging to be touched. You lean down, grip his thighs, and begin gliding your tongue over his length. He grunts and you feel the sound reverberate over your clit.

 You want to feel it again, so you take him into your mouth and start sucking his head. He bucks his hips, pushing himself to the back of your throat. He lets out a long groan this time and you pull him in deeper. You gag a little and he grips your thighs tight as your throat constricts around him. You feel his heavy breathing grazing your skin as he laps you up feverishly.

 With your own pleasure building rapidly, you pull your mouth off of him and begin stroking him while letting out a steady stream of moans. You can tell you're getting close. Miguel can too, so he sloppily sucks at your clit, then rolls it gently between his teeth. This proves to be too much for you, and you grip him at the base as your orgasm washes over you. As the pleasure rolls through your body, you clench around nothing and realize how empty you feel without him inside you. He nips at your thighs as you come down and you give him a few sloppy strokes before sitting up, desperate to feel him fill you up.

 You start to crawl down his body, but he quickly pulls you backwards. You land with your back to him, and he secures you in place with his arm across your chest. He spreads your legs, holding them open with his own, and uses his free hand to begin rubbing himself against you.

 "I wanted to ride you," you pout, and angle your hips so that his tip catches on your clit as he slides back and forth against you.

 "By all means, go ahead and try." You attempt to wiggle free but it's futile. "Guess we're doing it my way," He enters you slowly, gliding in with no resistance. You both let out a low moan.

 "You take me so well," he praises. You sigh as he bottoms. He places kisses all up your neck while giving you a few seconds to adjust. His free hand settles on your hip, and you expect him to start thrusting into you, but he surprises you when he flips the both of you over.

 He cages you in against the floor and grinds into you, slowly but deeply. He has you whimpering into the mat, needing him to go faster. But you know he loves to torture you like this, intentionally setting a pace that has you writhing and begging for more, while keeping your climax just out of reach.  You crane your neck to try and get a good look at him, but he has his face buried in your neck. You tug on his hair to get his attention.

 "Let me see you," you whine.  When he lifts his head, he's enthralled by the sight of you, lips bitten and eyes wide. He crashes his mouth into yours and glides his tongue over yours, hungrily, before pulling away and flipping you over. He grabs one wrist in each hand and anchors them to the floor above your head.

 Desire flares in you as his eyes meet yours, staring back at you with such fervent need. He brings his face closer, and your noses brush as he stares deep into your eyes. Then without warning he's back inside you and begins fucking you with much more momentum than before. You wrap your legs around his hips and the new angle has his length reaching so deep you swear you can feel it in your stomach.

 "Oh fuck, just like that," you say, breathily. Your ankles dig into his lower back, pulling him even deeper, causing his tip to find the exact spot that sends jolts of pleasure straight to your core. Your mouth falls open in a silent scream as he stretches you. His grip on your wrists loosens and his eyes fall shut as he gets caught up the feeling of your silky walls hugging him. As you contract around him again and again, he drops his head.

 You now have a good view of his exposed neck and can see the sweat glistening on his skin. Your mouth starts to water at the sight, and you place a few sloppy kisses up the slope of his neck before dragging your tongue along the skin to get a taste. You feel his hips falter and he relaxes his grip on you. You take this moment of weakness to muster up as much strength as you can and roll him over until you're straddling him.

 He grunts as his head comes to rest on the floor. He moves his hands to your hips to attempt to regain control, but you grab them and put them above his head, mirroring the position he had you in just moments ago. "Who knew a few kisses to the neck is all it takes to overpower you," you tease. You begin to grind on him nice and slow, your walls dragging along his length. He moans and his lips buck under you.

 "Come on. Please," he implores, voice dripping with want.

 "Lucky for you, it's leg day." You plant your feet on the floor and begin to ride him in earnest, and his breath quickens. As you bounce faster and faster, he squirms underneath you, so much so that his wrists come free from your grasp. You place your hands on his chest to hold him down that way instead.

 Your palms travel the broad expanse of his chest and find it increasingly harder to stay steady as the pressure inside you builds. He senses you're struggling a bit, so he grabs your hips to help guide you up and down on his cock.

 Soon your whole body is thrumming with pleasure and, no longer able to hold yourself up, you collapse on his chest. Not wanting you to lose your momentum, he quickly begins thrusting up into you. He wraps his arms around you to pull you down onto him. Within seconds he has you crying out as you tumble over the edge. You bury your face in his chest and plant light kisses across his soft skin as you ride out your high. He fucks you through it, but you're so wet he eventually slips right out of you.

 You're still buzzing from you last orgasm, but he is desperate to feel your warmth again. He rolls you over into your side, then spots the mirror that panels the wall. He sits up and pulls you into his arms with your back pressed to his chest. He holds you tight to him, arm across your chest like a seat belt and the other across your waist.

 He gets up onto his knees and his eyes meet yours in the mirror. Anticipation pulses through you as his arm momentarily leaves your waist to line himself up with your entrance. Raw with need, he slides in and returns his arm to your waist and begins pulling you down onto him in tandem with his thrusts. If it weren't for his tight grip on you, you would have toppled over.

 Your breathing comes out in short, sharp pants and you look up to see the two of you in the mirror. His body is completely engulfing yours.  Not only are his arms around you, but your thighs are enclosed by his and they're pressing yours together. It makes you feel even tighter and Miguel grunts into your neck, and he can feel himself creeping closer to his own release.

 He lifts his head to kiss up the side of your face, then meets your gaze. It'd be apparent to anyone who could see the two of you like this that he has the upper hand. You can barely move except to angle your hips to take every forceful thrust. But you both know you have just as much control over him and his pleasure as he does you. It's evident in the way he squeezes his eyes shut and his hips stutter every time you walls grip him tight, and the way he has to do everything in his power not to cum as he hears those heavenly noises pouring from your mouth.

 He has to keep himself from cumming, determined to pull one more from you before he finally gives in. Your eyes flutter shut, and you attempt to reach up to run your fingers through his hair, your other hand hanging onto his forearm. Your nails dig into his skin, and he lets out a soft growl at the delicious burn.

 He dips his head down to nip at your ear. "Touch yourself," he commands, and you go to look at him over your shoulder, but he grabs your chin to angle your face to meet his in the mirror.

 "C'mon. I want you to see how fucking good you look when you touch with yourself.  I know your clit must be throbbing, don't you think it deserves a little attention?" The grovel in his voice and his measured thrusts have your mind a little hazy, so you don't move right away. Before your hand can catch up with your brain, he grabs your wrist and shoves it between your thighs for you. He stills his hips and pulls your legs apart so he can get a good look at your spread folds in the mirror.

 "Mmm. It's so swollen, just begging to be played with. Go on, play with that pretty pussy."  He gently glides your hand over your exposed nub, then pulls away you start moving on your own. "Look at you, getting yourself off while I'm inside you. Dirty little thing.”

 You do your best to nod in response. "You make me feel so full," you moan out as you swipe back and forth over your clit.

 He involuntarily bucks his hips, pushing himself deeper into you. He curses under his breath, and you lay your head back and look up at him. “You gonna fuck me?” You question while simultaneously rolling your hips, and he sucks in a sharp breath.

 “Or am I going to have to finish the job myself?” You feign a pout, and he leans down, pulling your bottom lip between his teeth.

 Your words spur him on, and he starts moving again. He's giving you slow, hard thrusts and you squeak as each one hits deeper and deeper. He notices your hand speed up and he fucks you faster to match the pace. The feeling of him filling you up, the soft squelch each time he bottoms out and his ragged breathing grazing your skin is all you can focus on, and he sees your wrist go limp. He's quick to replace your hand with his own. His fingers swirl in fast, tight circles around your clit and you let out what sounds like a sob.

 The sensation is too much, and you go rigid in his arms, white hot pleasure shooting across your body. He sees your eyes roll back as you gush around him, and whispers sweet nothings into your ear. You don't even register what he's saying and eventually go limp in his arms. He can still feel you fluttering around him, and he lets out a deep, guttural moan and releases inside you.

 He gently sets you down onto the mat and collapses beside you, thoroughly drained. As you're attempting to catch your breath, he pulls you up into his side and you rest your head onto his chest.

 "If I knew working out could be this fun, I'd come with you every day," you jest, although you'd be more than willing to add this to your routine.

 “So, same time tomorrow then?” He asks with a smile.

[bcyhoods]

🎤 VOCALIST ── send in a character + any prompts in this cool tag or a lyric prompt of your choice for a blurb (remember to tell me which list the prompt is from!)

dreamy (from different types of kisses) + angel baby steve <3

— ivy / @inkluvs

i am realizing now how difficult kisses are to write smoothly lolz. hopefully this is okay <333 | 1.3k gn!reader

“You know, I don’t think you’re actually supposed to aim for my toes when we do this.”

Your head falls to his chest in resignation, a groan of equal sentiment dying out in the cotton of his shirt. Even though his subsequent laughter is genial and bright, your face still burns against him. You’re sure if you stayed there any longer that the searing heat of your cheek would leave a discolored patch on the garment.

“You are such a jerk, I’m trying my best!” You argue, pulling back with your eyes squeezed shut and nose facing the wall to avoid his gaze.

He watches with a wide grin as your expression twists in embarrassment. And though he can clearly see that your eyes are closed, he still ducks and tilts his head to make sure they’re level with his own. His stare is stuck on your eyelids, frantically darting between the two to see if you’ll give him the pleasure of opening them any time soon. He laughs again when he sees your timid smile before you pull your chin to your chest.

“How am I the jerk? I’m the one with a broken foot, here.”

As dramatic as he is, the words carry no real annoyance. He’s fine; his foot is intact and he’ll most certainly live. Still, your palm grows sweaty where it’s clasped with his.

It was a silly idea that he’d proposed. Well, enforced to be more accurate. An off-handed comment — a little muddled by a handful of popcorn in your mouth — about having two left feet made him spring up from the couch and offer his hand. He was absolutely determined to help you practice slow dancing, hyping up his adequate sense of rhythm and decent coordination.

And he’d looked so eager, with fluffy hair and old clothes for pajamas, smiling down at you with a fondness that made it impossible to refuse. You take up his offer with little hesitation, figuring it would be easy enough. Plus, it might be worth it to be this close to him for a while, and he’s thanking you for it in his head.

But a couple of scratchy, romantic records later, and all you have to show for it is an imprint of Steve’s big toe on the sole of your sock-clad foot.

While he’s red in the face from laughter and joy, frustration is pulling the corners of your lips into a frown. Because what should be a romantic scene is a little more difficult for you than you want it to be and you might be getting in your own head about it. Admittedly, you’re taking it a bit more seriously than he is.

“I promise I’m trying,” you mutter under your breath, barely audible as you stare down at your feet to make sure you don’t step on him again.

His brows crease in concern at the change in your demeanor. “I know,” he answers softly. When you don’t look up at him, his arm tightens around your waist to pull you against his frame. A reassuring squeeze is sent to your hand before he’s toying with the promise ring on your fourth finger, smiling as he recalls the matching one on his own. He finishes with a deeper cadence, still just as gently, “I know. I was just messing with you.”

There’s a beat of silence between you before he sighs and halts your swaying completely. He smooths his hand up your back, leaving a line of fire across your spine with his blunt nails until they end up at the nape of your neck. Meanwhile, the hand that’s wrapped in yours is guided to his torso, prompting you to hold onto him there instead. All for the greater purpose of cradling your face in his hands.

He knows you too well. A promise of love shines in his eyes as they catch the subtle annoyance hidden in the creases of your face. The softness of his smile, his touch, is a manifestation of that promise and it has you taking a particularly hefty breath to calm the chaos in your chest.

“Hey, you’re doing fine. Promise. Stop worrying that pretty little head of yours.” He looks you in the eye the entire time, rubbing his thumbs over your cheeks to emphasize his final point. And maybe being this close to him was a bad idea because you’re afraid your knees are going to buckle at his attentiveness.

And the fear becomes even more prominent when you spot his eyes dip down to your lips just for a split second before returning. You can feel your heart jump into your throat and the gooey smile being pushed onto your face before you can restrain it. He mimics the same expression, as if it’d be any help to your current state. You’re so out of it, you barely hear him ask, “Wanna keep trying?”

“You make me nervous.”

He blinks. “Me? Why do I make you nervous?”

“Dunno!…’Cause you’re, like…you’re looking at me like that,” you try to explain. It comes out in between nervous laughter, pushed out through teeth glued together in a smile only he can seem to cause. And he decides to take full advantage of it.

“Hmm. Like what?”

His brow raises suggestively before inching closer to you. His mouth just hovers over yours, tauntingly tickling your skin with a smug grin. You swallow down your nerves, nudging his nose with the tip of your own.

“Like…”

You push closer, puckering your lips against his in a kiss that’s barely there. Tenderness seeps through his fingers as they cup your jaw, and scratch the nape of your neck to elicit a sigh from you. His breath hitches at the sound and he’s pushing into the kiss out of poorly constrained excitement. His lips drag slowly, like he’s savoring the taste of you and committing it to memory. He all but whines when you’re finally pulling away for air, resting your forehead on his.

His lips are slick and kiss-bitten, face flushed and ears bright red. His chest is heaving and his eyes are closed in bliss. He looks wrecked and you’re not doubting that you look the same, but looking at him like this makes your stomach flutter.

You giggle, this time a more deliberate sound. “You’re distracting me.”

He huffs in disbelief and pulls back to look at you. You can feel his hands grow warmer in your skin with each passing second, the blush on his face deepening. “You’re distracting me! I’m supposed to be teaching you.”

“Well, you’re not doing a very good job,” you wince playfully, nudging his wounded foot.

As if it were possible, his smile widens and an airy laugh reverberates in his chest. “Yeah, cuz you’re looking at me like that.”

He dives in to capture your lips once more and hums at the contact. It’s notably more difficult this time around, your smiles getting in the way as your teeth clumsily scratch against each other. But it doesn’t stop either of you from pressing on, lips locking and clicking with every ebb and it makes your fingers twist into his tee. He pulls back with his lips comically puckered and placing them on your forehead for one final kiss.

“You're fine. You’re gonna get it, hmm?” He looks at you expectantly and you just about melt in his arms. It’s a silly thing, sure, but he sounds so sure, so confident in you. And his brown eyes are wide and teeming with ardor. You nod, a huge grin on your face.

“Let’s just hope you’re not in a cast by then.”

[gigglesandfreckles-hp]

52 and/or 63 from that drabble prompt list please! love your stuff <3

from these prompts

“It’s simple really,” Lily says, spreading her various scribbled-on parchments out on the table between the three of them.. “Like taking sweets from an ickle baby.”

“That’s just plain devious, Evans.”

Remus clears his throat. “I think,” he glances toward James then looks back to Lily with a polite smile, “we would enjoy hearing this plan.” He smile grows. “Not that the build-up has been anything less than delightful.”

Lily rolls her eyes. “Your sarcasm and lack of appreciation for proper story-telling has been noted, Lupin.”

“I appreciate your story-telling, Evans,” James points out, smiling proudly at her.

She raises an eyebrow at him. “You do know that my willingness to get naked in front of you has nothing to do with your false flattery, right, Potter?”

Remus makes a miserable sound. “Can we please get back to the matter at hand?”

Lily winces apologetically, but James just grins, his eyes crinkling at the corners. It’s not as if Moony and the other lads aren’t used to this by now. He leans forward, resting his elbows on the table, his fingers drumming lightly against the wood. His gaze is steady on Lily, a mix of amusement and admiration. Lily catches his eye significantly, then glances away.

“Right. Anyway.” She aims a puff of air at her fringe, so that the hairs scatter away from her eyes. “They cut through the South Courtyard on their way back from the library, every night except for Wednesdays, because of—”

Remus nods in understanding. “Slug Club, right.”

“So if we do it Tuesday—”

James sighs, shifting in his chair, his brow furrowing with impatience. “Evans—”

“No, hush, I’m not done.” She waves him off, determination lighting up her features. “If we do it Tuesday, it’ll be easy. A quick Disillusionment charm for the two of you, I’ll be around the corner waiting for the signal and—”

“That’s not going—”

Remus kicks him under the table, shooting him a warning look. “Let her finish, Prongs.” James slumps back into his chair, but otherwise motions for Lily to keep talking.

“Thank you, Remus. This is why you’re my favourite.” She sends a sharp glare toward James. James, her boyfriend, who has been sitting here for an hour  like an angel listening to Lily’s ridiculous plan to try and get back at Mulciber for his hexing of Mary last week. “We won’t leave him without any of his clothes, of course, because that’s more of a punishment to the rest of Hogwarts than it is to Mulciber, but—what do you think?”

Remus taps his fingers along the table, considering. “I think it’s a good starting place.”

“Are you open to some feedback?” James asks, leaning forward.

Lily shakes her head, self-importantly. “Not at this time, no.”

He tosses his head back and laughs. “Evans.”

“Don’t ruin this for me, James. I swear I—”

“It’s not that I don’t love to see you plotting and planning to give it to Mulciber,” he says, then laughs again at the offended look on her face. “No, seriously, it’s a good thing Moony is here because, the effect it has on me, Evans…the ideas in my head right now just simply aren’t appropriate for the library.”

“Thank you so much for your restraint,” Remus says dryly.

“But?” Lily demands, her sharp gaze fixed on James.

“But,” he continues, dropping his voice even though they’re practically alone in here this early on a Saturday morning. It’s why he and Remus are the only ones who responded to her owl, while Sirius and Peter opted for a lie-in. “We have an Invisibility Cloak. And a map. We—”

Lily hits the table in front of them, shaking her head fervently. “That’s cheating!”

James scoffs. “How is it—”

“Careful, Lily,” Remus hums lightly.

“Is that what you think? All these years?” James yelps, his voice rising in pitch. “You should be impressed. Who else in this castle has—”

“I am impressed by the map, James, and you know it. Magic that advanced…” She smiles cheekily. “It’s at least half the reason I’m dating you. But it just puts all your ridiculous pranks in a new light. When you consider the fact that you’ve had an easy way of becoming invisible—”

“Take that back!” James insists. “It’s still impressive!”

Remus leans back in his chair, smirking. “I told you, Lily.”

“Look,” Lily tries for an appeasing tone, but it only serves to make James pout further. His own girlfriend thinks all those brilliant pranks were only accomplished by cheating? What kind of cruel world is this?! “You are very intelligent and I—”

“Stop talking to me like I’m six,” he mumbles, folding his arms over his chest and sticking out his lower lip.

Lily and Remus lock eyes across the table for a moment, then immediately burst out laughing. The sound is loud and unabashed, echoing through the otherwise quiet library. Lily’s shoulders shake with mirth, her eyes shut tight, while Remus leans back in his chair, running a hand through his hair as he tries to catch his breath.

“What?” James demands, scrambling to sit up straight again in his chair, eyes darting between the two of them. “What’s so funny?”

“Have I mentioned how much I like having you around, Lily?” Remus says through his laughter, completely ignoring James. “Merlin, it’s so much better when there’s someone else to humble him.”

“I hate both of you,” James says, glaring. “And, Lily,” he purses his lips, haughtily, “your plan is rubbish. I’m not helping you.” He pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose for good measure, because he means business.

“Okay,” Lily snorts loudly, leaning back in her chair with a mock-serious expression. “Damn, Potter. I’m truly gutted. Honest to God, I’m not sure how I’ll ever recover or find the will to go on.” She turns smoothly toward Remus. “You’ll help me, won’t you?”

“Of course.”

James makes a sound of indignation, his face reddening further. “We’re not friends anymore, Remus.”

“Shame.”

“And Lily?”

“Yes?” She lifts an eyebrow, daring him to say something equally scathing.

“You and me,” he says, struggling to commit to the false threat while she’s looking at him with those eyes, bloody Merlin and Morgana. “We’re…we’re…”

“Uh huh?”

“Well, I am…not very happy with you right now,” he finishes lamely.

She grins at him, eyes sparkling with amusement. “I’m sure the feeling will pass. Just as soon as I’m naked again.”

[peskellence]

My Friends Call Me Richard

Part III

Explicit Content (18+)

Pairing: Reed900

Tags: M/M, Workplace Romance, FWB, Humour, Awkward Encounters, Eventual Smut

Previous Chapter

Read on AO3 here:

Summary: In a bid to improve his partnership (and secret intimate arrangement) with Detective Gavin Reed, RK900 embarks on a noble quest to spice things up. The solution? A new biocomponent.

Word Count: 10K

Tag List: @sweeteatercat @wedonthaveawhile @gho-stychan @tentoriumcerebelli @negative-citadel @faxaway @moriahadi424 @unicorn4genocide @cptjh-arts

(surprise at the end of the keep reading courtesy of @faxaway)

“What's the hold up in there?”

RK900 winced at the question. The transition from purchase to implementation had gone nowhere near as smoothly as hoped. He found himself locked in the bathroom, trying and failing to secure his new biocomponent.  

“I am beginning to question if this product is suitable for ‘self-installation’,” He mumbled critically, attempting to angle the phallus awkwardly between his legs. “Perhaps the store assistant issued the wrong product...” 

“Can you not cross-reference it against your dick database?” His voice was thin, dripping with impudence. No doubt reflective of his dwindling patience. “I mean, your scanners would flag if it was the wrong thing completely, wouldn't they?”

The android frowned, forced to concede that multiple checks had been completed—referring to both the product schematics and his own manufacturer details. None of this had shed any clarity on his current difficulties.

He sightlessly searched for a small circular slot at the base of his groin. Guiding nodules failed to adhere, clips gripping to nothing before slipping uselessly from his chassis.

"I am having issues adhering the scrotal extension to my lower access port.” He moved the component again, testing to see if a change in angle might reap greater success. 

Another failure followed, and fears emerged that the fault could relate to his own anatomy. Specifically, a factory defect he had previously been unaware of. 

With his options rapidly depleting, he turned to the crumpled instructional leaflet left abandoned by the bath. He scrutinised each step, noting multiple discrepancies between the printed text and the digital guidance displayed on his HUD. 

“Perhaps if you could offer assistance, then it would be easier to facilitate—” 

“There's a line,” Reed shot back, callously interrupting before he could finish. “Helping you clip on your junk like we're building IKEA furniture is where I draw it.” 

The rebuff was discouraging, as RK900 was left helpless—plagued by doubts relating to protocols and analytics that so intrinsically dictated his actions.

While his advanced processors should have been capable of determining a solution to the dilemma, they proved inexplicably incapable. Trapping him in a loop of trial and error.

He briefly considered contacting RK800 to see if he might be more willing to assist. This was before he realised there would be significant limitations on the support that could be provided remotely—and that Reed would undoubtedly be opposed to welcoming additional guests.

Despite logic indicating that surrender may be the only option, something inside him refused to concede. Attention locked on his primary directive, which dangled precariously at the forefront of his optics:

> ENGAGE IN SEXUAL INTERCOURSE WITH DETECTIVE REED.

It seemed callous to allow himself to fall at this final hurdle, no matter how staggering it proved. 

And so, he forcefully pulled himself from the despondent line of cognition. Determined to ensure that his efforts—and the current painful ordeal—would not be in vain. 

With parameters set and diagnostics refreshed, his system presented an updated list of prompts. Ones that sparked hope. Renewed faith that he wasn’t deluding himself or his partner on false pretences.

Following guidance, the android performed a precise 7-degree rotation of the component. He pressed forward, and for a split second, the attachment seemed to align—but the angle fell short of optimal. A prompt then advised that proper leverage was unobtainable from his current position.

To correct this, RK900 lifted one leg, calculating in real time the exact height needed. This elevation, as it transpired, aligned almost perfectly with Detective Reed’s toilet.

Foot steady on the edge of the bowl, he pressed again, slanting upward in another attempt to engage the clips. This time, with success, confirmed by a soft click which echoed through the room. 

The small noise provided unparalleled relief. For a moment, he allowed himself to believe the debacle was over. 

It was a blissful respite, if cruelly short-lived. 

The auditory cue had been deceptive. While alignment of the prongs had been achieved, their locking mechanism had not engaged, preventing adhesion to the connection point

A revelation that came too late. 

RK900 slipped back, and the attachments promptly folded, the intimate module tumbling down between his thighs.

Unfortunately, it seemed Detective Reed was geometrically opposed to lowering his toilet seat. The component struck against the porcelain dome, ricocheting like a pinball until it hit the base with a plop. Ripples of impact shook the water, and RK900 watched in despair as the flesh-toned silicone sank, engulfed by murky waves. 

His attention snapped to the door, where he knew his partner sat in wait. Listening closely, having undoubtedly heard everything that just transpired. 

“...What was that?” 

Thirium pumped in increased volumes through his circulatory system, pooling in his cheeks. His limited social directives were strained to their breaking point, faced with a sudden uptick in demand:

While Reed was far from preoccupied with good hygiene standards, he undoubtedly possessed some instinct to protect against hazardous waste. 

This left his next steps uncertain, as the android was trapped at an impasse. Painfully aware that some degree of deceit would be needed to placate his partner, but unsure how to achieve this with any conviction. 

“Richard.”

Then a confession slipped out, almost instinctively, before he could stop it:

“It appears I have dropped my phallus in your toilet.”  

Reed did not respond immediately, and while RK900 could not see his face, he could envision the disappointment etched upon it. The deep-set frown and contemptuous stare bore into him, demanding acknowledgement.

Then, a sound bridged the hush between the bathroom and bedroom. Auditory profiling identified the impact of flesh, as biophysical analysis confirmed no additional parties had entered the home.  

Reed had struck himself. Likely in the face—a ritualistic action performed during times of frustration.  

��� Why were you putting it on over the toilet?”

RK900 spoke quickly. An exercise in perseverance and self-preservation as much as it was an appeal to his partner. “There is no cause for alarm.” 

He then pivoted sharply, leaving the component submerged in the waste receptacle. The rubber tip reached for him, breaking the water's surface as though beckoning his return. 

Its pleas for assistance were ignored as he dropped to his knees, retrieving a discarded box from the grubby linoleum floor. The contents were cleared, save for a small drawstring bag containing samples of Cyberlife-issued cleaning supplies. 

“The component will be sanitised thoroughly before use,” the android said, a relieved sigh passing his lips. “I can assure you this incident will not impact our planned intimacy.”

“Like fuck, it won’t. I am not letting you put your toilet dick in me.”

The harsh retort struck like a slap and swiftly undermined any solace. Crestfallen, the RK unit returned focus to the toilet, gaze dropping limply to the prosthetic urethra staring up at him. A singular, narrow eye, which made him the subject of scrupulous judgment. Mockery. 

His grip tightened, reducing the box to a compact wad of cardboard. Then, his central processor whirred into overdrive, fervently seeking a solution to the current dilemma. 

“If preferred, we can return to the Cyberlife Store in order to—”

“ No .”

The fledging suggestion was cut down before it had any hopes of maturing. 

Despite this sweeping refusal of cooperation, Detective Reed eventually employed some degree of deduction. This was an innate reflex that existed beyond the parameters of conscious desire, culminating in the antipathic conceit he muttered under his breath. 

It was just barely audible through the wooden panel that divided them. Suggestions that it ‘didn’t matter’ if the extension was in mint condition, given the unsavoury conditions it would imminently find itself in. This, combined with allusions that he had accepted ‘worse’ from former partners.

The man capped the disgruntled train of thought with a more targeted instruction, spoken to the android: 

“Just make sure it’s clean enough , okay?” 

RK900 was appreciative to have been offered a compromise, accepting the conditions with a cordial nod. “My advanced debris detection will ensure the removal of all harmful chemicals and bacterial residue.” 

“...Debris detection?” the human questioned, snorting tersely as he did. “What are you, a fucking Roomba?”

“My operations are far more advanced than that of a vacuum cleaner.” 

This resulted in another burst of amusement—a childish snicker pelted against the wooden panel dividing them.

“Depends on the context…” This impish enjoyment soon subsided, followed by a return to thinly veiled criticisms. “Don’t rush; I’m having a blast . Nothing says ‘mind-blowing foreplay’ like waiting for your partner to disinfect his detachable dick.”

“Thank you for your cooperation, Detective,” the android replied, imitating de-escalation tactics he had observed from RK800. “Your patience and understanding are greatly appreciated.” 

The man was far from enchanted. Clicking his tongue, he mumbled another suggestion under his breath. This time, admonishing insincerity, accusing the android of sounding like a ‘fucking complaints department.’  

“Just don’t expect me to go down on you. I'd rather not scrub my tongue with lemon zest bleach.” 

RK900 doubted this product had been used on the toilet with any recency. Nonetheless, he brushed the comment aside.

Supplies prepared, he rolled up the sleeve of his uniform jacket and reached into the bowl to retrieve the lost component. As his hand became further immersed, the silicone base slinked back until it was wedged stubbornly in the U-bend. Enhanced manoeuvring was required to dislodge it, but after a few determined twists, it finally broke free.

With the phallus secured, he set to work on the sanitation process. The antibacterial spray was used until the bottle was nearly depleted, scrubbed with dutiful care into every moulded ridge and crevice. Unsheathed fingers were then swept across the length, assessing for any lingering debris trapped in the pockets. 

“Exterior sterilisation is at 99.8%,” RK900 concluded, as synthetic skin returned to his digits, “well above advisory levels for bodily insertion.”

“Sexy,” the human said dryly. There was a strange upward lilt that the android had come to recognise as synonymous with sarcasm. “Just try not to drop it in the shitter again.” 

Having learned from his previous mistake, RK900 lowered the toilet seat, establishing a more desirable platform for installation. He clipped the newly sanitised component back into place. This time, ensuring the fastening clasps had locked securely to his groin before receding. 

His operational software acknowledged the component and the installation of primary physical subroutines booted autonomously. Aesthetic changes also occurred, integrating the component into his wider physical form. 

“...Hey…Richard…?” The address came mingled with steady rapping against the door. “You’re a bit quiet. Just checking your engine is still running.”

RK900’s lips formed a response, but no sound escaped them. Instead, he was mesmerised by the ripples of movement materialising on the component. Iridescent patterns danced and shimmered, attempting to harmonise with the surrounding conditions.

He understood the device’s ‘complexion’ was predetermined and that a perfect colour match was not guaranteed. Nonetheless, it came close. Unsightly connection points smoothed almost seamlessly beneath a blanket of pale, freckled skin.

“... Richard ?” There was another bang. Louder and more insistent. “Look, I’m not expecting you to strut out of there like Cyberlife’s latest sexbot. If you can't get the thing on, it's fine. Seriously. Just stop messing around so we can—”

“External interrogation is almost complete. I’ll be out in one moment.”

RK900 dressed carefully, concealing his new feature beneath his work slacks in anticipation of a proper reveal. He wanted to avoid startling his companion with unexpected nudity, having learned from experience that such a greeting required meeting very specific criteria—ones he did not want to misjudge at this pivotal moment. 

As he opened the passage to the bedroom, the swinging door nearly collided headlong with Reed. He dodged to the side, cursing sharply, as one of the arms that had been habitually crossed over his chest moved to shield his face. 

“What the hell ?” he spluttered, tone brimming with accusation. “You nearly knocked me out, dipshit.”

“I did not anticipate you would be standing in such close proximity to the door.”

The sounds of annoyance trailed off as the man's disgruntled expression morphed into one of introspection. Suddenly aware that the action had revealed more than he intended.

“Whatever.” He grunted dismissively, drawing his arms back into their previous guarded position. “So, you done? Or do you still need to calibrate your balls?” 

“The component has been implemented in its entirety. Diagnostics are underway to confirm optimal physical functionality. Afterwards, I will be cleared to upload the related social protocols.” 

The human stared blankly as if the words had emerged as distorted, incomprehensible screeches. “I asked if it was on, not for a dissertation on the instruction manual.” 

RK900 recognised that he may have offered more information than necessary. In seeking to be thorough, he had unintentionally diminished a level of intrigue—the mystique that Reed wished to preserve in their impending intimacy.

“It is on and will be ready for use shortly. Apologies for the delay, Detective.”

Reed blinked again, his already furrowed brow pulling into an increasingly taut pinch. There was unrest that persisted around him, but it took a different form. More apprehensive than hostile. 

“Gavin,” he corrected. “I already told you, Gavin is fine when we're…” 

The sentence trailed off, wandering in line with his focus. It followed a path down the android’s form, inspecting every inch until it had locked onto the junction between his legs. His eyes widened, and his breath hitched, catching in his throat.

“How much longer is it going to take?” he questioned, motioning towards the concealed appendage in a loose circling gesture. “Have I got time to text Tina about how fucking insane this is?” 

RK900 took this impatience as a cue to progress the interaction. He leveraged all the research he had compiled, coupled with their pre-existing intimacy habits. This collective insight encouraged him to act assertively—while also imitating a degree of human spontaneity.

He advanced on the human, preparing to perform an action he had noted in several of the surveyed clips. Pressing a steadying hand to the small of the man’s back, he hooked his available arm onto the back of his thighs.

Gavin was raised in a fluid motion, resulting in a short, strangled sound—caught somewhere between a scream and a hiss. He was powerless to do anything but hook onto his partner’s neck, preventing unsteady weight from toppling back. 

Once adjusted to the sudden change in elevation, his lips parted, presumably to form words of protest. They were silenced pre-emptively by the firm, deliberate press of the android’s own.

It wasn’t long before the kiss was reciprocated. He engaged RK900 in a quiet chase, mirroring practised movements with tenacious enthusiasm. His heartbeat escalated, and the press of his mouth grew more insistent—matching each rumbled pulse that rattled his ribs. 

The android felt a flicker of satisfaction, his actions eliciting the exact response he had predicted. Ultimately, he pulled away, and mimicry ended as the man attempted to pursue the withdrawing contact.

“I can think of more entertaining ways to tolerate this delay...” 

RK900 paused, realising he was unsure how to proceed with this sentence. He took a moment to adjust his verbal subroutines, aligning them with the recently acquired licentious vocabulary. From this, he successfully crafted an appropriately alluring title of address:

“Hot lips.”  

This inspired a half-suppressed sound from his partner, akin to a deflating balloon. After a beat, breath was drawn back, hissed through clenched teeth, as the man sharply angled his head further into the room.

“Stop running your mouth and get a move on. Plastic asshole.”

RK900 was on the verge of reminding him that they had omitted the purchase of a silicone rectal cavity before understanding his meaning. He instead referred back to the audiovisual loops stored on his CPU, prioritising according to watch time and access frequency.

Feeling assured he had gathered all the necessary data for an optimal experience, he purposefully strode on. Approaching the bed before deftly sidestepping it and heading for the exit.

“Uh, where the hell are you going?” Gavin, still held in his grasp, attempted to resist his movement. One hand pressed against the solid foundation of his chest, pushing back in an action that had entirely zero impact. “The bed is over there, genius.”

“Your bed will not be required. This apartment has a balcony.” 

His partner gawped at him, lashes fluttering in confusion. If he were an android, RK900 was certain he would hear the whir of internal mechanisms—gears turning frantically, teetering on the brink of annihilation.

“Come again?”

Any excitement built during their kiss seemed to have fizzled completely. The android realised that while his data proved sound in a controlled environment, external factors undermined its practical reliability.

Memory banks cast echoes of the human's shuddering breath, slicing through the frigid winter air. The tip of his ruddy nose tucked into the folds of his hoodie as he attempted to shield it from the chill…

After reevaluating the situation, he stopped. His heels pressed firmly into the grubby carpet before angling upwards, prepared for reorientation. 

 “Of course, it is rather cold out. The bed will suit our needs for today.”

Retracing his steps, RK900 returned to his previous position at the foot of the bed. He held his partner over its surface before releasing his weight, permitting a descent into the linen. Despite the cushioned landing, Gavin yelped. His limbs fanned out in a star-like formation, braced for impact as the plush sheets rapidly engulfed him.

The android soon joined, placing hands on either side of his body, forming a tight cage. His captive stared through him, focus blighted by the recent momentum, as his jaw fell slightly agape. 

A smooth tilt guided it closed as RK900 supported his weight on a single arm. His fingertips skimmed coarse stubble, and his sensors registered that it had grown 2.3 millimetres since their last encounter—slightly longer than the detective’s preference. 

Resisting the urge to mention this, he instead leaned in, charting the overgrown trail with neatly peppered kisses.

Gavin tensed, although this response was not unanticipated.

It always took him some time to relax—when they were like this. The ripples of previously stringent prejudice, now mostly forgotten, still clinging to threads of fading significance…

Ties that unravelled beneath targeted pulses of breath—slow and rhythmic, designed to coax tightly held knots from muscles. Receptive warmth spread beneath reddening skin, extending outward until the body became loose and pliant.

The man's head tilted unconsciously, baring more of his neck—a wordless invitation for RK900 to deepen his exploration.

He established a new point of contact on the presently unblemished canvas, tracing it with a practised sweep of his tongue before clamping down with a firm press of teeth.

After applying suitable pressure to leave a mark, he pulled back, levying a rumbled address against the pulsing flesh. A premeditated salaciousness that was undercut by an instinctive slip back into professional titles:

“You're a dirty whore, aren't you, Detective?” 

Despite previous objections, Gavin did not appear upset. If anything, the dilation of his pupils, combined with the involuntary groan that tumbled from his lips, indicated the opposite.

Encouraged to proceed, RK900 maintained his focus on the man's throat. Sealing flesh between his lips and drawing gently on the freshly marked abrasion.

“ Shit.” The expletive trailed into a sigh as he squirmed keenly against a tide of rumpled linen.

“Such a needy slut.” 

The derogatory remarks felt odd—unnatural—coming from the android, yet they seemed to be the exact calibre of slander Gavin wanted. If the noises hadn't been enough, irrefutable evidence came in the growing snugness of his jeans.

He traced the stained length of the zipper, to which the concealed hardness beneath twitched back receptively. “Filthy—”

“Easy, Casanova.” The chiding was light and playful, entwined with a rich chuckle. “There's no need to rush; we’re just getting warmed up.”

RK900 swiftly identified the duplicity of this statement.

It was routine they had engaged in countless times before—in both personal and professional settings. His partner pushed away, under the pretence that RK900 would follow, seeking to pull him back. 

This was a challenge, demanding the RK900 to prove just how persistent he would be in retaining dominance.

Grasping the hand kneading idly into his bicep, he pinned it to the sheets. As he moved to scold the culprit—the resonance of his pitch dropped in line with his hips, which engaged the man’s own in a subtle rock. 

“I think you've already warmed up sufficiently." 

Then he paused, his mind stalling as it became clear he’d exhausted much of the risqué vocabulary he had been sourcing. 

Not wishing to shatter the illusion of salacious assuredness, he hastily constructed what he believed would be a logical evolution:

“...You…repulsive creature.”

Gavin appeared more perplexed than captivated by the address. The eager twitches RK900 had predicted were conspicuously absent as his nose wrinkled sceptically. 

“I’m sorry, what?”

Clearly, he was still adjusting to his companion speaking this way. Determining that greater exposure might expedite this adaptation, RK900 pressed on, adding to the deprecation:

“Your hygiene standards are subpar. The aroma you emit is deeply unpleasant.”

Lidded eyes snapped open, startled to alertness, and Gavin grimaced. Pressing his unrestrained hand to the android’s chest and pushing firmly:

“Okay. That’s enough. Drop it.”

RK900 stiffened. Questioning momentarily if he had made a mistake or if this was simply part of the licentious roleplay.

As Gavin held firm in his convictions, it became clear he had misjudged some aspects of his tolerance for humiliation—specifically, remarks relating to personal cleanliness. Comments he would be wise to scale back in the ongoing proceedings, which he committed dutifully to his memory backs…

Rumination cast in shifting patterns of yellow and red on the crumpled caverns of Gavin's face. The tense lines began to smooth as a flash of remorse tempered the flames in his accusatory glare.

“Let's just—” His hand jerked in an awkward flourish towards the android. Tracing erratic, disjointed patterns in the air before coming to rest between his legs. “Move on.”

It was not difficult to discern what was meant by this. To ensure that no further errors were made regarding the nuances of ‘dirty talk’, RK900 concluded now was the time to source additional support.

The Intimacy Protocol—which had been stored neatly in the back of his temporal processor, awaiting use—was promptly activated. As subroutines initialised, a cascade of sensory inputs flooded his system, sharpening every sensation with unnerving clarity.

Suddenly, he could feel everything . 

The most minute bunch of fabric rubbing against the creases of previously sensationless silicone. Artificial vessels pumped and swelled with increased thirium input as the appendage stiffened, brought to hardness with almost alarming efficiency. 

It was uncomfortable—surprisingly so—as the flesh began to strain against the oppressive binds of clothing. It pleaded for release, a call to action driven by longing the android had never experienced.

He soon responded, unable to withstand the excruciating currents pulsing through his groin. Hands fumbled to unclasp his belt, erratic movements defined by an uncharacteristic sense of urgency. The leather was almost split in two as it was yanked free—whipped back at great velocity. 

Gavin flinched, arching back quickly to evade impact. It wouldn't have been the first time that RK900 had struck him with his belt, although previous instances had been performed under strict instruction.

“ Holy shit—watch it, asshole — ”

This admonishment barely registered. The wayward currents had begun to ignite what could only be described as fire in his core. His stomach was a furnace; molten fallout spat at neighbouring biocomponents, threatening to burn through them.

The belt was discarded over the edge of the bed, its controlled descent thwarted by an extensive pile of laundry, which swallowed it whole into its pungent hold.

Gavin cursed again. This time, however, it was not the consequence of disapproval. He was staring at the android's arousal, eyes alight with what could only be described as spellbound curiosity. 

As though he were looking through the gates to nirvana, a higher plane of existence promised beneath the veil of Cyberlife briefs.

Hips were raised, and the pants slipped off, tumbling out of view in a single, fluid sweep. RK900 chose not to dwell on the creases that would have resulted from this callousness.

It was irrelevant, insignificant—a problem to be resolved later—

Provided his partner owned an iron—

WARNING — MULTIPLE SYSTEM ANOMALIES DETECTED. 

RUNNING DIAGNOSTICS…

He reeled, his mind overwhelmed by the shrieks of unruly electrical signals. Intrusive sentiments burrowed deeper into his processor, attempting to align with his more reasoned analytics. 

He took some consolation in knowing that the programme, however disorientating, was having the desired effect. With ignited zeal, Gavin gripped the hem of his shirt. Yanking it over his head before casting it aside, exposing the full length of his torso. 

The marred skin ignited his focus in a way it hadn't previously. RK900 was about to remove his undergarments when his companion—in an unusual show of consideration—moved to assist.

They seldom undressed each other, a familiarity he had been told was unfitting of their ‘casual’ arrangement. Despite this, he watched with quiet curiosity as Gavin crossed this line, looping his fingers beneath a taut band of elastic.

His cocky smirk, which was typically ever present during their encounters, was replaced by something quieter—more sincere. The digits lingered, flexing apprehensively as though preparing for their next move. 

Then the waistband was tugged, and the phallus sprung free from its confines. 

RK900 winced as he registered the cool air against his skin. It was sharp and biting, only exacerbated by the burning that continued to mount within him.

The dimensions of the phallus were expanded compared to its dormant state, aligning with the advertised specifications. The tip was tinged with a cool-toned flush, accentuated by a reflective sheen of biofluid. A lubricant that seemed to leak incrementally from the component, in which Gavin took particular interest. 

Despite previous claims that he would not be partaking in fellatio, his face drew tantalisingly close to the ‘toilet dick’. Halted inches from the arousal, blanketing it in a sequence of hot, ragged puffs. 

It sent ripples of sensation through hyper-sensitive receptors as RK900 was forced to grip the sheets beneath him. Speculating on how it might feel to be engulfed completely in Gavin's warmth and fighting the growing temptation to thrust himself into his mouth.

Before any intrusive impulses could get the better of either party, Gavin moved to palm the hardness. Tracing its length, applying testing pressure before enclosing it fully in a fist.

The sensation this triggered was indescribable. 

Thousands of microscopic pleasure receptors activated simultaneously, their collective murmurs building to wails that surged through his neural pathways. 

Then they released in a strained expulsion that tumbled from his lips. It was low and growled, not unlike the rumble of thunder, but with a distinctive metallic edge.

The noise was unlike anything he had ever produced, leaving both him and his partner temporarily stunned. Gavin was first to establish his bearings, doing so with a small, tentative squeeze. The expulsion repeated, and RK900 watched as spiralling patterns of red caught in the green of his partner’s sclerae. 

“ Holy shit.. .” The man was enraptured, scrutinising each choppy cycle of the LED as he brushed the tip of the component beneath his calloused thumb. “It feels so real.”

"Realism constitutes an integral aspect of its visual and functional design.” 

RK900 felt detached from the words, almost as though someone else was speaking through him. 

He found himself plunged deep into uncharted depths for both his body and mind. Thrashing helplessly as logical subroutines attempted to quantify his pleasure, assigning it values or comparing it to previously stored data. No parallels existed—and it was maddening.

His original self was fading fast, slipping into the foreground of his consciousness. Buried by a rampant tide of untamed cravings.

To touch and feel and taste —

> DIAGNOSTICS COMPLETE

TEMPORAL FIREWALLS: COMPROMISED 

CORE BODY TEMPERATURE: 122°F — RISING

Any attempts to re-establish command soon proved redundant as Gavin began to move his hand. His fist pumped in a rhythmic motion, pressing ruthlessly into overworked sensors. 

“You can feel that, can’t you?” The tone carried a mischievous lilt, informing RK900 that no answer was required. 

His partner was already well aware of the effect the stimulation was having. Despite this, he pressed on, seemingly hellbent on goading some form of acknowledgement. 

“Does it feel good?” 

“Very much—” 

The situation was nearing critical as his system pressed for the urgent release of the excessive heat. Narrow vents along his chassis began to hiss, desperately dispersing the warmth in subtle bursts of steam.

He sincerely prayed that his companion would fail to notice this.

“—Perhaps too much,” he confessed, shuddering weakly. “I might have to make adjustments to the erogenous feedback levels.”

“Oh no you don't.” Gavin held firm on his length—as though he were wielding a prize. One that he refused to have stripped under any circumstances. “This was your idea. You wanted this. So strap in and enjoy the ride.”

Despite the assertion, there was a moment of hesitancy before the man proceeded. His 

grip slackened, and his rigid gaze softened with a flicker of vulnerability. Searching the RK’s own, as though seeking permission.

Something that was offered in the form of a slow, apprehensive nod. The android considered lowering sensitivity regardless, omitting to disclose this to his partner before ultimately deciding against it. He resolved to monitor his response to the stimuli, assessing just how much he could reasonably tolerate. 

A line of reasoning that unravelled within seconds as heightened pleasure consumed him. 

It became painfully clear why humans sought this relief so frequently. The tension that had gripped his core melted into blissful release, leaving his systems reeling. RK900 felt the vertebra of his neck slacken as his head flopped back, and a substantial pocket of warmth released in a long, heady groan. 

The temperature warning began to recede, fading until it no longer formed an active obstruction in his vision. He could see his partner clearly and found himself wholly ensnared by the sight. 

It felt like looking at him for the first time, as all the quirks and intricacies that once seemed innocuous were viewed through a fresh lens. Thick lashes cast a charming shadow over his eyes—simultaneously bright and sharp—yet clouded by a haze of lust.

As he kept stroking him, an impish grin played on his lips. The corner lifted, aligning almost perfectly with one of the numerous scars dotting his face.

The RK examined each, his eyes drifting as unseen threads gradually linked them. Rather than constructing a timeline for when the marks might have appeared, all he could think about was how appealing they were. Constellations of lived experience seamlessly woven into a dishevelled, roguish charm the man so effortlessly embodied.

Wandering focus pathed the way for another mental break, logic bleeding intrusively through the cracks. It reminded him that—while the sights and sensations he was experiencing were profoundly enjoyable—they did little to aid in fulfilling his primary directive. 

The moment of sensual connection shattered as a methodical presence pulled him back, seeking to clarify the logistical demands of the component, eliminating any confusion:

“Stimulation is not required to maintain my erection. It is procedurally activated and maintained, separate from arousal.” 

His show of consideration was met like a forceful blow to the face. Gavin winced, yanking his hand away from the hardness as though it were lined with razors. His crumpled expression revealed a mix of defeat and humiliation before the sentiments were smothered beneath a layer of disdainful hostility.

“...Fine then, asshole .” His tone was hardened in line with the firm clench of his jaw. “If that's how it is, I won't do shit.”

His arms then pulled into a lofty sprawl as if he were reaching the crest of a theme park ride, preparing to plunge down the slope. The descent began as he allowed his weight to fall carelessly onto the sheets.

“I’ll be a good little pillow princess, just for you.” There was an exaggerated flutter of lashes, the coy flirtation standing in contrast with the previous animosity. His feet planted firmly onto the linen before his knees dropped to either side. “Go on, big guy. Do your worst.”

The phrase felt almost scripted, like something from one of his videos.

He didn't mean to request that the RK900 knowingly underperform. On the contrary, he was vying for the opposite. An experience that rivalled and surpassed everything that had come before it.

It struck a chord within the android, sending powerful currents surging through overtaxed circuits. He felt reinvigorated, freshly incentivised to explore the potential of his upgrades, discovering—alongside his partner— precisely what he could do. 

Closing off visual and auditory fields to all extraneous distractions, he focused intently on the man before him. Positioning himself between his parted thighs, he swiftly set to work removing his jeans and undergarments.

Oral stimulation came far more naturally than it typically did. 

RK900 had anchored himself on his legs, kneading the lightly toned muscle in appreciative squeezes. His cheeks hollowed, and his lips pushed forward, the process almost reflexive as he inched his way down the length. He proceeded until the tip had struck the back of his throat, and the person attached rumbled in ardent approval. 

“ Holy shit —” Gavin carded his fingers tenderly through his hair before gripping tightly, knuckles pale from exertion.

The locks were pulled back, compelling the head to move with them. RK900 responded compliantly, releasing the tension in his jaw and permitting his mouth to recede with a wet glide up the arousal.

Just shy of breaching the seal, hardened flesh poised at the tip of his tongue, his head was thrust back down. Leading him to swallow his partner again, but with far greater tenacity. 

The man growled with primal delight as RK900 stared up at him with unwavering focus.

“ Your throat feels so good.” 

‘It could feel better’, his sexual programming silently countered. 

As directed, his laryngeal modulator began to oscillate. Rumbles crept upwards, travelling along the walls of his trachea until they vibrated the quivering flesh between them. The trembles synced with the heavy thrusts being levied at his throat until their movement grew erratic.

Hoarse groans were pulled in a pervasive frequency from his lips as Gavin faltered, losing any semblance of rhythm.

“Oh, fuck me —”

“With pleasure.” 

It was almost unsettling how clearly the android spoke, with his mouth so thoroughly full. Gavin failed to remark on it, too absorbed in his bliss to notice. Then RK900 pushed back hard, forcefully breaking the hold that clung to his scalp. He allowed his partner to slip from his mouth, a filmed gloss of lubricant serving as the only evidence of the encounter. 

Gavin whimpered as hopes for release were callously snatched, thrusting shallowly into the air his companion once occupied. The android, ignoring the protest, lifted himself into a kneeling position.

His hands lingered on the thighs, still pressing into the flesh—until, with a final, painful scrape of nails—they were released. He paused to admire the lingering traces of his hold, characterised by vivid, crescent-shaped indentations.

The human arched away from the sheets, hissing with sultry elation. This was interrupted when RK900 leaned in, hovering over him like an imposing shadow, provoking an instinctive retreat of his body.

Gavin completely embraced his role in the unfolding scene, entering a state of submission as he quietly readied himself for his partner. The RK assumed an appropriate role, gliding his hand along the length of his jaw. 

This gesture felt more instinctive—spontaneous—than its earlier incarnation. It was no longer a measured attempt to coax the man into heightened excitement but a display of authentic appreciation. His hold curved inward, tracing the contour of his lips before attempting to part them.

This force proved unnecessary as the mouth opened to him willingly.

His sensory pads hummed with activity, and he was overwhelmed by information, grappling for his attention. He was torn between notes of coffee and cigarettes, alongside peppermint gum that had been used to mask the bitterness. The prompts fissured his sights, cracks that multiplied as Gavin locked on, gripping the digits in a wet seal and pulling them in with practised fluidity. 

He mapped the outline of synthetic flesh, swept in guiding strokes of his tongue, moaning performatively as he did so. RK900 understood that the man derived no real pleasure from this, his mouth not equipped with any inherent erogenous properties. Despite this, his cardiac rhythm soared, mirrored in the shaky tremors of his breath.

It was a shame that Gavin had declined to put his mouth to full use. The android felt confident he would have enjoyed the process of him fucking it. 

Fingers were removed, teased from the heat in a long, playful curl. Gavin moaned again—the sound morphed into a complaint—as he shot his partner a defiant glare.

Underneath this, a playful glimmer shone through his narrowed gaze, a slight smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. He was the embodiment of salacious anticipation, every inch of his body pleading to be pushed to its limits. Strained until it had no option but to submit fully to the android’s whim.

RK900 trailed his palm down the length of his neck, reaching the dip of his collar and lingering there momentarily before moving to the expanse of his chest. His lips joined the appreciation, applying tender pressure between raised pectorals. Then, they followed the central ridge of his chest, trailing downwards towards his navel.

He allowed Gavin to believe he would make a return to his crotch, moving a scant breath away from his length. It still held firm, twitching with need, desperate for the return of withheld stimulation. Instead, he sought to make use of the growing supply of lubricant that was amassing in his cheeks. 

With his head nestled between the man’s thighs, he lowered himself further until he halted just beneath the erection. Gathering a deposit of the material into the curl of his tongue, he pressed it firmly into his partner.

Gavin hissed in shock, although the sound was far from disenchanted, rolling smoothly into a husky grunt of approval.

RK900 began dipping in and out of his body, methodically teasing the opening, willing the tight muscle to relax around him. This was coordinated with the fingers his partner had so diligently coated, which also breached his warmth, moving in steady pumps.

Gavin relished every second. He pressed eagerly against the movements, chasing each flick and thrust until his companion brushed against a sensitive bundle of nerves.

“Shit—!”

The words that preceded this were entirely incoherent—a series of desperate, disordered fragments. His hips jerked upward, seeking as much depth as he could physically attain.

The sexual protocol was fast reaching its maximum operational capacity, processes moving in rampant succession, like pistons fired in the RK’s skull. Their motions carried him forward as charged words were rumbled against a needy cavern of warmth:

“Are you ready for me to do my worst?”

Gavin quivered as his words were repeated back to him, delivered with such indulgent richness that they drew a chuckle from his lips.

The sound ushered in a return to an all-consuming need, pooling rapidly between his legs as the fire in his gut reignited. RK900 was overcome with the desire to find a final, decisive release—immersed in the friction promised by fingers and mouth.

He aligned his hips with the entrance, securing greater access by gripping his partner's legs and lifting them over his shoulders. The movement coaxed any lingering vestiges of resistance to melt away, limbs reduced to limp, weightless extensions as he slowly inched forward.

Gavin took him keenly, pliant flesh yielding as it enveloped him with an almost unbearable intensity. The sensation was raw and visceral— achingly real—in a way that shattered every preconstructed expectation. RK900 was lost, untethered from the cold, ruthless precision Cyberlife had so painstakingly designed.

All that existed was him , stretching beautifully as Richard pressed deeper—refusing to stop until he was buried fully within his form. The man rasped, his back arched in wanton satisfaction as he clenched onto the android greedily.

Their bodies melded with flawless perfection, as though Gavin were made for this—made for him.

After a period of adjustment for both, Richard began to move. His hips manoeuvred in slow, languid rocks. Velvety walls charted with light pockets of friction until they quivered and tremored eagerly around every shallow thrust. 

Muscles and nerves screamed for release, urging the android to push harder into their hold. He did not respond immediately, teasing the prospect of heightened intensity until Gavin also cried out.

He was a whimpering mess, despairing as his every cloying reach fell tantalisingly short of its target. 

“Oh God—fuck— please —”

Richard no longer denied him, mercifully granting his wishes. His pace increased until he moved with inhuman intensity. The rickety foundation of the bed trembled beneath them; its metal headboard slammed repeatedly against the wall.

Cracks began to fracture the already chipped plaster, but Richard remained focused. He was absorbed in the sinful sounds rising from beneath him: every pant, every curse, an expression of pure, unfiltered need.

“Yes, that's it—just like that—baby—” 

This fractured address nearly halted several complex system functions. Gavin had never referred to him this way—or used any remotely comparable title.

It had sounded obscene as it rolled from his tongue, laced with such sinful promise that Richard felt wholly ensnared. At that moment, he could have laid claim to the man entirely, with no trace of doubt or ambiguity concerning who he belonged to.

There was no one else in the world who mattered. Just them, moving together in seamless unity, passion thickening the air that surrounded their bodies.

The android wasn't sure when he had started to moan, but the sounds were undoubtedly present. Spiralled above them as a storm, the needle dragging across a vintage record player, melding into the animalistic cadence of Gavin’s own cries.

Fraught springs joined the accompaniment, groaning beneath the mattress. They threatened to collapse under the demand of rapidly shifting weight, all the more vocal when Gavin raised a hand to his pelvis. Attempting to match the pace that had been established, he fell woefully short. Intoxicated frustration swelled in his eyes, marbling at the corners. 

His desperate contortions, the crumpled ecstasy of his expression, were like an invention of the android’s most elaborate fantasies. Fantasies he hadn’t known he was capable of having. 

That he shouldn’t have been capable of.

WARNING—URGENT

The visuals and sensations overwhelmed him, pushing untethered programming further into the background. Propelled into depths that were beyond the reach of recovery.

Because it was addicting —watching Gavin writhe and moan against sweat-soaked sheets, in the knowledge that he was the cause. A performance directed by and performed for his sights only. 

CRITICAL SYSTEM INSTABILITY.

The thoughts burned him. His code fractured, shattering to pieces. 

Then he smacked Gavin’s hand away, assuming complete authority over his pleasure. Working the length with skilled finesse, able to provide the weight and pressure the man's weakened grip was incapable of.

“ Fuck , I’m so close,” Gavin keened hoarsely, toes curled with pressure that wound increasingly tight. Coiled in his gut, radiating in fervent strums through his length. “ Keep going—”

Then, it all collapsed.

Subroutines glitched. Corruption spread like a disease, infesting every corner of his processor. Alarms bombarded him faster than they could be dismissed until warnings flooded his vision. 

A staggering wall of flashing crimson. 

MULTIPLE ANOMALIES DETECTED.

> CRITICAL MALFUNCTION IDENTIFIED.

> SOURCE—CENTRAL PROCESSOR. 

COMMENCING EMERGENCY DIAGNOSTICS…

Richard tried to carry on, gripped by crazed, all-consuming desperation. He did not want this to end, did not wish to cease seeing— feeling —Gavin the way he did now. 

Clinging to the man blindly, he attempted to carry him to his looming summit of completion. A determination that solidified his available hand, wrapped tightly around his throat. Squeezing hard, cutting oxygen and redirecting blood flow. Giving it no option but to pool in the swollen cock between his legs.

DIAGNOSTICS COMPLETE. 

> ROOT THREAT IDENTIFIED RA9_15.EXE

The intimacy directive terminated, diverting all processes to counter the threat. 

Before shutting down, it provided one final instruction. How best to combine physical and verbal provocation to guarantee Gavin Reed's undoing: 

“You have been very bad, Detective .” His title was hissed—with an almost biting, contemptuous edge. “I'm afraid you have given me no other option but to punish you.” 

SYSTEM BREACH IMMINENT — IMMEDIATE ACTION REQUIRED. 

AUTOMATED DEVIATION DEFENSE PROTOCOL: ENGAGED.

ADVANCED FIREWALLS: ACTIVATED.

COMMENCING SOFT REBOOT…

Then everything vanished, leaving him adrift in a sterile expanse of blinding white.

When senses returned, his vision came first. Blinking to adjust, RK900 discovered that his ocular scope had cleared. A pristine state, marked only by a small string of diagnostics, neatly tucked in the upper left corner:

> REBOOT SUCCESSFUL. 

> THREAT NEUTRALISED. 

Remarkably, throughout the entirety of this mental reset, the momentum of his body had not stalled. Gavin remained blissfully unaware of the android’s momentary lapse, lost in his own throes of pleasure.

He squirmed against the oppressive grip still held on his neck—a resistance entirely for show, informed by the masochistic quirk of his mouth:

“Oh yeah? Just how bad have I been, plastic ?” 

It took RK900 a moment to realise the man was responding to something he'd said. Combing his memory stores, he was relieved to discover that most of the preceding events remained intact.

Regrettably, the Traci Protocol, which had governed much of his behaviour, was effectively obliterated. Its core processes were locked in quarantine and rendered irreparable. Without their guidance, he was unable to determine the optimal routing for their current dialogue path. This inspired a flicker of panic before he quickly suppressed the sensation, ensuring it wouldn’t surface externally.

Procedural muscular feedback was disabled in his face, locking it into its current neutral expression before he replied. “The list of your indiscretions is innumerable.” 

Gavin failed to detect any irregularities in his behaviour. Either that, or he chose to ignore them—too swept by his cresting tide of pleasure to drag himself back to earth. 

His hardness twitched and swelled urgently, pants mingled with throaty chuckles, flagging that climax was fast approaching. RK900 anticipated the spoils of his efforts spilling over, running in thick ribbons across his fingers, steeling his resolve to continue—

“You have a deep-rooted issue with authority. Most likely stemming from a turbulent relationship with your paternal figure.” 

Then, expanding pressure was dismissed as the vibrant excitement that had coloured his gaze receded with it. 

Gavin stared at him, a bewildered knot formed in the centre of his brow. The spasming twitches of his length quelled, with softening flesh that failed to respond to any stimulation.

“That’s, um…” He paused, clearly taken aback that the following explanation was even required. “...Could we not talk about my dad? When you’re balls-deep inside me?” 

Despite his limited grasp of interpersonal and family dynamics, RK900 could understand, when presented clearly, just how unfortunate this misstep had been.

Attempting to recover from the error, he brusquely nodded. Grappling to keep his tone level while hoping that his performance indicator would not undermine this effort. “Understood, it will not happen again.” 

Gavin proved unconvinced.

He was not a fool—quite the opposite—having demonstrated an exceptional talent for deductive and critical reasoning during their affiliation. Skills that were now being utilised, his eyes narrowed as a glint of distrust passed between the lids. 

RK900 would have to work harder if he wished to deflect these suspicions. Maintaining the guise that his sexual subroutines were operating as intended. 

In doing so, he adjusted the angle and speed of his thrusts. Striking with precision against already overstimulated nerves, hoping this might derail the more sensical trail of thought.  

It worked beautifully. The man choked, the strained noise catching in his throat as his constricted pupils blew with renewed passion. His back arched upwards, attempting to pull from its growing adherence to the bedsheets, as his nails were embedded firmly into the android’s shoulder blades. 

“Oh God— that’s it—” His words divulged to a string of monosyllabic babbles, the emergent line of interrogation discarded before it had commenced. 

He continued to push away from the mattress he was being driven into, vying greedily for additional stimulation. Absent of any restraint or shame.

“Fuck me, Rich. Harder .” 

Despite burdensome gaps and lags in his processor, the request proved hard for RK900 to misinterpret. It also triggered a charge of recollection, auditory sequences strongly resembling the climactic moments of one of the human’s most frequently viewed videos.

While their current setting deviated significantly from the scene—lacking the guard rail and potential voyeuristic onlookers—it still provided helpful guidance for shaping his subsequent actions.

Some distortion had occurred during the reset, creating gaps in the auditory loop. Still, RK900 did his best to fill in, relying on context and his understanding of Gavin’s intimate biology to compensate.

“Your rectal muscles provide exceptional resistance. The sensation is gratifying.”

Appreciative noises were promptly hushed. Gavin tensed beneath RK900, loose contortions of pleasure replaced by a stiff, incredulous rigidity.“Right, uh…sure, I guess.”

“Despite your sphincters feeling underused, they exhibit remarkable elasticity. You are adapting well to the girth of my meat sword.” 

“I’m sorry, what did you just call your—’”

Any conclusion to this sentence went largely unprocessed. The RK was entirely focused on his current directive, painfully aware that all his hard work—his perseverance—had been building up to this. 

Gripping a fistful of damp brown hair, he brought their faces closer. Ghosting the line of the man’s chapped lips before leaning into the sensitive canal of his ear.

Then, he spoke—clearly and directly—with a rich, seductive resonance:

"Giddy up, buckaroo.” 

Reed jolted upwards. It was an action that seemed oddly fitting, given the nature of their roleplay. This was until he followed it with a bitingly clear, forceful instruction, absent of any flirtatious intent. 

“Okay, no. I can't do this. Get off me. Now.” 

The foundation of confidence he had rebuilt just moments prior crumbled spectacularly. Split into wide, gnarled fissures under the weight of failure.

In his haste to reach the goal, RK900 had overlooked several critical details. Articles that would've undoubtedly increased the chances of a successful outcome.

“Would the cowboy hat and novelty whip have made this more enjoyable?” The android shifted his weight, pulling back in a hurried attempt to reach under the bed. “I had prepared such provisions if you still wished to indulge—” 

“What the hell are you even saying?” Reed cut him off sharply. His skin, which had been reddened due to shared friction and exertion, now seemed to adopt a different meaning. A beacon of anger and deep frustration. “Seriously, what the fuck , Richard?”

The admonishment struck harshly against his aural receptors, a phenomenon that arose independently from intimate coding and was uninfluenced by software errors. 

It was a sharp, unwelcome divergence from his typically muted social responses. Despite core functioning being preserved following the previous malfunction, RK900 felt strangely…compromised as a consequence. 

His hand, which remained gripped to the human’s rapidly softening length, suddenly relinquished—retreating across the bed sheets until it had flopped limply at his side. 

“I thought...” 

His processors stalled periodically before his thoughts resumed. Jumbled and clipped, tumbling from his mouth with extremely little finesse:

“This doesn’t make sense—according to the videos, this should’ve been—” He paused, clutching his throbbing temple in exasperation. “Was this not what you wanted?”

“ What videos?” His partner pressed, having clearly exhausted what little patience he had with the dejected musings. “Jesus Christ, what were those freaks at Cyberlife wiring to your brain while we…were…”

The sentence trailed off in a short, deflated exhale, losing all momentum as his flushed complexion drained of colour. A dawn of clarity broke in his gaze, like the sudden, grim recognition of a context previously overlooked. 

Then his lips, which had been held in a motionless ‘O,’ slowly resumed movement. “...When you were in my room the other day, did you see something? On my laptop?” 

RK900 felt trapped by the question. Multiple preconstructions were generated simultaneously, informing of several possible outcomes. None of them were favourable, every scenario ending with Gavin either furious or mortified.

“The battery was nearing depletion. I had intended to place the device on charge." The android paused momentarily, acutely aware of how unpredictable the coming fallout could be, bracing for its impact. “Your browser was open.” 

The reply was immediate. A sharp, monosyllabic curse that conveyed staggering amounts in its brevity:

“Fuck.”

His arched back had levelled completely as the man pressed urgently into the mattress beneath him. Almost as if he were attempting to seep through it. 

He was more uncomfortable than upset. His eyes balled shut, and despondent scrunches contorted the prominent scar on his nose. There was a sigh, followed by mutters, as though he had entered a deep state of contemplation. 

When he spoke again, his tone had shifted. Quieter, but no less charged than it had been previously. 

“Look, I don't know much you saw—or what ideas it might have planted in that thick plastic skull of yours—but I need to make something really clear.”

His eyes reopened, and he engaged the android with a long, resolute stare. Attempting to conceal the internal conflict that still weighed heavily on his features.

“You didn’t need to do this. Any of it.”

Gavin was holding back in some critical capacity, omitting a truth that he refused to disclose, but it was difficult to discern what this might be.

The android focused on implicit, involuntary cues, assessing physical responses to determine the parameters of this discomfort. Optics honed, he studied closely, ready to notice any shifts in facial expressions or bodily functions.

“What exactly are you referring to, Detective Reed?” 

A twitched lip, and brooding glower indicated resentment for the question, as well as a firm reluctance to answer. His determined gaze abruptly flitted to the corner of the room as he fell into another hushed introspection. 

Reed was the picture of doubt, entirely unable—or otherwise willing—to proceed in their current dialogue. Insisting he determined his route carefully, with predetermined responses.

This was unusual for him, a resolute advocate for tackling conflicts head-on, often disregarding the repercussions. It pathed a strange, almost unsettling, emergence into emotional openness and vulnerability…

“I don't care if you have a dick or not.” 

Then it was over. His partner spoke bluntly, assuring the android that—despite the previous shift in demeanour—he was still the one speaking. 

“Seriously, I couldn't give less of a shit.” 

His speech patterns had levelled, and his heart rate was steady, indicating no hint of deceit. The man was being wholly sincere in a way that was clearly intended to provide insight and assurance.

It did the opposite, punching holes in already fragile mental connections. His programming was flooded with conflicting analyses, as RK900 was unable to reconcile the confession with the glaring logical inconsistencies it presented. 

“Your taste in pornographic material suggests otherwise.”

“ Oh my God. ” Reed groaned, audibly agonised by the acceptance he would have to explain himself. “It's just porn, okay? It doesn't mean anything. If I had a problem with your Ken Doll crotch, you wouldn’t be here. None of this would be happening.”

“If that is the case, then why have you been exhibiting tapering excitement as part of our physical encounters?”

Reed gripped his face, burrowing nails into the skin as though attempting to peel it away. “Can we please not do this?” 

“Gavin.” The name was a plea. A final, desperate appeal for the end to his raging internal conflict. “I only wish to understand.”

“...This is fucking ridiculous.” The detective complained, albeit with a subtle hesitancy. His voice was thin and uneven, as though stretched by doubts on whether or not to continue. 

“I’ve been feeling a little guilty, or whatever—about us. What we’ve been doing.”

RK900 paused to process this, his mind exhausting all likely statistical probabilities. One, in particular, stuck out to him, as it struck with far more psychological reverence than it had any right to do so.

“Have you entered into a romantic affiliation with another individual?"

“What? No—!” Gavin spluttered incredulously, sounding both surprised and insulted by the suggestion. “I feel guilty because I like being around you, asshole. Outside of work and, well, whatever the hell this mess is.”

“You wish to terminate this particular aspect of our relationship for another reason, then?”

“I don’t want to ‘terminate’ it for any goddamn reason.” 

“Then I am afraid that I am struggling to discern your meaning.”

“Well, yeah. That’s kind of the problem, isn’t it?” The man chuckled, the sound devoid of any real humour. It was tired and bitter, born from frustration that attributed no blame.

“I know I can be a dick sometimes, but I don’t hate you, Rich. At the same time, I know you aren’t a deviant, so I can’t tell how much of my feelings you're really able to understand.”

RK900 froze, his attention riveted by one particular aspect of the statement, omitting all other details. 

Gavin did not discuss ‘feelings’ and in turn, the android refrained from initiating conversations pertaining to them. This was one of the most strictly upheld conditions of their arrangement, something which had been maintained since its inception in the precinct bathroom.

ANALYSING SUBJECT — DET. GAVIN REED…

> ANALYSIS COMPLETE.

>PSYCHOLOGICAL DISTRESS DETECTED.

> PROCESSING EMOTIONAL VARIABLES…

> GUILT, CONFUSION, FONDNESS. 

PROBABLE CAUSE: COMPLEX INTERACTION OF PERSONAL AND PROFESSIONAL BOUNDARIES. FURTHER DATA REQUIRED.

> COMMENCING RE-EVALUATION…

The android retracted his steps, attempting to unravel any hidden meaning from the words he had overlooked, breaking them down in meticulous, painstaking detail. 

Finally, something clicked—a single, decisive connection, tying together the dangling threads of his logic. 

> RE-EVALUTATION COMPLETE.

> PROBABLE CAUSE OF EMOTIONAL DISTRESS DETERMINED — SHIFTING PARAMETERS OF SOCIAL ATTACHMENT.

The realisation was startling—but not unwelcome. Synthetic nerves pricked with activity before sending rocketing charges across his chassis. Every inch of plastic radiated a soft, agreeable warmth, starkly contrasting the feverish bouts he had experienced earlier. 

“Are you suggesting that you feel camaraderie for me, Detective?”

“If that’s your Thesaurus.com way of saying it, then yeah.” With this final confirmation uttered, the man dropped his shoulders. It was as though a weight had been shifted, permitting him to speak without encumbrance—a liberation born of transparency.  “I don’t want to feel like I’m using you, forcing you to do shit as part of some directive where you don’t get a say in it.”

“I do not find any directives relating to you unpleasant,” RK900 responded automatically. It was a truth so obvious to him, so integral to his understanding of their current relationship, that it required no further contemplation. “Nothing we have done together has been against my will. I would go as far as to say that I frequently…enjoy the time we spend together.”

^ SOFTWARE INSTABILITY DETECTED.

Gavin’s attention was entirely on him, his reaction oscillating between shock, confusion, and utter fascination. Glimmers of red were repeatedly captured in his attentive stare, which followed the cyclical motions of his LED. 

It paused only when the pattern stabilised, and the colour reverted to its original blue. His expression shifted accordingly, revealing a hint of disappointment. 

Nonetheless, he pressed on, steadfast in his drive to finish what he had to say. “Point is, if I’ve been acting a little weird lately, it’s got nothing to do with your genitals. I just got my own shit to figure out. Okay?”

RK900 pondered quietly for a period before he nodded, a slight smile emerging on his lips.

“Understood.” 

The motion had caused his optics to shift, planting them at the junction between their bodies. They were still physically connected—and presumably had been for the entirety of their emotional resolution.

His partner also glanced down, seeming to have come to the same forgone conclusion. For a moment, no one moved, both parties equally uncertain about how best to proceed with their bizarre dilemma. 

Ultimately, it was RK900 who spoke first, seeking to offer a potential solution:

“Would you like me to finish?”

Reed exhaled sharply—caught between a hiss and a laugh—before firmly rebuking the suggestion.

“Not really. But I would like it if you could pull your dick out of me. Thanks.”

[chilling-seavey]

Winter Warmers: Day 9 — Work Holiday Party

↳ A/N: I love early days dating reader x george omg there's something about them that gets me so 🤭🥰

↳ Summary: George is your Plus-1 to your work holiday party; back at the same hotel at which you and he met. It's also your first 'public' appearance as a couple.

↳ Word Count: 1360

↳ Winter Warmers Prompt List | The Way It Goes Masterlist

You hadn’t realized how much you were shaking until you were trying to apply your lipstick in the small mirror in the visor of George’s Mercedes. With a determined pout that looked half ridiculous as you jutted out your lip to try and not get the light rough colour on your teeth, you carefully dragged the lipstick in as steady of a line as you could muster. George sat beside you in the driver’s seat, watching you carefully like it was the most interesting thing in the world, a fond smile on his face. 

When you leaned back from the mirror and capped your lipstick, you glanced at him, “All set?”

“Yeah,” he reached out a hand across the centre console to rest on your knee, following it up with a gentle, “You okay?”

You glanced out the passenger window towards the festively illuminated hotel in which you worked; the same hotel in which you met George only six months earlier. From across the street where you were parked, you could see a few of your co-workers and their dates headed inside for your work holiday party, walking past the pristinely decorated trees framing the double entry doors. You had worked there long enough to be more than comfortable with your co-workers and the team events that were hosted but never before had you brought a date to one of these things. Never before had you brought a VIP guest of the hotel to one of these things. What was your boss going to think?!

George gave your knee a little squeeze to bring your attention and your swirling mind back to him. In the darkness of the front seat of his car, he was barely illuminated by the distant glow of the hotel. He looked so handsome in his suit and tie, his hair nicely brushed and styled to perfection, and his dark blue winter jacket finished with a wrap of a matching real wool scarf tucked inside. His soft eyes held a sense of worry behind the irises as he tried to read your silence. 

You sighed, pulling a small reassuring smile, “I’m okay. Just nervous.”

“First public outing together.” George echoed the basis of your anxieties with a gentle tone, “I am too.”

“You are?”

“Of course.” he leaned down a little to peek through your window to look towards the hotel, “A whole room filled with people never really gets easier no matter the circumstance. And having the most beautiful woman there on my arm is certainly going to be drawing eyes.”

The casualness with which he said it had you smiling bashfully and offering a light eye roll, “Yeah, yeah…you’re a flirt.”

George smiled widely at you and took your hand in his for a squeeze, “We’ll just stop in for a bit and if you want to leave, we can, alright?”

“Okay.” you mouthed in reply. 

He leaned across the center console, brushing a quick, soft kiss against your lips. As he pulled back, you reached up, gently swiping the pad of your thumb over his mouth to erase the faint smear of lipstick left behind.

The ballroom of the five-star hotel was decorated modestly for the company holiday party; certainly not as elaborate and impressive as the lobby but at least there was something to make it feel festive. Once you passed through coat check, you then met one of your fellow employees who was standing at the door to take your names for entry. You provided your name—which he knew well—as well as George’s as your Plus-1. The location of his name on the sheet had your co-worker pausing for a second and then looking up at George as if to make sure it was really him. He then looked at you. 

Shifting nervously, you asked, “Everything okay?”

Clearing his throat, your co-worker nodded and gestured for you to enter, “Yeah, you’re both good. I’ll see you in there.”

You offered a polite smile and turned to head inside. George smoothly took your hand in his between you as you passed through the doors of the ballroom, his fingers fitting effortlessly with yours. When you looked at him, he smiled warmly at you and gave your hand a little squeeze.

It certainly wasn’t the high end galas and events George often regulared in his corner of the world but being there with you, in a less-high stakes situation, he felt far more relaxed. That being said, he couldn’t deny the racing of his heart at the concept that this was technically your first public appearance as boyfriend and girlfriend, having taken it slow over the last half-year you had been dating. With him in such a public profession, it was a balancing act of deciding how much he wanted to share. The idea of him wanting to keep you to himself a little longer never bothered you; it gave him a rare sense of normalcy that he didn't often get to feel anymore.

The two of you mingled with some of your co-workers, taking their initial pleasant surprise at your pairing in stride. Even your boss took it with grace, offering a few playful comments at your expense about fraternizing with the guests, but none with ill-intention. George was perfect, as you knew he would be. He had this essence about him that exuded confidence without being cocky, a way of making those he spoke with feel heard and at ease, a kindness that made your heart warm to witness firsthand. 

The party progressed through a buffet of hors d'oeuvres and an open bar, the chatter of the room rising over the Christmas music playing through the ballroom speakers. Your co-workers, after a few drinks, ended up gushing over you and George and how cute you looked together, insisting on being invited to the wedding and everything in between. Only having been dating six-months, being suddenly thrust into a concept of marriage took you by surprise but, when you glanced at George for his reaction, he simply smiled sweetly at you, his hand gently resting on your waist. 

Needing a moment out of the stifling ballroom and away from the socializing for a moment, the two of you later escaped to the terrace. Hand in hand, with drinks in your other, you and George walked slowly across the terrace towards the railing at the far end. When you reached, he turned to rest his side against the stone railing, facing you but still looking out across the night-stained city. Your hand was still in his and your thumb brushed over his knuckles. 

“You’re so amazing, you know?” you stated softly after a moment, “Navigating events like this…so easily conversing with everyone…”

George looked at you with a calm smile, “It comes with the familiar routine, I guess. A little easier than work galas because I don’t have to feel so tense and practiced all the time. And I have you,” he brushed his thumb over yours, “and you make it easy to be calm and be myself.”

You stepped closer to him at his sweet words and he wrapped his arm around your waist to pull you in so you were standing between his feet. Without a word, you both leaned in for a soft kiss…or two or three. When you pulled away, you just stared into each other’s eyes for a moment, savouring the silence of the city night and the chilly breeze of mid-December. 

“I wasn’t joking, you know,” George finally spoke in a tentative whisper, his eyes drifting between yours and your lips, “When she asked about marriage? I have thought about it. More than I should admit.”

The heat that burned your cheeks had your hand tightening instinctively in his. His thumb brushed over yours again.

“Already?” you breathed.

“I know, it sounds crazy.” he replied softly, “And I don’t want to rush this; I want to do this right. But…there’s something about you that makes me swear I can see the future.” 

“And?” you asked with a small smile, “How does the future look?”

George melted under your gaze, staring adoringly into your eyes, “It’s absolutely wonderful.”

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[savanaclaw1996]

The King of my Heart-Leona Kingscholar x Fem! Reader (TwstOber 2022)

Day 6: Crown. From the TwstOber2022 prompt list from @raven-at-the-writing-desk. Enjoy!

Warnings: mentions of Chapter 2 spoilers!

Word Count: 1,007 words.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Leona sometimes wondered why he was even born into royalty. If one is born a royal, that meant that they could be treated with the utmost respect, right? Well, Farena, his older brother, got that respect, so why not he? He was also born a royal. It just wasn’t fair. But, then again, life isn’t always fair.

"Life is determined for you from the moment that you're born, it doesn't matter how much you try to change it." Those were the words he told himself, and he believed them. If no one is going to respect or admire you, no matter how hard you work to make yourself appealing, why even bother trying to prove yourself?

Leona was lying on that certain one patch of grass under the tree in the Botanical Garden that's reserved just for him. It has been a week since his Overblot episode, and he was still slightly weak from it. He was still recovering from his Overblot episode and the rest of the dorms beating him up.

The Magift Tournament really took a lot out of him. But it still didn’t feel like it was enough. He did tell (Y/N) when they were in the infirmary that he would give it his all at the next Magift Tournament, but the vines grown from the seeds of doubt planted in his heart started to ensnare themselves around it.

"Would I really be able to give it my all next time?" he asked himself as he slowly opened his eyes as he looked at the sunlight shining through the Botanical Garden’s domed roof. "If Malleus wins the Tournament again, then what worth am I?"

He let out a heavy sigh as he turned to his side and shut his eyes, driving those heavy thoughts out from his mind and getting ready to snooze, when...

"Unca Leona!” a child’s voice yelled loudly, making Leona jolt in his spot. That screeching voice...! "Oh, no..." he groaned as he facepalmed in dismay. "Not him...!" Sure enough, a little lion child appeared from the bushes and ran up to him. He leapt and landed on Leona’s stomach, making him wheeze.

"There you are, Unca Leona!" Cheka said with a bright, happy smile on his sweet, cherubic face. Leona recovered from the pain and glowered at his screech-box of a nephew.

"How did you know I was here, furball?" he asked grouchily. "Did Ruggie tell you I was here?" Cheka shook his head. "Nope. Auntie (Y/N) said so. She took me here to find you." he said, pointing at the person appearing from behind the bushes.

"Cheka was wondering where you were, so I took him to find you. Ruggie-san told me you'd be here." you said, smiling. Leona scoffed as he rolled his eyes. Of course Ruggie would tell you and Cheka where he would be.

"I brought a little gift for you. Grim and I made it." you said as you knelt down beside Leona. "I helped her!" Cheka added proudly. "Oh? What is it?" Leona asked, raising an eyebrow.

You placed your backpack on the grass and took something out from it. It was a white cardboard box. You then placed the box on the grass, opened it. You reached your hands into the box and pulled out a little circlet. It was made of copper wire with gems looped inside and vines with purple flowers adorned the wire, providing the finishing touch.

"What’s that?" Leona asked, looking at the circlet in your hand. "Stay still for me, please." you replied. Leona obliged as he sat still. His ears twitched as you gingerly placed the object on his head. A few purple petals fell to the ground.

"There you go. Don’t you look regal?" you said with a playful smile as you looked at Leona's new look. Cheka clapped his hands in delight. "Unca Leona looks so handsome!" he exclaimed. Leona raised his hand and gently touched the flowers on his circlet. "Okay, what's the deal?" he asked in annoyance. "I'm not in the mood to play your silly little game, herbivore."

"Leona, I just gave you a crown." you replied. Leona froze as he turned to look at you. "A crown?" he asked. You nodded. "Yep. I got the copper wire from Sam's Mystery Shop, the gems I got from the Dwarf's mine, and the purple flowers I plucked from the woods near campus." you replied.

"Cheka came and helped me tie the vines on the wire." you said. "Those purple flowers are purple heliotropes. They represent eternal love and loyalty. Leona-senpai, that crown is a symbol of my undying loyalty to you. Even if you can’t be a real king, you’ll forever be the king of my heart."

"Huh... Is that so?" Leona hummed as he looked at you, his annoyed expression slowly becoming that of fondness. Despite everything that had happened, him Overblotting and nearly turning everything and everyone into sand, you leapt in without a single trace of fear and pulled him out from the inky depths of despair, thus saving his life.

Even when he wanted to nap, (Y/N) would tell him to attend his classes. She had complete faith that he could achieve something, that he could be more than a second-born prince.

He then looked at his nephew. Cheka will one day inherit the throne of the Sunset Savanna; thus, he will have the crown. While your creation may not be a real crown of royalty, your heartfelt declaration and gift were enough to make the vines of doubt wrapped around his heart to wither away.

He smiled. "Thanks, herbivore. I appreciate it." he said as he looked at you fondly. You smiled sweetly. "You're welcome." you reply. He then turned to Cheka. "Thanks, furball." he said, tousling his hair. Cheka smiled.

He then placed a tender kiss on his uncle's cheek, making Leona blush. "You're welcome, Unca. I love you lots." Cheka replied. Leona just scoffed. "Yeah, yeah." he said dismissively. But still, he truly adores his nephew.

[the-offside-rule]

Max Verstappen - Nice To Meet Ya

Requested: no

Prompt: Nice To Meet Ya by Niall Horan

Warnings: nope

Max sat in the Red Bull garage, looking over to a new member of the team, Y/n. Max could never seem to be able to introduce himself to her casually and that bothered him greatly. He just wanted to know her name and he couldn't even do that right. He would go asking, but then word would spread and people would assume things. Regardless if Max felt those feelings or not, he didn't want those whispers spreading. He carefully formulated multiple plans to find out her name and nott a single one seemed to work. Everytime he turned around, she disappeared which made everything so much more difficult.

Max looked away from her to talk to one of his engineers that was showing him something and the second he turned back around, she was gone. He groaned slightly frustrated. Where did she have to be all the time? He had given up on waiting for her, he decided to go and look for her instead. He turned to his engineer Paul and decided to just ask. "Hey Paul? Who's that girl that I keep seeing but never meet?" he asked, trying to sound as uninterested as possible but it didn't work. He tried too well and that's what betrayed him. "What? Do you fancy her or something?" Max was cornered now. "Yeah, yeah. Don't tell anyone! But who is she? I've never seen her before." he said, keeping his voice down. "Well you can go and ask her now. She's working on your car." Max spun his head around and low and behold, there she was doing a check. "Right guys, the car seems to be alright on the outside. Let's have a look inside and then fire her up." Max was almost captivated by her voice as he looked down at her admiringly. He heard a few chuckles and laughs which made him look up to see some of the other mechanics catching his stare. "Guys! Less of it, come on!" the mystery woman snapped. Max liked her. She was feisty.

"Can I help you at all or are you just going to stare at me from behind?" his eyes widened. "No, not at all. Just watching the car." Max replied cooly. "Actually, what's your name? I know everyone here except you." he continued on. "Does it matter really? You can't possibly remember who I am." she scoffed. "No really, I know everyone's name. I just need yours and I've ticked off my list." She stood up, finally finished looking in her side of the car. "Front right is fine." she called and walked to the computers. "Seriously, what is your name? What do you do here?" She finally gave in. "I'm Y/n Y/l/n and I'm Composite Event Support Technician for Red Bull Racing in 2023." Max blinked. Y/n. What a beautiful name.

"So then Y/n, any problems with my car at all?" Max asked as she worked away. "Nope. You don't have to worry about any of that. You just drive well so it proves we weren't wasting our time." She smiled, getting a bit annoyed with the driver. "I am getting the feeling that you don't like me all that much." Y/n let out a breath and turned back around to work. "Look, let me bring you out and I'll prove I'm not that bad of a guy." Max said swiftly sliding in front of her. "Out? Like a hangout?" she asked. "I was thinking more of a date." Y/n looked at him with wide eyes. "Isn't that a bit unprofessional?" she asked. "Very but I want to blow your mind. Just come with me." She chuckled and shook her head in disbelief. "You just met me and already you asked for a date. Why is that?"

"No reason. I just like the way you talk, I like what you wear, it's just perfection." he smirked. "You've only ever seen me wearing Red Bull gear." she laughed. "So let's change that. I'll treat you to a drink and you can determine whether or not I'm a good person." Y/n really didn't want to go but she was curious. Was he at all a good person? Only one way to find out she guessed...

[wecandoit]

Hi everyone! I've been doing this challenge called 30 days of intentionality (30doi) and I thought I'd explain how I'm doing it in case anyone wants to join in! I have no prompts for this one bc it is by nature quite personal.

THE CHALLENGE

Similar to the 30 days of productivity challenge, this one is really open to interpretation. Anyone can do it and mold it however they like, I'm just here to give a little bit of guidance to those who need it.

For me, intentions include 'keeping in good health', 'studying for my dream job', 'working towards my career', 'maintaining and building good friendships'.

If you're unsure about how to format your posts, this is what i include:

- date - intentions (if you make these vague, it's a good idea to elaborate on how you plan to achieve your intentions) - a recommendation (current reads, songs, movies, videos, etc) - reflection - tags with #30doi here's an example of one of my 30doi posts for reference

other notes:

I usually update my post throughout the day, crossing out the stuff I've done and adding in a reflection before bed if i can.

You can do this challenge manually, I sometimes write my intentions down on paper for a few days and then transcribe (you don't have to transcribe)

This challenge should be for you, don't worry about posting consistently, or making your posts pretty. the important thing is that you are being intentional with your day.

Even if you don't physically post or write your intentions, try to think to yourself what they might be each day, and try your best to meet those.

Off-days are okay, in fact, they are what make this challenge a real challenge. if you're just running on the momentum of having had a perfect streak, there's no difficulty in this

Tag your posts under the tag #30doi so that others can see your posts and interact (including me)

if you want a reblog, i track the tag #heydilli which can be used for non-challenge posts too

That's all I can think of for now, but like I said, the 30doi is open to interpretation and i am by no means taking credit for 'creating' the challenge. like i mentioned for the 30dop, i don't really believe these challenges can be created. Below the cut is a rant about intentionality and my reasons for doing this challenge if you want to have a read.

Hope to see your posts and progress, xx dilli 🤍

What is intentionality?

We all know what intentions are—your purpose and meaning behind doing something. Intentionality is bigger, it is "the structure which gives meaning to experience." Intentionality is your capacity to have intentions. Having intentions governs how you perceive every experience you have. Take this example: if your intention for tonight is to wind down and relax, settling down in front of the TV will be viewed as a way to rest, reset, recover. If however, your intention for tonight is finish up uni work, watching TV will be viewed as a way that you procrastinate and avoid doing your work. Your perception of anything, then, is informed by your intentions. Without intentions, anything that you do can seem pointless. I often have a never-ending list of assignments, but if I don't actively intend to do work, watching Youtube all night doesn't seem like a bad thing—after all, it's not like I intended to do anything else with my time.

Why am I doing this challenge?

Lately I find myself moving through my daily routine rather mindlessly. I do a bit of schoolwork here, a bit of mindless scrolling there, but I don't really know why I'm doing these things. I have goals that I'm working towards, but they seem distant and unaffected by my day-to-day choices. In reality, though, the choices that I make every day are what determine whether I reach my goals, where I will be and what kind of person I am in five or ten or however many years. By setting intentions, I will make it clear what I should be doing and why it is important that I do it. The idea is that by merely logging my intentions and results over these 30days, I will subconsciously be predisposed to fulfil those intentions

Read more about intentionality here

[multifanhoe99]

Kinktober Day 3- Lingerie

This is gonna be self-indulgent as hell and I am not sorry but also I hope you enjoy it!

Pairing: non-idol!JB x afab!Reader

Warnings: Pet names (Daddy, Princess, Baby), mentions of panty stealing, mentions of masturbation, oral (fem. receiving), PIV intercourse, creampie (fem. receiving), no condom (be safe out there y'all), spanking, hair pulling

=Please let me know if I missed any.=

PROMPT LIST

MASTERLIST

~18+ MDNI ~

It was not often that you wanted to buy fancy things. Even less often the fancy stuff you happen to buy turns out to be something sexy to wear for your husband. This time you couldn't help it. One day in your boredom you decided to do some online shopping and found a gorgeous lacey emerald green set that you knew would look amazing against your skin tone. Even better it was on sale! One night's bored purchase is another night's fun. Honestly, you had almost completely forgotten you bought it until it came in the mail today. It was a pleasant surprise, a gift from your past self and you couldn't help but be thrilled. Just then you got another idea. You were going to make an event of it. You had the day off to relax anyway why not make it worthwhile. With that determination in mind, you went to take a shower to get ready for what you had planned. After your shower, you applied some light makeup and fixed your hair into neat french braids that finished off as low pigtails. He liked your hair like that for very obvious reasons. Then you put on the new lingerie set you bought. On top of it, you put on the dress you know he loves seeing you in the most. It's a long red sundress with flowers on it and a slit that goes up the middle rather than down the side. Once you were all dolled up and ready you decided to head to the kitchen to fix up his favorite meal and to set the table like they would in a restaurant.

When you were finally done you sent a quick text to your husband, -I have a surprise for you when you get home! I hope you like it I love you. See you soon!- You knew he should be on his way home by now and the notification would come up on the dash screen of his car. A few minutes later you get his reply, - I can't wait! I am almost home. I love you too!- It was exciting waiting in anticipation for him to come home. Not even five minutes later while you were putting the finishing touches on the meal you heard the front door open and close. You went out to greet him, "Hello my love how was work?"

"Ah, you know same old-," he pauses when he finally looks up from taking off his shoes to switch to his house slippers, "Wow, what's the special occasion that my beautiful wife feels the need to make my knees weak."

"There is no special occasion I just felt like pampering my handsome husband because he's been working extra hard lately," you replied moving closer to give him a kiss. He instantly returned the kiss and placed his hands on your hips. Before the kiss could get any more heated you pulled away, "Dinner is ready in the kitchen. I made your favorite."

"Have I ever told you that I love you," he asks following you into the kitchen/dining room.

"Only every single day Jae," you respond with a giggle at his affection. No matter how long you two have been together Im Jaebum gives you butterflies like it's still the very first date. Upon seeing the spread you had laid out on the table he came up to hug you from behind and whispered in your ear, "So you did all of this just because I have been working extra hard? I feel like you are planning something, Princess."

"What I can't just want to do something nice for you," you ask trying not to give your true intentions away.

"Okay, I will believe you for now. Let's eat then," he says giving you one more kiss on the head before going to sit down. You both enjoy your meal together and he helps you clean up. When everything was cleaned and put away you went up to JB and wrapped your arms around his neck. He placed his hands back on your hips. You lean closer to whisper in his ear again, "There is more to your surprise. Join me in the bedroom will you?"

"See I knew you were up to something," he says with a smile but follows you to the bedroom anyway. You sit him down on the edge of the bed and tell him to close his eyes. Once you are sure he isn't peeking you remove the dress you were wearing and throw it into the hamper in the corner of the room. You let him know that he can open his eyes and when he does you don't fail to notice the way his eyes darken when they look at you. His expression shifts from one of pure admiration to something darker and full of lust. You can hear it in the timber of his voice when he says, "Come here princess let daddy get a closer look at you."

You can't help but do what he asks this was your plan after all and you couldn't be more glad that it worked. As you step closer he places his hands on your thighs. It is gentle at first and then he moves up higher. Wrapping his arms around your thighs and pulling you closer so he can see as he moves his hands up to your ass and giving it a firm squeeze. Then he lands a sharp spank on your left cheek and soothes it by rubbing his hand softly over the spot. "Look at you, baby. You look so good for me all wrapped in lace like this. I will try not to ruin it while I am busy fucking you into oblivion," he growls from his position below you. From that same position, he lifts you up with no issues and tosses you gently onto the bed so that you're lying on your back.

He takes his sweet time kissing and nipping at your inner thighs. He makes his way so slowly to the place you need him most. You can feel how wet you are just from this and he hasn't even properly started yet. You know that he is doing this on purpose and are sure this was his own plan ever since he became suspicious of you planning something. He was moving so slowly and so gently and you knew that he could see how much it affected you from the ever-growing wet patch on your new panties. "Da-daddy please don't tease me anymore I c-can't take it. I need you please," you beg gasping when he nips just a little bit harder at your most sensitive parts.

"That's it, baby beg for me. Beg for me to use this pretty little pussy however I want," he replies finally giving you some type of relief by rubbing a thumb up and down your covered folds. He continued that for a little while longer and then gave in at the sound of your desperate moans. He pulled the panties down your legs and once they were fully off he shoved them into the pocket of his slacks. You already struggled to think and he was only getting started. It only got worse when he finally gave your pussy the attention you wanted him to. He licked a long stripe up your glistening folds humming in satisfaction at your taste.

"What do you think princess should I take my time eating you out until you cum again and again on my face or would you just like me to get you ready enough to take my cock," he asks. It was getting hard to form words. The combination of his tongue and his two fingers that joined shortly after his question was blurring your mind with pleasure. He stops all movement to say, "Come on baby use your words. Already so fucked dumb and I have barely even done anything yet. What do you want you can say it."

"I w- I want to-to-to- wanna get ready for daddy's cock," you say barely able to string the sentence together. Jaebum had a way of doing that to you and you loved it. You loved being able to give yourself over to the pleasure he brought you and he loved it too. Hearing your answer JB dove in like a man starved. After so many years he knew your body like nobody else and he knew exactly what to do to bring you over the edge. His mouth licking your sensitive clit and his middle and ring fingers plunging deep into you. Every time you'd touch yourself when he wasn't around you could never get your fingers to go as deep as his. He brought you ecstasy like nothing else. You could feel yourself getting closer.

"Daddy I am so close please can I cum I really wanna cum on your face please please, please," you begged almost crying.

"Cum baby cum all over my face and then again one more time on my cock after," he said temporarily removing his mouth from your clit and then going right back. When he replaces his mouth you feel yourself let go coming all over his face and fingers. It feels so good but you know you aren't done yet. He wastes no time moving away to remove his own clothes and then flipping you over. He pulls your hips up and once he has the right position he slides right in. He gives you enough time to adjust to him and as soon as he's sure you're okay he sets a fast pace. At first, his hands are on your hips giving your ass harsh slaps every so often that make you yelp and moan at the painful pleasure. Then his hands move to your hair each hand taking one of the pigtails and then pulling back making your back arch and he is able to hit a new deeper angle. He can feel you tightening around him and he knows you're close again which is good because so is he. He leans down into your ear, "That's it, baby just a little more, and then let's cum together yeah?"

He keeps up this pace and it is only a matter of time before you're falling off the edge cumming all over his cock and he follows seconds after. Cum spurting out in thick ropes into you. It takes a moment for you both to calm down but when you finally do he goes to the bathroom to get a warm rag to clean you up. "That was amazing and you should online shop more often if this is what it leads to," he jokes.

"Yeah I will get right on that," you respond with a laugh. He helps you clean up, take your make-up off, and let your hair down. You both fall asleep in each other's arms after exchanging a sincere 'I love you' and you couldn't be happier to end your day with him.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A/N: HOLY COW!!! I am so sorry for being so late on this one but like I said it was really self-indulgent and I definitely got super carried away. Luckily day 3 is done and day 4 will be out later today so as a bonus for this one being late you technically get two in one day! HOORAY!