#The transformation. The blurring between the two.

[songbirdseung]

walk home / nishimura riki

did you think you'd get a potential boyfriend on your way to the convenience store during one of your many midnight walks?

you had walked these streets every day for the past four years, each step blending into the next, creating a rhythm of routine. the same worn pavements, familiar storefronts, and repetitive decorations lined your path. nothing out of the ordinary ever caught your attention—just the usual, mundane occurrences that seemed to blur together. each day felt like a carbon copy of the last, a predictable cycle you had grown accustomed to.

but today, something unexpected happened.

as you made your way down the street, lost in your thoughts, a sudden burst of energy interrupted your mental drift. out of nowhere, a small, fluffy dog came dashing toward you, its tail wagging furiously, eyes alight with excitement. the little pup stopped at your feet, looking up at you with an expression of pure joy, as if you were its long-lost best friend. taken aback, you crouched down to greet the enthusiastic furball, your heart instantly warming at the sight.

"well, aren’t you a friendly one," you murmured, scratching behind the dog’s ears. the pup leaned into your touch, clearly enjoying the attention.

before you could wonder where its owner was, a voice called out from behind, slightly breathless. "bisco! there you are!" the voice exclaimed. you looked up to see a young man jogging toward you, his face flushed from exertion, strands of dark hair falling into his eyes.

"i’m so sorry about him," he said, stopping a few steps away. "bisco usually doesn’t just run up to strangers like this."

that’s how you met riki—and his dog, bisco.

you remembered the rush of emotions you felt when you first saw him. he was gorgeous, with a striking yet approachable face, his tall frame accentuated by his confident stride. despite his edgy clothing style, there was a softness to his demeanor that made him seem approachable and, frankly, adorable.

"hi," he said, still catching his breath. "i really apologize. bisco can be a little... unpredictable sometimes."

"it’s okay," you replied with a smile, still petting the dog. "bisco, huh? that’s a cute name."

riki chuckled, a sound that made your heart flutter. "thanks. he’s named after my favorite snack."

you laughed softly. "well, bisco seems to like me. he ran straight over."

"i don’t blame him," riki said, his lips quirking into a shy smile. "he has good taste."

there was a beat of comfortable silence, bisco happily wagging his tail between you. you felt a warmth spreading through your chest, a strange but pleasant sensation, as if something meaningful had just begun.

"so... do you walk bisco around here often?" you asked, hoping to keep the conversation going.

"yeah, we live just a few blocks away. this is his favorite route," riki replied, his hands casually slipping into his pockets. "what about you?"

"same. i walk this way almost every day. funny we haven’t crossed paths until now."

"guess bisco was determined to change that today," riki said, glancing down at his dog with affection.

"looks like it," you agreed, laughing softly. "maybe he’s trying to set us up."

riki’s eyes twinkled with amusement. "if he is, he’s doing a great job."

you continued chatting, the conversation flowing easily despite having just met. bisco occasionally tugged at his leash, sniffing around and wagging his tail, oblivious to the new connection forming above him. with each passing minute, the once-familiar street seemed to transform. what had always been a mundane path now felt filled with possibility and excitement, all because of this chance encounter.

"maybe we should let bisco choose our routes more often," riki said, his tone light but his eyes holding a deeper interest.

"maybe we should," you replied, feeling a smile stretch across your face.

as the two of you stood there, the world around you seemed to fade into the background. the once-ordinary day had turned into something extraordinary, thanks to a playful pup.

"hey," riki’s voice gently pulled you back to reality. you blinked a few times, refocusing on the present. he was standing in front of you, his head tilted slightly, an amused grin tugging at his lips. "you okay there? you zoned out for a second."

"oh, sorry," you said, feeling a bit flustered. "i was just... thinking."

"about the first time we met?" he asked, a knowing glint in his eyes. "you had that same dreamy look on your face."

you laughed, trying to hide your embarrassment. "yeah, you caught me. i was thinking about bisco running up to me and how awkward you were."

"hey!" riki protested with a mock pout, crossing his arms. "i wasn’t that awkward."

"you totally were," you teased, nudging his arm. "but it was cute."

riki shook his head, chuckling softly. "well, if it got us here, i guess a little awkwardness was worth it." he reached out, tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear, his touch gentle and familiar.

[radioactiverats]

Curious question, (First, I love your mentor Starscream x seeker reader fics) what would it be like if Thundercracker and Skywarp were around? Because I keep imagining them as those weird uncles who decided to annoy Starscream by pulling reader into their shenanigans.

Hello, first of all thank you so much for reading! I absolutely love the idea of elite uncles. Starscream moaning that Skywarp has led you astray (shitty flying habits. Taking you out for your first drink of engex and trying to hide the fact that ur shitfaced before Starscream comes to skin you both. Oooh there's an idea). For now my brain vomited this out but thank u for the prompt I will prob return to it again!!

------

You’ve never formally met Starscream’s trine. The first reason being that he is fiercely protective of you, even if he’ll never admit it. Despite the bond he shares with his trine, he wants to keep outsider interference to a minimum - he gets one chance at keeping you safe, and if even one of Skywarp’s pranks go awry… in the privacy of his own processor, Starscream has never dared to finish that thought.

However, things have changed. As Megatron’s bloodthirstiness grows by the day, Starscream, like any good tactician, knows that the current strategy won’t work for much longer. With only him standing between you and Megatron’s idle and violent whims, he is regrettably forced to admit that he needs help to guarantee your survival. So what if a teensy part of him doesn’t want to share your attention? If you offline, he won’t have any of your attention at all.

As SIC, any overt moves will attract Megatron’s attention - so Starscream finds a tactical excuse. Your first group mission, he proposes under the guise of ‘training’ - to tag along with the Elite Trine.

Starscream is incredibly stiff when he informs you of the meeting - he’s usually forthcoming with details in your presence as he rants freely about something or other. But this time, he remains oddly tight-lipped, refusing to tell you who you’re about to see.

“As long as it’s not Megatron, I think it’ll be fine,” You finally mutter when you grow exasperated with his evasiveness. It seems to ease the mood a little because Starscream pauses, and you watch some of the tension bleed from his wings.

“It’s not,” He says at last. “Thank Primus for that.”

With that out of the way, you assure yourself it can't be that bad, beginning to grow curious as you follow Starscream to the open, grassy plain that has now become very familiar to you. Would it be someone you already knew? Or someone you’ve never met before?

Starscream stops when you reach the scuffed circle of earth that has more or less been forcibly converted into a landing pad. A sudden gust of wind ruffles the dry grass and Starscream nods curtly, although the expression on his faceplate seems slightly pinched. “Here they come.”

The distant roar of jet engines reach your audials and you squint as you spy to rapidly approaching blurs from the horizon. Blue and… was that… purple? There’s only two jets with this colour scheme that you know of. Your helm whips up to stare at Starscream in disbelief, but he stubbornly continues to stare straight ahead, optics tracking the approaching jets.

The clicking and whirring of transformation replaces the screech of fiery thrusters - with an impact that shakes the very earth, Skywarp and Thundercracker are standing before you. It's your first time being face to face with them - you're instantly struck by how similar they look to Starscream, all at once familiar and unfamiliar. It's uncanny, and you shrink back a little, choosing instead to study the freshly turned dirt circle around you. At least your landing pad is much bigger now.

“Screamer!”

“You call that a landing?” Screamer snaps. “I’ve seen sparklings do better than that.”

“Aw, lay off,” Thundercracker mutters. “It’s been ages since we last met.”

He turns to Skywarp. “But he’s right, you know.”

“Hey!”

The Elite Trine. To ordinary seekers, they were the stuff of legend - that aside though, you were busy drinking in this side of Starscream. Arms crossed, trading banter with Thundercracker - more relaxed than you’d ever seen him. Distracted, you don’t notice Skywarp sidling closer to you, and you yelp when his voice comes right next to your audial.

“This the ‘sparkling’?”

Starscream whips around so fast that you can’t help but flinch at the further damage done to your landing pad.

"Hello," you greet awkwardly. Should you be going for formality? You may have the privilege of being familiar with Starscream, but these are still your superiors, after all. Skywarp, however, has no such qualms, a smirk on his faceplate as he slings an arm around your shoulders. “So you’re the one Screamer won’t stop talking about, huh?” You blink, and the words are out before you can stop them. “He talks about me?”

You both look over at Starscream, who’s looking more and more constipated by the nanoklik, an undeniable flush of energon on his faceplate dampening the might of his scowl - you looking with an expression of puppy-eyed wonder and Skywarp with a shit-eating grin.

“Sure he does. He tells us tons of stuff - okay, okay - stop glaring at me like that. Does he talk about us? You know who I am?”

“Um,” You say. Of course you know who he is. But Starscream has… not talked about them, for reasons that he has deliberately kept from you. You’re not sure where you stand in this, but before you really begin to flounder, Thundercracker mercifully comes to your rescue.

“Let go, Skywarp,” He scolds. “You’re throttling the poor thing.” You gratefully stagger towards Starscream, who’d already taken a step forwards when Skywarp sulkily releases you - his enthusiasm had been rapidly turning into a very friendly headlock. Thundercracker sighs, finally turning to you.

“My designation is Thundercracker. We are a trine - you don’t need to worry about formalities. Your trust in Starscream can be extended to us, too.”

You know his designation as well, of course, but find yourself nodding along to the gentle cadence of his tone. It seemed that Thundercracker had a way of making others feel at ease. Even Starscream, whose wings had been twitchy all week in preparation to tell you of the meeting - was looking calm. Well, calmer. He’d nodded at you as Thundercracker spoke, looking relieved that someone more well-versed in emotions had translated his intentions into words before he had to do it himself.

Tentatively, you decide that you like them - independent of their relationship to Starscream. The more time you spend with them, the more distinct they're becoming, in personality, in the details of their frames and faceplates.

“What he said,” Skywarp added, serious for a nanoklik before promptly growing bored of the conversation. All three of you watch with trepidation as his expression grows mischievous.

“Hey, kid. You like me best, right?”

Starscream’s wings promptly flare, EM field prickly as the cacti in the Terran desert. This escapes absolutely nobody’s notice, and Skywarp cackles as Thundercracker buries his faceplate in a servo to emit a long-suffering sigh. You shuffle closer to Starscream as Thundercracker wearily goes to haul Skywarp up from where he’d collapsed in howling laughter on the ground.

“You’ll always be my favourite,” You mumble.

The pulse of his EM field reaches you even if he’s drawn it tightly against his plating.

“Yes, well,” He splutters, suddenly caught off guard. “I… I should hope so.”

Feelings are neither of your strong suits, but the silence that falls on you both is companionable and you allow yourself to enjoy Skywarp’s antics, Thundercracker’s exasperated attempts to get him to behave.

“Okay! Okay,” Skywarp wheezes. “I’m done. You should have seen the look on your faceplate, Screamer-”

“Why don’t we get down to business?” Thundercracker interrupts quickly.

“Thank you,” Starscream growls. He sighs dramatically, but his wings remain relaxed, hip cocked. You glance over at Thundercracker and Skywarp. Thundercracker shakes his head fondly, and Skywarp winks at you. There’s a strange sense of unity, a comfort in knowing that you’re all familiar enough with Starscream to know that the irritation is merely an act. Like you've been let in on a precious secret.

Starscream strides leisurely over to his trine, the three of them standing in front of you. It’s a takeoff formation - Starscream in the lead, flanked by Thundercracker and Skywarp. It’s the most common flight formation for trines, but it seems that they’ve purposely left an open space towards the back. A flash of recognition overtakes your processor - you’d studied this one night in the academy, holed up in the library. Trine formations were designed to be flexible, and one of the adaptations allowed the inclusion of a fourth when necessary.

There’s a glint in Starscream’s optics as he addresses you, a hand on his cocked hip.

“Your mission,” He drawls, “Is to keep up.”

[imminent-danger-came]

"Teeth" and "Beast" by 8 Graves for the were tag

"Teeth" by 8 Graves

Stare in the darkness Are you scared? Are you free? I can be fair Or a monster Tell me now Which one do you need? I can feel teeth Tear into me Rip me to pieces Rock me to sleep

"Beast" by 8 Graves

I found an antidote I let the anger go And Mother Nature found its place We’re now compatible My inner animal wanted blood and got a taste These nights are getting darker  My claws are getting sharper

THANKS FOR THE RECS

[saints-who-never-existed]

I need to find that brilliant post about The Terror being Leg Media again.

There's something slotting together in my head about "...the thing that eats on two legs and four." and I need to figure out how to articulate it.

[jezebelblues]

dress to impress | h.s

summary: in which you're a famous streamer n you finally let harry join one of your streams. (though the evening ends a bit differently than you expected)

cw: smut18+ oral (m receiving), daddy kink if u squint, spitting, fem!reader, unedited

word count: approx 3k

| yes yes i know that dti didn’t come out till last year just pretend 😔 also btw if this is cringe random then pretend i don’t exist fr i got this idea cause caseoh randomly posted a dti update while i was at the gym so thank u caseoh

not my gif. if u have the info of the original creator, lmk so i can appropriately credit them.

masterlist

December 2021 | London

Snow dusted the window softly, frosting the glass and sending melting droplets downward against the pane, dancing in the direction of the wind. The world was still in the throes of the pandemic, which allowed the lines between professional and personal to blur a bit. 

YN had been a popular streamer for a few years now, but her numbers only grew once her relationship went public with the award winning, globe-trotting man that was Harry Styles. 

She had been avoiding this moment for months. Not because she didn’t want it to happen—oh no, she had definitely wanted Harry to join her on a stream, like a thousand times—but Harry had this way of throwing himself into new situations with such confidence that it was bound to lead to some seriously chaotic results.

But her fans, their fans, had been relentless. Every single time she went live on Twitch, no matter what game she was playing—among us, fortnite, mario world—the chat exploded with one resounding request: Get Harry on the stream!

At first, she’d brush it off with a smile and a laugh, always saying something like, he’s busy in the studio, or, he’s still getting in the hang of gaming, you don’t want to see him struggling on stream, trust me. But by the time December rolled around and the UK was stuck in another lockdown, YN realized she ran out of excuses to give. It was time to bring Harry on camera.

And so, on a cold December evening, she caved.

Harry was sitting in the same room. It was originally supposed to be an office, but since YN’s online career began to take off, it slowly transformed into a streaming room. Three monitors sat on a white desk in front of a large window. The one that sat in the middle showed the view of the stream and chat, while the other two were to be used for whatever.

Harry sat on a small couch in the center of the room, his head against the arm as he lazily scrolled through his phone, completely unaware of the chaos he was about to unleash on the internet. He looked effortlessly perfect, as per usual, in his gray sweats and oversized lavender hoodie, His growing curls were clipped into a tiny bun that sat on top of his head, a pair of brown glasses sitting on the bridge of his nose. 

The glow of the computers illuminated the room as she finished up last minute technical checks, string lights twinkling around the edge of the room for a warmer glow. YN adjusted the camera, smiling brightly as the viewers started to pile in, the chat exploding from the sight of Harry in the background. “So,” she began with a giggle, averting her eyes from the screen to her boyfriend that sat comfortably behind her. “y’ready to join us, lovey?”

He looked up from his phone, his features softening as he shut it off. His eyebrows quirked in that familiar way as he chuckled. “Oh, honey.” He sighed playfully as he stood up, ambling over to the spot behind her chair. “I was born ready.”

“Uh-huh.” She laughed, tilting her head backward to catch a glance from underneath him. “Sure you were.”

He placed a quick kiss against her forehead before he sat in the chair beside her, settling in and staring at the center monitor which revealed the chat that moved in an insane quickness. He leaned over toward YN, shoulders barely touching as he waved at her camera with a wide smile.

She snorted, pushing against her boyfriend as she leaned over to point to the other monitor with a smile. “Look, baby.” She said softly, adjusting the camera that belonged to that computer before pulling up the game roblox. She gently explained to him the set up of the stream, informing him that all he had to do was sit in his space and the chat would see him just fine. 

And they would, it took YN over twenty minutes to set the stream up in a split screen sort of way, which would allow the viewers to see both YN and Harry, and their respective screens for gameplay. 

“Oh.” Harry giggled, as he scrolled throughout the roblox website randomly. His gaze shifted between his screen and the center monitor, reading out whatever messages he could since the chat moved so quickly. He scoffed, shaking his head. “How hard can this be? Look at this!” He laughed, nodding toward his screen.

His girlfriend snorted, shaking her head as she pulled up the game dress to impress. “This isn’t grand theft auto or fifa, I don't think you'll magically be good at this.” She grinned as she leaned over again toward Harry, pulling up the same game on his monitor.

“Oh ye of little faith.” He chuckled as he watched the game load in, wiggling his eyebrows at the camera. “I’ve got this.”

harryfan1: OMG ur kidding i literally knew it

ynfan2: no WAY LMFAO

harryfan2: HES ON 

YN couldn’t help but laugh as she read the chat aloud. “You guys are way too excited for this,” she teased. “Harry’s not that big of a deal.” 

He feigned offense as he looked into the camera with his jaw slack, a huff escaping his lips. “Absolutely bonkers.” He laughed breathily, referring to his girlfriend that sat beside him. He let his shoulders falter as he settled in a bit more, a grin spreading across his lips as the neon lobby of dress to impress loaded in.

YN’s eyes flickered between both the camera and Harry as she explained the premise of the game, smiling at his cocky eye rolls and the flood of heart emojis and keysmashes from the chat that seemed to express a collective internet scream.

“Would you like my help?” YN asked, humor lacing her words as she stared at the theme that flashed over the screen, winter wonderland.

Harry cracked his knuckles, tongue in cheek as he shook his head, darting around the game’s lobby in search for the exact outfit he envisioned. 

She laughed at him, quickly putting on a cute outfit with hair and makeup that went along perfectly. Something elegant, a cream colored warmth. Her smile grew as she glanced at the chat, then to Harry’s screen.

user3: whos gonna tell bro

user4: oh honey…

His avatar was dressed in white, baggy jeans with a puffy winter jacket that had a hawaiian pattern on it. Harry could feel her eyes on him as he placed a santa hat on his avatar for the finishing look. The skin tone of the character was still a default gray, completely bald with no face. His smile began to falter as he looked over toward his girlfriend’s screen. “How’d you do that?” He pleaded, his mouth falling into a frown as he watched the timer go down. “I’ve got no face!”

She laughed again as she showed him how to put hair and makeup on, as well as put an actual skin tone on his little avatar. She couldn’t help but ask what the hell he was envisioning for his outfit.

He grinned as he spun his avatar around the lobby. “She’s wishing for Florida.” He said, pointing toward the screen. “She’s dressed in warm clothes but the patterns show she wishes to be elsewhere.”

user5: this guy has got to stick to writing songs

When the voting started, YN’s outfit was praised by the chat and those in the server—many of whom were fans who were able to join the same lobby.

And then came Harry’s turn.

The second his avatar strut down the runway, there was a moment of lag in the chat before it quickly exploded once more. 

“Oi!” Harry exclaimed, pointing at the camera with a snap. “Five stars or m’not releasing the third album.”

YN’s mouth fell agape as she watched Harry place first, watching her boyfriend fold his hands together and shake them in victory as he hummed the tune to as it was. (a tune his fans were completely oblivious to) which only let his smirk grow wider. 

The next theme was royalty, and YN figured this one would be easier for Harry. After all, the man was basically British royalty in his own right. Surely he could nail this one.

But once again, Harry’s choices were questionable, but of course it made complete sense to him in his own mind. 

While YN opted for a pretty gown and tiara, Harry—ever the wildcard—dressed his avatar in what could only be described as a pirate. For royalty.

She stared at his screen, dumbfounded. “H..that’s a pirate.”

“Royalty of the seas, love.” He winked, “captain Styles at your service.”

The chat went ballistic again, loving every second of Harry’s presence on screen.

user6: h pulled out the arrgh 5000s

user7: HARRY PLEASE

They played a few more rounds, with Harry’s outfits growing increasingly outlandish each time, much to the delight of the viewers. The banter between them never let up, and the stream quickly became one of YN’s most popular broadcasts ever.

As the night wore on and the final round came to an end, YN leaned back in her chair, stretching her arms over her head. “You guys are so spoiled.” She grinned in the direction of the camera. “I hope you enjoyed.”

Harry nodded, his smile unwavering. “And what did we learn tonight?”

“That this is why you have stylists?”

He scoffed before he muttered out a no, raising a finger like he was about to make a profound statement. “We learned that I am a roblox fashion icon in the making.” 

She burst out laughing again, and this time, she didn’t stop. Her laughter was infectious, and soon Harry was laughing alongside her, neither of them able to take the game—or themselves—too seriously. 

“Well baby, fashion icon or not.” She said, poking her boyfriend’s cheek gently. “I think we all learned this might not be your true calling.”

He gasped in mock offense, swatting her hand away and clutching his chest dramatically. “Rude. Just y’wait—next time I’ll come prepared. I’ll have a roblox fashion strategy ready t’go.” 

She smirked, titling her head in his direction. “Next time, huh?”

He paused with a smile, considering. “It was a bit of fun, but next time it needs to be guitar hero or something. I’ll wipe the floor with you on that one, gorgeous.” 

The chat immediately lit up again, the fans going wild at the thought of Harry in the streams more often than not, especially if he got to show off his musical side. Some were already throwing out more ideas for the future: 

Play minecraft!

Get this man on the sims! 

Releasing an album simulator (but irl) 

YN smiled again, clearly amused by the flood of suggestions. As the stream began to wind down, she and Harry took a few moments to read some of the comments and thank the viewers for tuning in. They said their goodbyes, waving at the camera and promised to do something like this again soon—though YN wasn’t sure if Harry had fully processed just how much the fans would hold him to that.

As she logged off, Harry stood from the chair and stretched his hand above his head with an exaggerated groan, revealing his belly button and the ferns peeking out from the hem of his sweatpants. She rolled the chair in his direction, resting her head against his waist with a content sigh. “Everyone loves you.”

He smiled, letting his hands fall onto her shoulders and rub them gently. “What can I say?” He hummed, a cocky sarcasm laced in his words. 

“You’re impossible.” She whispered against the wrinkled fabric of his hoodie, though the words held no bite. 

“Oh, please.” He laughed, “You enjoyed it, watching me flounder around.”

She shrugged innocently, tilting her head upward so her chin rested against his abdomen, their gaze fixed onto each other. Her smile was lazy as she parted her lips, “It was funny watching you struggle.” 

His breaths caused her head to jut softly back and forth as she continued to lean against him, his fingers running through her hair as he hummed. “Funny huh?” His tone was gentle, delicate, as his fingers ran down from her hair to caress her cheeks, making her shiver. “Y’think its a game to tease me, hm?”

She felt her pulse quicken, a tension settling around them that replaced the previous banter. “I wasn’t teasing.” She said, her voice softer than before, but the hint of a smile still played on her lips.

Harry took the teeniest step back as his hand fell from her cheek to her chin, gripping it ever so slightly. His thumb brushed against her bottom lip, beckoning her mouth open. “No? Cause you’ve been doing it all night.” His voice was low, authoritative, and sent a rush of heat through her. He tutted toward her as he gazed down at her through his eyelashes, wanting her to part her lips a bit wider. His thumb slips into her mouth, the pad of it pressing down against her tongue.

“I think y’like pushing me.” He murmured, his breaths even and slow as he continued to hold her mouth open–which only allowed it to salivate even more. His eyes flickered from her lips to hers, a smile beginning to play upon his lips.

“What should we do about that, hm?” He cooed as he dragged his thumb away from her tongue, wetting her chin as his hand dropped to the side of her neck. Her own salvia glistened in the warm glow of the fairy lights around the room.

Her breath hitched as he bent at the waist, pressing a kiss onto her lips with his hand still cupping her neck. She melted into it, a heat pooling between her thighs as she felt his tongue against hers. His breath was cool with peppermint, his hair the scent of lavender and vanilla. 

They part slowly, strings of saliva snapping from the mutual disconnect. His bottom lip tucks between his teeth as he reaches him, gripping the back of his hoodie’s collar and pulling it off overhead. His chest rises and falls quicker than before as YN’s fingers lightly trace over the ink of the moth of his abdomen, the wings fluttering with every breath. His hands find hers as he pulls it toward the hem of his sweats. “Now,” He sighs heavily, watching her through half-lidded eyes, “be good f’me.”

She nodded as looped her fingers underneath both his sweats and his boxers, tugging them down in one continuing, slow motion until his cock slaps against the skin underneath his belly button. 

Her eyes find his, to which he grabs her chin once again, jerking it to face upward toward him. He leaned down as her lips parted, kissing her hungrily before pulling her bottom lip down gently. “Open.” He muttered, watching as she held her tongue out for him. She watched as his lips curled before spitting onto her tongue, saliva drooling from his lips to pool onto her tongue. 

She could feel her heartbeat in her core as he straightened back up, especially when he combed his digits through her hair and gripped as he reached the crown of her scalp. With her tongue still out, she neared the head of his cock—slick with precum already and the prettiest shade of pink. She swirled around the slit, watching through her eyelashes as his jaw clenched shut, a heavy exhale falling from his nose.

Her lips formed an ‘o’ as she enveloped the tip completely, closing her eyes as she savored the taste of him. She started off slow as she bobbed up and down his length, closing her inner cheeks around his cock with a hum. “Fuck.” He grunted, tightening his grip on her locks as he bucked his hips slightly. YN wrapped her hand around his length as her lips fell from his tip with a wet pop. She spat onto his cock, stroking him as she dipped her head down toward his balls, lapping and gently sucking the skin there, which had him tilt his head back in pleasure. Veins were more prominent in his neck as he groaned, the coil in his belly tightening. “Such a good girl.” He moaned softly as she wrapped her lips around his cock again, taking him deeper, her throat convulsing around the head that swelled with the threat of release. “Taking daddy’s cock so good.”

She hummed again, the reverberation causing his toes to curl against the carpet. He gathered her hair into a makeshift ponytail in his fist, guiding her movements as moans continued to fall from his lips. She could feel him begin to twitch in her throat as she gagged on his length, his movements sloppy. She could feel his quickened breaths from the way his lower abdomen fluttered against her forehead. “M’close baby–” He grunted, loosening his grip on her hair only slightly. “W-where.?” He choked out in pleasure, his abs rippling and tensing under the glow of the fairy lights, glistening from sweat. 

She only trailed her hands up his bare thighs, gripping his hips as if to keep him in place. She wanted to taste him, to suck him of every drop entirely. 

His cock pulsed against her tongue as he thrusted once more into her throat, shooting white ropes of come into her mouth with a moan. Her head continued to bob as she swirled her tongue around him, licking every drop of his release to the sound of his whimpers–the prettiest sound she’s ever heard. 

He lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding as she parts from his cock, placing a few lazy kisses along his navel with a smile. He swallows hard, brushing strands of hair from her face with a lopsided smile. “I could get use to this.” He teases breathlessly, watching as his girlfriend shrugged his pants back up his long legs with a grin. 

She stood from her chair, pulling Harry into a kiss. His tongue brushes past her lips, his knees weak at the taste of himself mingled with her saliva. She hums against him, cupping his cheek as she parts. “Don’t get use to it, pretty boy. You still sucked.”

He laughed, his cheeks flushing a shade of pink as he shot a haphazard wink toward her. “Actually baby, that was all you.”

[shadowkoo]

Kingdom Cum

→ Summary: On the eve of your wedding, you're ready to let loose and make it a night to remember. In the heart of a vibrant city, surrounded by your closest friends, you're determined to savor one last taste of freedom. But when a series of unexpected encounters transforms the celebration into something far wilder than you ever imagined, you find yourself torn between temptation and the life you're about to commit to. At Kingdom Cum, the night is bound to be steamy; leaving your desires to run high, while dangerously blurring the lines between loyalty and lust.

↠ mingi x f.reader x hongjoong | 3.3k words | 18+ ↠ genre: y2k cyberpunk aesthetic nightclub, exotic dancer/stripper au, the filthiest smut i’ve written in a looooong ass time

→ Warnings: infidelity (Y/N is at her bachelorette party) double penetration and double teaming (you’re welcome in advance), fingering, oral sex (female receiving), partial voyeurism and exhibitionism, breast play, light bondage (bride sash used as a restraint), spanking, begging, semi public sex, unprotected sex, rough sex, doggy deluxe, edging, deep dicking, belly bulge, clit pinching, ass enthusiast!hongjoong, teasing expert!mingi, well behaved!reader, multiple orgasms, sloppy oral sex, cock swallowing, cock choking, throat fucking, size kink, heavy praising, slight degradation, creampies, cum play, cum stuffing, overstimulation, the slightest power play, mingi’s got a magic cross dick piercing (bc why not hehe i’m feeling evil) there’s probably more I’m missing

→ Networks: @ksmutsociety @k-vanity

→ Author Note: a big thank you to beezy @hobeemin for beta editing, to cherry @shuadotcom, summer @beomcoups, booki @kwanisms, and maren @wooahaeproductions for hyping me up and letting me scream about this!

And also to sevn @aaagustd & nabi @jenoslutie for being my sprinting partners for several days i would have never finished this without the motivation fr, ILYSM <3

It’s almost midnight, and the real fun is about to begin. It’s your bachelorette weekend, and you’re surrounded by your closest friends, ready to celebrate in style.

The city lights glimmer outside, but all laughter and music are inside. Drinks flow as you and your crew revel in the weekend's freedom. You’ve been looking forward to this escape for months and with your girls by your side, the energy is electric.

The night is young, the city is yours, and the party is only getting started.

“Just wait, I’ve heard they strip everything,” Yeri says, emphasizing her last word.

“They better be hot,” Sunny jokes, lifting her cup to sip her drink. You’re all sitting at a table in Kingdom Cum, a popular cyberpunk nightclub that’s known for having the two best after-dark dancers in the city - SpankMaster and SlickNasty.

“Hi ladies,” a male says from behind your group, “We can’t show you everything, but you won’t be disappointed.”

Turning to look, you see that it’s a gorgeous man with a blue streak running through his tousled hair. He runs his ring-covered fingers through his colorful strands, furthering the messy-styled look.

“I heard earlier that a bachelorette party would be joining us tonight. After spotting you sexy ladies, I knew you had to be the group.”

His eyes land on you, “You must be the bride.”

It’s obvious, you can’t pretend otherwise - even if you want to. You’re wearing a slutty white bra top (per Yeri’s demand), and white cheetah print pants with a ridiculous silk sash that says ‘Future Mrs.’ across the middle.

“Mingi, better known as SlickNasty, at your service,” He says, extending a hand toward you. His fingers brush yours before gently lifting your hand to his lips. Mingi’s eyes never leave yours, holding your gaze as he places a soft, lingering kiss on the back of your hand.

It feels way more intimate than it’s probably meant to be.

As he finishes, he lowers your hand slowly, releasing it with a sly smile that hints at something more.

Or maybe that’s exactly how he meant it…

“And here comes the other half of tonight’s show,” Mingi says directing your attention to the next stunning man walking over to your table.

“Hello ladies, I’m Hongjoong, your SpankMaster. My pleasure to meet you,” he says, his voice deep yet smooth, brimming with confidence that radiates from his effortless demeanor. “We’re here to steal the lovely bride-to-be for the first performance.” He winks at Sunny, whose cheeks instantly heat up.

“Oh, yeah, absolutely! Take her away!” She blurts, practically pushing you out of your seat and into their arms. You rise to your feet and follow them as they lead you backstage.

“Alright, hot stuff,” Hongjoong says once you’re hidden behind the curtain. “Excuse my manners, I forgot to ask for your name.”

“I’m Y/N.”

“Here,” Mingi directs you to sit down on the chair conveniently placed at the center of the stage. He stands to your left, hovering over you as Hongjoong leans in on the right side.

“Just gotta confirm before the show starts, do we have your consent to touch you on stage?” Mingi questions an inch away from your heated face.

“Yes,” You nod, giving them permission.

“That’s a good girl,” Mingi whispers in your ear. Before you have time to react, the curtains sweep open, and bright lights flood the stage, momentarily blinding you. Over the rush of excitement, you can hear your friends cheering wildly from their table.

The two explode onto the stage with electrifying energy, their movements sharp, fluid, and in perfect sync with the pounding beats. A few backup dancers join behind where you are seated. They’re all dressed in neon, complementing the trendy punk looks of Mingi and Hongjoong.

The stage vibrates with power as they hit every beat with precision, seamlessly blending their different styles together.

“How’s everyone doing tonight,” SpankMaster (Hongjoong) grins, swaying his hips to the beat as he struts down the catwalk of the stage. He poses at the end, teasing all the women in the room as he slowly lifts a corner of his tank top.

He drops the fabric and wags a finger, “Not quite yet, I wanna hear you scream for it.” The crowd erupts, giving him exactly what he demands and he chuckles.

“That’s good, very good actually,” he praises. “SlickNasty, you think you can help me out?”

Mingi saunters over until he’s behind Hongjoong, resting his hands on his friend’s shoulders before running them down his chest. He bunches the thin fabric between his fingers and tears Hongjoong’s shirt right down the middle, leaving the shreds to fall onto the stage.

They turn around, gyrating their hips to the beat and in sync with one another, before walking back over to where you are seated.

“Ready to have some fun?” Mingi’s breath tickles your neck as he straddles your lap. He hovers above you before crossing his arms and slowly lifting his shirt off next, tossing it somewhere offstage where two women fight over it.

As Mingi dances, his gaze remains fixed on yours, an unspoken connection pulsing between you both with every move. The music echoes around you, but it's the intensity of his eyes that holds your attention, drawing you in deeper.

Even as his body twists and sways in rhythm, he never breaks eye contact, as if the entire room has faded away and it's just the two of you in this moment. Each glance feels deliberate, filled with a mix of arrogance and something darker that keeps you locked in, unable to look away.

The rest of the song is a blur of skin and muscles. Every roll of Mingi’s hips has your insides burning more and more. The air is thick and heavy, like the calm before a storm. And boy, do you want it him to rain down on you.

His movements overflow with unspoken words, and tension hums beneath the surface. It’s electric and suffocating, as if any moment could tip the scales and send everything spiraling out of control. That thought pools heat between your thighs.

Hongjoong saunters back over toward you, pausing to tap Mingi on the shoulder. It’s their signal to one another, and they switch positions effortlessly.

Mingi returns to the front of the stage, dancing energetically while engaging with the crowd, drawing them in with his cocky presence.

Hongjoong has a sideways grin on his face as he pulls you to your feet. “Show me your moves, hot stuff," he teases with a grin, twirling you around with effortless grace. As the spin ends, he slides down your side, fluidly and playfully, syncing perfectly with the rhythm of the music.

Swaying your hips against his, you raise an arm to your hair to release the claw clip currently holding it up. Tossing your head back, you let the curls bounce around you as move to the beat. Your friends’ screams fade into the background as you lose yourself in the moment.

Mingi watches you, his eyes all dark and broody. He’s entranced, stuck under your spell as you grind against his best friend. His eyes lock with Hongjoong’s and they share a silent exchange, and with a quick nod, agree on the matter.

Your moment is suddenly interrupted when the crowd erupts into chaos, the lights dimming, and then it dawns on you. Their set is over. This is over. Damn.

The backup performers step out from the shadows and down into the crowd, pulling fellow show-goers to the open dance floor. The DJ picks up the tempo as more and more people leave their seats to join in on the fun, including your friends who are dancing with a few hotties themselves.

The curtains shut dramatically again, closing you off from the outside world.

“Follow me,” A stagehand says, grabbing your attention and directing you backstage with SpankMaster and SlickNasty.

“Um…What now?” you ask nervously as the two look at each other knowingly. “I should-uh. I should head back, right?” You awkwardly point to the front of the venue.

“Well, now you have a decision to make,” Hongjoong smirks. “You can go back to your friends…”

“Or you can stay here with us,” Mingi finishes, cracking open the door to his dressing room, inviting you to join them.

Your gaze travels back and forth between the two. Half of you knows better than to pretend like you don’t know what will happen if you go in there. But the other half of you is dying to find out if you’re right. It is your last night of freedom, how can you turn down this chance?

“Do you trust us?” Mingi asks, pulling you from your battling thoughts.

“Yes.”

Your stomach twists in anticipation as they shut the door behind you, and with a decisive click, you’re locked inside.

Mingi is the first to touch you, his large hands wrapping around your bare waist, pulling your backside up against his front. Those same hands slide up to your breasts, kneading them lightly at first. You moan, reaching backward to clutch his strong thighs, your nails digging into them as his grip tightens.

“You’re gonna be a fun one, aren’t you,” Mingi chuckles in your ear, nipping at it gently before pulling away from you. He joins Hongjoong who’s sitting on the black couch, waiting.

“Last chance to leave, sweetheart,” Hongjoong warns, tapping the space between him and Mingi. Your legs move before your mind and heart even catch up to what you truly want, what you crave.

You should be running back to your friends, and yet, you sit.

“Good girl,” Hongjoong murmurs before crashing his lips against yours. His tongue tickles the corner of your lips, demanding to be let inside.

Simultaneously, Mingi works to undo your pants. You lift your hips, giving him space to drag the fabric down your hips, leaving them in a pile on the floor.

“Damn, baby,” he groans, looking at your damp panties. “Look how worked up you already are. Spread your legs for us. Let us see how wet you are.”

You comply and are kindly rewarded when Mingi’s fingers pull your panties to the side. Sucking in a sharp breath, your head falls back as he spreads your dewy folds open with his digits.

“Is the fact that I’m fingering you while my best friend watches getting you all worked up?” he questions devilishly, already knowing the answer. Your face twists in pleasure with every curl of his fingers.

Mingi’s other hand wraps around your hair, pulling your mouth to his. He sucks in your bottom lip, surprising you when he bites down.

Hongjoong sucks on your exposed neck, then hovers above the spot he created, pleased with the purplish spot already growing. One of his hands dips down between your legs, meeting Mingi’s as he adds another two fingers inside you.

“This pretty little cunt’s gotta get stretched out if she’s gonna take both of us. Do you want that?” Hongjoong asks, his voice all husky.

“Yes,” you breathe shakily, “I want that so bad.”

Their fingers quicken, pumping in perfect sync, each thrust inward hits that sweet spot that has you dancing dangerously close to the edge.

“Please, please!” you cry out, begging for release.

“That’s it, gorgeous. Let us hear those pretty moans,” Hongjoong praises.

Your body inevitably tenses as shockwaves rush through your body, pleasure pulsating head to toe as your insides contract around their slowing fingers.

Mingi tilts his head and grins. “Are you ready?” he asks as you’re catching your breath.

Before the words ‘for what’ even have time to register in your brain, he moves from his spot next to you and kneels between your legs. Swiftly placing his hands behind your knees, he yanks you forward. “I know what to do to make this kitty purrrrrr,” he rolls his tongue, “Are you ready to find out why they call me SlickNasty?”

“God, yes,” you plead as he rips your useless panties off, throwing the remaining fabric elsewhere.

Mingi delves into your soaked center, and he moans deliciously, loving your sweet taste. The one thing he loves most in the world is pleasing a woman with his tongue; the satisfaction he gets is unmatchable.

His tongue licks up your slit, circling the sensitive nub several times, making your legs shake and his length stiffen.

“Such a good slut. Look at you, trying to fuck my tongue,” Mingi rasps as you push back against his mouth.

You’re a moaning mess, frozen in pleasure, and Hongjoong takes the opportunity to untie the back of your top. He tosses it aside with the rest of the clothing that is quickly disappearing.

He sucks one of your velvety peaks into his mouth, teasing it with his teeth before sucking to alleviate the pain.

Hongjoong massages your other breast with his hand while his mouth continues its beautiful assault on your hardening point. He releases his lips only briefly, blowing air over your wet mound, before swapping to the other side.

“Fuck, I need more,” you beg, arching your back off the couch.

As if they know that you’re on the precipice of coming again, the two men work harder; Mingi’s tongue lapping your folds as his nose rubs against your sensitive clit, Hongjoong’s teeth tugging on your nipple.

A moan tears through you, your body convulsing as your second orgasm courses through your veins.

Without giving you time to come down from your high, Mingi flips your body over in one quick movement, leaving you on your hands and knees. He stands at the end of the couch, shoving his leather pants down and freeing his cock.

Your mouth waters as you take in the size of him. Something reflects in the light, and your eyes quickly land on his tip. It’s pierced, with two bars crossing over each other, creating the perfect ‘X’ marks the spot.

“Open wide for me, pretty girl,” he says, quickly shoving his length into your stunned mouth. He’s hot and heavy, just his tip alone fills your mouth. You stretch your jaw, opening as wide as you can to take in more of him.

Something feral inside Mingi switches when he notices his cock creating a bulge in your throat. He growls, grabbing a fistful of your hair to hold your head steady while he watches it move as he does.

Hongjoong undresses behind you, quickly finding his place at your backside. He takes a moment to enjoy your ass from this angle, gazing unapologetically before raising a hand to slap the perfectly untouched skin.

Your flesh jiggles from the impact, and he rubs the area to relieve the stinging. He admires the redness growing across your cheeks as he spanks you again and again.

You moan, vibrating around Mingi’s cock.

“I think she likes that, what do you think Hongjoong?” Mingi says through gritted teeth.

“I know something she’ll like even more,” Hongjoong answers before slamming his thick length into your heat.

“Oh yeah,” he practically purrs, loving the way you take all of him. With every hard thrust from Hongjoong, you choke around Mingi’s cock.

Mingi wipes the drool dripping down from your chin before gripping your jaw, “You’re just a toy that’s meant to be stuffed from both ends, isn’t that right?”

You nod as much as you are able with his length still shoved deep down your throat.

“Such a good toy,” Hongjoong compliments, awarding your ass with another hard smack. Your nails dig into the arm of the couch to keep from falling over.

Holy fuck.

Mingi’s cock twitches, but he holds back. He’s got other plans on where his cum will be spilling tonight. He makes eye contact with Hongjoong, and they share the same thought as he slips out of your wrecked mouth.

You mewl at the loss of contact when Hongjoong also pulls out. But before you have time to ask questions, Mingi lifts you and carries you over to his vanity, gently setting you down against the cool marble countertop.

Hongjoong’s eyes land on something white and silky on the floor; he smirks at his finding.

Perfect, he thinks, grabbing it from the ground and twisting it in his hands as he saunters over toward you. Your mind registers that it’s your ‘bride’ sash.

“Hold your wrists out.” You do as you're told, and he ties it around them. He lifts your joined hands over your head, pinning them in place. “Will you keep them there?” he asks.

“Yes,” you whisper, keeping them lifted when he removes his hands.

Your eyes wash across both men’s bodies, their cocks resting up against their abs. It’s the best sight in the world.

They look to you for approval as they line their cocks lined up with your center. You nod repeatedly, silently begging them to fuck you already. 

Slowly, they both push into your needy cunt. You feel the cool metal of Mingi’s piercing glide against your inner walls as they sink into you.

Mingi tosses his head back once he’s pushed to the hilt; the position shows off his tense neck veins.

Meanwhile, Hongjoong hisses as his body goes rigid. Taking in a couple of deep breaths, he regains his composure and turns his head toward Mingi, giving a slight nod to say it’s go-time.

You scream out when they pull back, slamming back into you before you even have time to register. Pain mixed with pleasure at the stretch you out.

“You can take it, I know you can,” Hongjoong says, his hand gripping your waist.

“So fucking tight,” Mingi groans.

Your eyes land on your lower stomach, where you can see their cocks practically rearranging your insides. Moaning as you watch the bulge move in and up and down motion, your arms momentarily fall while distracted.

Hongjoong growls, grabbing your bound wrists and slamming them back up against the wall. His thrusts get slightly sporadic, getting closer to his own release.

Your body glistens with sweat, and Mingi is entranced by your perfect tits with perky nipples bouncing in circles as they hammer into you.

You hook your legs around both men, crying out when Hongjoong pinches your clit.

“Come. Now.”

Mingi’s demand has your mouth watering from the sheer dominance laced in his voice. Your eyes flutter as your face twists, accepting your fate as you succumb to orgasm number three.

Hongjoong grunts as your walls tighten around both cocks. His eyes roll back as he releases his creamy load into you. He shudders, pulling out of you and watching some of his cum drips onto the floor below.

Mingi growls after Hongjoong steps back, lifting one of your legs as he pounds into you one, two, three more times until his cum shoots through your soft folds.

You’re perfectly content and ruined, unable to move.

“Didn’t I say that would be fun?” Mingi says after noticing your blissfully fucked face. He leaves a quick kiss on your cheek before stepping back to clean himself.

When he returns, you’re about to reach for one of the tissues he has in hand when you’re quickly stopped by Hongjoong.

“Ah, ah, ah.” He shakes a finger, before putting two between your legs, stuffing their creamy mixture back up into your heat.

“That’s for later, when you’re missing us,” he winks, handing you your pants to slip on while Mingi reaches for your top.

“So, you better get back to your friends,” Mingi says, stepping back after he helps you into your shirt. “We don’t want them to think you got lost for good.”

Hongjoong taps you on the ass lightly as you’re led to the door, “Goodbye, hot stuff.” He smirks. “Good luck with the wedding.”

…Oh yeah…

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©shadowkoo 2024. All rights reserved.

[deunmiu-dessie]

ⅲ▬ ⁽ 𝒹𝑒𝓂𝑜𝓃 ⁾²

part one

𝓌𝑜𝓇𝒹 𝒸𝑜𝓊𝓃𝓉 ♡︎ : ₇˖₅ₖ ˚₊·—̳͟͞͞♡

𝓌𝒶𝓇𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔𝓈 ♡︎ : mdni----- unedited, NSFW,  explicit content, teratophilia, demon/human, rough sex, unprotected sex, creampie, cunnilingus (both receiving), overstimulation. ₍⑅ᐢ..ᐢ₎

𝓈𝓊𝓂𝓂𝒶𝓇𝓎 ♡︎: with your escape from your kidnapping, you find yourself now stranded in a world unfamiliar to you, how will you get home?

꒰m!demon ₊⊹ afab!reader꒱

𝒴 ou find yourself lost in thought, pondering how long you've been sitting outside. Your trusty (albeit broken) silver watch stubbornly displays midnight, but time seems irrelevant in this alternate world where minutes stretch into eternity. The rhythmic patter of raindrops keeps you company on the balcony, drawing you in with its soothing melody. Despite the allure of a cozy bed mere steps away, you remain entranced by the stormy night. Rain has always been your sanctuary, a source of comfort in turbulent times. And much like the rain, you find beauty in the fog that accompanies it, shrouding the world in a veil of mystery and distorting the passage of time.

In this enchanting world, you find yourself drawn to its allure. The raindrops fall delicately, resembling glittering diamonds, while the thick and mesmerizing fog gracefully enveloped everything in sight. Despite its seemingly monotonous nature, the sound of rain became a melody that resonated with your soul, especially during the serene nights when your neighborhood fell into a peaceful slumber. However, you were no longer in the comfort of your own home. Instead, there was a certain allure in venturing outside in this strange world during your unconventional waking hours, embracing the rain as it transformed the radiant light of the two moons into a muted glow amidst the stormy clouds. The lantern lights shimmered briefly, casting a magical glow before fading away. This was the embodiment of tranquility.

Your eyes trail to where the last lantern light on the garden flickers out, and your body turns rigid as something, tall, lanky, and dark comes slinking your way, well not necessarily your way, but down the path in your direction. The rain intensifies, drumming against the balcony railing and soaking your legs and feet. Perhaps your mind is playing tricks on you? You were stressed and scared. A crashing sound of thunder startles you, a trail of goosebumps crawling up your arms. The sensation of them developing sends a quiver down your spine, one that leaves your bones rattling and achy.

As the rain continues to pour down heavily, the path ahead becomes a blur, even with the faint light of the moons flickering through the clouds. You can almost feel the wetness of the soil beneath your feet, the sensation of it squishing between your toes. The raindrops relentlessly peck at your face, while the gentle rustling of the trees creates a comforting hum. It's as if Mother Nature herself is embracing you. Suddenly, a sharp pang of unease shoots through your chest, causing your eyes to flutter open.

You raise your head from its tilted position and peer down the path below the balcony. It's not a long stretch, the length of a car and then some. Your breath catches in your throat as you spot something peculiar. The figure that had been walking along the trail earlier, which you had dismissed as a figment of your fear, now stands at the end of your balcony. It is drenched and covered in a mysterious black substance. Although still tall, it no longer possesses its unnaturally thin appearance.

A terrifying grin stretches across its mouth, revealing a multitude of razor-sharp teeth, causing an uncontrollable scream to burst from your lips. In a frantic scramble, you seek refuge within the confines of your room, desperately hoping to evade the horrifying sight. The name you scream had meant to scream was Elmira, but out came, "U-Ulysses!" Your body turns into a puddle of goo, hot, sappy goo when a large hand settles over your eyes to obscure your vision. "Well aren't you a troublemaker?" he remarks, his eyebrows minutely creasing at the warmth emanating from your forehead and skin. As your hand rests upon his, he takes note of the clamminess of your palm.

"Do you like the rain?"

Amidst the relentless downpour, his voice cuts through the noise, smooth and velvety. It's reminiscent of savoring a fine whiskey, leaving a warm trail down your throat. You can't help but wonder if he tastes just as divine or otherwordly, and that thought alone makes your eyebrows furrow softly. You can feel his eyes on you, curious and searching. Knowing. Your words come out almost incoherent, but he doesn't seem to mind. His hearing is ten times sharper than yours, after all. Your voice, like a serene lake, barely makes a ripple. As your lips part, his eyes follow every movement with unwavering attention.

“I do.”

The rain has been falling relentlessly for hours, the constant pitter-patter on the ground and roof soothing you into a cozy and passionate state. Your affection for the rain is unwavering, it's a love that will never fade. Observing it brings back memories of your dreams, those beautiful dreams where you're standing in a vast field, letting the rain drench your clothes and moisten your skin. It's just you and the raindrops. The rain brings you solace. That's why you have no qualms about watching it endlessly.

“Do you like the rain?”

Your question catches him off guard, yet he craves the feeling of vulnerability you display by trusting and relying on him, despite your previous lack of trust.

“No.”

As your sight remains obscured, you're swiftly hoisted off the ground, the creature beneath you fading from your mind and your heart gradually returning to its normal rhythm. You hesitate to inquire further, realizing you're essentially a prisoner in this situation, with him as your captor.

“Why.”

As you both walk in silence, there is a sense of comfort that envelops you. It's a silence that doesn't make you feel awkward or embarrassed about the lack of response from him. Suddenly, a thought crosses your mind - where exactly are you heading? Although the bed assigned to you wasn't too distant, it feels like you've been strolling together for quite some time.

"Where are you taking me?"

As soon as your question leaves your lips, the unmistakable sound of a door slamming shut echoes through the room. Suddenly, you find yourself being gently placed onto a much larger bed than the one you were initially provided. "You'll be staying in my quarters until I can resolve the issue with the infestation,"

As your vision returns, you sit upright on the bed and fix your gaze upon him, your eyebrows furrowing in confusion. "Are you talking about mice? Or rats?" A blush spreads across your cheeks when he glances at you sideways, emitting a small chuckle devoid of humor. "Sure," he replies.

Sliding off the bed, you cross your arms protectively over your chest. "I won't be staying in a room with you. Find me another one." His eyebrow quirks and his eyes narrow, causing you to take a step back instinctively. "I have no intention of laying a finger on your body, especially considering you're human," he retorts. Offended, your mouth hangs open in disbelief and you take a step towards him.

"I wouldn't let you touch me, even if you begged!" Your words are sharp as he approaches. "Calm yourself, ao bewl ¹, I'll be in the next room over." ( my love )¹ A sudden wave of heat washes over you, causing your vision to blur and your breath to quicken. Ulysses remains unfazed as he steps closer, grabbing your wrist and pulling you towards him, his other hand lifting to touch your chin and check your forehead. "Silly woman, how long have you been out in the rain?"

Ulysses notices your lack of response and tenderly lifts you up from your slouched position against him, carefully placing you back in bed. "The rain in Lomaliue is unlike anything you've experienced in the Upper Realm," he whispers under his breath, his cool hands gently brushing against your forehead and then your neck. You peer at him through blurry eyes, your heart pounding in your chest. "Is this the end for me? Am I dying? I'm dying, right? " Fear grips you as tears stream down your face, and the room starts to spin around you.

The Demon can't contain his amusement and lets out a deep, rich chuckle. "Come now, little human, no need for theatrics. You're not dying. It's simply the unfamiliar weather and atmosphere of the Under Realm that's causing you discomfort. You'll be alright." Sweat clings to your body like a second skin, drenching your hair and clothing, leaving little to the imagination. A wave of intense pain surges through your abdomen, causing you to wince and squeeze your eyes shut. "It hurts, it hurts."

Ulysses sighs and softly caresses your complexion from top to bottom, hovering just slightly over your face. Your eyes slide shut and sleep takes over. He doesn't even startle or rise when Elmira enters the room, eyes worried. "She'll be fine, bring my papers from the office here, cancel the board meeting, and rearrange it a sennight from now." Elmira nods obediently and laces her hands behind her back. "Of course Master." Before she can turn to leave, he he adds, "The Guard, have them hunt down the Helkuma that made its way in. I'll be conducting a border check to identify any lapses in security."

"Yes Master." Elmira leaves the room and shuts the door behind her softly, leaving the two. Ulysses rises from the bed, intending to make his way to the plush velvet couch, but his progress is halted by a gentle tug on his loose tunic. Your small, tender hand clings to him with an intensity that suggests a desperate need for his presence, while the worry lines between your eyebrows deepen. "It seems I've been mated to a clingy human."

For the next coming days, Ulysses spends his time doting on you as you're in and out of sleep, while also doing a lot of the work that had piled up in his absence. Surprisingly, in your drowsy state, you show no fear towards him; in fact, you become quite affectionate and touchy. On the seventh day, your fever finally breaks, and your pretty eyes no longer hold that bleary look of exhaustion and pain; it soothes Ulysses more than he cares to admit. Elmira hands him another stack of reports, her smile tinged with guilt as she notices his exasperated glare. "Just a few more to go, and we'll be done, except for the east wing reconstruction," she says, but stops when he raises one of his hands (from his third arm, the others are busy with paperwork) "Don't remind me."

Ba-Bump. Ba-Bump

The feline demon's ears twitch as your heart rate quickens. "Master, My Lady has awakened," he hums in acknowledgment, placing the two out of the three pens down and rising from the desk he had relocated to the room. "Ask the Chef to prepare a light meal and gather medicine and a sweet treat." Carrying a few crucial documents, he settles onto the plush velvet couch, flipping through them. Elmira nods in understanding and swiftly exits the room, gently closing the door behind her.

"I am aware that you are awake, my dear 'captive'."

He finds your bewildered grunt incredibly amusing, much more than he had anticipated. With a slight chuckle, he resumes his task of signing, paying no attention as you ungracefully slide out of bed and stumble toward the couch farthest from his position. Wrapped in the sheets, you look absolutely adorable, with it trailing behind you as you settle into the comfortable couch. "What time is it? What day?"

"It's been a sennight since you've come down with fever, that makes it Woedenes dæg, and it's noon." He steals a quick glance at his watch, indicating that he's running out of time and you have a feeling that he's about to go. "Which also means I have my meeting soon." And your intuition was spot on.

Ulysses stands up and carelessly tosses the pages onto the table. "Elmira will bring you something to eat. Take a brief stroll in the gardens and enjoy the fresh air. Just remember, not more than 10 minutes. Your body needs time to adjust to this environment."

You give a slight nod, feeling a bit disoriented and not up for a debate, the situation still feeling surreal. A sudden feeling of bashfulness overtakes you, making your cheeks burn. "Have you been here the entire time?" "Yes, the employees here are not accustomed to dealing with humans. You're also mine. My responsibility and I allowed you to become ill, and for that, I am sorry."

Your heart skips a beat and your stomach does a flip, but it comes crashing down when he finishes. "I also didn't want to put them through the pain of your snoring and clinginess." Ulysses finds amusement in the glare you send his way, observing as you settle back into the couch, appearing at ease in his presence. "Aren't you supposed to be somewhere else? Hurry and get out." His eyes soften and a smile quirks his lips, "I'll come to visit you after." You huff and wave him off with a middle finger. "Don't bother!" Your voice trails off weakly as he walks out, shutting the door with a solid thud.

Just as you are lost in your own thoughts, Elmira enters the room carrying a tray of steaming soup. Her face lights up with a warm smile, and her steps exude a contagious energy. "My Lady, I'm overjoyed to see you recovering. Your illness had the entire castle in a frenzy, and the servants have been sending their good wishes." It's puzzling, isn't it? You were just an ordinary person who stumbled upon this grand castle one day. Your interactions were minimal, and you couldn't even recall the names of those you encountered. So why all the fuss?

Elmira seems to read your mind and responds with a gentle smile. "In the sennights you've been here, your presence has brightened this place. The Gardeners feel like they have a purpose, the Chef gets to cook more often and the other maids love to dote on you." The Garden. The mere thought of dining in the garden brings a smile to your face as you sit up from your previously huddled position. "Elmira, I would like to eat in the garden."

The walk to the Gardens (a place you had never been to) was quick and pleasant, with the suns shining brightly at noon. The knights on patrol greeted you warmly and in a slightly cute and chaotic manner. Stepping outside, you slipped off your new flats, lifted your dress, and ran into the grassy plains with a soft smile and squinted eyes, the sun's rays shining in your eyes and warming your skin. A gentle sigh of contentment escaped your lips as you wiggled your bare feet in the grass of the garden. With a slight breeze in the air, Elmira draped a shawl over your shoulders before heading back to the table to prepare your breakfast.

"Elmira, why is it that I've never been here before?" you inquire, your voice gentle as you lower yourself, your gown spreading over the earth and your hand encircling your knees. The scent of the air is pure and invigorating, a stark contrast to the environment you're used to at home. Your fingers trace the outline of a dandelion-like flower, smoothing over its bright yellow stem before picking it. Raising it to your face, you inspect the pink fluff that surrounds it. The clinking of dishes is the only sound until she interrupts.

"This is the Master's private garden, in order to come here you would need approval. While you were recovering, I told him that you enjoyed being outside and in Nature, and he gave you access to this Garden." Elmira answers, occupied with the dolly that holds the tea and soup that had been prepared prior. As you listen to her words, a soft smile graces your lips, and your heart flutters with excitement. You take in a deep breath and let out a puff, air releasing from your lungs and onto the flower. The pappus soars through the wind, taking flight and drifting further and further away from you. The garden mesmerizes you with its meticulous upkeep, vibrant hues, and the intoxicating fragrance of the dew-kissed plants. Every plant thrives, leaving you thoroughly delighted.

You now longed for a book to read, so you could lose yourself within the garden and experience something you had yet to want until now. But, after realizing that perhaps all the books were in the language of this new world, you would have to ask Elmira or Ulysses to get you something. Ah, you said it so easily, as if staying here was a forever thing, but perhaps it was. Ulysses had hit the nail on the head about your old life - no caring family, a job ready to let you go, and no one waiting for you back home. You weren't living, just surviving miserably. With a soft groan, you rose from your crouched position, hands moving up from your knees as you straightened. Your eyes roamed and landed on a beautiful glass table that Elmira was setting the dishes onto. It was clear, almost see-through. White placeholders were facing the chairs that came with the table. "It's so beautiful here." Your voice barely above a whisper, your fingers glide along the smooth glass surface, the set looking as if water had stilled. It could've been mistaken for ice if the warmth from the present sun didn't beam onto everything in its path. You hesitate, stealing glances at the elegant table, unsure if you should dare to sit. The opulence of the furniture makes you question if you might tarnish it. "Elmira, is it alright for me to sit here? It looks expensive." The cat demon nods absentmindedly, focused on arranging the items. "Certainly, the furniture is meticulously cleaned every day." "Oh," you respond, your brows furrowing. Your gaze swiftly shifts to your hand, a delighted smile spreading across your face as you notice something unexpected. "What is this?" you whisper softly, bringing your hand closer to examine it.

Perched on the back of your hand is a mesmerizing bug, its vibrant blue hue adorned with delicate white spots. At first glance, you might mistake it for a ladybug, if not for its peculiar shading and the menacing stinger at the end of its abdomen. Elmira's expression changes as you inquire about the bug, her face turning pale. With a sense of urgency, she urges you. "My Lady, quickly blow it off your hand!" You look up and away from the bug and glance toward her, panicking slightly at her tone. "What? Why? What's wrong–." Before you can comprehend her warning, a scorching sensation surges through your veins, engulfing your body in unbearable pain. As you glance back at your hand, you discover that the bug's stinger is now embedded in your skin, while the insect itself has vanished amidst your frantic state.

In an instant, you're sprawled on the ground, and Elmira rushes over, tenderly cupping your face in her palms. It's hard not to ponder why a mundane day is an elusive dream in this peculiar world, where nothing ever seems to be ordinary.

"—The Hundyai Region has become overrun with–."

The atmosphere in the meeting room instantly turns heavy as a sudden knock reverberates through the door. All eyes turn towards the interruption, their curiosity piqued. It is a rare occurrence to interrupt a meeting with the fearsome Demon Lord Ulysses, it had never been done before, or well, successfully done. Before he can even speak, Elmira enters the room with a sense of urgency, her steps quick and purposeful. Bending down to whisper into his ear, she imparts crucial information to their Lord, causing a ripple of tension to spread across the room. The council members watch intently as Ulysses' eyes narrow and his jaw tightens in response. With a stiff nod, he acknowledges Elmira's message, prompting her to exit the room gracefully. Bidding a respectful farewell to the men at the table, she disappears as silently as she had arrived.

Standing up from his spot at the head of the table, Ulysses straightens his cuff links. "Let's postpone the meeting for now. Feel free to wait in the lounge with some refreshments." There are no protests, no irritation, just unwavering loyalty. "Understood, my Lord." She can't seem to stay out of trouble.

"How long ago was it?"

Elmira anxiously clasps her hands together as she hurries alongside Ulysses, makes his way to his bed in a few long strides."It couldn't have been more than five minutes. I rushed to your side as soon as I could. Ghallahan brought her back here," she explains. Ulysses tenderly cups your chin in his large hand, observing as your eyes glaze over and your lips part to take a deep breath upon his touch. Your skin feels warm and moist with a thin layer of perspiration, causing him to curse himself for his lack of attentiveness. "Bring me something to alleviate the pain and swelling within 10 minutes. Clear out the staff near my room and instead attend to our guests. If I need anything, I'll call for you." Elmira, though reluctant, nods and shuffles out of the room. "What's happening to me?" Ulysses, captivated by the alluring and breathy tone of your voice, shifts his attention back to you. He nonchalantly rolls up his sleeves and unbuttons his shirt ever so slightly. "While in the Garden you were stung by a Fern. Their venom can intensify one's libido to a dangerous extent if not treated correctly. It can also lead to swelling in the limbs and even the brain, depending on the specific type of Fern."

In the midst of your poisoned state, your eyes widen with a mixture of fear and disbelief. Your thighs involuntarily clench together as your heart beats erratically in your chest. The overwhelming realization that death may be imminent engulfs you, and you find yourself uttering desperate words, "Oh God, I'm going to die, I don't want to die." However, amidst the chaos, a strange sensation begins to stir within you. Your nipples harden beneath the fabric of your dress, the sensation bordering on painful. Ulysses gently brushes his hand against your, puffy lips sending a jolt of electricity through your body. His touch trails down the side of your neck, leaving a trail of anticipation in its wake. "For it to stop, I need to pleasure you." Your body tenses at the information and your cheeks flush. "I'll just do it myself. Why can't I do it myself?"

"It doesn't work that way, little dove."

The thought of him touching you so intimately sends tingles of white-hot pleasure down your tummy. Another wave of heat hits and beneath your dress your wet, sticky thighs rub together, desperate for a touch of any kind. You can feel your clit swell and ache as your blood rushes to it. Your panties are damp with your arousal. As you lock eyes with him, his passive yet sharp features, and his deep, alluring red eyes, you sense a hunger that sets him apart from the rest. The sinewy muscles of his arms ripple, captivating your attention, and you boldly cup your breast within your small hands, embracing your own provocative nature. It becomes clear that the mere thought of his touch has the power to bring you to the brink of climax.

You can't help but feel a little shy, but there's no denying the effect he has on you. The way his voice rumbles sends shivers down your spine. His deep, sultry tone stirs something deep inside you. "Dove, talk to me." His voice is almost pleading, and you comply with a quick nod, gasping as his lips press against yours, dominating and all-consuming. His tongue dances over your lower lip, relishing the addictive taste of your mouth. His teeth sink in, causing a pleasurable moan to escape into his mouth, your fingers desperately clinging to him; as his fingers trail calmly down your waistline and tickle your belly button. Slowly, they make their way back up to the neckline of your dress, effortlessly tearing it off, and exposing your breasts to the cold air, causing goosebumps to rise. Though his warm mouth chases them away.

Your thighs tighten around his waist, feeling the hot, pulsating bulge in his pants pressing against your stomach. The most sultry, erotic moan he's ever heard pierces his ears and the deep, primal groan that he lets out makes you whimper. He lifts his head to gaze into your eyes, seeing the raw desire and intense need reflected at him.

His fingers delve into your hips, reassuring and light as he pulls you closer to him, his mouth continuing a slow, tantalizing assault on your nipples. Each time his teeth nip you, you mewl wantonly and arch into him, hips grinding against him. Tears trickle down your cheeks at the discomfort between your thighs, a fire that slowly starts to eat you alive.

Ulysses' hand caresses your breast, thumb teasing your wet nipple. And you let out the most sinful, obscene moan he's ever heard; and you attempt to stifle it with your hand. " It's only me and you here, dove " He states, kissing down the valley of your breast, eyes flitting upwards to gaze at your tortured face. His breath leaves his lungs in a shocked rush, and a surge of emotions engulfs him when his eyes find yours, they're wet with tears and you down at him through thick lashes, eyes so trusting and yet so scared.

"In this life and the next, you possess the power to consume me entirely." His voice, a mere whisper, and his hands cupping the soft weight of your breast. He bends his head, his teeth scraping over your left nipple. His other arms work on taking off the top half of his clothing, carelessly ripping them away. You sob out, the sound unlike anything he's heard, it makes his cock strain against his pants. Once again, he claims your breast, his mouth unyielding. Suckling vigorously, his tongue dancing across your nipple, while his fingers tease and caress the other. Your cries echo, as you entangle your fingers in his tousled locks.

As he lifts his head from devouring you, his gaze fixates on the vibrant hues that adorn your bosom, and you gasp at the color of his eyes. He knows you see the dark red of his eyes, a lust-filled predator, and yet you don't seem to care one bit. Instead, you yearn for him, your arms entwining around his neck to meet him in a kiss. Ulysses revels in the sensation of your body melding seamlessly with his, surrendering to his dominance as he ravishes your mouth with a fervent hunger, relishing the taste of your fervor. Your mouth, an addictive nectar, surpasses any pleasure he has ever savored in his two millennia of existence.

As your perky nipples graze against the chiseled contours of his muscular chest, a shiver of pleasure courses through your body, leaving you breathless and emitting a delicate whimper. He hungrily devours your sounds, his lips relentlessly claiming yours, until your once tender lips become swollen, evidence of his insatiable desire.

“More," You plead softly. "I need more." You can't help but squirm against him, hips bucking. Hungry. Needy. Demanding. The poison inside you ignites a fiery hunger, and only he can quench it. All you desire is him. His touch, his kiss, rough and demanding. You yearn for the numbness that envelops you when he tilts your head back, dominating your mouth repeatedly. Your cries are filled with urgency, and you don't care if you have to beg him to get what you want. What you needed.

"I can feel the heat of your cunt through my pants, dove," He whispers softly, and to you? He murmurs gently to you. He exudes pure, sinful allure. Temptation. Forbidden and devilish. The brush of his teeth on your neck causes your eyes to close and your lips to part. "I bet your panties are drenched, aren't they?" The question has another wave of slick dripping from your pussy.

He doesn't bother waiting for your response; instead, he plants a series of kisses from your lips to your neck, and then down to your breasts. Every gentle bite or caress sends a surge of heat directly to your pussy. The heat is intense, scorching, pulsating between your thighs, and you can't help but squirm. Your pussy twitches, clenches, and weeps with hunger.

"I want to see for myself," He states, nipping under your breast and then down along your ribs. "I need the taste of you on my tongue, my mate." His sensual words make you flush red, but sends your stomach clenching in anticipation, it goes straight to your core. You weren't certain you could survive. Certainly if he didn't speed up his teasing you wouldn't, you truly didn't want your brain to swell and explode.

His stalling mouth doesn't stay very long but continues to journey down your belly, his tongue dipping into your navel. Gracefully, he slides off the bed and kneels in front of you, urging you to the edge and pushing your thighs apart. "Rest your feet on my shoulders," he commands, his voice thick and velvety. Filled with dark promise. A shiver runs down your spine at the sound and another pulse of hunger shudders through you. There's no thought in your mind that think to defy the edge in his tone. Without hesitation, you comply, soft feet settling over his broad shoulders.

You would do anything for him at this moment. You had never in your 20+ years of living ever felt so desperate or needy. The feeling was so strange but, so intense, your body shook with it. Your heart raced, blood pounding in your ears and flushing your cheeks. Ulysses' face bore a dark, erotic lewdness. Intense. Savage even. Feral and untamed, it stirred something deep within you, something you didn't even realize was there. You hungered for him so much that you could feel the warm wetness of your arousal smearing your thighs and gathering between your folds in anticipation.

A soft whimper escaped your lips as you gripped his locs of hair, your breathing ragged. You were completely bare to him and you should have been embarrassed to have a demon you just met buried between your thighs, but instead, you were all the more desperate for him to do something—anything.

"So wet. So sweet." His gaze fixates on the luscious, soft curls on your mound, damp with heat, his eyes hooded and hungry. With a low, primal growl, he exhales a cool breath directly onto your feverish folds, and you sob, oversensitive and gripping his horns to steady yourself. "You belong to me," he declares. You don't even have time to process his words because he lowers his head to the feast between your shaking thighs. Your cry is hoarse. Broken. Mewling. He doesn't just give a tentative lick. Ulysses takes what he wants like a starved beast. He consumes your mind, body, and soul with a ravenous appetite.

He consumes you. His tongue delving deep to extract the musky, sweet taste of you. He nibbles, sucks. He dominates you with just his mouth and nothing more. Powerless to do anything but hold on, you grasp his horns, his firm hold on your thighs, keeping your legs spread wide for his plundering mouth. It was beautiful. So good. Better than anything you could have imagined. Your mind refuses to function, focusing on the sheer pleasure escalating like a tsunami. The sensations are indecent, and arousing, the intensity escalating the insatiable desire within her higher and higher.

He releases a fierce hunger within you, his tongue flicking, diving deep repeatedly, caressing and teasing. His deep snarls only added to the sensations battering through you. The flames roar back with a vengeance, tantalizing your nerves and scorching through your veins, a blaze of passion across your stomach and down your legs, along your spine, and deep inside your sopping pussy. You were so close, the tension coiling so tightly you cry out with need as his mouth envelops your hypersensitive bundle of nerves, he licks just enough to overwhelm you with sensations, but not enough to release you. "Ulysses," You whimper his name in a desperate plea. Begging. Longing. Knowing he would fulfill your desires in his own time. Your body was his. He had claimed it and he was making sure you were aware of that. "Please," You whisper, fingers now clutching his black tresses.

He looks up at you and you feel the added intensity of his twinkling eyes. Your hips involuntarily thrust against him, craving the tantalizing sensations that tease you just beyond your grasp. His mouth covers your sensitive clit once again, his tongue flicking, licking, pressing with broad, flat strokes and caresses, driving you higher than you thought possible, until you scream your release. The rapid, relentless rhythm pushes you beyond your limits, causing you to surrender to the overwhelming release that consumes you. Overwhelmed by ecstasy, you bury his face deeper into your pulsating core, grinding against his tongue as your thighs tremble with desire. "Ulysses." You sob his name like a prayer. He tenderly traces the inside of your thigh, soothing your senses with his gentle touch. Slowly, your eyes flutter shut, your racing heartbeat gradually returning to its steady rhythm. Exhaustion washes over you, and the sweet embrace of sleep claims you.

With a soft knock on the door, the demon eases you back into bed, pulling the duvet over your body. Elmira glides into the room, placing the requested items on the table. "Escort the guest back to the meeting room, we'll resume the conference."

As you wake up from your poisoning-induced slumber, the darkness of night surrounds you, the castle eerily quiet except for the gentle sound of raindrops. Sitting up in bed, you slowly rub the sleep from your eyes, allowing the events of the day to slowly return to your mind. "Oh God." The events from earlier today rush back to you in vivid detail. You cover your mouth with your hand, shaking your head in disbelief. It must have been a dream, an incredibly lifelike, tantalizing dream. But the dampness between your thighs and your labia tells a different story. "I must have been dreaming."

"Of what?" The deep voice that you were starting to get used to startles you. Ulysses closes the door behind him, striding over to his desk. "I came to check on you after what happened earlier," His muscles tense and a surge of desire flickers in his eyes. Oh, and you were naked beneath the sheets. "So, I wasn't dreaming?" Ulysses chuckles humorlessly. "With the taste of your pussy still on my tongue, I don't think so." You try and ignore his lewd words, cheeks heating, instead you question him. "Earlier, when, yeah— you called me your mate, are we talking like, Australian mate? Pirate mate? Ahoy. What did you mean by it?"

"As in soulmate, predestined. You belong to me as I belong to you." His voice is gravelly and tinged with weariness, and you almost invite him into bed with you. "How? And how do you find me? Why me?" "Soulmates for Demons are rare, not many have them and they usually outlive them. Stumbling upon you was a fluke, but one I wouldn't change." Ulysses studies your reaction with a bated breath, searching and wondering. "I discovered you through your heartbeat. Your emotions. I could sense them all. Your fear, your relief, your longing."

"As simple as that, I got attached. Part of me wanted to leave you there, to never lay eyes on you again. However, your emotions anchored me. The solace you found in the echo of my voice and the sense of security you experienced, impelled me to protect you." Ulysses saunters closer, pausing to rest against the bed frame. "Your clumsiness, magnet to trouble, love of nature, and politeness to the staff, only made you more irresistible."

Your heart pounds relentlessly in your chest, a rhythmic thump that resonates with the intensity of a confession. "Whether you desire to depart from this place is inconsequential, for I have no intentions of releasing you," Is it sinful that you find yourself utterly aroused? The way his smoldering eyes possessively roam over your figure sends a tantalizing shiver down your spine. His eyebrow quirks in a provocative gesture, and his eyes sparkle with a magnetic allure.

You felt your cheeks flush and your heart pound. He knew exactly how to turn you on. It was wrong, but it was also thrilling. The way he gazed at you made your pussy drool. Your clit throbbed with excitement. A part of you blamed it on the poison still gliding through your veins. "I don't see a reason to go anywhere," you murmur, relaxing your grip on the sheet. Ulysses' jaw tightens as he advances, his lips crashing onto yours forcefully, swallowing your moan before breaking away.

"I'll put your mouth to use little human."

The thought of his throbbing cock sliding deep into your throat sends delightful shivers down your spine and the way his gaze darkens lets you know that he can also feel what you think as well. With a hint of shyness, you cautiously approach him, allowing the sheet to gracefully slip from your body, settling on your knees right before him. Craning your neck to look up at him, captivated by his towering presence. At his staggering height, you had no problem being face-to-face with his bulge. Your lips form a sultry pout as he gently cradles your face in his hands, while his other two hands firmly grip your hair, a hold that is both biting and intoxicating, leaving your pussy dripping.

A primal hunger consumes you. He was an irresistible temptation, and you had already indulged in a sinful taste of him, otherworldly and enigmatic. You yearned for more. "Put your hands on my thighs," He says softly, his gaze burning into yours. You inhale deeply, your head shaking in disbelief, your eyes sparkling with desire. "I've never done this before."

"I know." Those two words swirl inside you. Makes you shiver. With his remaining hand, he deftly undoes his pants, revealing his cock.

As you inhale deeply, your throat tightens and your eyes feast upon him. His jet-black hair is elegantly swept away from his captivating face. With broad shoulders and narrow hips, he possesses a striking V-shaped silhouette. His thighs are thick, lean and firm, but your gaze is centered on his pulsing, jerking cock. He's bigger than you imagined a man would be— well a demon. He's long and thick, perfectly matching his purple-grey skin tone, but there is an otherworldly quality to it that leaves you craving more. Intricate ridges and pulsating veins adorn its length.

"Keep looking at me, dove. I need to see you, to make certain you want this."

Your gaze swiftly ascended, locked in a passionate connection, for in that very moment, you were ready to surrender the world to him. He envelops his fingers around the base of his cock, guiding it towards your awaiting mouth, an act so tantalizingly arousing, it surpasses any previous encounters. (Not that you've had many, but…) Ulysses presses the velvety head against your lips, and the sensation of his precum moistening them ignites a pulsating surge of pleasure within your core. Driven by instinct, you part your lips and sensually lick the glistening droplets, taking the offering and savoring his taste.

His groan is deep as the flat of your tongue dances over his sensitive tip. He retreats momentarily, causing you to whimper in protest, which is quickly silenced as he abruptly sinks into your mouth, giving you what you want. He moves unhurriedly, each stroke taking him deeper until he's nearly at the back of your throat, careful of you. But you can feel the way his body responds as you suckle hard. It's orgasmic, the violent way his muscles contract from the burning pleasure. His gaze, dark and intense, follows every movement of his cock as it slides in and out of your mouth; tip and shaft sloppy now, dripping with saliva.

You revel in the sensation of his intense gaze watching your pillowy lips enveloping his cock, and this feeling alone from you has his cock swollen and engorged, so much so that your jaw aches. You sensually trace circles around the tip before lavishly slurping the underside of his shaft. Your eyes lock with his as he spasmodically twitches within your mouth.

"Enough." An order, his voice rough. He can't help himself. He had to have you. The plea in your eyes, the pure fire burning there, swallowing him whole, is too difficult to oppose. With one final thrust, he plunges deep into your throat, holding you there until your eyes well up with tears, before sliding his cock from your mouth.

Ulysses follows you down onto the bed, your arms circling his neck. Your thighs part, thighs glistening and pussy glittering in the soft, dull glow of the moons. And oh, he seizes the opportunity, lodging the wide head of his cock into that fiery haven. A growl rumbles low in his chest as your pussy clenches, squeezing around the tip of his cock.

Your cunt felt like molten lava engulfing him, so intense that he feels he might explode. Ulysses slowly applies pressure, short bursts that push through your resistance. It's scorching. So perfect. Too tight. Strangling him in a vice grip. The sensation is sheer bliss, your body stretching and igniting, reluctantly surrendering to his invasion.

Ulysses halts as he knocks dully on your thin, virgin wall and holds himself still, jaw ticking and hands gripping the bed frame, causing it to splinter. To give your body the time it needed to adjust to his incursion. He wasn't nearly in deep enough. The effort to remain still is almost unbearable. "Dove, look at me." he pleads. He had to see your eyes. Your lashes flutter and then lift. His stomach muscles contract malevolently. His body shudders and his cock thickens, and throbs, desperate for more.

You looked absolutely breathtaking.

"I need more," You whisper. "Please, hurry. Please. I'm burning up. I need . . ."

"I know what you need." Three of his arms embraces your hips, lifting you effortlessly. In an instant, your legs coil around him, ankles clasping at his waist, and fingers entwining at the back of his neck, eyes pleading. Ulysses takes a deep breath, for the sight of you is overwhelming.

He thrusts forward, with unrelenting intensity. Breaking through your innocence and forcefully entering your tightness, the scalding fire seizing him, and your tight pussy has no choice but to accept all of him.

You cry out at the bite of pain, but he feels you surround his cock tightly, tugging him deeper until he's lodged all the way, kissing your cervix. Your tight muscles contract around him, gripping and pulsating. Your hips buck. A small whimper of need slips from your throat. The need to fuck hard and deep into you repeatedly nearly sends him over the edge. "Are you ready? Breathe for me, dove." Your eyes meet his. Wild. So untamed, his breath catches in his throat. He holds you still while you try your hardest to grind against him, desperate to move.

"Please, fuck me." Your voice sends him over the edge. He moves then, drawing back and then plunging deep into your drooling cunt. Your tightness, like scorching silk, grip his cock. He feels the last of his control snap and he begins to drill into you. It's rough, too rough for your innocence, but he can't help himself. The pleasure consumes him, almost bordering on pain in its intensity.

He can feel you rising toward your orgasm. Surging toward it. He grasps your hips firmly, holding you, for a moment, savoring your tight, dripping cunt, and then he surges into you over and over with hard, deep strokes. Ulysses feels his balls tighten at the sudden, overwhelming convulsion of your pussy. The intense fluttering around him. Your moans fill his ears—his very being. Pleasure overwhelms him.

Each hard jerk of his thick, creamy cum spilling into you is a wave of pleasure. He raises his head and looks down at you, at the helpless, cute, bewildered pleasure on your face. Your lashes flutter and before you can open your eyes all the way, Ulysses slants his mouth across yours. Gently. Completely at odds with his roughness earlier. And you respond softly. Tiredly.

"Sleep, we have all of eternity."

connected with this post!

[quixotical-lymbo]

OMG I LOVED YOU ORION PAX FIC (this bot needs more love) can you do an Orion pax x reader, but it’s the reader’s reaction to Orion falling in that hole thingy? (yk at the end of the movie that D-16 dropped him in) like does

1. the reader goes crazy and bets up D-16 ?

2. jumps in after him?

3. cries and says "HE WAS MY FUTURE"

I need to knowwwww (also take some food bc i know you cooking with your fics 🍎🥐🥯🍔🍗🍟🌯🌮) TYY

Pairing: Orion Pax/Optimus Prime x gn!Reader Rating: SFW Summary: What happens when a bot witnesses their conjunx endura die in front of their eyes?  Warnings/Tags: Transformers One SPOILERS, guard!reader, cybertronian reader, mild descriptions of violence. Word Count: 1300+ words 

The first time you met Orion Pax was a blurry moment of rushing figures and yelling. This red and blue bot had a reputation, but you didn't know his designation at the time where you first started your job as a guard. 

Well, you certainly knew all about him, especially after your first run in with the troublemaker making his grand exit through a balcony. Of course, you just had to be making your rounds flying around the perimeter of the building when you were tackled out of the sky and pinned against the rooftop of the neighboring building. Groaning as the mech on top of you sputtered a flurry of apologies. The mech ran away without even offering a servo to help you up. 

The second time the two of you met, you learned his designation from the gossip about a miner always sneaking in and out of government buildings which held old records. You connected the name to the face of the mech you ran into again when patrolling indoors. 

It was…a unique exchange of pleasantries as Orion Pax attempted to sway you out of sounding the alarm. His attempts at distracting you with those flirty glances and sweet words did nothing to stop you from cuffing him and bringing him back to his station.

Over the deca-cycle, the interactions between you two grew warmer as the forced proximity bred an intimacy between you two. 

A conjunx ritus later and the two of you were an odd couple in the optics of Iacon. 

All because you managed to 'catch' the mech of who stole your spark. 

So why couldn't you save your conjunx when he needed you the most? 

It all happened too fast for your mind to react in time, but your frame moved before you could even scream the name out of your conjunx as his battered form dropped into the pit. You rushed forward, cables feeling like they were on fire as you reached a servo out in hopes of grabbing hold of something. Yet, you were too late and Orion was swallowed by the abyss right as something grasped your arms and yanked you away from the edge. 

You struggled to throw them off of you, blurred edges of your vision and the muffled shouts of your name didn't stop you from trying to fly down there—it didn't matter whether or not your spark would extinguish in the process. All that mattered was finding Orion Pax, your best friend, your companion, your everything. 

A voice heavy with grief managed to snap you out of your haze. You glanced over to meet Elita's optics, her face twisted with a pitying look that nearly sent you over the edge–metaphorically and literally. 

"The age of primes has ended....no more false prophets, follow me and you will never again be deceived!"

Cheers broke out from the high guards scattered within the shocked crowd of Iacon's citizens. 

"I will lead us all into the future!" Megatron opened his chassis and replaced the cog in his chest with Megatronus's cog. Purple electrical sparks emitted from his frame as his body transformed into a bulkier form.

"I…am…MEGATRON!" 

"Burn it down…all of it!"

Shots fired from the crowd as Megatron began shooting at the Sentinel statue and the structures surrounding it. 

 

"He's going to kill everyone." 

"We have to stop him-" Elita-1 was cut off as your form rushed past her and headed for the silver mech. Bee and Elita-1 glanced at each other before nodding and hastening after you. 

As Megatron continued shooting his cannon, a pede slammed into the side of his helm knocking him onto his knees. Megatron whipped around to find your fist heading toward his faceplate, he dodged and managed to grab your wrist in time to swing you around like a rag doll. 

Despite having a cog all this time, your frame was still shorter compared to Megatron's—but that didn't make you any less of a fighter. 

"You took him away from me! Your own best friend!" You bellowed and wrapped your legs around his arm to twist out of his grip. You swung your body weight to shift behind him and pummel him in punches. 

"He was your friend! My conjunx…my future….mine!" You grunted as Megatron ripped you off and threw you away. You rolled onto your servos and knees before jumping aside before the energy blast could hit you. The weight of losing Orion hit you all at once as you realized you had just rolled near the place where D-16…Megatron had dropped him. Your optics dimmed as your vision blurred from the rising dust and smoke. Your helm dropped and you couldn't see the massive cannon pointing at your pathetic form. 

"I took down the only thing standing in my way," Megatron sneered. The purr of his weapon charging up became a roar as the light within readied to snuff your spark. "And now? I will make sure you join him along with the rest who stand against me." 

"Not if we have anything to do about that!" Elita-1 charged in and snatched the cannon in time to redirect the shot elsewhere. 

A fight ensued and a multitude of thoughts ran through your processor. Your distraught and grief melded your frame into the floor. The noises and smell of destruction around you all blurred into one as you curled into a ball, wishing to disappear into the same abyss your conjunx had dropped in. 

After all, why continue this seemingly never ending cycle of injustice without the bot who made life worth living? 

No, Orion wouldn't have wanted you to think that way. Nor would have sat there wallowing in his own misery if your spark had stopped beating. He would've fought for you and you…will do the same.

Slamming your clenched servos into the ground you shot up and barreled toward the fight. Snarling as you drew closer and pounced onto Megatron just as he kicked Bee away. Before anyone on the tower could react, something exploded a piece of it and shot up into the sky. 

 

Amidst the chaos, you, Bee, and Elita-1 slid off the dome and landed on the lower platform again. 

Snapping your gaze up you found an familiar yet strange mech donning a similar color scheme to Orion standing before Megatron. 

 

"It can't be…" Bee began.

"It is." Elita-1 finished with wide optics. 

"Orion?" You whispered. 

 

He was alive. Alive. 

 

He was…different. 

 

…he wasn't dead and that's the important part. 

When all was said and done, Megatron was banished from Iacon and Energon returned to Cybertron, cogs being returned to the cogless citizens, you were finally able to have a moment alone with your conjunx now named Optimus Prime. 

His optics shone brightly as they landed on your faceplate. He turned to you fully and stretched his arm to reach you. You eagerly leaned into the palm of his servo, cheek pressing against the warmth of his hold on you. The faint hum of his spark calmed the raging storm within you, allowing your tense cables to ease up. 

"You've…changed." You sighed as you blinked back the liquid in your optics. 

"...so have you," Optimus craned his helm down to hold your gaze. "Come, we have a lot of things to discuss." 

You interlocked your digits with his, reluctant to drift away from him, but his softening gaze and even softer words persuaded you to let go. 

Trailing after the three but sticking close to Optimus's side, you nearly tripped over your own pedes as you felt the weight of his love through the bond. Keeping your expression neutral, you smiled inwardly and returned his affections tenfold. 

Primus, you were happy he was alive. 

😼 - I do not give permission for anyone to translate, copy, republish, or plagiarize any of my written works. I provide no permission for any of my literary works to be used in artificial intelligence. banner(s) by @enchanthings !!

[starkshoe]

The Salesman

The room was suffocatingly silent, broken only by the distant ticking of a clock. Y/N found themselves in a sterile, nondescript space, the bare white walls closing in around them. A table stood in the center, flanked by two chairs. On one of them sat him: the Salesman.

“You were brave to call” he said, his voice low and enveloping. “But I expected nothing less.”

His tone was an intoxicating mix of admiration and menace. Y/N sat without a word, their hands clasped tightly in their lap to hide their trembling. His presence was almost tangible, an oppressive energy that pressed against their chest.

“You know, Y/N” he continued, tilting his head slightly. “Many people choose to ignore opportunity. Many settle for mere survival.” He paused, his intense gaze never wavering. “But not you. You want more.”

“That’s not true” they whispered. “I just want to... stop hurting.”

The Salesman smiled, and for a moment, Y/N felt a strange warmth seep into their mind. He leaned in slightly, closing the distance between them. “Stop hurting? Darling, there’s no end to suffering. There’s only its transformation.”

His words left them breathless. They felt the heat of his proximity, the subtle, sophisticated scent that clung to him, and a shiver ran down their spine. When he placed a hand on the table, his fingers brushed against theirs—an encounter too deliberate to be accidental. The contact sent an electric jolt through their veins.

“What do you want from me?” they asked, their voice cracking.

“I want to help you see your potential” he replied, his voice now a near-whisper meant just for them. He leaned closer, his face mere inches from theirs. “But you have to trust me. Are you ready to do that?”

The tension in the room was unbearable, an invisible thread binding them together. Y/N’s heart pounded so loudly they feared he could hear it. Danger radiated from his every word, every gesture, yet there was a strange allure that rooted them to the spot.

With a trembling breath, they murmured, “Yes.”

The word sparked an almost imperceptible change in the Salesman. His smile grew softer, his eyes darker. Rising from his chair with a predatory grace, he moved to stand beside them. Y/N’s body stiffened, their heart threatening to burst from their chest.

“Good” he murmured, his voice a velvet caress. “But I need to be certain you’re truly ready to follow your potential... wherever it may lead.”

He leaned down, his hand ghosting along their cheek. The touch was achingly gentle, yet it carried an undercurrent of restrained power, like a coiled spring ready to snap. Y/N found themselves paralyzed, trapped in the gravity of his presence, unable to look away.

The soft hum of the fluorescent lights faded into silence as he tilted his head closer. “You feel it, don’t you?” he whispered. “The pull to something greater. The thrill of stepping into the unknown.” His fingers brushed a strand of hair away from their face, lingering for a moment longer than necessary.

Y/N’s breath hitched, the air between them charged with unspoken tension. Their senses heightened—the intoxicating scent of him, the heat radiating from his body, the magnetic draw of his voice. Every fiber of their being screamed to resist, but a darker, more primal urge whispered surrender.

“I...” They tried to form words, but his gaze held them captive.

“No need to answer now” he said, his voice a soothing balm against the chaos swirling within them. He straightened, the loss of his proximity leaving them disoriented. With a measured step, he moved behind them, his hand resting lightly on their shoulder.

“Trust is not given; it is earned” he murmured, his breath warm against the shell of their ear. “And I intend to earn every ounce of yours.”

A shiver coursed through Y/N, the line between fear and desire blurring with each passing second. The Salesman’s touch was light, yet it burned like a brand, leaving an imprint that would not fade.

“Consider this” he continued, his fingers trailing down to their wrist. He lifted their hand, inspecting it as if deciphering a puzzle. “Every choice you’ve made has led you here. To this moment. To me.”

Y/N’s chest tightened, a flurry of emotions threatening to overwhelm them. Their voice barely above a whisper, they asked, “And what if I choose wrong?”

The Salesman’s laughter was low and rich, sending a tremor through their core. “Darling, there is no wrong choice. Only paths we take and the consequences we embrace.” He pressed their palm to his chest, where the steady thrum of his heartbeat resonated beneath their touch.

“Feel that?” he asked, his voice a seductive drawl. “I am as real as the doubt in your mind and the desire in your heart. Trust in me, and I promise, you’ll never regret it.”

The weight of his words wrapped around Y/N like a cocoon, and for a fleeting moment, the chaos in their mind stilled. They met his gaze, the storm within his eyes reflecting their own. Perhaps, they thought, this was the only way forward—to dive headfirst into the unknown and hope to emerge unscathed.

[sasheemo]

When We Collide

Pairing: Salem!Agatha Harkness x Salem!Fem!Reader

Summary: In 17th century Salem, two young witches, Agatha Harkness and the daughter of her mother’s rival, are seen as inevitable enemies. Raised in the shadows of a bitter feud between their powerful mothers, they have little real interaction, only feeding off the coven’s assumptions. When a chance encounter in the forest exposes unexpected vulnerabilities, the line between rivalry and attraction begins to blur, their relationship transforming into an unexpected and forbidden bond.

Tags: rivals to lovers, slow burn, angst and fluff and smut, tryna fit everything in here ngl, young Agatha owns my soul, eat my ass Evanora, abusive mother/daughter relationship, idiots in love, pining and tension

A/N: this is my first multi-chapter fic and my second fic overall so please feel free to give feedback. English is not my first language. Neither Nicholas nor Rio are in the story.

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4

Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8

Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12

Chapter 13 Chapter 14 Chapter 15 Chapter 16

Read on AO3

[hyunj1nsbae]

Crimson ties | h.h au

synopsis: Drawn into the dangerously seductive world of Hwang Hyunjin, you become entangled in a toxic relationship where power and desire are locked in a fierce struggle. As the crimson ties between them tighten, you are forced to confront the darkness within yourself and navigate the blurred lines between love and control. Will both of you find a way to transform your tumultuous connection into something genuine, or will the shadows of your past keep you two trapped in a cycle of manipulation and pain?

Genre: smut,slow burn,fluff

Pairing : toxic!hyunjin x afab!reader

Warnings : explicit content,manipulation,power dynamics (detailed warnings will be in the chapters)

Status: ongoing

note: decided to turn the Hyunjin one shot into a series🥲

chapters:

chapter 1 : take it

chapter 2 : put in your place

chapter 3: distracted

[maybe-boys-do-love]

Peaceful Property went ahead and picked one of my special interests to explore this week. For queer history nerds like me, some of the most prominent questions in the field are whether and how to connect to those in the past who did not have the same conditions and language for queerness as we do in the present.* Forcebook gave us two characters, Phoom and Vicha, who failed to name or live their queer feelings in the past. Instead, they had queer gestures to offer across time. What do these queer gestures and failures offer to the main conflict between Peach and Home, and what do they offer to us as an audience debating whether Peaceful Property is a BL or queer-baiting?

That ghost story spanned and blurred time into a time immemorial. Using the venue of Thai traditional dancing gave the story a sense of deep Thai history and traditions that are kept up to the present, while Phoom's home indicated early twentieth century Western influences, and a television (alongside Phoom's age in the modern-day setting) suggested the beginning of the global information age of the 80s or 90s. Then Force and Book, finally getting the opportunity to show their true acting capacities (let Force be as queer, emotive, and silly as he is in his interviews, GMMTV!!!), took us on a heart-shattering journey that blended those eras together.

In front of the TV, Vicha teaches Phoom the gesture for love before they kiss. It's not a pronouncement, and no one's recording. It's just a movement between two men tucked away in a private place. Vicha records later, but he doesn't put it into words. He carves tallies into a tree waiting for Phoom to return. Then Phoom does, but he's so cold toward Vicha that the latter can't even bear to look as Phoom tries to explain his sadness through dance. Phoom's mother is looking on as Phoom repeats the the move to signify "saddened," in the face of the instructor's demands for "happy."

The dance is interspersed with scenes of Phoom's mother berating him for being "gay"--she uses the English word! and as @absolutebl explains that's important!--across a locked palatial door as Phoom collapses in tears. Edit: @lurkingteapot giving me the Thai language lesson in the notes to explain, “Phoom's mother does not use the English word for gay. she says มีลูกผิดเพศอย่างแก mii lûuk pìt pêet yâang gɛɛ, where the gɛɛ is a familiar term for "you" -- "to have a child who gets gender wrong, like you!" ("gets gender wrong" as in, directs affections/attraction at the wrong gender).”

With just one chance to return to the dance studio that she believes to be the cause of his queerness, all Phoom can do is subtly cue Vicha about his queer experiences through dance. Jose Esteban Munoz says in Cruising Utopia: The Then and There of Queer Futurity,

"Queer dance is hard to catch, and it is meant to be hard to catch--it is supposed to slip through the fingers and comprehension of those who would use knowledge against us. But it matters and takes on a vast material weight for those of us who perform or draw important sustenance from performance. Rather than dematerialize, dance rematerializes. Dance, like energy, never disappears; it is simply transformed. Queer dance, after the live act, does not just expire. The ephemeral does not equal unmateriality. It is more nearly about another understanding of what matters. It matters to get lost in dance or to use dance to get lost: lost from the evidentiary logic of heterosexuality.

Phoom's mom, the representative of compulsory heterosexuality, watches on, but she either can't see the coded evidence, or she recognizes its ephemerality and bears it knowing its lack of impact. Even then, she ends Phoom's dance before Vicha can look up and see the queerness that might affirm his own queer feelings. Phoom fails to live as a representative of queerness, unable to resist the pressures of heterosexuality.

With Phoom locked away, Vicha can't bear the loneliness. Queer suicidality has been haunting Peaceful Properties since the first episode, and the reason Peach keeps his blinds closed in his apartment returned this episode if we didn't recall. But we've had other subtle references, too. Vicha's death, though, was visceral and vivid as he slit his wrists with the same tool he used to count down the days until the return of the person who could affirm his queer feelings. Then, he documented his feeling in poetry with blood. While, Phoom failed to materialize his queerness for others, Vicha could only materialize his queerness through tragedy.

Much of queer history and fiction has focused on these tragic queer figures. In fact, they've been quite productive political tools for advancing queer goals. In the past ten years or so, the culture has turned on tragic queer figures and their narratives, though. Emotionally, I feel like that's for the better, but there's a fine line I'm always attentive to between welcoming empowering histories and turning our backs on those who don't or can't achieve them. It's also a fine line between welcoming ensured happy endings for queer characters and refusing to engage with those creators past and present who use other narrative tools to explore queer themes.

Relatedly, using a branded pairing for Peaceful Property while not advertising it as a BL, nor committing to that status even by episode 7, seems intentionally designed to invite the conversations about whether its queer-baiting or a BL. It feels so old-school to engage in the kind of queer subtext reading that much of the fandom is doing currently. Sure, people do fantastically detailed metas about body language, color theory, and everything else you can think of for BL series. When queerness is not a given, however, the analysis of queer subtext serves the purpose of liberating the characters and the text from the binds and blinds of an otherwise heterosexual context.

There's a generosity in that work. It certainly can't erase the failures to fully live-out one's queerness, nor the problems and behavior that suffering and suppression can lead one to commit. However, sometimes you absolve people out of empathy rather than anything they do to make-up for their harm and futility. Sometimes people are transformed by that initial love, mercy, or understanding, whatever you want to call it, like the ghosts in the series finally being seen. The basic tenets of humanism, a philosophy so disruptive to the rigid class structures the show's simultaneously exploring, and Buddhism, the Thai beliefs which the show's been explicitly exorcising the ghosts with, depend on understanding people at that level, beneath the trappings of social status, symbols of wealth, and even language.

Peaceful Property has taken us on the journey for Home and Peach to understand each other at this level. They, like the audience, have been looking beneath the cloaks of class and patriarchal defensiveness that separate them for the meaningful ephemeral queer gestures that can offer them release from the endless cycles of grief and guilt they're stuck in. That the series keeps finding ways to find peace for these ghosts suggests that the we'll also find peace and love from the alienation haunting Peach and Home. They just need each other to perform that exorcism on their hearts.

*Thailand, specifically, is unique site for queer historians and anthropologists--like director P'Jojo!--because of this question. Its one of the few places that maintained a non-binary gender system into the present, whereas many others were suppressed by Christian colonial law or influence.

[onlyswan]

summary: in which moving in together is a herculean task and jungkook teaches you how to fold his underwear.

> est. relationship, fluff, angst lowkey / wc: 3.2k

> warnings: mention of h!ckeys and or/l s/x (f. receiving), allusion to c*ckwarming and s/x

> in which masterlist!

note: who else will drunkenly research about men’s underwear and scroll through calvin klein’s website at 2am to write this for shit and giggles and self-indulgence if not art <3 as always i love hearing your thoughts thru reblogs/comments/asks !! 🥺

—

“pssst.”

“oh shit-”

jungkook looks up to find you standing by the doorframe of the walk-in closet, and the view instantly weaves a stupidly whipped grin on his handsome face. your hair is messy from sleep; your eyes are still half-lidded; and your lips are wrapped around the straw of the red water tumbler you’re clutching in your hands.

“baby! you scared me! what are you doing out of bed?”

“my bed escaped from me.” you mumble, padding across the wooden floor until you reach him. he watches in bewilderment as you fall to your knees and pull his arms out of your way. muscular body pliant underneath your dainty touches, he allows you to move him as you like.

“ahhh-” he produces a noise of enlightenment as you find a comfortable position between his legs, lying down across his lap. he’s forced to support the weight of your torso with his arm beneath your upper back, hand curled around your shoulder. “am i the bed?”

“mhmm, boo! i caught you. you’re stuck with me forever.” you go limp in his arms and dramatically press the back of your hand on your forehead like a damsel in distress, which elicits a chuckle from your boyfriend.

he bends down to pepper kisses along your jaw and exposed neck, plush lips brushing against the traces of love bites that blossomed on your skin this afternoon, courtesy of his friskiness. having always been extra sensitive there, the ticklish sensation makes you squirm. “that’s exactly what i signed up for.”

“oh?” you raise an eyebrow challengingly. “sure. let’s see if you can still say the same thing… three months from now.”

your fingers comb through his silky locks, taking a fistful and lightly yanking to pull him off you.

“as you were.”

a grunt tumbles out of his mouth when you change positions carelessly. in the end, you settle with straddling him, legs wrapped around his waist and arms around his neck, where you nuzzle your face and almost purr like a kitten due to the warmth that you’ve missed in his absence.

the process of transforming an apartment to a home together has been… exhausting, to say the least. you’ve had most of the furniture installed before you started bringing in your personal belongings, but how can a space feel so empty and so crowded at the same time? too many boxes, too many bags, too many things left to buy. the line between what’s yours and what’s his is blurring in your eyes, and this is only the beginning.

you thought dealing with jungkook’s self-admitted laziness would frustrate you at some point, well… which it did. however, it turns out that it is precisely what you need in this type of situation. yesterday morning, he successfully seduced you into letting him eat you out on the kitchen island. you reached the height of your pleasure twice in a row, nearly delirious as he was lost in untamed lust and moaned about how you taste, distracting you from planning out what goes in which kitchen cabinet based on dimensions and convenience. last night, he had to drag you back to bed at 5am because you ended up organizing your bookshelf for two hours instead of only getting a refill of water like you claimed.

“what are you even looking for?!” jungkook exclaims with a hand over his naked waist, clad only in his boxers, as he watches you rummage through four boxes in search for something.

“the easel!” you whimper, your calves breaking your fall as you slump back on the floor in despair.

“easel?” he squats down infront of a box beside you, scratching his cheek as his puffy and sleepy eyes scan the other boxes. “i don’t think an easel would’ve fit in here, baby.”

“it’s a mini one. the one i use to display my favorite book.” you pout to point at it standing in the second level of the shelf. he recognizes it as the limited edition book he bought you last year, and the flashbacks of him standing in line for hours to get it signed by the author are inescapable.

if hearing you say that it’s your favorite makes jungkook so ecstatic that he wants to break down into tears, he doesn’t show it. instead, he nonchalantly throws you over his shoulder, making a beeline to the bedroom. he yelps when you angrily pound at his back with balled fists.

“ugh, i hate you! put me down!”

he clicks his tongue. “bad!” he lightheartedly chides you, smacking your ass. “i’m cuffing you to myself! do you have any idea what time it is? you have class in three hours!”

“but, babe, i don’t want to attend!” you cry out, slumping as you grudgingly yield. “why do you have to be so strong?! stop lifting weights for fuck’s sake!”

at the time, you meant it when you said that you want to take the moving duties slowly since you have all the time in the world but… you can’t stand the clutter and disorganization for the life of you. at the same time, it pumps your veins with thrill, having an empty space and being responsible to breathe life into it with jungkook. out of all the life-altering decisions you had to make with your still developing brain, this is the biggest gamble yet.

you don’t know if you’re blinded by love, putting your trust in jungkook when he said that he wanted to build a life with you; or if it’s arrogance, having the trust in your ability to stand on your own feet again incase a match is thrown in a puddle of fuel on the floor. the latter is more painful to think about, quite frankly. just because you can, doesn’t mean that you want to. you have to. you have to. with bruised knees from praying for a little more time, you have to. the earth doesn’t stop orbiting the sun when your house burns down.

either way, it’s too late to succumb to your inner monologue. the stuffed toys you own, including ones you’ve dearly loved since childhood, are scattered across the living room. the journal you’ve been sadly neglecting for the past two weeks is just freely lying on your personal study space. you’re here, safe in his arms, and if there’s one thing you’ll always believe in, it’s this. and you intend to make the most out of each day the universe allows you the right to be here.

“you can fall asleep like this? while i keep moving?” he whispers, wide palm soothingly running up and down the expanse of your back.

only if it’s you, you say in the back of your mind. “you can see for yourself.”

“psh. always gotta keep me on my toes, don’t you?” he smooches your cheek, and then once more, lingering and refusing to part away. you feel his lips curling up against your skin.

jungkook reaches for the tumbler you left behind on the floor, capturing the straw between his lips and plentily sipping until he deems his thirst quenched. he sets it aside afterwards, returning his attention to the laundry basket he purposely laid on the floor so he can easily reach inside. he’s been happily working hard on the laundry after you both agreed to wash the clothes you haven’t worn in quite some time to keep your closet clean and fresh.

a little hiccup though.

quickly and unsurprisingly, you ran out of hangers between his long-sleeves and yours alone. therefore, he’s solely focusing on the to-be-folded for tonight, which mostly consists of shorts, casual pants, underwear, and socks.

he inserts his arm in the laundry basket to push out the articles of clothing closer to the edge, grabbing the nearest thing and proceeding to neatly fold it over his outstretched legs. his white sweatpants lands on top of its designated pile, and then the same goes for your tennis skirt, as well as his ripped jeans, and everything else after that.

jungkook being jungkook, singing comes naturally to him after breathing and more than blinking. he hums, chest vibrating against yours as he does so, occasionally singing the lyrics in between because he means them. a tattooed arm protectively wraps around you to keep you glued to his body each time he leans forward. his careful movements, along with his mellifluous voice, fool your senses into believing that you’re being carried out by the ocean waves to the shore of dreamland.

your boyfriend freezes when one of your arm slides down his shoulder, an irrefutable evidence that you’ve fallen asleep again. you finally tired yourself out, he breathes out a sigh of relief. he cups the back of your head as support, eyes shaping into crescent moons as he giggles as quietly as he can after seeing your face.

“so fucking cute.” he muses, rewarding your cheek with another kiss before securely tucking you back into his embrace.

he carries on with his task to allow you to dive further into unconsciousness. he spends the next fifteen minutes folding the boxers that were still stuck inside one of his suitcases, patiently operating with only an arm. his tattooed one is still preoccupied with maintaining a protective embrace around you. shortly after, he decides that it’s time for you to go back to bed.

“there we go.” he says quietly to himself as he succeeds to stand on his feet, carrying you with his hands hooked around your bare thighs. you unconsciously tighten your hold around his neck and release a deep sigh of contentment in your sleep.

he kicks the door open, walking with light, deliberate steps across the wooden floor. he climbs on the bed, knees sinking in the mattress as he gently lays you down. and there’s an inexplicable emotion stirring in his chest as he covers you with the blanket, accompanied by the epiphany that he is doing this at 2am not because time has arrived to daunt him and he needs to leave your bed to go home. not anymore. whatever this is, it feels so fucking good. oh my god, he looks forward to spending the rest of his life feeling you breathe next to him, getting lost in how peaceful you look asleep when he randomly wakes up in the middle of the night.

he tenderly squeezes your arms as he leans down to plant a goodnight kiss on your velvet lips, sweet and loving. slowly, and with the smallest movements possible, he gets out of the bed to return to the closet.

“love, you’re not sleeping yet?” your tiny voice barely reaches his ears but it pinches his heart, even more painfully when he sees that your hand only managed to seize three of his longest fingers to stop him from walking away.

he sits down beside you, intertwining his fingers with yours. “i will in a bit, baby. i only have the rest of my underwear left to put away.”

you blink at him hazily, silent as you digest his words in your clouded mind. “you’re folding them, too?”

“of course.”

and with that confirmation, you eagerly inch closer to him. “teach me.”

“huh?” his forehead creases, eyebrows knitting in a state of confusion.

“teach me.” you repeat yourself, bordering on a whine.

“how to fold my underwear?”

you innocently nod your head as a reply.

“why?” he asks, an amused smile tugging at the corners of his mouth because of your unusual request. but then again, he can’t say he’s much that surprised. it’s such a you thing to do.

“i can’t?” your lips form an adorably small pout, and you sniffle as your eyes water with unshed tears of drowsiness. “but you’re my boyfriend.”

fuck fuck fuck, he curses inside his head. his heart flips and drops to his stomach. holy shit, yes he is. it’s infuriating, how it requires you little to no effort to have him wrapped around your finger. the endearing sight automatically tugs at his heartstrings, urging him to cradle your soft cheeks in between his large palms.

“i’m just curious.” he reassures you with a chuckle, leaning down to press one more sweet kiss to your lips.

“we do chores together…” you trail off, nose scrunching when his brushes yours. you smile sheepishly. you’re relishing in the mere inches between you — how you can see that his pupils are evidently dilated, his brown doe eyes appearing rounder and bigger than they already are. “so i just want to learn how to do it right.”

you swiftly throw aside the blanket enveloping you when he voices out his permission with an “it’s so easy!”, cheerfully jumping off the bed. captivated by your unique charm, jungkook allows himself to be dragged away as a breathing, walking picture of pure adoration.

—

he finds himself sitting on the same spot on the floor, back comfortably resting on the cabinets now that you’re beside him instead of on him. your drooping eyes follow the every movement of his dexterous hands as he folds a calvin klein trunk on his lap, black with a white waistband. wearing an orange beanie of his you found stuck underneath the laundry basket, you obediently bounce your head as he earnestly demonstrates it with instructions.

“so you take this side and fold it over to the middle, and then! you do the same with the other one, so they’re folded equally like this.”

he briefly picks it up to show it to you from rim of the waistband, the two parts stacked and perfectly aligned.

“after that, you take the bottom and roll it over like… halfway? whatever, i just kind of do it by feel- and the final step… so you also fold the waistband here so you can tuck the rolled up part inside. it ends up looking this neat and compact, see?”

your gaze only flickers at the finished product, having seen what it looks like about a thousand times in his backpacks and luggages. “so these are called trunks… and those are called boxers?”

your boyfriend follows the direction your index finger is pointing at, revealing a pile of folded boxers sitting inside of his opened suitcase. he winces with his full set of teeth before he cracks up in laughter, the genuine curiosity you radiate is making his brain overflow with love and happy chemicals.

“right! those are more comfortable and breathable so i wear them at home, while trunks provide more support for when i need it, you know?”

“snug fit or loose fit this, boxers or boxer briefs that. you strip them off all the time to put your dick in me anyway.” you scoff, picking up another calvin klein creation from the laundry basket immediately afterwards.

a string of ditzy giggles slip past your lips. the light blue trunk was standing out among the neutral colors like a firefly in the forest, practically begging to be chosen as your first piece of work.

“i’ll do this one! you wore it yesterday. i love the color.”

his lips part open in surprise at your lewd and unfiltered response, a hand flying to his face to conceal the rosy shade that has begun to tint his flushed honey skin, many earrings collectively swinging and belly aching as he chortles. it’s embarrassing, really, how he still blushes despite having done countless sinful things with you. can you really blame him for being incapable of keeping his hands to himself when he’s so helplessly and hopelessly attracted to you?

he clears his throat, crossing his legs and moving to his side so he’s facing you. “go on then.”

you flap it against the air to straighten out the fabric, placing it over your thighs and meticulously following your boyfriend’s instructions step-by-step. you’re quiet as you commit yourself to the chore, floating in your little bubble of tranquility and concentration.

and jungkook is intently watching you with as much self-control he can muster. the urge to grab your face and kiss you senselessly is palpable, wrapping itself around his limbs like vines that have a life of their own, desperate to dip into the sun for a taste. they say distance makes the heart grow fonder, and he can attest to that to a certain degree… but dear god, its lack thereof?

there’s no sensible reason why the both of you should be spending your late nights in your new apartment doing stuff like this when you have an entire 55-inch television set up on the floor because you haven’t found the time and energy to attach it to the bedroom wall yet… and not to mention that jungkook had to write more batteries all types of batteries, tongs, and curtains as CURTAINS!!! in your little notebook of to-buy checklists because somehow, they never crossed either of your minds the last two times you went shopping for your remaining home essentials. his new gaming chair arrived this afternoon and he has zero clue where he will insert assembly time into his busy schedule. one of these days, you’re also bound to discover the plant namjoon left as a gift three days ago. he placed it at the balcony, and it’s only surviving due to the fact that it’s been a relatively rainy month.

although, that’s precisely what makes this moment so priceless and so grounding. you smoothly finish the challenge and sing “ta-da!” with a beam that causes your eyes to twinkle with a tiny sense of achievement despite your apparent exhaustion.

“oh?! looks perfect. good job, baby. goob job.” he praises you with a grin, affectionately stroking your hair. “let’s work together so we can go to sleep.”

his thoughtful words and action make you keen, coaxing the giddiness in you to bubble over. you playfully nudge his side as you haul the laundry basket closer. “i want to play. let’s see who can fold the most in a minute!”

“play?” his shoulders deflate as he sighs, battery running low.

“no?” your lips pucker up in dismay. “too tired, love?”

his tongue pokes the inside of his cheek as he gives it some consideration. he shrugs. “what’s in it for me?”

oh, damn it.

“the winner also automatically wins the light fixture debate?”

in which you’re referring to your month-long dispute over which color of the cloud light you should purchase for your shared bedroom. he insists on the white cloud that has the white light because it looks like a thundercloud, and on the other hand, you’re fighting for the pink cloud with the yellow light because it looks like the sunrise or the sunset depending on its saturation and brightness.

“alright!” he blurts out, a surge of energy kickstarting his system. he snatches his phone, which he left in one of the empty shelves near him. “baby wants to play a dangerous game, huh? the stakes are incredibly high! too high! are you ready? to lose?”

your mood sours when he begins using his variety show hosting voice, confidence dwindling but determination fueled and burning brighter now that he’s in higher spirits.

you roll your eyes. “yeah, sure. ready to lose the white variation in my cart, bro.”

he smirks mischievously, his childish and devilish laughter echoing in the closet. “we’ll start the timer! in three…! one- go!”

“freeze, you cheater! i wasn’t ready! put that shit down!”

—

note: soooo, are you team oc or team jungkook? i will be keeping score 👩‍💻

taglist in the reblogs! send an ask/dm to be added or removed :D

—

[porceline]

So, I'm thinking of your fic, and in it we see how the reader reacts when Optimus is turned human. My request is headcanons or a little ficlet/drabble on how OP would react if you (his human S/O) were to interact with a relic that turned them into a Cybertronian.

Turn of events

Pairing:

Optimus Prime × cybertronian!reader

Summary:

After a decommissioned disguise relic ended up in the hands of the Autobots, everyone's favorite reader (you), ended up being transformed into a giant cybertronian.

Word count: 1k+

A/N: HIII GUYSSS I'm so sorry it took me so long to get this out, gosh I got sick AGAIN! and some personal stuff went down, but I'm back and badder than ever!! Enjoy loves!

(Ps. This isn't as detailed as I would've liked but I rushed to get it out cuz I was taking too much time, but might even make it a full fic when I finish my current one!!)

It was an accident, completely an accident. You hadn't meant to. You just wanted to see.

Sliding thin, fleshy fingers between large gaps in buttons and pressure plates while no one was paying attention, with no idea the relic would be so sensitive. Not your proudest moment.

You always knew your curiosity would be your downfall. You're just lucky Bulkhead moved the kids out of the way.

It was the most pain you've ever experienced, it felt like your limbs were getting stretched beyond their limit, your skin pulled hard and slowly, then it felt like it was turned to stone.

No one had any time to react before you became ten times bigger than you were born, your new form falling onto the elevated platform designated for humans.

The concrete was thick enough to hold your weight, but the iron safety bars bent under you.

Everything was tinted blue, and somehow brighter than before. You had to squint your eyes.

Your vision kept blurring, sometimes focusing on one single spot, zooming onto it as if you were wearing Binoculars.

There was a panic around you, commotion and yelling. Everything sounded so far away though. You couldn't focus.

A hand, much larger than yours grasps your shoulder. Another cups your cheek and turns your head.

It's Optimus. He's speaking. His mouth is moving but you hear nothing. You're scared.

"Have you shrunk?" You blurt out, you can feel the rumble of your own voice like never before, it sounded so clear despite not being able to hear.

He raises an eyebrow, his mouth begins to move again, but you still can't hear anything.

Thick brows furrow as blue optics scan over your worried face. Optimus puzzles together what might be wrong, his face softens as he reaches to the side of your head.

You hear three loud clicks, then the sound of the base booms into your ears, making your head throb.

"What happened!?"

"Primus, what did you do!?"

"Why did you touch that?!"

"Are you alright?"

You snap your head towards Optimus, his gentle optics stare deep into your own.

You shake your head.

He hums, sliding a thick arm under your back, helping you sit up. His free hand slides over your legs, turning them to hang over the large concrete block you're sitting on.

By now, Ratchet has made his way over to you, an angry look on his face as both he and Optimus help you stand up.

The rest of the team are watching in silence, mouths agape in awe at the sudden transformation they had just witnessed. Seeing you go from such a tiny being, to being slightly larger than arcee was incredible.

Your feet, well, pedes, finally hit the floor, they felt so much heavier than what you were used to. Like someone glued concrete blocks onto your feet.

The two of them loosen their grip on you, the lack of support nearly makes you topple over, making you blurt out an embarrassing yelp.

Ratchet scoffs in annoyance, while Optimus shakes his head, leaning you back to scoop you into his arms.

"Let's keep you off your pedes for a bit."

You don't argue.

Ratchet leads the way to the medical bay, walking a bit faster than Optimus. You can practically hear the anger in his steps.

"I'm so sorry." You whisper, burying your face in your hands. How could you have been so stupid?

"None of that," Optimus pulls your hands away from your face, tilting your chin up.

"It's not your fault, it was an accident. Ratchet might seem angry, but he really is just worried."

Everyone else has since gone their separate ways, still on edge from, the event earlier.

What a horrible way to start the day.

Optimus settles you down on one of the large metal cots, leaning you back against the wall.

He sits down next to you while Ratchet occupies himself with running tests on you. The scanner in his forearm drowns you in a green light, covering you head-to-toe.

Completing the scan, Ratchet turns back around. His digits tap against the keyboard as he types.

You look up to the monitor above his head, the text scrolls down the vibrant green screen.

But you can read it.

It's incredible, you understand it but you also.. don't? You can read it, but the text is still so foreign to you.

The information on the screen appears to be vitals, and though you can read it, you can't quite understand it.

Optimus holds onto your hand, rubbing his thumb over your knuckles. It was a comforting touch.

Ratchet returns to your side, taking an object that looks like a human-ish pistol from the table beside you.

Before you can even breathe, he turns your hand over and shoots your palm. It hurt, but not as much as you had anticipated. It was like getting a flu-shot.

The vial attached to it starts filling with a blue liquid, energon, you presume.

Ratchet doesn't say a word when he pulls the gun away, slotting it into a machine next to your cot.

The awkward silence eats away at your mind, you grip the grey armor plating on your thighs.

"Ratchet.. I didn't mean-"

"Ehp yehp yehp! I don't want to hear any of it."

You sulk your shoulders, hunching your head down as his thick metal digets tap away at the keyboard.

Optimus sighs. "Ratchet..-"

The prime is interrupted by his medic.

"Not you too! I can barely deal with one whining bot, by Primus don't make me deal with two."

Your eyes widen, your hands open in a defensive position.

"I'm not whining!"

He points his thick digit at you. "That, right there, is whining!  Can you please try to be quiet while I figure out how to fix this?!" Ratchet huffs, turning away back to his monitor. Mumbling something about humans being loud.

You glare at the back of his head, sighing in frustration.

This week is going to be hell.

[rootedinrevisions]

Masterlist: Glen Powell

This is the hub for all my works featuring Glen Powell. These are all stories inspired by his life and career. From behind-the-scenes glimpses of Hollywood to fictional takes on his charm and charisma, you'll find everything centered around the man himself right here.

Explore the stories below, and let me know your favorites! As always, thank you for reading and supporting my work.💫 (UPDATED 12.1.24)

GLEN POWELL (HIMSELF)

**DRABBLES (Under 1k words)**

Welcome Back Kisses (Glen x Reader)

Glen's been gone for almost three months filming his latest project, but he's home now, and seeing you is the first thing on his to-do list.

Cute When You're Jealous (Glen x Reader)

Glen misses out on an event the two of you had planned to go to together. So a friend takes you instead, but it leaves Glen feeling a little jealous.

**ONE-SHOTS**

More Than a Game (Glen x Reader)

When you join Glen Powell for a night under the bright Texas stadium lights, you expect an evening of football and fun—but what you don’t expect is the sting of an offhand comment that shakes your confidence. As Glen’s world of fans and flashing cameras surrounds you, he’s quick to remind you of where you stand: by his side, as the one who holds his heart. With every protective gesture, from offering you his jacket to placing his prized Stetson on your head, Glen shows the world that you’re not just another face in the crowd—you’re someone special. FLUFF.

Texas Orange (Glen x Reader)

Heavily based on the song "Tennesse Orange" by Megan Moroney. You're in the early stages of your relationship with Glen and he takes you to a Texas football game with him. FLUFF.

Between Sets and Scenes (Glen x Reader)

As a dedicated personal trainer in Washington D.C., you've worked with high-profile clients before, but when actor Glen Powell steps into your gym, life takes an unexpected turn. What starts as a simple fitness transformation for Glen quickly evolves into something more when the lines between professionalism and attraction begin to blur. A chance encounter outside the gym leads to late-night conversations, unexpected connections, and the realization that sometimes the best chemistry happens off-screen. But with Glen's rising star and your grounded life, can you keep things casual, or is something deeper already taking shape? FLUFF.

**SERIES**

In the Wings (Glen x Reader)

When you're offered the chance to work as a hair and makeup artist on Top Gun 3, it feels like a dream come true. Leaving behind your routine for a Hollywood blockbuster, you arrive on set with high hopes but little expectation of the whirlwind to come. That all changes the day you meet Glen Powell—charming, grounded, and quick to make an impression. As your professional relationship grows, so does a spark between you, but you're still keeping things strictly work. For now, the only thing you're certain of is that this job will be like no other. FLUFF

PART 1 I PART 2 I PART 3 I PART 4 I PART 5 I PART 6 I PART 7

[sky-is-the-limit]

Clarity.

P: Charles Smith x F!Reader

CW: NSFW content, Doggy Position, Forced Focus

WC: 1,339 words.

It wasn't meant to escalate in that manner, not really. One moment, Charles was calmly imparting his knowledge, guiding you through the intricacies of maintaining focus in the wilderness.

His voice was steady, filled with wisdom as he shared techniques to sharpen your instincts and improve your ability to see with clarity. You listened intently, absorbing every word as if he was sharing the world's greatest secrets.

Before you could fully comprehend how, in the blink of an eye, you found yourself stripped bare, vulnerable for only nature and Charles to witness.

Your precious book laid open on the grass before you, its pages fluttering gently in the breeze whilst two strong arms embraced you from behind, their grip firm and unyielding as they held you in place by your hips.

"Keep reading, pretty girl." Charles mumbled lowly and with each syllable, you could feel him pushing in, inch by inch, his thickness filling you completely.

As he continued to push, you felt yourself stretching beyond your own belief. The sensation was overpowering in its magnitude as you accommodated his width and length. Every nerve in your body seemed to be on fire, electrified by his touch.

Despite the initial discomfort, there was an undeniable thrill in being filled so completely out in the open. It was as if you were being consumed by him and as he pushed further, the pleasure only grew.

"Let your eyes focus on every word." He continued and you followed his instructions, allowing your gaze to glide over the words on the page, absorbing their meaning with each passing moment.

Though patience was one of his greatest attributes, the sensation of your cunt enveloping him, sucking him into your tight hole, always ignited a maddening pleasure within him.

It was a primal instinct, a response that transformed him into a whole different man. As he surrendered to your warmth, a deep moan escaped his lips, echoing in your ears like the most addictive melody.

"And just breathe." He whispered in a voice much more gravely and broken than you were used to hearing, his breath warm against your skin as his lips placed wet kisses on your shoulder blades.

His hands tightened their grip on your hips, fingers digging into your flesh needily. With each thrust, he plunged deeper into you, his cock driving into your core with an urgency that bordered on desperation.

The rhythm of his movements was intoxicating and your back arched in response to his thrusts, every collision of his hips against your ass making the walls of your cunt squeeze around him, clinging to his length with a hunger that matched his own.

The words on the pages began to blur together, each letter melting into the next as your focus wavered.

His name slipped past your lips in a silent prayer, a desperate plea for more as the tip of his cock hit a sweet spot.

With each forward thrust, the head of his cock grazed against the entrance of your cervix, sending sparks of pleasure shooting through your body.

''Did I tell you to stop?'' Charles groaned, the sound deep and guttural while his fingers tangled in your hair, a firm grip that kept you in place to keep your head from moving and ensuring that your eyes remained fixed on the lines of the book.

And just when you thought you couldn't bear any more, he delivered a resounding slap to your ass without once faltering with his pace.

''Out loud, sweetheart.'' Emphasizing his command with another hard thrust, he drove his hips forward with a force that left you breathless.

''The courtier’s-ah- soldier’s, scholar’s eye, tongue, swor- Oh, god-'' With a shaky voice and soft whimpers escaping your lips between each word, you began to recite the lines of the book aloud.

It was a struggle to form coherent sentences, the words tumbling out in a disjointed jumble as your mind struggled to focus.

The pace he took was immediate, hard, and animalistic, each thrust carrying the force of a vigor urge to make sure you could feel the power behind his movements, each one driving you closer insanity.

His strong hands clasped your love handles with a firmness that bordered on possessive, leaving bruises in their wake.

As your cunt clenched around him, he dipped one hand to stroke your clit, sending jolts of pleasure coursing through your body. The sensitive little nub responded eagerly to his touch, causing every muscle in your body to tighten to the point of near numbness.

''Keep going, angel.'' Charles repeated the same pattern for what felt like an eternity, each thrust driving deeper into you with a relentless determination.

''The expectation- ah'' You stuttered out, the words catching in your throat as you struggled to articulate amidst the need to keep breathing.

''And rose of the fair state-'' And even as your body trembled and your breath hitched with each thrust, you refused to falter.

Your thighs throbbed from the force of his thrusts, the pleasure coursing through your veins like liquid fire.

With each movement, the knot in the pit of your stomach grew tighter, threatening to unravel at any moment. Desperate to feel it release, you planted your elbows down firmly, bobbing your hips to meet his thrusts.

''Good girl.'' An amused purr sounded from Charles as his grip traveled from your hips to your breasts, kneading your nipple between his fingers.

A desperate whimper escaped your lips as you found yourself growing even more aroused. You had always loved it when Charles called you a good girl, but to have him treat you like that, how sinful it all was, was something else entirely.

''The glass of fashion and the mold of form-'' You trembled with emotion, the words escaping your lips in a desperate plea for release.

"So good-" His voice was raw with need, each word punctuated by the rhythmic movement of his body against yours.

His pattern grew unfocused and inconsistent, but each thrust built up pressure boiling low in your stomach, before one final shove of his cock combined with the attention to your clit caused the build-up to shatter, sending you into your orgasm.

The coil inside you finally snapped, releasing the tension that had been building within you like a tightly wound spring. In that moment, as the pressure reached its breaking point, your walls seized around his cock with an intensity that took your breath away.

''Charles, god!'' Your entire body convulsed with pleasure, every muscle tensing as waves of ecstasy washed over you.

It was as if a dam had burst within you, flooding your senses with a torrent of sensation that left you reeling.

You choked as the full weight of him collapsed onto you, his hips driving his twitching cock as deep as it could go into your dripping cunt whilst his warmth flooded your insides.

Every pulse of his release was felt within you, every twitch of his spent cock and as he finally settled against you, panting heavily into the column of your throat, you could feel the rapid beat of his pulse against your skin.

Charles then gently laid you down on the soft grass, his touch tender and reverent as he cradled you in his arms. The cool blades of grass brushed against your skin, a soothing contrast to the heat that still lingered within you from your recent exertions.

As he sprawled out next to you, his body pressed close to yours, you felt a sense of peace wash over you. His arms wrapped securely around you, holding you close to his chest as if to shield you from the world.

The scent of the earth surrounded you, mingling with the musky aroma of his skin. It was a comforting embrace, one that filled you with a sense of warmth and security.

"You did good, angel." Charles whispered softly, his touch soothing as his hand rubbed your arm in a comforting manner that grounded you in the moment.