#Thin Skin Hair Systems

[shunfahair]

How Thin Skin Hair Systems Give Flawless Results: Get the Perfect Hairline

[wig-supplies-and-more]

Ultra-Thin Hair Systems: The Ultimate Solution for Natural-Looking Hair

Ultra Thin Skin Hair Systems In today’s society, where appearance significantly influences our confidence and self-esteem, hair systems have gained increasing popularity. Hair loss can profoundly affect an individual’s life, leading to insecurity and a diminished sense of self. Thankfully, ultra thin skin hair systems have emerged as a revolutionary solution, offering a natural-looking and…

[jupiterpilgrim]

Everything's Ruined

Christmas Special 🎄

Hanni x Male Reader

word count: 10K

The room glows with the warm, soft buzz of Christmas lights tangled messily over the mantle and around the windows. Music hums in the background—a lazy mix of holiday classics and some throwback pop songs someone thought was ironic. You’re sunk deep into the couch, a heavy glass of whiskey and eggnog dangling loose in your hand. It’s late, the party is only half over, but everyone is already wasted, even though they're just chilling now; a handful of half-drunk bodies lounging, half-assedly debating the virtues of Die Hard as a Christmas movie. 

Then there’s Hanni.

She’s curled up next to you, except "curled" isn’t right. She’s draped—like she forgot personal space was a thing about three drinks ago. Her dark hair tumbles over her face as she tips her head back in a laugh that’s way too loud for whatever dumb joke someone just made. Her cheeks are flushed, probably from the wine she’s been inhaling all night, and when she looks at you, her eyes are glassy and warm, like you’re the most hilarious person alive just for existing.

Thing is, Hanni’s your best friend—the one person you're not supposed to have these feelings for, but with the alcohol in your system and the way she’s leaning into you now, all flushed cheeks and that stupid, glassy smile, it’s getting real fucking hard to remember why.

“God, you’re so fuckin' cute,” she slurs, and you blink. She doesn’t seem to notice, just scoots closer, swinging her legs over your lap like she’s staking territory. “You’re my favorite, you know that?”

You snort. “You tell me that every time you’re wasted, Hanni. Get some new material.”

She pouts, sticking out her lip in this over-the-top cartoon way that somehow makes you grin like an idiot. Her weight settles heavier against you, and yeah, you’re feeling that whiskey warmth in your veins too. Her hand wanders—innocently enough at first—over your shoulder, across your chest, then down to rest right at the edge of dangerous territory.

“I’m serious this time, though!” She pokes your chest like she’s trying to prove a point. “You’re the only person who gets me, y’know? Like…fuck, dude, if you weren’t my best friend, I’d probably marry you.”

That pulls a laugh out of you, sharp and incredulous. “Wow, what an honor. Thanks for the consolation prize.” 

Hanni leans forward, her face inches from yours now, her breath sweet with wine and whatever sugary cocktail she’s been nursing all night. “I mean it, asshole. You’re like…everything.” Her voice drops, softer now, and she smirks, but it’s the kind of smirk that’s all affection and none of the usual bite. “You’re my fucking rock.”

You feel something twist low in your gut. “Shit, Hanni, who knew wine turned you into a Hallmark card?” you say, trying to keep it light. 

She bursts into giggles, doubling over, her face pressed to your chest. Her ass shifts on your lap, and you freeze for a second because—fuck—her skirt’s hiked up just enough for you to feel the heat of her through the thin fabric. Hanni doesn’t notice, or maybe she doesn’t care, because she’s too busy tracing lazy patterns over your stomach now, her touch just shy of intimate.

“Y’know what sucks?” she mumbles, tilting her head up to look at you, her hair sticking to her damp forehead. “You’re too good for me. Like, no joke, you should be with someone hot, not stuck babysitting my drunk ass.”

You raise an eyebrow, trying not to focus on the way her thighs are pressing into yours or the flash of bare skin where her sweater’s ridden up. “Who says I’m stuck? Maybe I like babysitting your drunk ass.”

Her face softens in this way that makes your chest feel too tight. She shifts again, pressing closer, her lips brushing the shell of your ear when she whispers, “That’s why I love you.”

It’s teasing, almost playful, but there’s something heavier underneath, something that makes your pulse spike. You’re about to say something—maybe a joke, maybe something stupidly earnest—but then someone across the room yells out, “Alright, last call for shots!” 

Hanni perks up immediately, her attention snapping away from you. “Hell yeah! Let’s fucking go!” she yells, hopping up so fast you almost spill your drink.

As she stumbles off, you exhale, leaning back into the couch, trying to will away the heat simmering low in your stomach. It’s just Hanni, you remind yourself. She gets like this when she’s drunk—touchy, emotional, saying all kinds of shit she won’t even remember tomorrow. But fuck, if she isn’t beautiful, with her tiny frame and those absurdly thick thighs that make no goddamn sense on someone her size. 

You shake your head, draining the rest of your drink. 

—

What began as a quiet night spirals into that perfect mess of booze and laughter, the kind of chaos that only happens when no one’s watching the clock or counting drinks. Someone’s wearing a Santa hat and nothing else but a pair of boxers. Someone else decided the fake Christmas tree would make a great dance partner, and now half the ornaments are shattered on the floor. You and Hanni are still on the couch, her body leaning heavily against yours as you both wheeze-laugh at something dumb on the TV—a claymation Rudolph looking suspiciously baked out of his red-nosed mind.

At some point, Hanni grabs the half-empty bottle of wine from the coffee table and lifts it in a mock toast. “To you, bestie,” she slurs, words spilling out like syrup. “The only motherfucker who didn’t ditch me when I got kicked outta karaoke night last month.”

You roll your eyes, reaching to take the bottle from her before she spills it. “You got kicked out because you tried to sing ‘WAP’ like it was a gospel hymn, Hanni.”

“It was art, you heathen,” she shoots back, but her pout barely lasts before her face splits into a grin. “But seriously. You’re the real MVP.”

“You’re so full of shit,” you say, laughing as you set the bottle safely aside. “But thanks, I guess.”

Time keeps sliding, blurring at the edges. Someone takes an Uber home. Someone else starts snoring under the coffee table. By the time you look around again, the room’s mostly empty. It’s just you, Hanni, and the sound of some low-budget Christmas movie droning in the background. Hanni’s slumped sideways against you, her head resting on your shoulder. Her breath is soft, wine-sweet and warm, and when you shift slightly, she groans.

“You’re not leaving, are you?” she mumbles, voice thick with the haze of too much alcohol. Her hand tightens on your arm like a sleepy cat staking its claim.

“Nah, I’m good,” you say, but the sight of her like this—soft and unguarded—makes something in your chest clench. “You, on the other hand, can’t even sit up straight. You’re not going anywhere.”

She blinks up at you, her eyes unfocused but shining, like she’s trying to process your words. “So what? I just crash here?”

“No,” you say, patting her leg. “My place is closer, and I don’t trust you not to wander into traffic if I send you home.”

She snorts, the sound loud and ungraceful. “Aw, look at you, being all responsible and shit. You’re such a dad sometimes.”

“Shut the fuck up,” you mutter, but there’s no heat behind it. “C’mon, let’s get you sorted.”

You help her to her feet, and she wobbles, gripping your arm like it’s the only thing keeping her upright. After saying goodbye to your friends, somehow, you manage to guide her the short distance to your apartment, both of you giggling like idiots the whole way. By the time you’re inside, her sweater’s sliding off one shoulder, and her hair’s a mess, but she looks at you with this sleepy grin that makes your head swim worse than the booze.

You sit her down on the couch, and she flops back like she’s about to take a nap right then and there. “God, your couch is so comfy,” she murmurs, kicking off her shoes.

“It’s a couch, Hanni, not a five-star hotel,” you say, but you’re smiling anyway as you sit down next to her.

For a while, it’s quiet. The kind of quiet that comes when the party’s over, and the city outside is muted under the weight of night. Hanni shifts closer, curling her legs under her, her knee brushing yours. She looks at you, and there’s something in her gaze now—not just the drunken haze, but something deeper. Something you’ve been trying not to notice all night.

“I meant what I said earlier,” she says, her voice soft but steady. 

You frown. “What? That I’m cute?”

She nods, biting her lip like she’s bracing for impact. “Yeah. That. And the part about loving you.”

Your chest tightens, and you let out a short, breathless laugh, trying to break the tension. “Hanni, you’re drunk. You’re gonna forget this by tomorrow morning.”

“Fuck that,” she says, sitting up straighter now, her face inches from yours. “You think I don’t know how I feel? You’re my best friend, yeah, but also…you’re more. You’ve always been more.”

Her words hang there, heavy and undeniable. Your pulse thrums in your ears as she leans in, her lips brushing yours, tentative at first. Then it deepens, and all the air seems to vanish from the room. Her hands slide up your neck, her fingers tangling in your hair, and before you can think, you’re kissing her back, your hands gripping her waist like she’s the only thing keeping you anchored.

When you finally break apart, her lips are swollen, her breath hitching as she looks at you like you’ve just answered a question she’s been too afraid to ask.

“This is so fucking stupid,” you whisper, but you’re already leaning in again, your lips finding hers as the tension between you snaps like a live wire. She climbs onto your lap, her thighs pressing against you, and you don’t even care that you’re both still drunk. The couch groans under your combined weight, but neither of you notice, too caught up in the heat of the moment.

“We should—bed—” you manage to mumble between kisses, and she nods, her lips trailing down your jaw.

Somehow, you make it to the bedroom, the clothes leaving a haphazard trail in the hallway and inside your room. By the time you hit the mattress, both already naked, it’s not just excitement buzzing through you—it’s the quiet, electric realization that this is happening, and there’s no turning back.

The bed creaks beneath you both, the springs protesting as Hanni sprawls out on her back, looking up at you with a mix of hazy confidence and nervous vulnerability. Her cheeks are flushed, hair a wild mess against your pillow, and she’s biting her lip so hard you’re half afraid she’ll draw blood. You hover over her, your hands on either side of her, just taking her in for a moment. This is Hanni—your best friend, your partner in crime—and right now, she looks like a fucking dream, her legs parted slightly, the curve of her hips begging for attention.

“You’re staring,” she says, voice low but teasing, and she reaches up, cupping your jaw with one hand. Her fingers are warm, soft, her thumb brushing over your cheek. “I know I’m hot, but damn.”

You laugh, short and breathless, shaking your head. “Fuck off, Hanni. You’re not gonna ruin this by talking shit.”

“Oh, I’m totally gonna talk shit,” she replies, her grin sharp but faltering slightly when you dip your head, pressing your lips to hers again. The kiss is slower this time, deeper, and when you nip at her bottom lip, she gasps into your mouth, her hips shifting beneath you.

Your hand finds her side. Her skin’s soft and warm, and when your palm grazes the swell of her breast, she lets out this soft, needy sound that goes straight to your cock

“God, you’re so fucking impatient,” you murmur against her lips, but your tone’s more affectionate than mocking. Your hand slides down, over her tummy, then you pause, your fingers resting just above where you know she’s burning for you.

“Don’t,” she whispers, her voice barely audible. Her eyes lock on yours, and for a moment, you think she’s gonna back out, but then she smirks. “Don’t fucking tease me.”

“Well, now I have to,” you say, rubbing your fingers on her mon pubis.

“Asshole,” she breathes, but her words catch in her throat when your fingers find her slick folds. She’s soaked, and the realization sends a rush of heat through you. “Oh, fuck—”

“Shit, Hanni,” you say, your voice rough with a mix of awe and lust. “You’re fucking dripping.”

Her laugh is shaky, more like a breathy moan. “Yeah, well…you’re taking your sweet ass time about it.”

“Patience is a virtue,” you reply, but your fingers are already sliding lower, brushing over her clit. The reaction is immediate—her body jerks, her hips pressing up into your hand as a strangled moan escapes her.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck—” she chants, her words tumbling out as your fingers circle her clit, slow and deliberate. “Just like that—oh, god, yeah, like th—oh fuck!”

Her voice cuts off as you slide one finger into her, her walls clenching around you like a vice. You add another finger, curling them slightly, and the noise she makes is obscene—half a gasp, half a moan, her head tipping back against the pillow.

“You’re so fucking tight,” you say, your voice low and rough. “How the fuck are you this tight?”

“Shut up,” she groans, but there’s no real bite to her words. Her hands grip the sheets like they’re the only thing keeping her grounded as you start moving, your fingers pumping into her at a steady rhythm.

Her hips roll against your hand, desperate and needy, and when your thumb brushes her clit again, she practically cries out. “Oh my god—yes—just like that—fuck!”

“Yeah?” you ask, grinning as you lean down, your lips grazing her ear. “You like that, Hanni? You like the way I’m fucking you with my fingers?”

“Yes—fuck, yes—” she gasps, her voice breaking as her body arches off the bed. “Don’t stop—don’t you fucking dare—”

Her words dissolve into moans as you pick up the pace, your fingers fucking her harder, faster. You can feel her tightening around you, her breath hitching, her entire body trembling as she teeters on the edge.

“Come on, Hanni,” you murmur, your lips brushing her temple. “Let go for me. I wanna feel you cum all over my fingers.”

Her response is incoherent—a garbled mix of your name and curses—but then she’s coming apart, her back arching, her thighs trembling as her pussy clenches around your fingers. Her moan is long and guttural, her hands flying to your shoulders as she rides out the waves of her orgasm.

“Fuck—fuck, oh my god—” she pants, her chest heaving as she comes down, her body still shivering under your touch. You don’t stop, not yet, your fingers slowing but staying inside her, coaxing out every last aftershock.

When you finally pull your hand away, her eyes flutter open, and she looks at you with a dazed, fucked-out expression that makes your chest tighten.

“Holy shit,” she breathes, her voice shaky. “That was…”

You smirk, leaning down to kiss her, your lips brushing hers lightly. “We’re not done yet.”

Before she can respond, you slide down the bed, positioning yourself between her legs. You press a kiss to the inside of her thigh, your hands spreading her open, and she gasps, her hands flying to your hair as your tongue flicks over her sensitive clit, licking through the mess she’s left behind—sweet, sticky, and fucking intoxicating. Hanni’s trembling beneath you, her thighs twitching every time your tongue grazes her clit. Her fingers are tangled in your hair, tugging just hard enough to sting, and you can’t tell if she’s trying to push you away or keep you there forever.

“Jesus fuck, you’re gonna kill me,” she gasps, her voice breathy and half-wrecked, like she’s been screaming at a concert all night. “I’m—oh god—s-sensitive—”

You pull back slightly, grinning against her skin. “Yeah? Sensitive, huh? You’re the one who keeps pulling me closer.”

“Shut up,” she snaps, but her words falter when you press your tongue flat against her, slow and wet, dragging it from her entrance to her clit. Her body jolts, a sharp inhale cutting her off. “Oh fuck—stop talking and just—”

“What? Just this?” you interrupt, sucking her clit into your mouth, your fingers digging into her thighs to keep her in place when she tries to squirm away. Her reaction is immediate—her back arches off the mattress, her head tossing back against the pillow.

“FUCK—yes, like that—oh my god, just like that—” she chokes out, her voice rising and falling with every flick of your tongue.

You pull back just enough to murmur, “You taste so fucking good, Hanni. I could eat you all night.”

She groans, throwing an arm over her face, her voice a mix of exasperation and raw need. “You’re such a goddamn showoff.”

“And you love it,” you reply, sliding your tongue back inside her, savoring the way she clenches around it. The cream left behind from her last orgasm coats your lips, and you lap at it like a man starving, dragging out every broken moan she gives you.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” she stammers, her hands gripping your hair like a lifeline. “If you keep doing that, I’m gonna—”

You pull back, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand, grinning up at her. “Gonna what? Cum again? Already?”

Her glare is half-hearted, her chest heaving as she tries to catch her breath. “You’re insufferable.”

“And you’re dripping,” you shoot back, crawling up her body until your face is hovering over hers. You kiss her, slow and dirty, letting her taste herself on your lips. When you pull back, her eyes flicker down between your bodies, and her breath hitches.

“Holy shit,” she whispers, and you follow her gaze to where your cock is pressed against her stomach, hard and heavy. “That’s…uh…”

“What?” you ask, smirking. “Bigger than you expected?”

She bites her lip, her cheeks flushing as her eyes dart back to your face. “I mean—yeah, kinda.”

You laugh, the sound low and rough as you reach down, guiding her onto her hands and knees. “Don’t worry. You’ll take it.”

She lets out a nervous laugh, glancing over her shoulder at you as you position yourself behind her. “Confident much?”

“You’ll see,” you say, running the head of your cock along her folds, teasing her just enough to make her hips jerk back toward you. “Fuck, Hanni, you’re so wet. You’re gonna take me so good.”

Her response is a shaky moan, her hands gripping the sheets as you push inside her, slow and steady. The stretch is immediate, her body tightening around you like a vice, and you grit your teeth, fighting to keep control.

“Oh my god,” she gasps, her voice high and breathless. “Oh fuck—you’re—fuck, you’re huge—”

“Yeah?” you say, gripping her hips as you sink deeper, inch by inch. “You like it, don’t you?”

“Fuck, yes—don’t stop—” she groans, her head dropping forward as you bottom out, your hips flush against her ass. You stay still for a moment, letting her adjust, your hands smoothing over her waist, her back, the curve of her ass.

“You look so fucking good like this,” you murmur, giving her ass a firm squeeze. “All spread out for me.”

She lets out a soft laugh, glancing back at you with a dazed smirk. “You’re so full of yourself.”

You don’t bother replying, instead pulling back and snapping your hips forward, the sound of skin on skin filling the room. Her gasp turns into a cry, her body rocking forward with the force of your thrust.

“Fuck—yes, just like that—” she moans, her voice muffled as her face presses into the pillow. You pick up the pace, your grip on her hips tightening as you fuck her harder, each thrust sending shockwaves through both of you.

You raise one hand, bringing it down on her ass with a sharp slap. The sound echoes in the room, and she cries out, her walls tightening around you. “Shit—you like that?” you ask, spanking her again, harder this time.

“Fuck—yes—do it again—” she pants, her voice ragged. You oblige, your hand coming down on her ass until it’s red and warm under your palm. She’s a mess beneath you, moaning and writhing, her body arching every time you spank her.

Your grip tightens on Hanni’s hips as you feel her starting to unravel. Her moans spill out in frantic, breathy bursts, her voice trembling under the pressure of everything building inside her. She’s trying to keep her balance, her arms shaking as she holds herself up, but you’re not making it easy. Every thrust has her lurching forward, her ass bouncing back to meet you, her body completely giving in to the rhythm you’ve set.

“Shit—fuck—oh my god, I’m so close,” she stammers, her voice climbing higher, more desperate with every word. Her hands claw at the sheets, bunching the fabric into her fists as you slam into her again, the sound of skin meeting skin filling the room.

“Come on, Hanni,” you growl, your breath hot against the sweat-slicked curve of her back. Your hand dips between her legs, fingers finding her clit and circling it in sync with your thrusts. “I can feel it. You’re right there, aren’t you?”

“Yes—oh god, yes,” she cries out, her voice cracking as her hips buck against your hand. “Don’t stop—don’t you fucking stop—”

You don’t. You keep your pace steady, unrelenting, the wet sounds of her slick pussy growing louder, more obscene, until finally, she snaps. Her whole body locks up, her head tossing back as a scream tears out of her throat, raw and broken. 

“Oh fuck—fuck, fuck, fuck—” she chants, her thighs trembling violently as her orgasm rips through her, wave after wave of overwhelming pleasure. Her walls clench around you like a vice, trying to pull you deeper, but you hold still, grinding into her just enough to prolong her high. Her moans turn into whimpers, then gasps, her body sagging forward as she rides out the aftershocks.

When she finally collapses, her chest heaving against the mattress, you can’t help but grin. “Oh Hanni,” you murmur, sliding out of her slowly, your cock still hard and aching, slick with her arousal. “You looked so fucking good just now.”

She turns her head, her hair sticking to her flushed, sweaty face as she glares at you halfheartedly. “Shut up,” she mutters, but her voice is shaky, her body still twitching with the remnants of her orgasm.

“Nah, I mean it,” you say, leaning down to press a kiss to the back of her neck, tasting the salt of her skin. “You’re fucking perfect like this.”

Her response is a muffled groan into the pillow, and you laugh, flipping her onto her back before she can complain. Her legs fall open instinctively, and the sight of her laid out beneath you—skin flushed, chest rising and falling rapidly—makes your cock twitch.

“I’m not done with you yet,” you murmur, positioning yourself between her legs. Your hands slide up her thighs, pushing them further apart as you line yourself up with her entrance. She looks up at you, her lips parted, her eyes hazy but full of something that goes deeper than just lust.

“God, you’re so fucking cheesy,” she whispers, but there’s no bite to her words. If anything, she looks…soft. Open. Like she’s waiting for something only you can give her.

You push into her slowly, watching her face as you fill her inch by inch. Her lips fall open, a soft gasp escaping her as her body stretches to accommodate you. “Oh fuck,” she breathes, her hands coming up to clutch at your shoulders. “Oh my god, you’re—fuck, you’re so deep—”

“Yeah?” you ask, your voice rough as you bottom out, your hips flush against hers. “Feel good?”

“Fuck yes,” she moans, wrapping her legs around your waist to pull you closer. “God, you feel so fucking good—”

You start moving, your thrusts slow and deliberate, dragging your cock out almost all the way before slamming back into her. Her head tips back, her nails digging into your shoulders as she moans unabashedly, her voice filling the room. “Yes—fuck, just like that—”

You lean down, bracing yourself on your forearms so you’re hovering over her. Your lips find hers, swallowing her cries as you pick up the pace, your hips snapping against hers harder, faster. She breaks the kiss first, gasping for air, her hands sliding into your hair to tug you closer.

“I love you,” she whispers, her voice barely audible over the sound of your bodies colliding. Her eyes meet yours, wide and shining, and the vulnerability in her expression makes your cock throbs. “Fuck, I love you so much.”

You freeze for a second, but the way she’s looking at you—like you’re the only thing keeping her tethered to the earth—it's enough to drive you crazy. “Hanni,” you murmur, your voice breaking as you start moving again, slower this time, each thrust deep and deliberate. “Fuck, I love you too.”

Her breath hitches, and she pulls you down into another kiss, her legs tightening around you as if she’s trying to fuse your bodies together. “Don’t stop,” she whispers against your lips. “Don’t ever stop.”

"I won't," you groan, your cock throbbing inside her tight, wet pussy as you grind deep. Her walls flutter around you with each slow, deliberate thrust, and you can feel how close she is to cumming. You press your forehead against hers, maintaining eye contact as you fuck her with long, measured strokes.

"You feel so good wrapped around my cock," you tell her, your voice rough with emotion. "So fucking perfect, Hanni. Love how wet you get for me."

She whimpers, her nails digging into your shoulders as her hips buck up to meet yours. "Only for you," she gasps. "Nobody's ever made me this wet before."

The admission makes your cock twitch, and you reward her with a particularly deep thrust that has her crying out. "Yeah? Tell me more, baby. Tell me how good I make you feel."

"So good," she moans, her pussy clenching around you. "Your cock fills me up perfectly. Feels like you were made for me."

You kiss her hard, swallowing her moans as you pick up the pace slightly. Your tongue slides against hers as you fuck her deeper, harder, but still maintaining that intimate connection. Her tits press against your chest with each thrust, her hard nipples dragging against your skin.

"Love these perfect tits," you growl, breaking the kiss to trail your lips down her neck. You suck hard enough to leave marks, wanting everyone to know she's yours. "I love how they bounce while I fuck you, how they get so hard for me."

Hanni arches her back, pressing her chest more firmly against you. "Please," she whimpers. "Touch them, suck on them, anything!"

You shift your weight to one arm so you can cup one of her tits, rolling the nipple between your fingers as you continue to thrust. "Like this, baby? Like having your tits played with while I fuck your tight little pussy?"

"Yes!" she cries out, her walls clamping down around you. "Fuck, I'm getting close!"

"That's it," you encourage her, lowering your head to take her other nipple into your mouth. You suck hard while still pinching and rolling the other one, your cock never stopping its steady rhythm inside her. "Want to feel you cum all over my cock. Want to feel how tight that pussy gets when you lose control."

Her hands slide into your hair, holding you against her breast as you continue to suck and nibble at her sensitive flesh. "Oh god, oh fuck," she pants, her thighs trembling where they're wrapped around your waist. "Don't stop, please don't stop!"

You release her nipple with a wet pop, looking up to meet her eyes again. "Never stopping, baby. Gonna keep fucking this sweet pussy until you can't take it anymore." You punctuate your words with a particularly deep thrust that has her seeing stars.

"Love watching you fall apart on my cock," you continue, your voice rough with desire. "Love feeling your pussy get wetter and tighter with each thrust. You gonna cum for me, Hanni? Gonna show me how good I make you feel?"

She nods frantically, her eyes glazed with pleasure as she stares up at you. "So close," she whimpers. "Just a little more, please!"

You shift slightly, changing the angle of your thrusts so your cock drags against her g-spot with each stroke. At the same time, you slide your hand between your bodies to find her clit, rubbing tight circles around the swollen bud.

"Fuck!" she screams, her back arching off the bed. "Right there, right fucking there!"

"Yeah? This what you need, baby?" You keep the pressure steady on her clit as you continue to pound into her g-spot. "Love how your pussy's gripping me right now. Can feel how close you are to cumming."

Her nails rake down your back as she writhes beneath you, chasing her orgasm. "Please," she begs. "Make me cum again, please make me cum!"

You lean down to whisper in her ear, your voice low and rough. "Cum for me, Hanni. Show me how good my cock makes you feel. Want to feel that tight little pussy squeeze me while you cream all over my dick."

That does it. With a sharp cry of your name, Hanni's orgasm crashes over her. Her pussy clamps down around you like a vice as she cums, her whole body shaking with the force of her release. You can feel her cream gushing around your cock, making everything even wetter and slicker as you continue to fuck her through it.

"That's it, baby," you groan, fighting against your own need to cum as her walls milk your cock. "Fuck, you look so beautiful when you cum. Love watching you lose control like this."

She's babbling incoherently now, a stream of "fuck" and "yes" and your name falling from her lips as her orgasm continues to roll through her. Her pussy is practically convulsing around your cock, making it incredibly difficult to hold back your own release.

But you manage, wanting to draw out her pleasure as long as possible. You stay buried inside her for what feels like forever, your bodies pressed together, sweat mingling, her legs still wrapped tightly around your waist. Hanni’s breathing slows gradually, her chest rising and falling against yours as her trembling subsides. You brush her hair out of her face, tucking the damp strands behind her ear, and she gives you this sleepy, satisfied grin that makes your chest ache.

“You’re gonna ruin me, baby,” she mutters, her voice soft and teasing, her fingers trailing lazily over your back. 

You chuckle, nipping at her jawline. “Pretty sure I already did that.”

“Shut up,” she murmurs, but there’s no heat to it. She shifts slightly, wincing when your cock twitches inside her, still rock hard. “Jesus, are you still ready to go?”

“Can’t help it,” you reply, smirking as you grind against her, making her gasp. “You’re fucking addictive, Hanni.”

She groans, covering her face with one hand, but when she peeks up at you through her fingers, her eyes are gleaming. “Okay, fine. My turn.” 

You raise an eyebrow. “Your turn for what?”

“To make you cum, dumbass.” She pushes at your chest until you roll onto your back, letting her straddle you. Her thighs press against your hips as she sits back, your cock still buried deep inside her. She bites her lip, her hands sliding over your chest. “God, you’re fucking huge. I can feel you all the way in my stomach.”

“Yeah?” you say, your voice rough, your hands finding her waist. “You’re taking me so fucking well, Hanni. You're absolutely perfect.”

“Damn right I am,” she says, smirking as she starts to move, slow and deliberate, rocking her hips in a way that makes your breath catch. “Fuck, you’re so deep…”

She sets a rhythm, her hands braced on your chest, her body rolling against yours with a lazy, drunk confidence. The sight of her above you—hair a mess, lips swollen, her tits bouncing with every move—has you gripping her hips like she’s the only thing keeping you grounded.

“Shit, Hanni,” you groan, your head tipping back against the pillow. “You’re gonna fucking kill me.”

Her laugh is breathy, almost mocking. “Good,” she says, picking up the pace, her thighs slapping against yours with every bounce. “You deserve it.”

Her movements get sloppier, needier, her breath hitching every time your cock hits that spot inside her. And then, out of nowhere, she starts talking—dirty, raw, and absolutely unhinged.

“God, I can feel you so fucking deep,” she moans. “You’re gonna ruin me, you know that? You’re gonna fuck me so full I won’t even be able to walk tomorrow.”

“Fuck,” you hiss, her words going straight to your cock, making you buck up into her. “Keep talking, baby. Fucking say it.”

With your request, Hanni rides you with a desperation that feels almost animalistic, her hips slamming down onto yours like she’s trying to bury you even deeper inside her. Every bounce makes her tits jiggle, her nails scraping against your chest, leaving angry red trails that sting just enough to keep you tethered to reality. But just barely. You’re so drunk, so fucking drunk, that every sensation feels magnified, her heat, her tightness, the wet sounds of her cunt taking you over and over—it’s all you can focus on.

“Fuck—oh fuck—you’re so fucking deep,” she continues, her voice raw and slurred, her head tipping back as she grinds against you, her clit brushing against the base of your cock. “I really can feel you in my fucking stomach—god, you’re ruining me—”

You groan, your hands glued to her waist, guiding her movements as she slams down onto you again and again. “You’re so fucking tight, Hanni. I can barely move—you’re gripping me so fucking hard.”

Her moans grow louder, more frantic, and when she leans forward, her lips grazing your ear, her voice drops to a sultry whisper that shoots straight through you like lightning. “You’re gonna cum inside me, aren’t you?” 

Your breath catches, your hands tightening on her hips. “What?”

“You’re gonna fucking fill me up,” she says, her teeth nipping at your earlobe. “I can feel you, baby—you’re so fucking close. I want it. God, I need it.”

“Jesus fucking Christ, Hanni—” Your head falls back against the pillow, your grip on her hips almost bruising now as she speeds up, her thighs slapping against yours with every bounce. You can barely form a coherent thought, let alone a reply, because all you can hear, all you can feel, is her.

“I want you to breed me,” she breathes, her words spilling out like she doesn’t even care how insane they sound. “I want you to fill me so fucking full I can feel you leaking out of me for days.”

You choke on a groan, your hips bucking up into her so hard it makes her gasp, her nails dragging down your chest. “Fuck, Hanni—you’re out of your goddamn mind.”

“And it's all your fault,” she shoots back, her voice dripping with lust as she smirks down at you. “You know you drive me crazy and still insist on teasing me. Tell me the truth: you’ve been dying to cum inside me all night, haven’t you?”

“Shit—” Your voice cracks as she grinds her hips in slow, teasing circles, her walls fluttering around you like she knows exactly what she’s doing. “You’re fucking insane.”

She leans down, her hands braced on either side of your head, her breath hot against your face. “Maybe,” she whispers, her voice trembling but full of wicked intent. “But you’re gonna give me what I want, aren’t you?”

Her lips crash against yours before you can answer, swallowing your groan as she slams down onto you again, her movements frantic and unrelenting. The angle shifts just enough to make your cock hit that perfect spot inside her, and she breaks the kiss with a scream, her body convulsing as she clings to you.

“Fuck—fuck—fuck yes—just like that,” she babbles, her words spilling out in a breathless rush. “You’re so deep, so fucking deep—I want it, baby, I want you to cum inside me. Please—fuck—please, I need it.”

Her pleading sends a shiver down your spine, and you feel your control unraveling, your body tensing as the pressure builds, white-hot and unbearable. “Shit, Hanni—I’m gonna—fuck, I’m so close—”

"Yes, yes, fucking breed me!" she begs, voice breaking as she slams herself down harder. "Fill this tight pussy up with your hot fucking cum. I need you to knock me up so bad. Pump that thick cum deep in my womb!"

Her dirty talk drives you wild. Your hands grip her waist, helping lift and drop her onto your throbbing shaft. Her pussy is absolutely drenched, making obscene wet sounds each time she takes you to the hilt. The way her walls grip and massage your cock has your eyes rolling back.

"Gonna cum," you grunt, feeling your balls tighten. "Gonna flood that tight pussy."

"Do it! Fucking do it!" She starts grinding and circling her hips, stimulating every sensitive spot. "Give me every last drop. Want your cum dripping out of me for days!"

Your orgasm hits like a tsunami. Your cock pulses violently as you start shooting thick ropes of hot cum deep inside her. But she doesn't stop - if anything she fucks you harder, determined to milk out every single drop.

"Oh fuuuuck!" you moan as she keeps bouncing through your orgasm. The stimulation is almost too much on your sensitive cock but she won't let up. Her pussy walls contract rhythmically, literally sucking the cum out of you.

"I can feel it," she pants, eyes glazed with lust. "So much hot cum filling me up. Keep cumming for me, baby. Give me more!"

The continued stimulation has you seeing stars. Your cock is so sensitive it almost hurts but the pleasure is mind-blowing. She grinds down hard, working her hips in circles as she milks out another surge of cum.

"Such a good boy," she purrs. "Giving me all that potent cum. Gonna put a baby in me with all this hot fucking seed."

Your whole body trembles as she continues riding. More cum spurts out with each bounce, making wet squelching sounds as it mixes with her juices. She's absolutely relentless, using your cock like her personal cum extraction tool.

"Please," you gasp, overwhelmed by the intense stimulation. "Fuck, Hanni!"

"Just a little more," she moans, her movements getting erratic. "Want every last drop inside me. Need all your cum breeding my tight little pussy!"

Your eyes roll back as another orgasm crashes through you, smaller but just as intense. She cries out in triumph as she feels the fresh surge of cum, her own orgasm making her pussy convulse around your oversensitive cock.

"Fuck yes! Breed me, breed me, breed meeee!" She collapses onto your chest, still grinding slowly. "So much cum... You give me so much cum, baby… can feel it so deep..."

Your cock gives a few final weak pulses, completely drained. She finally stills but keeps you trapped inside her, her pussy occasionally squeezing as if trying to coax out any remaining drops.

"Mmm, your cum is so hot, baby," she sighs contentedly. "Filled me up so perfectly. Gonna keep all this hot cum inside me until it takes."

You can only lie there panting as she nuzzles your neck, your thoroughly milked cock still twitching inside her cum-flooded pussy.

You wrap your arms around her, holding her close, and for a long moment, neither of you says anything. The room is silent except for the faint hum of the city outside and the sound of your uneven breathing. Everything feels still, heavy, like the world just stopped to let you exist like this.

Then Hanni snorts.

It starts quiet, just a soft huff against your chest, but it builds quickly, bubbling up until she’s full-on giggling like a kid who just got caught doing something stupid. It’s contagious. You’re laughing too, your head tipping back into the pillow, your chest shaking beneath her.

“What the fuck are we even laughing at?” you wheeze, running a hand through her damp hair as her giggles turn into full-blown cackles.

“I don’t know!” she gasps, tears streaming down her flushed cheeks. “I think—I think it’s just—holy shit, we actually did that.”

You grin, wiping at her face with the pad of your thumb. “Yeah, we fucking did. And now I can’t feel my legs, so thanks for that.”

“Don’t even,” she shoots back, propping her chin on your chest and glaring at you playfully. “You’re the one who fucked me so hard I saw stars.”

“Yeah? You’re welcome, then.” You wink at her, and she groans, burying her face in your chest again, her laughter muffled against your skin. 

When she finally calms down, she tilts her head up to look at you, her expression softening. “Hey,” she says quietly, her fingers brushing over your jawline. “I wasn’t kidding earlier, you know. I love you.”

Her words hit you like a sucker punch, but not in a bad way. It’s more like someone just flipped a switch inside you, lighting up every dark, unspoken corner of your heart. “Fuck,” you murmur. “I love you too, Hanni.”

She beams, her smile so wide and genuine it almost makes you forget how fucking trashed you both are. “That was—shit, that was the best sex of my life,” she says, shaking her head in disbelief. “Like, no contest. Hall of Fame level.”

You snort. “Same. And that’s saying something, because I once hooked up with this girl who—”

“Don’t you fucking dare finish that sentence,” she interrupts, smacking your chest lightly. “Don’t ruin the moment!”

“Fine, fine,” you say, grinning as you squeeze her waist. “Moment un-ruined. But seriously, you were fucking amazing.”

She smirks, her fingers playing with the hair at the nape of your neck. “Duh. I know that already.”

“God, you’re impossible,” you mutter, but your smile doesn’t falter. 

She yawns suddenly, the sound soft and innocent, and you raise an eyebrow. “You good? Wanna hop in the shower or something before we crash?”

Her nose wrinkles immediately, and she shakes her head. “Fuck that. I’m not moving an inch. We can sleep like this—sweaty, sticky, whatever. I don’t give a shit.”

You laugh, shaking your head as you pull her closer, tucking her against your side. “You’re such a goddamn gremlin.”

“Aaand-youuu-loveee-it,” she mumbles, already half-asleep, her voice muffled against your chest. 

“Yeah,” you whisper, your hand running up and down her back. “I fucking do.”

Then, finally, the alcohol and exhaustion hit you both like a fucking truck, pulling you under faster than you expect. You drift off together, her body warm and soft against yours, her breath slow and steady in your ear. It’s messy and stupid and probably the worst decision you’ve ever made, but for now, it feels like the best thing in the world. You fall asleep like two reckless, drunk kids who don’t know any better, and for a little while, everything feels perfect. 

—

It's like the first morning in purgatory. 

You stir first, the throbbing in your skull dragging you out of unconsciousness. Your mouth is dry, your limbs heavy, and every movement feels like wading through molasses. You blink against the pale light leaking through the blinds, your vision blurry, the pounding in your head relentless. Beside you, Hanni lets out a soft groan, still half-buried in the covers, her hair a wild mess against the pillow.

“Fuck…” you croak, your voice rough as sandpaper. “What the hell happened?”

Hanni stirs, her face scrunching up in discomfort. “Why does my brain feel like it’s on fire?” she mutters, her words muffled against the pillow. She shifts slightly, the sheet slipping down to reveal bare shoulders. “Wait—”

She freezes.

Your eyes snap fully open, the fog in your head clearing just enough to process what you’re seeing. Hanni’s eyes go wide, darting between your face and the sheet draped haphazardly over your waist. “Why the fuck are we naked?” she asks, her voice pitching higher, panic seeping into her tone.

You wince, the sound drilling into your already aching skull. “I—uh—” You glance down, seeing your bare chest, then feel the cool air against your equally bare ass under the sheets. “Shit.”

Her hands fly to her own chest, clutching the blanket against herself as if that’ll undo whatever the fuck happened. “Did we…? Oh my god, did we fuck?” 

You sit up slowly, your head spinning. “I don’t know! I mean…” Your brow furrows as fragmented memories start piecing themselves together. Her riding you, her breathless moans, the way she begged—fuck, fuck, fuck. “Okay, maybe. Yeah, probably.”

“Probably?” she snaps, sitting up too quickly and clutching her head. “Fuck, my brain feels like it’s gonna split in half. Okay, but like—wait.” Her voice falters, her panic mounting as her eyes search your face. “Did you—did you, uh, cum inside me?”

You freeze, the question hitting you like a brick to the face. “What?” you ask, stalling for time as your headache roars back to life. “I don’t…fuck, I don’t remember. I was so wasted—”

“Oh my god,” she interrupts, her voice trembling as she throws off the covers and sits back on her heels, her hands flying between her legs. She winces, her fingers brushing something sticky, and when she pulls them back, her face goes pale. “Oh my fucking god. I can feel it. It’s—it’s dry—holy shit, you really came inside me!”

Your stomach twists violently as the memories come flooding back—the heat of her body, the way she clung to you, the way you spilled into her so deeply it felt like you’d never come back up for air. “Shit,” you mutter, dragging a hand down your face. “Okay. Fuck. Yeah, that…definitely happened.”

“On Christmas?” she nearly shrieks, clutching the sheet around herself like it’s some kind of moral shield. “You knocked me up on fucking Christmas? Are you fucking kidding me?”

“Whoa, whoa, hold up!” you say, raising your hands defensively. “First of all, technically it was on Christmas Eve. Hmm, although there is a big chance it could have happened after midnight, I think we got here pretty late…” Hanni looks at you as if contemplating the idea of committing murder. “Oh, second and most importantly, nobody’s knocked up yet. It doesn’t happen that fast!”

“Yeah, but you fucking came inside me!” she shoots back, her voice a wild mix of fury and panic. “What the hell were we thinking? Why the fuck didn’t we use a condom?!” 

“I don’t know, Hanni! We were drunk off our asses! I barely even remember half of last night!” You gesture vaguely at the room, at the scattered clothes and the bed completely messed up. “I mean, look at this shit. Does this look like the scene of responsible decision-making?”

She glares at you, her hands still clutching the sheet tightly. “Okay, well, what the fuck do we do now? The pharmacies are probably closed. It’s Christmas! Do you think there’s some magical 24/7 Plan B hotline we can call? Hey, Santa, got any emergency contraceptives in that bag of yours?”

Her sarcasm slices through the tension, and despite the mounting panic, you can’t help but laugh—a short, bitter sound. “Yeah, let’s just write to the fucking North Pole. ‘Dear Santa, I was very naughty last night. Please send condoms and a time machine.’”

She doesn’t laugh. She’s too busy pacing now, muttering under her breath as she tries to piece together a plan. “Okay, okay, maybe there’s a convenience store open somewhere. Or—fuck, do I know someone who could have contraceptives? No, that’s stupid—god, I’m so fucking stupid—”

Hanni moves like a whirlwind, her body tense and her face set as she grabs her scattered clothes off your bedroom and hallway floor. She doesn’t look at you, doesn’t even glance in your direction as she yanks her sweater over her head and hops into her underwear with sharp, jerky movements. You’re sitting on the edge of the bed, the sheet pooling around your waist, watching her with growing agony.

“Hanni, will you just fucking stop for a second?” you say, your voice low but urgent. “We need to talk about this.”

“Talk about what?” she snaps, still not looking at you as she grabs her jeans. “About how we were too drunk and stupid to use protection? About how I might have a goddamn Christmas baby on the way? Yeah, sounds like a super fun conversation.”

You sigh, scrubbing a hand over your face. “Come on, don’t do this. We can figure it out together—”

“There’s nothing to figure out!” she interrupts, finally turning to face you, her expression a volatile mix of anger and panic. “I’m going home. I need—I just need to think. Alone.”

“Alone?” you repeat, standing up, the sheet slipping off your waist. “You’re seriously just gonna leave? What if you—”

“I’ll find a pharmacy,” she says quickly, cutting you off again. “I’ll take care of it. I just… I can’t fucking deal with this right now, okay?”

“Hanni, please,” you say, stepping closer, reaching out to grab her arm. “Don’t shut me out. I—fuck, I care about you. We’ll get through this together.”

She pulls her arm out of your grip, her jaw tight. “That’s easy for you to say. You’re not the one who could end up pregnant. You’re not the one who has to wonder how the fuck you got here with your best friend.”

This unsettles you for a moment, but before you can reply, she’s already slipping on her jacket, her hand on the doorknob. “Hanni,” you say again, softer this time, your voice almost pleading. “Stay. Please.”

She pauses, just for a second, her shoulders slumping. But then she shakes her head, her voice nothing but a whisper. “I can’t.” 

And with that, she’s gone, leaving you standing in the doorway, naked, hungover, and completely fucking lost.

—

The next few weeks are a blur of radio silence and vague, clipped texts that feel more like placeholders than actual communication. Hanni texts you the morning after to say she found a pharmacy that was miraculously open on Christmas and took the pill, but that’s it. No follow-ups, no calls, just short, impersonal messages that feel like they’re written by a stranger.

You spend every day alternating between guilt, panic, and a weird, gnawing ache you can’t quite name. Every time your phone buzzes, your heart races, hoping it’s her. Half the time it’s not, and the other half it’s just more of the same: I’m fine. Just busy. Talk later.

When “later” finally comes, it’s weeks down the line. You’re sitting on your couch, staring blankly at some shitty Netflix movie you’re not even watching, when your phone rings. The sight of Hanni’s name on the screen jolts you upright, your heart pounding as you fumble to answer.

“Hanni,” you say, your voice cracking slightly. “Hey. What’s—what’s up?”

There’s a pause, and then her voice comes through, soft and hesitant. “I got my period.”

Relief floods through you so fast it almost knocks you over. “Oh, thank fuck,” you mutter, leaning back into the couch, your head tipping back against the cushions. “That’s—that’s fucking great news.”

“Yeah,” she says, but there’s no relief in her tone. Just exhaustion. “It is.”

You sit in silence for a moment, the weight of everything unspoken hanging between you like a storm cloud. Finally, you clear your throat. “Can I see you? Maybe we could grab coffee or something, just talk. I miss you, Hanni.”

She sighs, long and heavy. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“What…? Why not?”

“Because,” she says, her voice breaking slightly. “Because I’ve spent the last few weeks losing my mind, thinking about what might have happened, what did happen. I’ve been trying to figure out how the fuck we ended up here, and I still don’t have an answer.”

“We ended up here because we were drunk and stupid,” you say quickly, your words spilling out like a defense mechanism. “But that doesn’t mean—”

“That doesn’t mean it wasn’t a mistake?” she interrupts, her tone sharper now. “Because that’s what I keep asking myself. Was this a mistake? Did we ruin everything for one fucking night of drunken stupidity?”

“Hanni,” you say, your voice low and steady. “It wasn’t just one night. Don’t pretend like you don’t feel something—”

“Of course I feel something!” she snaps, cutting you off. “That’s the fucking problem! I can’t stop thinking about it—about you. About your hands, your body, your mouth, your fucking cock. And that’s why I can’t see you right now, because if I do…” She trails off, her breath hitching.

“Because if you do, what?” you press, your chest tight.

“Because if I do, it’s gonna happen again,” she says, her voice trembling. “And I don’t know if that’s a good thing or if it’s just gonna destroy everything we had.”

“We’ve already fucked up everything we had, Hanni,” you say quietly. “The question is whether we’re gonna fix it or just throw it all away.”

She lets out a shaky laugh, bitter and broken. “I don’t know if it can be fixed. I don’t even know what it is anymore.”

“So what?” you say, your voice rising slightly. “You’re just gonna ghost me? Walk away from everything we’ve built?”

“I’m not walking away,” she says softly. “I just… I need time. To figure out what I want, what we are, what we could be. I need to get over this before I see you again. Because if I don’t…”

“I thought you loved me... I mean, you said that to me that night.” 

“I wasn't ready, you understand? Not really. This wasn't how I wanted it to happen�� our first time, the confession of my feelings… I just…”

She doesn’t finish, but she doesn’t need to. The weight of her words hangs heavy in the silence, suffocating you.

“When will I see you?” you ask.

“I don’t know,” she replies, her voice cracking. “I really don’t.”

“Hann—”

The line cuts out, and you’re left holding the phone, staring at her name disappearing from the screen. The movie’s still playing, but it might as well not be.

You drop the phone, lean back, and close your eyes. Outside, the world moves on, but inside, it’s just silence—heavy, empty, and endless.

[lovelyghst]

craving consensual somno with (slightly intoxicated) simon riley and his (extremely heavy sleeper) girl. take this as ur warnings.

just him coming home late at night as usual, the bourbon in his system keeping him loosened up and tranquil, yet ever so cognizant as he enters your shared bedroom. those familiar creepy-crawlies invading his stomach with boyish excitement to see you, and quickly turning towards his dick when he lays eyes on your pretty body.

it’s nearly a routine at this point; you purposely fall asleep in these skimpy, two-piece pajamas, usually some sort of small berries, cherries, or flowers adorning the thin, white fabric that leaves little to the imagination, knowing it’ll get him all worked up. the curtains are left pulled and the door cracked open, you kick the covers off and lay with a pillow hugged tightly in your arms beneath you to give him the best view; infinite signs telling him you want it just as bad as he does. it is routine, but it gets so him riled up, each and every time.

he trudges over, as quietly as the tipsy man can manage to the end of your bed, and with tunnel-vision on your exposed thighs. even his jaw fallen slack just a bit in hunger. desperate to get his hands on you after being apart for so long, and wanting to soothe that ache in his cock he hadn’t even realized he was palming through his jeans.

you barely stir when he kneels on the foot of the bed, and neither when he crawls above you and places a kiss right behind your ear.

he presses a cold palm to your shoulder, attempting to urge you onto your back to give him a visual of your features. to let him see your curves in the raw moonlight, how the dainty material of your pajamas becomes a tad bit see-through around your tits and incidentally rides up past your bellybutton, endless thoughts running through his dazed mind as he eventually manages to flip you over successfully.

though, your sleepy hum suddenly alerts him to a standstill, his worst nightmare being to wake you from your serene rest. not now, anyway.

“shhh, sweetheart,” he gently coaxes you, and he can’t help the grin spanning his lips when you mumble the first syllable of his name in that questioning, dreamy tone. he clears fallen hair from your face, slipping his pillow from your grasp as he mutters, “yeah, dovie, s’only me. you’re okay, you’re safe… jus’ go back to sleep for me, now.”

your unconscious mind obeys like clockwork, the smallest of smiles curling your lip corners in contentment, and it’s only a matter of seconds before he’s returning to his endeavors.

kissing all across your exposed collarbone, thoughtlessly slipping a finger or two beneath the strap of your little pajama shirt and carefully allowing it to glide down your shoulder as he repeats the process on the other side. peppering kisses to your soft skin, before rolling the fabric upward from the bottom so he can properly pay attention to the rest of your chest and tummy.

lips grazing your sternum with short, controlled breaths fanning your sensitive parts; aware of how easily ticklish you are and attempting not to light that fuse, equally straining himself in not turning too feverish as he takes your hardened nipple in his mouth and paws at the other in his hand.

he works his way down slowly but surely, until he’s pulling your shorts off with tender hands and unveiling your bare, soaked pussy, and he can’t even think to suppress the low groan pushed from his lungs at the sight in front of him. he inches forward with nearly crossed eyes, taking incisive ministrations in lifting your legs up and over his back.

your breathing hitches a bit in your slumber when he licks an almost reluctant yet long stripe from your hole to your clit, unable to give himself a moment to savor it before he’s diving back in for more.

“missed this pretty, little cunt on my tongue, baby… christ,” he chuckles lightly to himself, “good girl’s gonna be the death o’ me.”

he sloppily makes-out with your pussy, any and all devotions of rhythm and precision thrown far from his intentions. he only gets to be selfish when he has you like this, and he’d be damned if he doesn’t take advantage of the opportunity as it’s laid out on his bed. moaning at your wetness and taste, how your pussy drools for more and coats his chin with a slick he devours like a madman deprived.

the small whines you make in your sleep are nothing but precious to simon, burning them into his brain like any other occasion he’s pulled them from your lips. saving them for the later times like when he’s a thousand miles away, locked away in some office, and can’t possibly bring himself to bother you with a pestering, horny phone call.

you turn your head to the side with a hum, empty hands reaching for any semblance of comfort on your abdomen, which rather concerns him for a moment until he realizes just what you want.

he gives you one of his hands and you blindly accept it, wrapping your smaller fingers around his wrist and thumb to pull the appendage closer. resting just below your ribcage, satisfied and holding it close like you would a teddy bear.

“sweet thing… always loved this perfect pussy,” he mumbles right up against your warmth, quiet as to not disrupt your blissful obliviousness in your sleep. he’s utterly drunk on you and your taste, and the alcohol he had beforehand certainly contributes to his filthy, forward language.

“how easy y’get on my mouth, ‘nd yet how tight you are around my cock… fuckin’ hell—”

he watches intently as the tips of his fingers delve between your folds, gradually disappearing whilst your chest begins to heave a little heavier; a faint, broken noise of pleasure omitting straight from your throat. tightening around his digits as he pushes them further in, just as you do wrapped around his cock when you’re conscious.

he’s not thinking straight; he’s merely experimenting with you as he curls his fingers upward, prodding at that gummy spot in your cunt and greedily sucking on your clit to push you over. toying with you, rather, because the face you make when you’re first emerged from your slumber with a mind-shattering orgasm is truly priceless.

your eyes snap open as you come around his digits, squeezing his hands tight with your vision going blank. the high is strong but you don’t allow it to last very long when the dots in your brain are connecting, turning you all excited for the implications of it all.

erratically catching your breath with a huge grin on your face, matching his as he comes up to greet you. he’s stupid, shamelessly drunk on your taste, and it radiates from his expression as if he just witnessed a star being born right before his muddy eyes.

you haven’t a clue what just happened, but you fucking loved every sober second of it.

and before you know it, he’s coming back up to meet your lips with his own, which you graciously accept, taste of slick and alcohol and all. humming as he slips his greedy hands upward and behind your back, giggling when he impatiently flips over on his back and hauls you with him. til you’re curled up by his side, halfway on his chest whilst one leg slips between both of his bulky ones.

“i‘m glad you’re home…” nearly a pout, “really missed you, si.”

you’re the first one to speak, quietly, sincere as ever as you examine his pretty face. the faint bags beneath his lids, the wetness that sticks to his dirty-blond stubble. his rough and gruff exterior that hides behind it a boy who’s absolutely and utterly whipped for you.

“that right?” he taunts, eyes remaining shut. “and my tongue, i bet?”

you shy away with a laugh. he won’t remember these words in the morning, but you’ve always loved how cocky and brazen he gets with a couple of drinks running through his blood.

“i missed all of you...”

his eyes barely have to open for him to effectively, and lovingly, judge you with a mere glance. it’s one of his talents.

“some parts more than others, clearly.”

“that’s not true,” you contest, but the humorous hesitancy and sheepishness in your voice tells him otherwise.

“sure, baby, sure.” he takes a moment to breathe, overtly proud of himself. “y’missed my mouth, n’ my hands. even with how rough they are with ya sometimes, yeah?” you hide your flushed face in his neck with a groan, praying this embarrassment is short-lived though preparing for the worst as you feel his lips inch closer to your ear.

“prob’ly missed me fuckin’ my cock into that tight, little cunt—”

“okay, fine!” you finally admit and pull away defensively, slapping his chest but only earning a laugh from him. “but i definitely don’t miss that dirty brain of yours, you big dog.”

“you love me anyway,” he states, matter-of-factly.

you give a big smooch to his forehead, then the bridge of his nose, and then down to his lips, which he returns.

“i do. a lot,” you add and he hums, feeling fulfilled.

and, oh, he’s so fulfilled with you. you take care of him by allowing him to take care of you, and it’s a two-way street. you ground each other whilst never forcing one to tether themself to earth.

you sit up to fix your top, smoothing over the fabric and shrugging the straps back into place. shimmying back into your shorts when you catch a glimpse of the large man’s dark jeans contrasting your light sheets, belt buckle glimmering in the corner of your eye.

“simon, honey, you need to change before you—”

you look over and are suddenly forced to stifle a giggle when you discover that the poor man has fallen asleep, a droopy smile still ornamenting his slick-covered face. taking your hand and swiping the apple of his cheek with your thumb, you’re pleased when he doesn’t budge one bit. dragging it downwards past his muscled chest and abdomen, landing just beneath his leather belt.

your fingertips trace his hard-on over the jeans, knowing you can’t just leave him like this, all aching and pent up and too exhausted to do anything about it himself.

maybe you could do him a favor and return the sweet gesture? <3

[rafesangelita]

ᯓᡣ𐭩 tipsy kook!sweetheart!reader getting handsy with rafe and even though he likes her sm, he takes her home and makes sure she’s safe 🥺

warnings: alcohol consumption, flirting, reader is v handsy lol (rafe loves it though)

you were such a lightweight, you knew having another drink wasn’t the smartest choice. after one shot and downing a margarita like it was a slushy, you found yourself dancing with your girlfriends in the middle of topper’s living room. rafe watched you from afar, his tongue running across his teeth as your skirt rode up your thighs.

“when are you giving that poor man a chance?” your friend giggled in your ear, making your eyebrows knit in confusion. “who?” you looked around, immediately spotting rafe in the corner. it was like he was trying to tempt you with the way he was manspreading, the thin material of his t-shirt doing nothing to conceal the muscles underneath it.

“i don’t know..” you smiled at him, heart fluttering in your chest when he sent you a wink before bringing his cup up to his lips. “i think i’m gonna go say hi—” your friend attempted to pull you back, but you were already well on your way. “hi, rafe!” you chirped, your skin flushed due to the alcohol in your system.

he gazed up at you, your eyes twinkling underneath the soft lighting. “hey, sweetheart. you look pretty.” you did a spin for him, adjusting the small purse on your shoulder. “is this seat taken?” rafe shook his head, motioning towards the empty spot next to him. instead of sitting on the couch, you got comfortable in his lap, making him curse under his breath.

“well this works too.” he laughed, draping an arm across your waist. you blinked slowly, resting your head on his chest as you stroked the underside of his jaw. “i like your arms,” you whispered, “and your face..” rafe hummed, taking your hand in his own. “yeah? i like your face, too.” he cooed, adjusting your skirt so no one else can see the color of your underwear.

“take me home.” rafe nodded. “of course, i wouldn’t want you getting in an uber like this.” he took a sip from his drink, nearly choking when he felt your fingertips tug at the belt loops of his jeans. “no. take me home, rafe.” at first he didn’t understand, but when he saw you pull your bottom lip between your teeth, it was a look he knew all too well.

“what did you have to drink?” desperate to divert your tipsy mind elsewhere, rafe moved your hand away from his lower half. of course, he failed, only making you peck his cheek instead. rafe’s sanity was hanging on by a thread. your lips were soft against his skin, your perfume smelled so sweet, and worst of all, your ass sat perfectly where he needed you most.

“umm- i can’t really remember..” you trailed off, shrugging before nuzzling your nose into his neck. “fuck.” he said through gritted teeth, deciding he better get you back to your place before anything escalated. “come on, let’s get you home.” he helped you up, holding onto you tightly as he lead you two out of topper’s house.

you were laughing the whole way to rafe’s truck, a squeal leaving your lips when he hoisted you up into the passenger’s seat. somehow during the duration of the ride to your house, you managed to kick your feet up on rafe’s lap, humming sweetly to the most disgusting lyrics playing out of his speakers.

once you two pulled into your driveway, you let him carry you over his shoulder, too tired to protest otherwise. “are your parents home?” he put you down momentarily to grab the key from under the welcome mat. “of course not.” you yawned, sighing in relief once he got the door open. rafe watched you kick your heels off, tiptoeing to the couch before face planting into the cushions.

eyes trailing down your body, he looked away when he got to the bottom of your ass cheeks shamelessly peeking out from underneath your skirt. grabbing the blanket closest to your sleeping figure, he covered you, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear. you stirred lightly, melting into his touch. the longer he stayed, the harder it was for him to leave.

“alright.” he groaned quietly, sparing you one more glance before locking the door behind him. he made a mental note to call you and check on you first thing in the morning.

[supernovalcholism]

A "Quick" Experiment

ᴠɪᴋᴛᴏʀ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

18+ ᴍɪɴᴏʀꜱ ᴅɴɪ | ɢᴇɴᴅᴇʀ ɴᴇᴜᴛʀᴀʟ ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

ᴀꜰᴛᴇʀ ᴀ ʟᴏɴɢ ᴅᴀʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋɪɴɢ ɪɴ ᴛʜᴇ ʟᴀʙ ᴀʟʟ ᴅᴀʏ, ᴠɪᴋᴛᴏʀ ᴀɴᴅ ʏᴏᴜ ꜰɪɴᴅ ᴀɴ ᴀɴᴏᴍᴀʟʏ. ᴀɴᴏᴛʜᴇʀ ʜᴏᴜʀ ɪɴ ᴛʜᴇ ʟᴀʙ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴛʜᴇ ᴍᴀɴ ʏᴏᴜ ʟᴏᴠᴇᴅ ꜱᴏ ᴅᴇᴀʀʟʏ? ᴀɴᴏᴛʜᴇʀ ʜᴏᴜʀ ᴄᴏᴜʟᴅɴ'ᴛ ʜᴜʀᴛ! ᴛɪᴍᴇ ꜰᴏʀ ꜱᴄɪᴇɴᴄᴇ!

ᶜʷ: ˢᵐᵘᵗ, ᵒʳᵃˡ ⁽ᵐ ʳᵉᶜᵉⁱᵛⁱⁿᵍ⁾

Now, as you glance across the room, you see Viktor hunched over his desk, deeply absorbed in a file Heimerdinger had passed along. His messy hair falls slightly into his face, and his sharp features are softened by the dim light of his workspace. He’s been working tirelessly for weeks, and though you’re already two weeks ahead on your own tasks, you can’t help but think of easing his burden.

You and Viktor have always had an... awkward relationship. From the very first day you met, there had been a strange rhythm to your interactions—flustered smiles, shifty glances, and a tension so thick you could cut it with a knife. When you were hired as the Assistant to the Dean of The Academy, Viktor was the one who showed you the ropes, walking you through the intricacies of their systems. He was always so gentle, so patient, and yet there was something in the way he spoke to you that made your chest tighten and your words stumble.

“Is there anything I can help with?” you offer, stepping closer, your voice gentle but carrying enough firmness to show you mean it.

Viktor doesn’t look up right away, his attention still fixed on the document as his finger traces the edge of the paper. Then, after a moment, his lips twitch into the faintest smile. “Yes, I’d very much appreciate it.” His tone carries a warmth that lights a spark of satisfaction in your chest.

Encouraged, you approach his desk, leaning against the edge casually, trying to mask the nervous energy buzzing under your skin. Viktor’s demeanor changes instantly. He sits upright, hurriedly fixing his posture as though your nearness alone had startled him into alertness.

“I can review some of those files for you,” you say, your hand brushing lightly against the corner of the desk as you lean closer. His gaze flickers to your hand and back to your face, something unreadable glinting in his amber eyes.

“Thank you,” he murmurs, his voice lower now, almost hesitant. You’ve never seen him flustered like this before, and it stirs something in you—curiosity, amusement, and maybe something else.

As you reach for the pile of papers he slides toward you, your fingers brush against his, a fleeting contact that lingers longer in your mind than it does in reality. His breath hitches ever so slightly, and the corner of his mouth quirks as though he’s fighting a smile—or a deeper thought.

The air feels charged again, like it always does when you’re near him. But for now, you both focus on the task at hand, the silence between you a curious mix of comfort and tension.

You take the stack of papers Viktor hands you, the tips of his fingers grazing yours. The contact is fleeting, but the heat of it lingers, spreading up your arm like wildfire. You glance at him, but he’s already looking away, his jaw tightening as he picks up his pen and pretends to focus on the document in front of him.

The silence stretches, heavy and electric. You settle into the chair beside his desk, spreading the papers across the surface. His scent—warm, faintly metallic—lingers in the air between you, and you swear the space feels smaller now. Tension knots in your chest as you catch him glancing at you out of the corner of his eye.

“You don’t have to stay here,” he says, his voice low, almost strained. “I can manage—”

“I don’t mind,” you cut him off, offering a soft smile that you hope masks the pounding of your heart. “Besides, two heads are better than one, right?”

He nods, but his lips press into a thin line, and his pen freezes mid-word. You watch as he exhales sharply through his nose, his hand flexing around the pen before he sets it down with deliberate care.

“Are you always this insistent?” he murmurs, his tone teasing, but there’s a tightness there, like he’s barely holding himself together.

“Only when I think someone needs help but won’t admit it,” you reply, keeping your tone light despite the way the air between you feels like it’s vibrating.

He chuckles, the sound soft but rough around the edges. “You are... persistent.”

“And you are stubborn,” you counter, looking up at him. For a moment, neither of you says anything. His amber eyes meet yours, and the weight of his gaze makes your breath hitch. There’s something unreadable in his expression—something cautious but undeniably hungry.

You realize you’re leaning closer, the papers on the desk all but forgotten. Viktor’s hand twitches, like he’s debating whether to reach out, but he stops himself, his fingers curling into a loose fist.

“You shouldn’t look at me like that,” he says softly, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Like what?” You ask, your voice unsteady, though you already know the answer.

“Like you want something you shouldn’t,” he says, the words dragging out of him like they hurt to admit.

Your heart skips a beat, and the air around you feels impossibly thick. “And what if I do?”

He inhales sharply, his posture stiffening as though he’s trying to put space between you without actually moving. His jaw tightens, and his eyes flicker down to your lips for the briefest second before returning to your gaze.

“Then you are playing a dangerous game,” he murmurs, his voice so low it sends a shiver down your spine.

You lean back slightly, not out of retreat but to let the weight of his words settle. Your pulse thunders in your ears, and yet, a part of you thrills at the crack in his otherwise composed exterior.

“I don’t think you’d let me lose,” you say, your tone softer now, more vulnerable.

His breath catches again, and for a moment, he looks torn. His hand moves, just barely, as if he’s considering reaching for you, but instead, he clenches it into a fist and pulls it back.

“You are too bold,” he mutters, though there’s no real bite to his words.

“And you’re too guarded,” you counter, leaning forward again, challenging him.

This time, he doesn’t pull away. Instead, his gaze locks onto yours, his amber eyes burning with something fierce, something he’s clearly been trying to bury. The silence between you crackles, like the tension has reached its breaking point, and you know—both of you know—that something is about to crack open.

The weight of Viktor's gaze pins you in place, the unspoken tension between you finally snapping the fragile veil of pretense. Neither of you moves for what feels like an eternity, the charged silence filling the room until it’s almost unbearable.

“Boldness suits you,” Viktor finally says, his voice rough, barely above a whisper. His words are deliberate, measured, as though each syllable is testing the boundaries of whatever invisible line exists between you.

“And restraint suits you,” you reply, your voice trembling slightly. “But I’m starting to think you don’t want it to.”

A flicker of something passes through his eyes—surprise, hunger, a hint of surrender. His fingers, which had been so tightly curled against the edge of the desk, unclench, and he shifts closer, almost imperceptibly, as though drawn in by an invisible force.

You don’t know who moves first. One moment, the space between you is thick with unresolved tension, and the next, it’s gone. His hand brushes against your arm, tentative, as though testing the waters, before sliding up to cup your jaw. The warmth of his touch sends a shiver down your spine.

“Tell me to stop,” he murmurs, his breath fanning against your lips, his voice hoarse but steady.

You meet his gaze, and instead of answering, you lean into his touch, your lips parting just slightly in invitation. It’s all the encouragement he needs.

The kiss starts slow, hesitant, like he’s still fighting against himself, but that hesitation evaporates the moment your hand slides to his chest, fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt. He deepens the kiss, his lips firm yet gentle, exploring yours with a tenderness that contrasts sharply with the intensity building between you.

You lose yourself in the moment, the world outside his office fading into irrelevance. His other hand comes to rest at your waist, steadying you as you tilt further into him, your heart hammering against your ribs. His touch isn’t rushed—it’s purposeful, like he’s memorizing the contours of your frame, the curve of your lips, the way your breaths hitch when he leans just a little closer.

When you finally pull back, both of you are breathless, his forehead resting lightly against yours. The air between you feels just as charged as before, but now it carries a different weight—an understanding, an unspoken promise.

“This is dangerous,” Viktor whispers, his thumb brushing over your cheek.

“Maybe,” you admit, your voice barely audible. “But sometimes danger is worth it.”

He exhales a quiet laugh, his lips curving into a small, genuine smile. “You are relentless.”

"And you like it," you counter softly, your hand still resting against his chest, feeling the steady thrum of his heartbeat beneath your fingertips. He doesn't deny it. Instead, he leans in again, pressing a softer, lingering kiss to your lips-a silent acknowledgment that whatever this is, he isn't ready to let it go just yet.

Viktor’s lips linger on yours, softer this time, more deliberate, as if savoring the moment. When he finally pulls away, his hand remains on your jaw, thumb brushing lightly against your cheekbone. His amber eyes search yours, filled with a mix of uncertainty and longing, like he’s trying to understand what’s just happened—what this means.

“I shouldn’t…” he starts, but his voice falters, betraying his resolve.

“But you did,” you reply softly, your hand still resting on his chest, feeling the steady rise and fall of his breaths. “And I’m not sorry.”

His lips twitch into a faint, rueful smile. “You are… impossible.”

“And yet, here we are,” you say, a hint of teasing in your tone. You tilt your head slightly, your fingers trailing down the fabric of his shirt. “Tell me you regret it, and I’ll leave. Tell me this doesn’t mean anything to you, and I’ll never bring it up again.”

His eyes darken, the air around you growing heavier as he studies your face in silence. The tension is unbearable, every second stretching longer than the last. Finally, he exhales, his shoulders sagging as though the weight of his inner conflict is too much to carry.

“I cannot regret something I’ve wanted for so long,” he admits quietly, the words barely louder than a whisper.

Your breath catches, your chest tightening at his confession. “Then don’t push me away,” you say, your voice steady despite the storm of emotions swirling within you.

Viktor’s hand moves from your jaw to your waist, hesitant but firm, as though he’s still testing the boundaries of this newfound intimacy. “You do not make this easy,” he murmurs, a wry smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “But then, nothing worthwhile ever is.”

He leans in again, his lips brushing against yours in a kiss that feels different from the first—deeper, more certain. His other hand moves to your back, pulling you closer until there’s barely any space left between you. Your hands find their way into his hair, fingers tangling in the soft, slightly unruly strands as you lose yourself in the moment.

Time seems to blur, the world outside his office forgotten as the kiss intensifies. Every touch, every movement feels like a silent conversation, an unspoken agreement that whatever this is, it’s real. It’s messy, complicated, and undeniably real.

When you finally part again, both of you are breathless, your foreheads pressed together. Viktor’s hands remain on your waist, his grip grounding you in the reality of the moment.

“This changes things,” he says softly, his voice tinged with both apprehension and hope.

“It doesn’t have to,” you reply, brushing a strand of hair away from his face. “We can figure it out. Together.”

His lips curve into a small, genuine smile, the kind that makes your heart skip a beat. “You are far braver than I am.”

“Or just as foolish,” you counter, grinning.

Viktor chuckles, the sound low and warm, before pressing one last, tender kiss to your forehead. “Perhaps a bit of both,” he says, his tone lighter now, though the weight of what’s just happened still lingers. Readers' arms rest on his shoulders. "...Viktor..?"

"Yes?" He gazes into her eyes.

"Would it be foolish of me...if i—" Readers hands slowly trail down his chest, then his stomach. Then, he rests on his waist. Reader sits, laying on the desk in front of him.

"—had my way with you?"

Viktor's breath hitches, his eyes widening for just a moment before they soften, a mix of surprise and something deeper flickering in their amber depths. He swallows hard, as though trying to steady himself, his gaze darting between your eyes and your lips.

"Foolish?" he murmurs, his voice barely above a whisper. A faint, nervous chuckle escapes him as his hands come to rest on either side of your hips, his fingers twitching slightly as if unsure of their place.

"I think... it would be far more foolish of me to refuse." Your lips curve into a sly smile, emboldened by his words, as you lean_ forward, your proximity making his breath catch once again. His cheeks flush a faint crimson, and you can feel the tension radiating from him, an intoxicating mix of nervousness and desire. "You're so easy to fluster, Viktor," you tease, your fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt as you pull him just a little closer. His lips part as though to respond, but the words catch in his throat, replaced by a soft exhale that betrays how deeply you affect him. "You say that," he finally manages, his_ voice low and tinged with a hint of self-deprecating humor, "but you leave me no time to prepare." His lips quirk into a shy, lopsided smile, and for a moment, the tension melts into something tender.

But the heat in his gaze returns almost immediately as you tug him even closer, your fingers trailing up his sides to his collar, toying with the fabric. He sways just slightly toward you, as though drawn by some invisible force, his breath mingling with yours. "So... no preparation?" you whisper, your voice laced with mischief. His laugh is soft but genuine, the sound rumbling against you. "None," he concedes, his voice raspier now, his hands tightening their hold on your hips as if to ground himself. "You're entirely too good at this.' "And you're entirely too irresistible," you reply, your tone dripping with sincerity as you tilt your head slightly, your lips just a breath awav from his.

His composure finally cracks, and with a deep, shuddering breath, Viktor closes the distance, his lips capturing yours in a kiss that's equal parts gentle and fervent, as if he's been holding back for far too long. The world around you seems to fade, leaving only the two of you in this perfect, stolen moment.

The kiss deepens quickly, urgency seeping into every movement. Viktor's careful composure shatters as his hands grip your hips more firmly, pulling you flush against him. His lips press harder against yours, and a quiet, ragged sound escapes him, almost a whimper, as if he's overwhelmed by how much he wants you. You respond in kind, your fingers tangling in his hair, pulling him closer, desperate to erase every bit of distance between you. The gentle warmth of his earlier touch gives way something far more desperate, his lips parting against yours as the kiss grows feverish. His breaths are uneven, mingling with yours, and you can feel the pounding of his heart beneath your hands as they slide up his chest and clutch at the coll- of his shirt.

"Viktor–" you gasp against his mouth, the sound trembling with need, and it seems to spur him on. His hands slide up your sides, roaming with newfound confidence, his fingertips brushing the edge of your shirt before gripping your waist again, as if afraid you'll pull away.

"I-" he begins, his voice thick with emotion, but you cut him off with another kiss, desperate and consuming, pulling a low groan from his throat. His lips move fervently against yours, almost frantic, as though he's trying to pour every ounce of unspoken feeling into this moment. You lean back slightly, your weight pressing into the desk, pulling him with you.

His body follows instinctively, one hand bracing against the desk beside you while the other slips under your shirt, his touch searing against your skin. The roughness of his movements contrasts with the tremor in his hands, a reflection of the storm of emotions roiling within him. His lips leave yours briefly, trailing down your jaw and neck with an uncharacteristic hunger, his breath hot and uneven against your skin. He presses open-mouthed kisses along your collarbone, his teeth grazing ever so slightly, eliciting a sharp gasp from you. His name spills from your lips, desperate and raw, and the sound only seems to fuel him further.

"Tell me to stop," he murmurs against your skin, his voice low and strained, yet his hands and lips betray no intention of halting.

"I won't," you reply breathlessly, pulling him impossibly closer, your nails digging into his shoulders as if to anchor yourself in the whirlwind of passion threatening to consume you both. His lips return to yours, and this time, there's no hesitation-only raw, unrestrained need as the kiss grows impossibly deeper, each movement charged with desperation and longing.

Viktor groans against your lips, his body pressing firmly into yours, the weight of him grounding you even as the world seems to tilt on its axis. His hand roams under your shirt, the pads of his fingers tracing fiery paths along your skin. Every touch is possessive yet reverent, as though he's memorizing every inch of you, every reaction he pulls from you. The desk creaks beneath you as you shift, leaning back further to accommodate him. Viktor follows without hesitation, his hips pressing flush against yours now, the tension between you crackling like electricity. His lips leave yours again, his breath ragged as he trails kisses along your jawline, your neck, and the hollow of your throat. The desperate way he mouths at your skin leaves you trembling, gasping his name in a way that makes his grip on you tighten.

"You—You drive me mad," he breathes against your collarbone.

Viktor’s hands tremble as they explore the bare skin now exposed to him, his fingertips leaving trails of fire along your sides. He hesitates for the briefest of moments, as though still in disbelief that this is happening, before his lips crash against yours again, even more desperate than before. His kiss is raw and unrelenting, his teeth catching your bottom lip, drawing a soft moan from you that seems to shatter what little control he has left.

His hand cups the back of your neck, pulling you deeper into the kiss, while his other hand moves to your thigh, sliding up the bare skin until it grips your hip firmly. His touch is rougher now, his usual careful precision lost in the haze of his desire. The desk beneath you groans in protest as he pushes you back further, his body leaning over yours, his weight pressing you down in a way that makes you feel utterly claimed.

“Viktor,” you gasp against his lips, your fingers tangling in his hair and tugging slightly, earning a guttural groan from him that sends a shiver down your spine. He buries his face in the crook of your neck, his lips hot and insistent against your skin, teeth grazing and biting gently in a way that leaves you breathless.

“You're intoxicating–” he murmurs against your neck, his voice rough and low, sending a ripple of heat through you. “I— I can’t think, can’t breathe when I’m near you.”

“Then don’t think,” you whisper, your voice trembling but firm as your hands tug at his shirt, finally pulling it over his head and tossing it aside. The sight of him—his lean, scarred frame, his chest heaving with every ragged breath—only fuels the fire burning between you. You trail your hands over his chest, your touch reverent but purposeful, feeling the way his muscles tense beneath your fingers.

His lips find yours again, his kiss hard and demanding, his hands sliding up your back to pull you closer. You arch into him, your body reacting instinctively to his, and the heat between you becomes unbearable. Viktor’s grip tightens, his fingers digging into your skin as if he’s afraid to let go, and the desperation in his movements matches your own.

You pull him down with you as you lean fully onto the desk, his body covering yours, his weight anchoring you in the dizzying intensity of the moment. His lips never leave yours, his kisses growing sloppier, hungrier, as though he’s trying to devour you, to consume every part of you.

The room is filled with the sounds of your heavy breathing, the rustle of fabric, and the occasional groan or gasp that escapes either of you. Time feels irrelevant—there is only Viktor, his touch, his kiss, the way his body molds against yours as if you were made for each other.

“More,” you whisper against his lips, your voice barely audible but carrying the weight of your need. He pulls back just enough to look at you, his amber eyes dark and wild, his lips swollen and parted as he tries to catch his breath.

“You’ll be the death of me,” he murmurs, his voice trembling with a mix of adoration and unrestrained want, before he captures your lips again, this time with a tenderness that contrasts the fervor of his touch, as though he wants to savor every second of this moment.

Viktor’s breath hitches as your hands trail down his chest, your fingers trembling slightly but resolute as they find the buckle of his belt. His lips falter against yours for a moment, and he pulls back just enough to meet your gaze. His eyes are wide, filled with a mix of desire and uncertainty, his cheeks flush a deep crimson.

“Are you sure?” he asks, his voice low and raw, but there’s no mistaking the way his body leans into yours, craving your touch even as he hesitates.

You nod, your fingers deftly undoing the buckle, the metallic clink of it echoing softly in the room. “I’ve never been more sure,” you murmur, your voice steady despite the wild thrum of your heart. Your hands slide to the button of his trousers, your touch teasing but deliberate, and his breath shudders as he closes his eyes, clearly fighting to maintain some semblance of control.

“You’re going to be the death of me,” he mutters, echoing his earlier words, but this time his voice is thick with surrender. His hands grip your hips tightly, as though grounding himself, his lips returning to yours with renewed fervor. The kiss is desperate, almost bruising, his teeth catching your lower lip in a way that sends a spark of heat coursing through you.

As you work on the fastening of his trousers, he groans low in his throat, the sound vibrating against your lips. His hands move over your body with an urgency that matches your own, his fingertips grazing the sensitive skin of your waist, your thighs, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. The restraint he’s held onto so carefully is unraveling, and you can feel the raw need in every touch, every movement.

“Tell me to stop,” he whispers against your lips, his voice trembling but filled with unspoken hope that you won’t.

You shake your head, pulling him closer as you lean back further on the desk, your legs wrapping around his waist to draw him in. “Don’t stop,” you breathe, your hands sliding up his chest to rest against his shoulders. “Please, Viktor… don’t stop.”

His composure shatters completely at your words, a guttural sound escaping him as his lips crash into yours again. His hands move with more confidence now, one sliding under your thigh to hitch it higher around his waist while the other cups your face, his thumb brushing your cheek tenderly even as the kiss grows hungrier.

The tension in the air is electric, the world outside fading into nothingness as Viktor’s weight presses into you, his body aligning with yours as though the two of you were made for this moment. Every breath, every touch, every whispered word between kisses pulls you both deeper into the intoxicating haze, leaving no room for doubt or hesitation.

<^>

With a man so intelligent, with dazzling good looks and the softest eyes you've ever seen— how could you stay away?

<^> <^> <^>

Pt2 coming soon... let me know what yall thought and if you want a part 2!!

- Enya

[kiddotarot]

YOUR FACE STRUCTURE AND PLANETS RELATIONS

Explanation = 1H and 2H are the house which shows your face structure and the part of your head, voice. And any other planet which influence these houses can decide your face structure and any other combination in your planets can also effect it so you can mix different planet and can recognize your speciality. Special Thanks to jay for teaching me this much ☺️ enjoy!!!

SATURN = If your saturan is in first house or it's aspecting your 1h or it is dominating your chart then you can have some kind of marks on your face , there can be something related to teeth shape. You can always wear a mask of serious person but you can have dark humor, silly jokes is not for you . You can look much mature then your age and saturan is a dry planet so it can also make your hair dry no matter what you try or your body can have high metabolism.

MERCURY = you can have a young look or you can look more younger than your age your facial freature can never change . They can be witty childish and there hair cut will be never stable like the always experimenting with there hairs for example me . Can have big forehead, jupiter prominent people can have big forehead but in Mercury case it shows there sharp and active mind .

JUPITER= There face can always look like laughing Buddha means they can have full cheeks where ever they smile there cheeks lift up. And there body or face can have fat or high metabolism. They often find difficulties for jaw line or sharpness. If it retrogated there nose can be little crooked or sharp and big . There ear lobe can be big and soft fluffy . There ears can be big or charp if there jupiter is exalted ( pisces) again big forehead.

MARS = They always have sharp freature but if mars aspecting your 1H or its in 1H you can have problems of pimples, marks ( specially jupiter and mars have a connection) . Very sharp eyes but small . Dominated mars with Rahu or saturan or strong mars can have big eyebrows and if mars is in prominent position or your Atmakarka they can have joint eyebrows. If your eyebrows is thin then you have sun and mars connection. They can have broad sholders, angry face expression, Specially male can be attractive , strong mars can also give you big arms and chest . Waek mars can give blood imbalance. And mars and moon connection can also make you to put you hair short .

VENUS = The person can have beautiful face and sharp nose there chin can be very structured for example = Lana bel ray , venus and rahu connection people can have big eyes and almond shape eyes, these person can easily become famous or actors in there life. Thery are always changing there appearance or fashion they set the trend in the society can also go for surgery and changing freature. Jupiter and venus person can have beautiful face and full cheeks smile example = margot robbie.

MOON = These people change very fast just like moon phase and can have problems with digestive system . They can have a yellowish color of skin regarless there skin tone . They are very preety and cute . If Jupiter and moon have a connection they or Jupiter is in moon sign they can eat to much but never gain weight or eat less much but gain weight . There is no sexual attraction like venus but people can look young , preety like moon and emotional. Example = Taylor swift ( moon and jupiter connection) great smile and expressive. Moon and ketu connection can also give expressive and beautiful eyes. Moon and rahu connection can give a person over expressive nature . Venus and moon connection people are the most beautiful person.

RAHU = These person are always changing they can be hard to recognize over time can have surgery example = Kardashians . They can loose there weight very fast . If rahu is bad placed they want to change in there appearance but no one gonna notice it. There teeth can also have something different like long legs . Rahu in mars sign can give injury but they can have goid facial freature and attractive personality.

SUN = There eyes can be small , and there skin can be yellowish at the some time in there life they can have long hair but later hair lose can be problems for sure..sharp and small eyes but very expressive and sharp . They can be not so tall but have normal height. But they hold authority in there presernce and there appearance. There chest can be big and havy good and perfect and facial freature sun and jupiter connection can give them handsome and leadership qualities and looks.

[evielmostdefinitely]

hiiii could you please write something about aftercare with young snow? like how in jealous girl it says he babied her afterwards, but a whole fic about it? i just wanna see how sweet a cruel man like snow can be 🤭

tip of my fingers |young!coriolanus snow x capitol!reader|

prompt: as requested above, aftercare with snow.

contains: fluff. mentions of dom/sub themes. possessive snow.

Coriolanus sat on the edge of the bed, body covered in a thin sheen of sweat, chest still rising and falling with every ragged breath from his post orgasm. He always got flushed like this after a night of particularly rough sex. 

“‘M going to the shower, my love.” Corio muttered, curls matted to his forehead, muggy and sweaty. His hand patted the top of your thigh, gentler than before, your skin still raw and sensitive. 

You didn’t move, didn’t utter a word, really didn’t make a sound besides a pathetic whine. Corio’s head snapped around, turning to you in an instant. His eyes narrowed carefully, scanning over you like he was assessing his latest plans. “Are you alright?” 

Your glazed eyes staring off, face turned, smushed into the mattress, a pool of your own drool beneath you. Normally he’d mock you, tease you for being so messy. “My messy girl, look at you.” He’d give you a grin that felt more like a sneer. 

Not this time. 

Coriolanus called your name, softly but firmly, crouching in front of you. His hand rubbed over your clammy forehead, heated cheeks still flushed from your climax. “Look at me, darling.” Corio muttered, fingers tracing over your cheek down the slope of your neck. You shuddered but didn’t turn to him, still lost in your own haze. “Can you hear me?” 

Your own mind was miles away from that very bedroom, lost under roaring waves and a hazy fog that Corio always got you in. Usually you snapped back quicker, a few loving kisses, the shock of a cold rag cleaning you up. Other times, it was more difficult. 

Coriolanus moved to the bathroom, swallowing down the venomous bark of spewing orders that threatened to fall from his lips. He didn’t like this feeling, when he was out of control, especially with you. When something was wrong and he didn’t know an immediate fix. The rational side of himself told him to stay calm, do what he knew to before spiraling into a panic. 

Corio tried to swallow down his beating heart, wringing the cold water out of the cloth, before walking back into the bedroom. The air was still thick and hot, sticky with the lingering musk of sex. He moved beside you, wordlessly, smoothing the cloth over your forehead. 

The icy feeling shocked your system, leaving your shuddering, mind lurching back, vision clearing. Corio was before you, brows pinched with a concerned frown, studying you carefully. Your eyes met his, blinking helplessly before him. He swallowed a groan at how it made his cock lurch, seeing you so weak and needy. 

“My love,” Corio’s hand slid down your cheek, thumb brushing over the apple of your cheek. “Are you alright?” 

You blinked, moving into his touch, nearly instinctively. “You’re alright?” Corio pressed, head tilting in a much softer way to look at you. “Yes?” 

You nodded, pushing off the mattress, groaning at the uncomfortable stretch of sore skin on your ass and thighs. Coriolanus had used his belt, your favorite, tonight. 

“Be careful.” Corio clicked, hands wrapping around your biceps, much softer now than before. “You’re going to be sore, darling girl. Careful.” His tone softer now, hushed mumblings as he helped you up. 

You winced when your raw skin brushed the silk of the sheets, the ghosting of a whimper on your lips. Corio shushed you gently, sitting next to you, pulling you into his lap. His hand brushing down your hair, your skin sticky on his own. 

“How are you feeling?” Coriolanus muttered, lips brushing against your scalp, breathing in the sweaty scent mixed with your perfume from before. 

“‘M alright.” You muttered, your cheek against his pec. You could hear his heart rate, how it fluttered and stilled to a steady rhythm. How it would erupt in an excited crescendo when you finally spoke, making your veins fill with ooey gooey rushes of adoration. For all of Coriolanus’ cruelties, his harshness- he did love you. It was evident in moments like these. 

“Do you need the healing ointment? I can get it from the servant’s quarters-” 

“-I’ll be alright, Corio.” You hummed, eyes pulling heavily. The exhaustion washes over you in thick waves. “I just want you to hold me, please.” Your eyes lifted, rounding sweetly. 

He’d be a fool not to, Coriolanus decided, pulling you closer into his chest. He liked you like this, pliant and at his every whim, completely reliant on him. 

Corio moved to the bath after, quieting your whines of protest with a small tut, coaxing kisses to your temples, testing the bath water with great show while you sat on the ledge. 

You stayed pressed to his chest, clinging to him like a lifeline, like you might float away or dissolve if he let go. Corio let you, ego swelling off the dependency. 

“Did I go too hard?” Corio hummed, a sudsy hand rubbing down your spine. The bath filled with the tonic fresh from District Eleven, dried orange peels, lavender, and rose. Coriolanus brought it to you, after his last visit to the district. You had swooned over it, smothering him sillily in kisses that made him blush. 

“No,” You shook your head, inhaling the scent that was entirely his. “I think it was the teasing and the spanking, at the same time. I just- I wasn’t ready for it.” You knew what he wanted to hear. Coriolanus had always been adamant after your rough play that you debrief him. It felt very professional, which is why you were reluctant, but that type of blunt, straight forward reporting is what Corio responded best to. 

Corio nodded, a low hum vibrating out of his chest, tickling your ear. “I see. I won’t do it as much next time.” He wouldn’t apologize, but you could hear it in his unspoken words. 

“Just not as much at the same time.” You whispered sheepishly, as if he didn’t know every part of you. 

Coriolanus nodded, a wet hand rubbing the base of your neck, scratching your scalp gently. He knew you loved it, knew it would have your head tipping back into his touch so he could kiss you. 

You let him wash you, dry you off- only whimpering when the towel brushes over your ignited skin. He shushed you, a silent apology, pressing a kiss to the back of your thigh. He put the ointment on anyway, muttering flippantly about how “you had obligations tomorrow, and didn’t need to be squirming the whole time”. You knew it was because it made him feel better. 

Corio dressed you in your nightgown, slipping the powdery blue, soft fabric over your skin, trailing kisses from the back of your shoulder to your ear. 

Underneath the silk of the sheets, you slept in his arms, face to face, whispering in the darkness of the room. It always brought out the vulnerability of Coriolanus in these moments, holding you, feeling you, smelling you- he’d bear his soul to you. 

“I’m unsure about the games.” Corio muttered, arms tightening around you. 

“Unsure in what way, honey?” You hummed, finger raking through his curls, behind his ear- his favorite spot. 

“Unsure that they’ll be as successful as they need to be.” Corio hummed, and even through the dark you could see the concern on his features. “Unsure that people will watch.” 

You paused for a moment. You decided not to tell him how you truly felt, not then, anyways. Selfishly, you didn’t want to ruin the intimacy, the softness of the moment. “I’m sure they’ll be everything you hope for them to be.” You hummed, swallowing around the lump in your throat. “Everything always does.” 

Your words, as forced as they were, brought comfort to Coriolanus. His head falling back into your hair, pressing a kiss to your scalp. Fingertips brushing skin, hushed words, and soft kisses all exchanged under the twilight of the night. Tomorrow, you’d be prim and proper. You’d stand beside Corio respectfully, hide your grimace at the mention of the upcoming reaping, refrain from rolling your eyes at the suck ups that flocked to Coriolanus in a giddy, exaggerated manner. You two would be the picture of perfection that Panem wanted you to be. For now, you’d be content to lay in each other's arms, being yourself instead.

[nereidprinc3ss]

rubber duck

in which reader is sick and spencer takes care of his girl!!

fluff (18+ for nudity) warnings/tags: reader referred to as girl, non-sexual undressing + nudity/intimacy, reader takes bath, spencer doesn't but he is in fact present a/n: heeeeyyy guys.... sorry for not posting for a month... accept this as a token of my gratitude and know that smut is in the works. keep sending requests, might not answer them but you never knoww!!

Spencer gets home around ten PM. Granted, it’s not a completely unreasonable time for someone to be asleep, but for you? A person who’d rather not go to bed at all than wake up before eight in the morning? You being passed out on the couch at this time is definitely abnormal.  

He drops his bag on the coffee table as he approaches, kneeling next to where you’re curled up in the dark room. Part of him doesn’t want to wake you if you’re tired, but he’s mildly concerned. Normally after him being away all week you’ll stay up until he gets home regardless of how late (or early) it is. Ambient light coming in through the window allows him to see the sickly sheen to your skin, and he feels your forehead with the back of his hand. 

“Spence?” you murmur, trying to blink the sleep out of your eyes. His response is equally quiet, wavering slightly. 

“Hey. Are you feeling okay, angel?” 

Even though you decidedly are not, your spirit lifts considerably at the sight of him in front of you. A wave of caramel hair falls over his furrowed brow as he scans your face, looking for signs that something is wrong. You brush it away, hand coming to rest on his cheek. 

“I’m fine. I missed you a lot.” 

Your voice is a paper-thin whisper, giving you away even as you try to downplay your condition. 

“I missed you too, but I’m a little worried. You’re pretty warm.” His eyes dart away from your face and down your body, seeming to notice your attire for the first time. “Did you go to work?” 

“I tried to. But I had to come home at early. I guess I didn’t make it all the way to bed.” 

This seems to worry him even more, if the way his eyes narrow and the line of his mouth tightens is anything to go by.  

“How long have you been asleep?” 

“Well... what time is it?” you ask sheepishly, still disoriented. 

“10:20.” 

“Oh god,” you moan, burying your face into a pillow (which does not make breathing any easier through all the congestion), “I’ve been sleeping for eight hours!” Panic wells in your chest at the ridiculous notion that you somehow lost an entire day to sleep.  "I didn't mean to-"

“Shh, relax, it's fine. Your immune system works a lot more efficiently when you’re asleep. It’s the best thing you can do when you’re sick. Studies show that melatonin may actually be an effective antiviral, and people who sleep seven hours a night are 300% less likely to develop an illness than people who sleep only five hours a night.” 

Despite yourself, you smile into the pillow at his unprompted information dump.

“So... am I... 500% more likely to be better tomorrow?” 

He laughs, running a hand through your hair. 

“I don’t even know where you got that number.” 

“I failed statistics in high school,” you mutter, pushing yourself up onto an elbow. 

“Honey, that’s Algebra.” 

You bury your face in your hand and laugh at your own stupidity- before it devolves into a coughing fit.  

“Ugh, I’m sorry. I know you hate germs,” you say once you’ve managed to get the coughing under control. You look at his face, but there are no signs of disgust or fear. 

“I could never hate your germs. But I am worried about the cough... do you think a bath would help?” 

You mull it over. Part of you wants to rot on the couch forever, but the more rational part knows you should definitely get up and try to take care of yourself. With a helping hand from Spencer you rise, stumbling into his waiting arms like a foal on shaky legs. Immediately you feel fatigued, but he patiently guides you to the bedroom and sits you on the mattress before disappearing into the adjoining bathroom. 

For a few minutes the only sound aside from you catching your breath is the tub filling from the other room. Soon he returns, to find you curled up on the bed and barely conscious once more. 

“Oh, sweetheart,” he sighs, gathering you up in his arms and helping you to your feet once more. “You really don’t feel good, huh?” 

You shake your head, allowing yourself to be carefully herded into the bathroom. Spencer moves to sit on the edge of the steaming tub, pulling you forward gently by your belt loops. Deftly he begins to undo your jeans as you fumble with the buttons on your shirt. 

“I feel like I’m dying,” you groan. He glances up at you.

“I wish you would have told me you were sick. I would have come home earlier.”  

“I thought about it,” you admit sheepishly, “but I figured better I be sick and alone than more people potentially end up dead because I’m too needy.” 

Your boyfriend sighs, resting his hands on your hips as he looks up at you with a mix of earnestness and admonishment.  

“At least tell me next time. I don’t like the idea of you here all alone without anyone knowing you’re ill.” His fingers press gently into your flesh to emphasize his point. “Okay?” 

“Okay,” you agree softly, without hesitation. Spencer’s expression softens too, and he leans forward to press a kiss to your sternum. 

“In,” he directs after you wiggle out of your jeans, getting out of the way and helping you into the water. He watches as you carefully submerge yourself, a little tense as if he’s ready to jump into action at any second. “Is it too warm? I tried not to make it too hot because your body temperature is al-” 

“It’s perfect,” you reassure, sinking further in. Steam billows up around you and you sniff. “Lavender?” 

Spencer nods, settling on the floor next to you. 

“And mint. I’m surprised you can actually smell it.” 

Normally you’d tease him for his fussing, but the minty steam really does seem to be helping you breathe a bit easier. After only a few minutes, you feel noticeably better. 

“Will you read to me?” you ask dropping your head to your shoulder to look at him. 

He’s leaning against the wall and monitoring you with a contented look on his face. At the suggestion his eyebrows raise. 

“Of course. What do you want to hear?” 

“Fairytales. But only the super gory ones. The more disturbing the better.” 

“What? No Jane Austen?” 

“Ugh, no. I need to hear about terrible things happening to beautiful princesses so I can feel seen.” 

A small smirk graces his lips as he regards you, eyes sparkling with humor and thinly veiled affection. 

“You are utterly ridiculous.” 

“You have to be nice to me when I’m sick,” you whine, slinking lower into the bubbles. Spencer hums in sympathy, running his hand through the water to check the temperature before trailing his knuckles over your arm. 

“My poor sick girl,” he teases. You huff indignantly, attempting to hide the way his words make you melt into the bathwater. 

“Just get the book, Spencer.” 

“Yes ma’am.” He kisses your forehead (covertly gauging your fever, you’re sure) before pushing off the ground. You watch him leave, heart overflowing with adoration even though you still feel sick. Maybe it’s the bath that’s helping, or maybe it’s just his presence.  

A minute later he returns to his post beside you bearing Grimm’s Fairytales and a tall glass of water, which he tells you to drink all of before he starts reading. Regardless of how unwell you feel, you find the energy to make sarcastic comments about the characters’ intelligence and the implausibility of the plot (it’s a fairytale, Spencer reminds you) but soon the soothing cadence of his voice enthralls you. The illustrations and the story capture your imagination as you rest your head and arms on the side of the tub. 

More time has gone by than you realize when you begin to shiver in the now lukewarm water. Spencer notices, finally setting the book down. 

“Ready to get out?” 

You nod and he helps you step out of the tub, pulling you close and wrapping you with a fluffy towel. Absolutely no heed is given to the state of his own clothing as your wet skin soaks his shirt, or his own health as he breathes in your air. 

“I’m gonna get you sick, Spence,” you say anxiously, making a feeble attempt to pull away. Spencer doesn’t even begin to allow it, holding you even tighter. The honesty of his words is reflected in his eyes as he looks down at you adoringly. 

“I can live with the idea of spending a few days at home together.” 

You lean into him further, too tired to hold much of your own weight up. 

“I can’t believe you have to intentionally get sick to get time off work.” 

“You’re definitely worth it.” He kisses the top of your head and rubs your back for a moment.  

“And to think,” you muse, the words muffled by his shirt, "when we first met, you wouldn’t even shake my hand.” 

[tiza0925]

A Celebration | 18+

Warnings/Tags: afab/female reader, tipsy!reader, soft!Bokuto, established relationship, pet names, teasing, needy!Bokuto, pussy drunk!Bokuto, praise kink, pussy eating, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, squirting ♡ SET IN A TIMELINE WHERE ALL CHARACTERS ARE AGED-UP AND OVER 18

Pairing: Bokuto Koutarou x Female Reader

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

“Ko,” Your voice comes out low, almost a whisper, as you look up at Bokuto while you sit on the edge of your guys’ bed, hands behind you as support, and you angle your head to the side—your hair falling over one shoulder. 

Bokuto hums as he lifts one brow, looking down at you from the bridge of his nose with a small smile adorning his lips, and he crosses his arms to clutch the bottom hem of his shirt to take it off—leaving his chest bare.

And your stomach clenches at the sight of him half naked already.

“Yes, darling?” 

Your answering smile is slow and syrupy, and your lashes flutter as you blink up at him. “‘m tipsy.” 

Bokuto snorts, affectionately, and drops to his haunches in front of where you’re sitting—and he looks up at you with a teasing grin. “Are you, now?” 

His hands—so rough and warm and huge—come to hold onto the back of your exposed calves, sliding his hands up and down in a soothing gesture that makes you shiver. “Did my baby drink too much wine tonight?” 

You two were celebrating tonight. 

Bokuto just won a very important match. 

You just received news that you got into your dream university to do your master's. 

It was something worth dressing nice for the night—with Bokuto in a fitted black turtleneck that hugged his frame so deliciously well, and black dress pants with a belt. 

You had on a simple black dress that hugged your waist in a way that Bokuto couldn’t stop admiring—with your cleavage teasing him with thin straps and the dress running no longer than just below your knees. 

A fancy restaurant was what you both decided to go to—and they were serving alcohol so—

You two shared a bottle of wine. 

Except you drank more than he did. 

And now it’s making an impact on you as your head grows fuzzy and liquid warmth spreads through your body. 

You whine, your head feels loopy and there’s a warm ache beginning to grow more intense between your thighs, and you frown as you look down at Bokuto. “You let me drink all that wine.” 

Bokuto’s chuckle is breathy, and he moves one hand down your left calf until his fingers wrap around your ankle, and he uses that to hold your foot in place as his other hand comes down to slip off your heel. “You seemed to be enjoying it more than I was.” 

He sets your shoe aside, and moves onto the other foot, giving your shin a soft kiss as he takes the other high heel off. “And you’re cute when you’re tipsy, my love.” 

You let out a huff, but you can’t be too annoyed by it. 

Not when you feel a nice buzz underneath your skin, and Bokuto’s touches feel so delicate and hot on your legs that it makes you shiver and melt. 

Plus—he always treats you well if you have some alcohol in your system. 

You never have to worry. 

Just like tonight. 

You pout. “Shut up.” 

But Bokuto simply smiles against your shin, and moves to brush his lips up your leg, murmuring in that playful low voice of his with a hum, “I don’t think I will.”

You let loose a small breath, although it’s a little shaky because of the way Bokuto’s lips feel brushing over your leg—his breath fanning against you as he spreads goosebumps over your skin. 

It has you squirming, your thighs tensing, and you bite on your lower lip as his mouth travels closer and closer to your inner thigh—

“Your legs are so soft,” Bokuto murmurs, lifting your dress with his hands to expose your panties, and you suck in a sharp breath at the cool air slapping your skin. 

“Ko,” You whimper, and he looks up at you—and his eyes widen a little at how you’re looking at him. 

Eyes big, and foggy, and your red-painted lips parted with soft breaths leaving you. 

“You okay?” He asks, voice coming out velvety soft, and you nod. 

Then he squeezes your thighs, his mouth just inches away from your panties. “You want me to stop, love?” 

God—no. 

You just feel so hot and it’s doing things to you. 

And it doesn’t help when you have the image of him kneeling in front of you like that—with his head right between your legs. 

It gets you heady, feeling a little overwhelmed, and the wine in your system isn’t doing anything to quell that heat in your lower belly. 

You shake your head. “N-no.” 

And that’s all Bokuto needs to hear as he lets a smile crawl on his lips and leans forward to give your clit a delicate kiss over your panties. “Good.” 

He darts out his tongue and slides it from bottom to top over your covered slit, a rumble in his voice. “Because I need to taste you, baby.” 

He’s so unbelievable sometimes that it makes you want to shake your head in disbelief. 

Leave it to him to become drunk not off wine like you—but by your sweet little cunt that he just loves to have his mouth on whenever he gets the chance. 

Not that you mind, obviously. 

Bokuto nestles his face right between your thighs, and you feel his cheeks and hair brush against your inner thighs as he kisses your folds and clit over the thin fabric you have on, getting your panties soaked as he licks and licks, groaning and digging his thumbs into your plush thighs. 

“God—” You moan, your eyes rolling back, and you buck your hips up to get more—because it’s not enough when your underwear is in the way. 

“Feels good?” He mumbles against your covered pussy, making you shiver, and you nod as you breath out heavily. 

“Mhm—”

“Can I take these off, baby?” 

You almost let out a frustrated breath at that question alone as your nodding quickens, almost desperately fast, as you pant and fist the sheets. “Please—fuck, Ko—please—”

He chuckles, endeared. “I know, love,” and he doesn’t wait a second longer as he tugs on the waistband of your panties, and you lift your hips to help him as he slides them down, tossing them aside. 

“Shit,” He groans at the sight of your pussy—bare and wet—and he licks his lips before locking eyes with you, his smile is serene and mirthful as he grazes his lips over your sensitive clit. “You’re always needy when you drink wine, baby.” 

Your eyelids grow heavy, and you feel heat flush in your cheeks as he hooks his palms under the back of your knees, and pushes your legs up to have them rest over his broad shoulders—

Then his tongue goes to lick your pussy from bottom to top—the tip of his tongue flicking at your swollen clit—

And you let out a sharp gasp as everything inside you bursts into honeyed pleasure. 

“Always taste so good for me,” Bokuto groans against your cunt, running the flat of his wet tongue up and down your slit, licking your folds and the skin around it, tasting you with his eyes rolling back. “So fucking good baby, goddamn—”

And it’s a lot. 

So much so that you fall back onto the bed, your back sinking into the cushion, and you throw an arm over your head—feeling so dizzy and heated—as your other hand cards through his hair, moaning. 

His tongue is thorough. 

If it isn’t teasing your clit—it’s dipping inside you, flexing in ways a finger can’t—fucking you with his tongue as he holds onto your thighs, eating you out like this is for his pleasure more than it is for you. 

And Bokuto watches you through half-lidded eyes—how your face changes with every flick of his tongue, how your pretty little mouth opens with small moans, how your chest rises and falls with your heavy breathing as he licks and sucks your pussy over and over until you’re dripping everywhere, coating his chin and your thighs with your fluids. 

“Can you cum on my tongue for me, baby?” Bokuto is breathless when he pulls back, kissing and nipping your inner thigh, before going back to lap at your drooling slit like he’s fucking thirsty. “I want to feel you, baby, you’re so good for me.” 

You sob out another gasp when you feel his warm lips wrap around your clit to suck on it, his tongue teasing the underside of it as he hollows his cheeks, seemingly determined to make you lose your mind and any sense of your body almost immediately.

And—

“Fuck, fuck, Ko—!” 

Your orgasm hits you as if a cord inside you suddenly snapped—and your knuckles turn white with how hard you’re gripping onto his hair, your vision going blurry and your cheeks are on fire as heat explodes from your pussy and throughout your entire body.

Your legs shake around his head, squeezing him, and—

And Boktuo moans, low and needy, as he works you through it—licking whatever juices gush out of your throbbing pussy, his mouth sucking over your oversensitive clit as you cum on his tongue like the good girl that you are. 

“There you go, darling,” Bokuto purrs, lapping you up like a dog eager to please its master, and he huffs out a fan of warm air against your sensitive pussy—making it flinch as he kisses it. “Such a good pussy, baby.”

And what he says next—makes you want to almost cry because—

“Can you give me one more?” He’s panting against you as if he’s the one who just had an orgasm, and you make a sound at the back of your throat as you look at him—disbelief written all over your features. 

But Bokuto smiles against your cunt, his tongue doing little zig-zags over your soaked slit until he works his way up to your abused clit—undulating his tongue against it to make you whimper in overstimulation, heat stinging your core and an ache in your pussy beginning to slowly grow again. “I just need one more, you taste too good, baby.” 

He’s insane. 

But you must be just as crazy to agree—even if it hurts a little—as he eats your sloppy pussy out, getting him drunk on it, until you’re cumming with a cry straight from your lungs, and fluids squirt on his face that has him growing so fucking light-headed with how hard he is. 

And he’s definitely not done with you for the night. 

Because like you said—he takes good care of you when you’re tipsy. 

end.

Masterpost

[g0dlyunsub]

prove it.

you confront spencer about a broken promise on his day off from work, and he’s determined to make it up to you.

pairing :: spencer x gn!reader 

warnings :: established relationship, some intimacy (a shower scene), use of pet names (once), fluff and some angst

word count :: 1.6k

author’s note :: originally an anonymous request, it took me forever to write the ending but it’s finished!! anyways, soft spencer >>>

accompanying song ::  i don't want to talk by wallows

“sorry baby, give me five minutes to look at this. they just found another cipher.”

“any chance you could force the gears in your head to move faster?”

you clap your hand over your mouth right after you say those words, but you’ve already set the wheels in motion.

spencer chuckles as if amused by your comment, still not looking up from the printed sheet, and begins to twirl the pen around his fingers. he looks so attractive whenever he performs the maneuver, you unconsciously bite down on your bottom lip.

“mm… combined cipher with the first being a simple vigenere…” he trails off, scratching the paper with multiple pen strokes.

you pout and make your way over to his desk. your boyfriend had told you that today was going to be your day, that he’d be ready to do whatever you wanted. anything, he said. 

but if there’s anything you should conclude, it’s that the man will never fail to occupy his brain with something to solve, like it’s a necessity for survival. despite his team insisting that he take the day off, you know that even they won’t interfere when it comes to the laborious task of decrypting ciphers. 

still, you think it won’t hurt to try.

you lift his left arm over your head so you can move in and slowly slide onto his lap. as you settle down, you wrap your arms around his neck and lower your head on his shoulder. you feel spencer lean into the back of his chair ever so slightly, but he doesn’t return the embrace. instead, he continues to write on his paper wordlessly.

not even a minute passes when a vibration spreads across spencer’s lap. with a light grunt, his hand grips the flesh of your thigh and moves it lower on his lap, and he reaches into his pocket. you let out a disgruntled sigh as he accepts the phone call.

“hey garcia, what is it?”

as spencer listens to the tech analyst on the other side of the line, you start to run your hands along the fabric of his cardigan. he told you that he was keeping the professional attire on “just in case they wanted to video call”, but everything you wanted to do with him was anything but professional. 

you move your hands to his hair that’s been recently trimmed, following the trail until it thins out at the nape of his neck. 

“that’s fine, i’ll check it when you send it over. i think i solved the cipher by the way, it’s a combined-“ 

his breath hitches when you start to kiss the side of his neck that’s angled perfectly for your lips, and he taps at your thigh warningly. 

“-cipher that uses a vigenere for the first part and a phillips system for the second. using a hill climbing search for the rest of the ciphers might help,” he tries again, releasing a shaky exhale.

you ignore his signal and continue to explore lower, littering kisses all over his collarbone.

“i uh, i gotta go. let me know if you find anything else.”

you smile as spencer hastily cuts the call and returns the phone into his pocket. 

“now’s not a good time.”

you pull away from his skin at the sudden comment, raising your brows in surprise. “but you said five minutes-”

“i can’t focus when you’re here,” he interrupts, gaze lingering on your smooth lips.

“i’m just too distracting?”

“yeah, no- yes. at least when i’m at work i’m not in the same room as you, but at home, when you’re doing this, it’s just… i can’t think about anything else.”

“you should do something about it then.”

spencer narrows his eyes, looking at you questioningly. it’s at this moment when all signs of your boldness dissipate into the air, and you swallow hard.

“maybe… maybe it isn’t necessarily a bad thing to be distracted. i mean what if it’s just mentally torturing you because you’re not doing anything about it?” 

for a moment, spencer seems deep in thought, like he’s contemplating every implication, every untold possibility embedded in your proposal. but he doesn’t deliberate for long, because he lifts you by the back of your knees and sets you on your feet again, further away from his desk. he then gestures at the door.

you stand crestfallen, like you’ve just been deeply humbled, unable to move or react. but when he simply reverts his attention back to his sheet of code, you know that he’s making it clear he doesn’t want to entertain your thoughts any longer.

“fine,” you mutter at last, angrily walking out the door without exchanging another look.

you’re lying in spencer’s bed when you hear the knock at the bedroom door, and before you can say anything, your boyfriend walks in.

“i just finished. are you-”

you lie still, tears welling in your eyes as you refuse to acknowledge his presence. 

maybe if you play pretend and make him think you’re asleep, he’ll leave you alone. you suppose then he’ll occupy himself with even more work.

you hear his footsteps thud louder as he approaches you. when he stops, you can practically feel him, standing just a few inches from your face. 

you then feel him stoop slightly and lower his fingers to comb through your hair. he sweeps your strands slowly, like applying any more force would harm you.

“i know you’re awake.” 

you don’t respond.

“hm. maybe not.”

you hear the sound of receding footsteps and when you think you’re safe, you open your eyes.

only to lock eyes with spencer. his mouth widens into a cheeky grin, and his soft hair falls over his eyes as he takes in your flushed expression.

“got you.”

“that is so unfair!” you pout, pushing your palms against the bed to sit up. you hug your knees to your chest and look down, trying to save yourself the embarrassment of showing him your reddening cheeks.

his chuckles fill the silence for a second before he clears his throat, and he slowly sinks into the bed beside you. the air suddenly feels ten times heavier, weighed down with the unresolved incident from earlier.

“i owe you an apology,” spencer starts as he inhales, “i couldn’t keep a simple promise and i just… i told you to leave.”

“you can save it, it doesn’t matter anymore,” you return, tears muddling your voice.

“yes, yes it does. i know that saying sorry doesn’t change what i did, and you have every right to be mad at me. i deserve it.”

you look up at him, and his broken expression immediately shatters your heart into fragments. you can’t really stay mad at him, at the man who saves lives without asking for anything in return. he’s never held a single malicious thought towards anyone; he’s pure kindness personified.

you just wish he could feel at peace with you and not constantly worry about work.

you lower your head against his chest and listen to the soft palpitations of his heart, while he wraps an arm around you. 

“you can choose not to accept my apology,” spencer utters with a plaintive voice, “but i’ll do everything to prove how sorry i am.”

“everything?” you ask, lifting your head and slowly standing back on your feet. you wrap your hand around his tie, looping one finger at a time, and he watches you with curious eyes.

you lightly tug at the fabric, urging him to stand, and walk backwards until your feet knock into the bathroom door. you fiddle with the wooden frame and when you find the knob, you step inside without breaking eye contact.

spencer raises his brows, a soft chuckle exiting his upturned lips as he closes the door behind him without looking back. “if you’ll let me, i can try.”

you clench your jaw, taking great interest in the way he eyes your lips. “show me,” you utter, your voice an alluring mix of sweet and spicy.

with one hand, he removes his tie, while with the other, he traces your lips and slides his thumb down to your chin.

“mm,” you hum and pull away from him teasingly. “you need to work harder than that.”

just then, his phone rings again, high-pitched beeps sounding from his pants pocket.

your expression falls when he holds the phone against his ear. but this time, he looks at you with a straight face when he speaks into the mic: “sorry jj, now’s not a good time.” 

your eyes immediately widen at his response, the same words that made you upset just a few hours earlier now filling you with irrepressible desire. 

spencer seems to reciprocate the urge, because he ends the call, tosses his phone to the side, and wraps his hands around your waist. without another moment of hesitation, your lips ram onto his with such force that everything meshes into a blur. his face, his hair, his clothes — his everything intertwines with yours. 

“i’m sorry,” he whispers as his palms slide under your shirt and massage your sides in circles.

it doesn’t take long for your back to bump against the slippery walls of the shower, for the water to tangle your hair around spencer’s fingers as he grips the back of your head. 

if you thought he was just going to plant a few kisses here and there, you were deeply mistaken. he works his tongue like a starved man, hungrily pushing past your teeth to leave his taste inside.

“i’m sorry,” he murmurs as you gasp for air and claw at his back from the heavenly sensation.

“i’m sorry,” he pants as his tongue falls onto the expanse of your neck, popping the soapy bubbles lathering your skin one by one. he peppers you with kisses wetter than the drops of water spraying you from the showerhead.

there’s nothing but the sounds of gushing water to drown out his whispers and your soft whimpers of his name.

[shunfahair]

The Secret to Getting a Natural-Looking Hairline for Thin Skin Hair Systems

[cdragons]

No Hope - Robb Stark x Lady-in-Waiting!Reader

Summary: You ended it. It killed you to do so, but you had to do it. Soon, it won't matter anyway - you were set to travel with Lord Stark and Lady Sansa as her lady-in-waiting to King's Landing. It's not as if you two will ever meet again. How wrong you were...

Warning(s): Hard Dom Robb, OC is cold, Robb is dark AND delulu, Canon divergence, hard smut, slight BDSM, KIng's Landing criminal justice system, etc.

Note: HAPPY BIRTHDAY DIPPY!!! I know I'm three days late, and I swear I meant to finish this on your actual birthday, but I ended up overwriting, and then I had to be at the DMV for about 7 hours and then had to pack up my house yesterday 🫠. ANYWAY, thank you so much for being such an amazing friend! It really has been such an honor to see how much you, your writing, and your blog have grown! Here's to another year of friendship and great writing!

The siege against King’s Landing was a success, resulting in an overwhelming victory for Stannis’ campaign as the new King of the Seven Kingdoms.

House Lannister, despite the arrival of reinforcements from House Tyrell, led by Ser Loras, was no more. While it was a clever ruse on House Tyrell’s part, neither house would have expected men from the Riverlands to join Stannis in his fight, resulting in an overwhelming victory. As a result, the futures of two of the ancient Seven Great Houses of Westeros now rest in the hands of a new ruler—King Stannis of House Baratheon, a figure whose emergence will undoubtedly shape the course of Westeros.

Despite being a wheelhouse dozens of miles away from King’s Landing at this point, the shouts and cheers of Stannis’ men rang clear in your ears. Inside were three young women transported to the Westerlands—to Robb Stark, the Young Wolf and King of the newly independent North.

The thought of seeing him again after the way the two of you left things off made the ride all the more unpleasant.

You remained silent and softly stroked your lady’s head as she rested her head on your lap. Tried as she could to stay lucid and awake, but it seemed that the stress and terror from being trapped as King Joffery’s former betrothed before being sold to his dwarf of an uncle had taken its toll. As she slept, you took in her features and noted the changes from the child you knew in Winterfell to the young woman trapped in King’s Landing. Her gorgeous red Tully hair lost some of its splendorous luster, appearing more matted and unkempt than you had ever seen it after years of being in Lady Sansa’s lady-in-waiting. Despite being in the South for over a year, her ivory skin seemed to pale until it was translucent. While the court believed her pale fairness to result from her Northern birth, only you and Shay knew that it was from Sansa’s inability to stomach more than a few meager bites off her plate during her mealtimes.

“The circles under her eyes have darkened further,” you thought as Sansa gripped your skirt – tightly clenching her fist as if she were a small child still terrified of the dark. “She’s grown too thin – she’s barely improved since I’ve returned by her side.”

It terrified you when Shae, who took your place as her handmaiden, informed you that her mood had improved tremendously since Lord Tyrion’s success in releasing you as a wedding gift to his new wife. Knowing that Sansa, to which your previous liege lord entrusted her care to you, was in such a state for months broke your heart. The bright and cheerful smiles you adored had become so rare since you returned to her side. But you hoped that due to recent events, your red-haired wolf would soon smile as brightly with all the more radiance as she did as a child.

“Do you think Lord Tyrion will be alright?”

You looked up to see Shae sitting across from you on the other side of the carriage. Her expression, while usually impassive and unreadable, was fraught with unease about the uncertainty of the future—hers and her lover’s.

“Stannis Baratheon is not one who shows mercy,” you answered truthfully. “It is likely that he will face the same fate as his nephew, as well as his sister and father.”

Perhaps your tone was too blunt, judging by the slight flinch Shay gave when you referred to Joffery Lannister. But, it would not help anyone, much less her, if you spoke anything less than the truth – that was what Ned Stark taught you since you were a child, and it was by that faith you would remain steadfast no matter what. She deserved nothing less than the truth; it was what you owed her. After all, from what Sansa spoke to you, she helped protect her however she could when you were not by her side.

And for that, you were most grateful.

“However,” you continued, “perhaps Lord Varys will vouch for him. The Master of Whispers holds Lord Tyrion in high regard, and out of all his family, your lover is admittedly the best of them. If nothing else, maybe he’ll pledge loyalty to Stannis and convince Tommen to do the same.”

 She grew flustered, “He is not…we are not–”

“You will not find judgment from me,” you assured her with a bitter chuckle. You looked down at Sansa, her sleeping figure sparking a twinge of guilt in your heart. “Believe me, I am the last one to preach about the sins of an affair between a lord and his servant.”

It was a joyful reunion between mother and child. Before the wheelhouse fully stopped, Sansa flung open the doors and leaped out, racing into her mother's arms. Lady Stark was just as eager to hold her daughter – forgetting all forms of propriety and etiquette when she picked up her skirts to run. Both were a mess of wide smiles and joyful tears, and you don’t believe you’ve ever seen Lady Stark act so young. Seeing the two embrace – one who lost a husband and two sons and the other who lost a father and two brothers –made for such a beautiful scene that it made you weep in relief.

“I did it, my lord,” you silently prayed out, “I’ve kept my promise.”

You swore you felt your liege's gratitude by the gentle breeze that blew through the field. But unfortunately, the joy you felt would only further load the weight of the shackles of your guilt and self-loathing that refused to release you. Even if someone as good and honorable as Ned Stark could find it in his heart to forgive you – you couldn’t help but feel you don’t deserve his forgiveness.

…No…you knew you didn’t deserve it, and knowing that made the shackles heavier than you’ve ever felt.

Sansa was absent since Lady Catelyn insisted that her daughter remain by her side for the night. Shae accompanied her, and you remained alone as you lay on the cot set for you. A squire announced himself before entering the tent the men had set up for you and Shae. He called out your name and informed you that you were expected to wait in His Grace’s tent.

“His Grace requested a moment with you,” he explained, “he wishes to thank you for your service and loyalty to Princess Sansa.”

“Well, you can tell ‘His Grace’ that he can thank me here,” you scoffed. “Because I’m not fucking moving.”

You dismissed the young man without a second thought. Seriously? Did he genuinely expect you to come so quickly to him? Honestly, the nerve of that man.

It was not long before the squire returned.

“H-his Grace insists that you meet him,” he stammered.

The poor boy looked terrified, like a little puppy caught by its master for doing something it wasn’t supposed to. Seeing his discomfort was almost adorable – it nearly made you smile.

“And I insist that he let me rest,” you raised your brow and cocked your head to the side. “Or is he, in fact, ordering me to meet him? Ahh, and after such a long journey – honestly, he acts so spoiled sometimes, such a typical highborn born with everything.”

“Please, my lady,” he pleaded.

You impassively stared at the poor fellow briefly. His cheeks were flushed bright red underneath the dirt and grime, and his eyes looked close to crying. Gods, Robb – what in the Seven Hells kind of tongue lashing did you give the poor boy? Surely, he wasn’t so desperate to see you, especially considering how the two of you left things off.

“Fine,” you sighed, “I suppose I could spare him a moment. But it won’t be before I’ve had a bath – I’ve already called for hot water; it won’t be long.”

“Oh, thank you, my lady,” he sighed in relief. “His Grace will be most grateful to see you once he is finished speaking with his council in the war tent.”

Fuckin’ son of a–

You swore you felt a vein on your forehead pop. Did that idiot really summon you to his tent while he was in a council meeting?

The walk from your tent to Robb’s was a battle in itself - your mind dreaded what your heart longed for.

You had just finished your bath and changed into a simple linen dress (plain but clean) when you decided you kept His Majesty waiting long enough (two hours, give or take). You were just about to enter when a particularly irritatingly slow clap stopped you in your tracks. There was only one person who could bring out your ire in such a short amount of time. You turned around to see Theon Greyjoy – standing and smirking like the arrogant bitch you fought and played with since you were just a girl.

“Well, aren’t you a vision?” he smirked. “Makes you wonder how the men of King’s Landing kept their hands to themselves when they saw you.”

“Wouldn’t know,” you wryly replied, “after all, I spent most of my time there in a dark, damp cell. I barely had enough food and water to survive, let alone to be a vision.”

Although Theon still joked and teased like he always had, you could see the war had taken its toll on him. He grew thinner. His body had lost weight, and his muscles appeared leaner and more taut. His shaggy curls were more closely trimmed and no longer tickled his shoulders. But his eyes—how they looked so haunted and tired—made your heartbreak.

“He’s missed you,” he whispered. There was no need to state a name – you both knew who he was referring to.

“He got married,” you replied while looking away. To a Frey, no less.

“She's dead, and he never loved her.”

“That makes it better?”

“It does when you were the one who broke his heart,” he retorted.

You sharply turned back, “That is not–”

Light poured out of the tent behind you as the front flap opened. You heard your name being called out in that tone that always made your knees buckle—revering and filled with longing with an undertone of authority. It beckoned you to look at him, and when you did, you swore you felt your heart leap into your throat by him.

“You’re late,” he grunted.

Robb Stark, with his crystalline blue eyes not once looking away from you, shifted to the side and let you in. His gaze moved to Theon and narrowed when he noticed the lack of distance between the two of you. Saying nothing, you silently bowed your head before heading inside the warm tent. However, you remained close enough to hear the brief exchange between the Greyjoy and Stark. But after being away from Robb for so long, you couldn’t focus on any words between the two men.

Taking a deep breath, your body tingled as you took the familiar notes of fine leather and freshly burned smoke. You glanced at his bed and longed to lie in its furs without the hindrance of clothes. Your mouth watered at the idea of wrapping yourself in them. The idea of pressing your nose against the furs made your center throb and grow wet, as the idea of the scent of his hot sweat mixed with his musk trapped in those hides was almost too much to bear.

You were so lost in your thoughts that you nearly missed Robb calling out your name. You responded by regaining your composure as quickly as possible so as not to betray any lustful thoughts swimming in your mind.

“What did you and Theon talk about?” he bluntly asked, standing impassively as you remained silent.

“Was the journey smooth?” he tried again. Nothing.

“I hope my men–”

“Idle prattle doesn’t suit you,” you tiredly sighed. “Just tell me whatever you waited so long for, and then I can return to my tent and finally rest.”

Robb clenched his fists and stared at the ground. How cruel, how unfair – one word from you, just hearing your voice, struck every word on his tongue dead. War made him lax. He, of all people, should know how you could drive good men to insanity.

Yes – it felt like he was going mad.

He looked up from the ground and wanted to weep. There you stood – looking as beautiful as a fresh layer of snow and just as cold. It took everything in him not to reach out and pull you close. He wanted to feel your body close to his, to revel in the softness of your hidden warmth. He wanted to go back to Winterfell – to simpler times with his father and brothers alive and laughing, to when Jon was by his side and his brother and best friend, and to when you would look at him like he was your world.

How you used to look at him – how he still looked at you.

Robb tried to start a conversation to loosen the tense atmosphere, but it was clear you weren’t having it. You even cut him off on his third attempt. Your voice was so cold that it burned him like ice. He wasn’t even sure if you were looking at him or just at a corner of the tent so you could maintain that cold, domineering façade you had perfected since childhood. It was obvious to him that you were trying to goad him into losing his temper – giving you the perfect excuse to leave and ignore him again.

Why else had you sent his squire back to him after he requested your presence to wait for him at his tent? Furthermore, why else did you make him wait two hours for your bath?

“I wish to thank you for your loyalty towards my sister during her time as the Lannisters’ hostage,” Robb calmly said, keeping his voice steady but firm. “You acted bravely.”

“No,” you shook your head. “I acted as anyone else would have in my position. My loyalty to your sister and family is not something to be admired or coveted.”

“That’s not true,” Robb argued. “Your loyalty to my family is nothing short of admirable. It’s only right that–”

“Robb.”

It was infuriating how regal you looked, carrying the air of a queen.

“My loyalty will always belong to House Stark, that’s true – but,” you stared deep into his gaze, “all I cared about in that damp, rotting cell, where I was given barely enough water and food to survive, was whether my lady was well.”

Please stop it.

“I didn’t endure because my lady was a Stark,” you continued, “I endured because it was Sansa.”

He couldn’t bear it any longer.

“Is it only for Sansa that you’ve suffered?” he rasped in anger.

This wasn’t good; he just got you back. If he doesn’t properly utilize this chance, you’ll be gone from him forever. He knew you’d never leave Sansa’s side. Your loyalty to her, even when she still acted like the spoiled little princess of the North, drew him to you. As the eldest daughter, Sansa was the one closest to their mother. However, as the second eldest child, it also meant that she had to understand she could not always have their parents’ attention. Before Jeyne Poole, before Septa Mordane – you were Sansa’s first and constant companion. You were someone whose loyalty ran deep and remained unwavering in the worst times.

He collected himself enough to apologize for his outburst when your voice returned – regal and imposing, cold and distant.

“Not just Sansa,” you stated. “…I also made a promise to Lord Stark.”

Something in him snapped. Robb considered himself a good man, an honorable man. One whose father instilled lessons of honor and duty in him since he was old enough to walk. A father who he missed, whose absence was painful. But hearing you speak of him, of his father, it was like a bucket of ice water was poured over him, and it awoke a bitter memory he had long forgotten.

“Is it true?” Robb demanded unannounced after storming into his father’s private study. His father sat at his desk, appearing as tired and weary as the day of his departure from home to the vicious South treads closer with each passing day. Ned set down his quill and sighed deeply. He knew it would not be long before Robb would come in to demand an explanation. He supposed that, as his boy’s father, he owed his eldest son that much… if for not his own sake, then for the sake of closure. “…What may you be referring to, Robb?” he asked, despite already knowing what this was about. Robb furiously shook his head, “Do not pretend with me, Father. Did you or did you not plant the idea of a future engagement between her and me as treason against you?” “…Before I answer that,” Ned began carefully, not wanting to upset his son further, “am I to understand that when you mean ‘her,’ you are referring to a particular lady-in-waiting favored by your sister?” It frightened Ned how quickly Robb’s anger was snuffed out. He whispered your name with reverence and veneration fit for the Maiden. But just as soon as his heir’s fury went away, it came back at a speed and quantity tenfold. Ned could see it in his eyes. Robb may have inherited his Tully mother’s eyes, but the cold storm raging in them could only belong to one whose blood belongs to the Old Gods of the North. “Sansa requested her to accompany us while she learns to be Prince Joffrey's future queen,” Ned explained. “Robb… your sisters need people they can trust – now more than ever with Bran’s accident.” “And she’s agreed to this?” Robb interrogated. “You expect me to believe that?” “Yes,” Ned solemnly nodded, “because it was brought up to me by her…”

Robb didn’t believe it then, and he still didn’t believe it now. He refused to entertain the idea of you, of all people, who would propose to his father that you leave him. You, who Robb loved with a love more fervent and true than any fanciful tale sung by the bards in Southern courts. You, who listened to all of Robb’s deepest fears and worries since you and him were still small children. You, who whispered promises of love and devotion to Robb night after night since he first warmed your bed.

You, who cried tears of joy when he secretly proposed to you underneath the blood-red leaves and snow-painted branches of the weirwood tree, swearing his love to you before the Old Gods and New.

…No…no, no, no—it wasn’t true. It couldn’t be…but what other explanation was left?

“Robb…?” your voice gently called out to him. “If that’s all you wish to say to me… then I must be heading back to my–”

He walked forward and tightly grasped your arms, making you unable to escape. Robb felt your feeble attempts to pry his fingers off with your delicate hands. But it was to no avail.

“Why…?” Robb rasped, letting out all the pain and longing he had been keeping locked inside since you dissolved you and his affair. “Why did you leave? …Why did you leave me?”

“Damn you,” you thought. “Damn you, Robb Stark.”

It was pathetic… how easily this man broke down your walls. One word… one word from him was enough to make you want to surrender everything.  

“I…I-I… only did what I thought was best,” you stammered. “For us…and for you…”

Robb scoffed because why wouldn’t he?

“For me…?” he rhetorically repeated. “Leaving me – no, abandoning me… that was for my benefit? Do you really expect me to believe that?”

You shook your head, “Belief is secondary to truth,” you explained. “And I am telling you the truth. I’ve never lied to you.”

“Right, of course – that’s why you ran off to King’s Landing with my sister,” Robb raged. “Yes, certainly that for my well-being. You, being paraded and courted by knights and nobles with their pretty words and fine silks – what a relief to know that you endured all that for me…”

Oh, this son of a – gods, how could one man be so beautiful, yet so infuriating?!

“Did you ever love me?” he asked, his voice a little rough from choking back tears. “Was it ever real? Any of it? Or was it all a lie?”

“I believe I told you I was expected to wake your sister for her early celebration…” you looked out the window, “…right now…? It would seem…?” It was the morning of Sansa’s eleventh birthday. Lady Stark planned to surprise her daughter with a splendid spread of leek pottage, freshly baked bread, slices of smoked meat, and a cup of sweet Dornish wine. She entrusted the duty of waking the little princess of the day to you, Sansa’s most entrusted companion. It was expected that you would take the role. After all, everyone in the castle knew what an absolute nightmare Lord Stark’s eldest daughter was in the early mornings. …But…it would seem that Lord Stark’s eldest son and heir did not understand the gravity of your role today…considering he remained insistent that you spend your morning with him… in his bed… without any clothes on your person. While usually, you’d be much more cross at his insistence… you couldn’t deny how delicious it felt waking up in his arms after a night of gloriously intense lovemaking. And the way he further convinced you by tracing feather-light kisses down your neck and collarbone was downright sinful. “I believe…” he momentarily nuzzles his nose into the crook of your neck, causing you to softly shriek and giggle. “…I told you never to speak of my sister or any member of my family while in bed with me.” His lips trailed further down to the valley of your breasts. “Stay here…with me…and let’s forget the world this morning.” Gods, it’d be so easy to give in …to remain hidden from the world within the arms of your beloved…but life was hardly so easy. “You know I – can’t…!” you sharply gasped at the feel of his lips around your teat. You pitifully whined his name. “Robb, please…” “Shhh—careful, my love,” he huskily whispered, “unless you want all of Winterfell to know how even one of its coldest women is powerless against her wolf…” You held his chin to press a soft kiss against his lips. Gazing into his deep pools of sapphire, you knew this was the only man you could ever give your heart to. “My wolf…” you corrected, “and only mine…” “Yours…” Robb agreed as the two of you got lost in each other all over again.

Instinct and fury blinded rationality and composure as a sharp crack rang within the tent as your palm made contact with Robb’s cheek. Hot tears spilled from your eyes as the wet trails streamed down your cheeks.

“Fuck you, Robb…” you grit out.

Did he not think you haven’t craved him and his love as much, if not more, since your separation? Was he so obtusely… thick in the skull to think that you hadn’t cursed yourself for plunging you both into the cruel depths of a life without the other? Had he not realized that what saved you from falling into despair… from the moment you were thrown into the Red Keep’s dungeons… was your sweet memories of him?

You angrily swiped away your tears on the back of your hand before shoving him aside so you could make your way out of the tent. You couldn’t stand to be so close to him, not anymore, not when it cut you so deeply.

What was the point? Of being so close to one when they cannot have the other?

But it seemed your king did not agree with your sentiments as he grabbed your wrist and pulled you back toward him. Your chest collided against his, and you felt the hard planes of his muscles and wanted to sink to your knees while stripping him of all barriers that blocked his glorious body.

Robb growled as he felt the tremulous rhythm of your beating heart, effectively giving away all your true feelings and desires toward him – the same he felt to you.

“You’re a cruel woman…” he growled as he forced you to look into his deep, blue eyes by holding your chin, “but you’re my woman.”

Without another word, he seized you by the arm and threw you onto his bed. He tore off his tunic before gripping your ankles with both hands and forcing them wide open before he forcefully pulled your body to the end of the bed. Not wasting another moment, he clutched the neckline of your nightdress and tore it open, leaving you exposed and defenseless against him. You felt the peaks of your breasts harden against the cold air and tried to cover them with your arms, but Robb slapped your hands away and pinned your hands above your head.

“And I’ll make sure you learn your place by the time I’m done with you…”

Time meant nothing inside that tent. The only things that mattered were Robb Stark, young King of the North and recently widowed, and you, his precious whore he loved so dearly. It could have been an hour, it could have been five –you couldn’t tell. All you knew was that your former lover was currently cementing his claim on you as his bitch-in-heat by making you cum twice with his fingers and thrice more from his cock.

“You *huff* …really…expe- fuck…!” The sound of skin slapping against skin filled the air, interrupted by the squelch of your juices mixed with his as he moved in and out of you. He loudly groaned when he felt your walls clamp down on his still-hard shaft. “Fuck – how are you still so fucking tight…?”

You didn’t answer him; you couldn’t – at least not with words. Each of Robb’s thrusts hit that spot inside you that made you lose all sense of logic and rational thought. All you could offer was broken garbles and moans of your ecstasy as your insatiable wolf continued to feast on your pleasure. And this only seemed to further incense Robb into driving himself deeper inside you, as if he had not already caused you to peak three times since he first pushed into you. Your vision became blurry as your eyes crossed, but he brought you back by delivering a hard slap against your bottom, the stinging pain quickly shifting to ebbing pleasure.

“Well?” he tauntingly jeered, thoroughly enjoying your sharp tongue could only be quieted by him fucking you dumb. “I expect an answer…!”

“Ah-ah-ah – FUCK…!” you cried out after he delivered another harsh slap on your bottom’s other cheek, making you sharply gasp and continue to slather your drool and tears into his bed’s furs. “I don’t know…!”

Robb cruelly smirked, “Don’t know…?” He grabbed the front of your neck and pulled you until your sensitive back was pressed flush against his hard chest. “Don’t lie to me… you know… don’t pretend that you don’t – but do you want me to tell anyway?”

Fervently nodding, you felt him grin as his hot breath panted against your neck, causing goosebumps to prick across your skin covered in bite marks.

“It’s because…” Robb quickened his pace from rough to erratic as your mind nearly blanks from feeling more and more of him hitting the entrance to your womb, “we both know that cunt belonging to such a cold whore like yourself…could only be thawed with cock like mine and only mine.”

The war changed him. The Robb you knew and loved would never dream of speaking to you in such a filthy and vulgar manner. Before, your Robb always made love to you sweetly with the gentlest touches, and as far as you could tell and feel, he was gone. In his place was a wolf with a voracious appetite who could only seem satisfied with your humiliation from his rough squeezes and unforgiving pace. The evidence was plain to see by how he littered your body with purple love bites down your neck, red bite marks over your breasts and inner thighs, and deep indents of his nails from gripping your hips too hard and too long.

And the worst part of it? You loved it. Every bit of his ministrations was a piece of heaven. If this were torture, then you would only crave pain for the rest of your existence. Everything hurts so good, from the way his thick, throbbing cock stretches your walls to the way his rough, calloused hands manhandle your body with his bruising grip. You weren’t sure if there was anything left of you that Robb didn’t already possess. Your eyes glazed over the veins in his arms bulge as you barely register the rasped grunts and growls leaving his lips. If you looked down, you were sure to see the outline of his cock bulging from inside you as he continued to split you open.

He stilled for a moment and whispered in your ear as you cried out your frustration and begged him not to stop.

“I’m going to cum in you,” he rasped with perverse glee, “and afterward, I’m going to make sure my seed takes root in your womb.” He pushed your face down to the furs and forced your hips to meet his thrusts without mercy. “You tried to… escape your fate by leaving. Well, *huff* let me tell you right now… that’s never going to happen – I’ll lock you… in the tallest tower in Winterfell and chain you to the bed if I have to…”

One of his hands left your hips and went below you as his fingers deftly sought out the sensitive bundle of nerves between your legs that was your clit. You tried to protest, not sure if your body could take even more pleasure, but all that came out was a warbled cry as he pressed down and circled your bud. The overstimulation was proving to be too much as your body started shaking. You felt a cord tightening more and more until it just *snapped*, and you screamed out your release as your entire body trembled.

Robb refused to let up his pace, and he continued to thrust in and out of you as you felt him stiffen and – gods, how did he get even bigger? Before he released his seed inside you, he bottomed out – making sure that there was nothing of him that was not inside your sopping cunt. Your vision went white as he let out a loud and powerful groan from his release, and you could feel his hot seed painting your inner walls with his essence.

His peak seemed to drain him of all his energy as he gathered you in his arms without pulling out and resolved himself to finally rest. His sweaty forehead rested against your shoulder as he panted. Between each labored breath, he planted a kiss across your shoulders – your body still twitching from the intensity it endured as you, too, tried to catch your breath.

All was silent until you found yourself speaking, “…There was no hope, was there…?”

Robb lifted his upper body on one arm to hover over you. You repeated your question, to which he gave you a relaxed smile and tucked a stray piece of hair stuck to your temple behind your ear.

“No, love…” he confirmed. “But you must have known that from the beginning…I would have never let you go.”

…How does one respond to that?

You tried to search for the answer in his eyes, but all you saw was love… love, and madness. It was always there inside him; you’ve known that from the beginning… only you were blinded by his beauty and your love for him. But your lord knew the truth; he saw that obsessive love from the start; after all, Robb was his son. He warned you, but you didn’t listen. It wasn’t until you saw him beat a poor knight bloody and broken on the ice-covered ground – all because you made the mistake of smiling at him.

That’s why you ended your secret engagement. You had hoped that time and distance would ebb away the insanity flowing in his blood, or perhaps he would find someone else and eventually forget you – whichever came first.

But that was a fool’s dream; you knew that now.

Wordlessly, you nodded, to which Robb gently pressed his lips to yours, just as he had back in Winterfell. With each second, you began to respond more and more to the kiss. You wrapped your arms over his neck as his lips trailed down your next again, and you felt your sore body humming for more despite its sensitivity. Your fingers gripped his unruly, dark auburn curls as a tear trailed your cheek.

Forgive me, my lord…I’ve failed.

But you know you were secretly glad of it. After all, how could you not be? Life was growing inside you at that very moment.

Tagging: @dipperscavern, @ethereal-athalia, @axelsagewrites, @rise-my-angel, @anewpersonthatexists, @sublimepenguinpeach-blog, @lenasdmns, @justmymindandstuff, @aoi-targaryen, @vyctorya, @metalblindbitch, @h34rts-4uu, @aphroditesmoon, @dreaming-for-an-escape, @sylasthegrim

[javiscigarette]

Push and Pull

Joel Miller x f!reader (no outbreak)

Summary: Joel just realllyyy likes your dress

Warnings: 18+ (minors DNI) no use of y/n, established relationship, dirty talk, oral sex (m & f receiving), fingering, unprotected sex, rough sex, choking, spitting, spanking, cum play, degradation (name calling), hair pulling, dom! Joel Sub! reader, descriptions of subspace, multiple orgasms, you know he talks you through it, straight up pure smut litcherally no plot

Word count: 6.3k

A/N: Might've gotten carried away with this, just needed to get it out of my system. I want to eat Joel Miller.

The sun is now fully set, the stars twinkling in the sky while the moon shines brightly. The air is still thick with heat but there’s a gentle breeze, cool against your hot skin.

The glasses of wine you had throughout the night were settling nicely into your body, relaxing your muscles and make your head feel light. You had been on your best host behavior, chatting with everyone while making sure they were happy with a full drink in their hand.

Joel eventually found you alone in the kitchen, popping lids off of beer bottles and refilling the snacks while everyone else mingled outside.

He looked absolutely delicious. The sleeves of his black t-shirt clinging to his biceps, his cargo shorts exposing his muscular legs that had your nearly salivating. His hair looked soft and fluffy; a few curls stuck to his forehead with sweat. You could see in the way his eyes were softer and that goofy lopsided grin looked permanently stuck to his face, letting you know that he was starting to feel the glasses of whiskey he had been steadily throwing back.

"Babydollll" Joel groans playfully, setting his glass on the counter as he approaches you before wrapping his arms around you from behind.

"This dress is fucking killing me" He whispers in your ear before he starts pressing wet, hot open-mouthed kisses on the column of your neck. His mustache tickles your skin and you can smell the liquor and the cigarettes (that he swears he only smokes when he drinks, even though you both know that’s a flat out lie) on his breath.  

Of course, it’s the dress that he picked out a couple of days ago while he took you shopping in town, telling you to get whatever you wanted. It stopped mid-thigh, your ass centimeters away from being exposed if you bent over too far. The back was open too with thin straps, exposing as much skin as possible while perfectly stretching over your curves. 

You don't protest when his hands started to roam your body, sliding up and down your torso, stopping randomly to grab at your skin all while pressing wet, hot open-mouthed kisses to your neck. In fact, doing anything other than melting under his touch was just not an option right now.

"Look so fucking sexy, trying to show everyone what they can't have, hmm?" Joel whispers against the bare skin of your shoulder, his hands coming up to cup your breasts for a few seconds before reaching in the top of your dress to pull both of them out.

"Joel!" you gasp, trying to squirm out of his grasp. Any second anyone from could come inside and round the corner to find you with your breasts exposed with Joel's hands around them.

Joel obviously doesn't let you go. Instead, he takes a step forward, pressing his hips against your ass until your trapped between him and the counter. You can feel his hard on press up against you, sending a pulse of electricity to your core.

"Isn't this what you wanted, sweetheart? Why else would you dress up like a slut if you don't want to act like one" Joel rasps.

You bite back a moan and throw your head back on his shoulder when he starts to pinch your nipples, rolling them gently between his thumb and index fingers.

"Yeah, I fucking knew it, baby. Such a fucking tease"

You can't deny how much you love when Joel is like this. Not too drunk that he can't control himself but drunk enough to let his walls down a little, to be riskier, to whisper absolutely filthy things in your ear before he takes complete control of you.

The moment only lasts for a few more seconds before it's interrupted by the sound of the back door opening followed by footsteps headed towards the kitchen.

Joel lets you go, taking a step away from you leaving you to frantically pull your dress back up to cover yourself. Tommy rounds the corner, immediately filling in Joel with a funny story about something that just happened outside. Tommy barely acknowledges you, too drunk to be polite right now. Your thankful that he’s completely oblivious to your reddened cheeks and flustered expression. You take a deep breath, trying to gather yourself, ignoring the way you can feel your slick already soaking your panties.

Joel takes two of the beers that you just opened and hands one to Tommy. They continue to chat as they walk out of the kitchen, Joel quickly turning to quickly eye you up and wink at you before turning the corner and heading back outside.

You let out a shaky sigh, half tempted to go upstairs and finish the job yourself. But you need to be a good host. You smooth your dress out, making sure everything is tucked in properly before you carry out the rest of the beers and the snacks. You make sure everyone is happy before you find Joel again, who's now sitting in a chair, talking with Tommy and a group of other men from work.

He catches sight of you, his eyes narrowing and a slight smirk creeping up on his face as you walk over to him. 

"Can I get you boys anything?" you ask sweetly, standing next to where Joel is sitting, resting a hand on his shoulder.

The men decline wanting anything else, happy with their glasses of whiskey and cold beers in their hands.

"We were just talking about how good of a host you are, sweetheart" Joel says with a knowing smirk, his eyes never leaving yours. He snakes a hand behind you before resting it just below the hem of your dress.

You blush, tingles radiating from where Joel's hand rests on your thigh to the rest of your body. Even the simplest of touches had your knees trembling.

"Can you get a smoke for me babydoll? The pack is on the table over there" Joel asks with a sly grin and a squeeze to the back of your thigh.

You glance over to the picnic table that's a couple of feet away, his cigarettes sitting on the far edge.

What a perfect opportunity to get him back for his little stunt in the kitchen.

You smile down at him before turning to saunter over to the picnic table, your hips swaying loosely with every step. You can practically feel Joel's eyes burning holes into your back.

You don't walk around to the other edge of the table. Instead, you rest a knee on the bench and lean over the table to reach the other side and grab the pack. You try your best to make sure that Joel gets a good view of how your dress rides up as you move. You know you succeeded when you hear him choke behind you, trying to cover it up with a cough when he catches a glimpse of your bare pussy. You hadn't had the chance to tell him that you had removed your soaked panties after he felt you up in the kitchen earlier, not bothering to put on a fresh pair.

With the pack and lighter in your hand, you stand up on both feet and turn around. Joel is staring straight at you, his eyes so dark and face stern that you’d be scared if you didn’t know exactly what you were doing. You fish a cigarette out of the pack, holding it up to your lips before lighting it and taking a drag. He doesn't take his eyes off you as he picks up his glass and finishes his whiskey in one gulp, watching as you return to his side.

"Here you go" you say with an innocent smile, handing him the lit cigarette.

Joel doesn't break his stare as he plucks the cigarette from between your fingers and places it between his lips. He takes one quick puff before standing up right in front of you. He wraps an arm around his waist and pulls you into his side.

"Well I'm just exhausted, think it's time for us to get ready for bed." Joel announces loud enough for almost everyone to hear.

Within 20 minutes, Joel is ushering the last guest out of the house, trying not to engage in anymore conversations while you bring in the dishes and empty beer bottles back into the kitchen.

Your skin is tingling with excitement, your heart pounding in your chest as you prepared to face whatever you ignited in Joel.

You hear the front door slam shut as your wiping down a countertop. You barely have time to turn around before he's towering over you, staring down at you with his blown, black eyes.

"It's only 10pm, Joel. You that tired?" You tease him, waggling an eyebrow at him.

"You think that's fucking funny, baby? Your cunt hanging out like a goddamn whore? Showin’ off to everyone what's fucking mine" Joel growls, his lips curling up into a snarl as he speaks. 

"Then maybe you shouldn't feel me up until I'm soaking and then leave me hanging like that" You quip. You know that you’re poking the bear, but you can’t help yourself. You want to press all of his buttons.  More darkness seeps into his eyes. You can see the tendons in his neck bulging out and the muscles in his jaw flexing as he grinds his teeth, chewing over the words you just said.

"Turn the fuck around"

You know what you're about to say is going to have Joel seeing a hundred different shades of red. But you can't help but push him, see how far he'll let you go.

"What, you're finally decided you want to touch me again? Y'know, I could've just asked Tommy after you left me in the kitchen like that. He would've been on his knees for me in a second. I know you see the way he looks at me. I bet he co-"

You can't get another syllable out, the force of Joel pushing you down by your shoulders until you’re kneeling in front of him knocks all the air out of your lungs.

"Such a fucking brat" Joel growls.

You're completely mesmerized watching Joel undo his belt and push down his pants and boxers down his thighs until his cock pops out, inches from your face. He's harder than ever, the veins running up his length prominent, his tip red and leaking. You try to lean up to lick him but he's quicker than you. He sees what you're trying to do and immediately has a hand tangled in your hair, holding you in place.

"You wear that fucking dress, your leaking cunt hanging out in front of all of our friends and somehow this is my fault?" Joel seethes.

You press your lips together, suppressing a whimper at his words. You have him right where you want him. You know that he's about to punish you in the best way for talking to him like this before fucking you completely dumb on his cock. But you want him as worked up as possible, it’s always better the angrier he gets.

"No words now, sweetheart?" Joel coos, his tone sickeningly sweet laced with a bite of anger. He brings his other hand down your mouth, his thumb hooking on your bottom lip and pulling your jaw open.

"M'gonna wreck this fucking bratty mouth, sugar. Shut you up with my cock."

That's all the warning you get before Joel is shoving himself inside your mouth. Your eyes wide with shock meet his, but he doesn't let up at all. Instead, he shoves himself deeper down your throat as you gag around him, his hand in your hair holding you still right where he wants you. Once he's 3/4 of the way in your throat, he yanks your hair forward, forcing your mouth down the rest of his length.

You can't stop gagging around him, spit already seeping out the corners of your mouth as your lips stretch around him. He doesn't give you any time to get acclimated to his length before he's pulling his hips back until he's halfway out before slamming all the way back in. He sets a brutal pace from the beginning, knowing that if you tapped his thigh at any moment he'd immediately pull out and wrap you up in a blanket, snuggling with you for the rest of the night.

But you never tap.

"This what you wanted? Needy little brat needed my cock down her throat, huh?" Joel grunts, his hips quickly building up speed.

You let out a whine, the sound muffled, and he huffs at the feeling of the vibrations around his cock. You're so turned on right now, Joel's dominance breaking open the floodgates. You can feel your core pulse and clench around air, your slick slowly starting to drip down your thighs.

Joel's pace is fast and steady now, pulling out of your throat before snapping his hips forward again until your lips are pressed against the trimmed hair at his base. His huffs and grunts as he mercilessly fucks your mouth is making your core burn, even as tears leak out of corners your eyes. It drives you absolutely wild.

He suddenly tugs on your hair, cuing you to look up at him.

"Keep your eyes open when I give you this cock"

You moan around his length, his words going straight to your throbbing cunt. You knit your brows together, eyes glassy as you look up at him.

"Already lookin' ruined, baby and I haven't even touched you yet" Joel grunts. Your eyelashes flutter as you fight the urge to squeeze your eyes shut.

Joel pulls back, his cock falling out of your mouth with a string of saliva connecting the tip to your bottom lip. He wraps a fist around himself and drags his wet tip across your puffy bottom lip. You poke your tongue out at he does so, trying desperately to taste more of him. It makes him chuckle with delight.

"You wanted this all along, didn't you, baby? Actin’ like a slut just so I’d be rough with you" Joel asks as his other hand moves from your hair to cup your jaw.

You don't have the chance to answer, Joel too quick to lightly slap his cock against your cheek. A quick nod is all you're able to give him before he's using the hand on your jaw to tilt up towards him. He replaces his tip with his thumb, sliding over your slick lower lip.

"Open" he demands simply.

You open your mouth obediently, sticking your tongue out with a small whine. He stares at you with dark eyes as he leans over, letting his spit drip from his mouth into yours. The warm liquid falls on your tongue and your quick to suck it back into your mouth, not wanting to waste a single drop. He doesn't even have to say anything before you swallow and then open your mouth to show him.

"That's my good girl" Joel praises.

He moves at lightning speed, straightening back up and then shoving himself back in your mouth, immediately choking you on his length. He lets out a sigh and a whispered curse, his head falling back when he feels the heat of your wet mouth wrapped around him once again.

He leans down slightly, the angle making his cock slid deeper down your throat as he wraps a hand around your throat. He thrusts down your throat a few more times occasionally stopping when he's buried deep, feeling his tip bulge out against the palm he has wrapped around your throat.

"Fuck, babydoll. Take me so well, this mouth was made for me to fuck" Joel moans.

He gives a few final thrusts, going as deep as he possibly can before he's pulling out. You cough and gasp as you try to catch your breath. You can feel the tears staining your cheeks and you know your mascara is probably running down your cheeks right now, but you don't care. You know Joel loves to see how much he ruins you.

You watch as he lazily fists himself inches away from your face, his hand falling into an easy rhythm of sliding up and down, your spit making the glide effortless.

"Stand up."

You scramble to follow his instructions. You're already too fucked out to disobey him, his dominance easily sending you into submission. You manage to stand up, even though your knees are tight from sitting on them for so long, Joel's eyes glued to you and his hand steadily stroking his cock as you move.

You're barely on your feet before he grips your hip with his free hand and spins you around, bending you over until your cheek is pressed against the cool marble countertop.

"Such a fucking slut, baby" Joel grunts just above a whisper as he pushes your dress up your waist, leaving your ass exposed all for him.

You hear him moving behind you and you pick your head up a little to glance over your shoulder. You turn just in time to see Joel kicking off his pants before settling on his knees behind you.

A string of soft moans tumble past your lips, the heat of your breath fogging up the cold countertop as you feel Joel's hands palm your ass before spreading your cheeks. His thumbs slide to your folds, pulling them slightly open until your leaking hole is on full display for him. You gasp when you feel the cool air hit your burning core and then again when he exhales a hot breath, inches away from your aching cunt.

"So fucking wet, baby. Is this pretty pussy dripping for Tommy, sweetheart?"

His words cause a fresh gush of slick to drip from your core. He obviously notices and you can feel the hot breath of his chuckle against your exposed, soaked folds.

"N-no Joel, it's only for you. Only ever for you." You whine.

Joel lands a heavy smack to your cheek; the sound mixing with your loud cry and echoes out through the otherwise silent house.

"Use your fucking manners when you're talking to me" Joel growls.

It takes you a few seconds to fully understand his command, your brain already turning to goo in skull.

"Sir, fuck, sir, it's for you sir. I'm only yours, sir"

"That's fucking right" Joel grunts before diving into your aching cunt.

A loud moan rips through you as he immediately starts eating you out like a starved man at a buffet. You feel his tongue everywhere, swirling around your clit before tracing up and down your slit, darting into your dripping hole before coming up to your clit again.

Your knees go weak, your weight almost entirely supported by the counter underneath you. Joel is quick to wrap his lips around your clit, sucking harshly making you sob as hot electricity pulses through your veins.

"Fuck Joel, feels so fucking good" you cry out the white-hot ball of pleasure rapidly growing in your lower stomach.

He suddenly pulls away from you. You cry at the loss of his tongue, but it's cut off by your gasp as he delivers two harsh smacks to your ass.

"Use your fucking manners" Joel nearly shouts as he connects his palm to your ass again. "Not gonna tell you again"

You can't think straight, your brain five seconds behind everything that's happening to you.

"Sir!" You cry "Feels so good, sir"

Joel hums in approval before latching his mouth back on you again. Your eyes roll into the back of your skull when you feel two of his thick fingers notch at your hole before pushing inside.

Stars dance behind your eyelids and cunt clenches tightly around his fingers as they press right up against your g-spot. You're falling apart so easily, the tension that built up over the course of the night suddenly hitting you at full strength.

"That’s it, baby. Take what I give you" Joel whispers before taking your clit between his lips once again. You nearly scream at the sensation, your hands clawing at the countertop trying to get a grip on the slick surface. He keeps up a rhythm that has your chest burning with how hard you're breathing. You try to fight the urge to push your hips back into his face, but you can't help it when you feel his tongue move from your clit to circle around his fingers where he's stretching you open. He knows exactly how to bring you close to edge as fast as possible.

But he also knows how quickly he take it away.

The sensation is gone as soon as it came, Joel pulling away from you leaving you breathless and clenching around nothing.

"Such a greedy cunt, you just can't help be bad, huh baby?" Joel coos.

You look over your shoulder at him to see him fisting himself again. You meet his gaze and he's looking at you with one eyebrow cocked, giving you a warning to use your words.

"Fuck  yes, sir. Need you always, I'll take anything you give me, sir" You moan, all of your inhibition flying out of the window.

Joel doesn't say anything as he smooths a hand up your spine until it reaches your cheek, gently pressing your cheek into the countertop while keeping you in place. You can't see him anymore, his hand preventing you from moving your head even an inch. But you do feel his tip notch at your aching entrance for just a moment before he slams his hips into yours, immediately stuffing you to the brim. 

"That's right, baby. You take what I give you and you don't fucking complain, hm?"

He starts fucking into you with full strokes, pulling almost all the way out before filling you back up in one movement, his tip nudging against your cervix.

You cry out against the counter as he falls into a fast pace, once again not giving you any time to adjust to his size. Your wet enough doesn’t necessarily hurt, but your walls are tingling with a dull ache as you slowly adjust to his massive girth inside of you. But you don’t dare to say anything knowing that this is part of your punishment.  

You swear you can feel him in your throat each time he presses into you, stuffing you impossibly full. You can't catch your breath, Joel knocking the air out of your lungs with each thrust. 

"S-so big and f-fast, sir I can't t-"

"Yes, you can, baby." Joel cuts you off "I know you can. You know this cunt was made for me so take your punishment like a good girl” Joel grunt, not slowing down for one second.

Your eyes roll back into your skull with a whimper as he repeatedly slams into you. All you can do is lay there, taking what he gives you. You know you can safe word out of it any second you want and he would stop instantly, but you can't think of anything worse than him stopping right now.

The dull ache of your stretched walls slowly morphs into pleasure, ecstasy steadily seeping into your bones and muscles. You're so drunk on his cock you can barely open your eyes and your mouth is hung open letting out a never-ending string of loud moans. The hot pool of pleasure in your stomach is growing quickly, but you try to suppress it, knowing that Joel isn't anywhere near to letting you cum. Your legs are trembling, your whole body jell-o as he slams into your g-spot over and over and over again.

You're both fully aware that he's steadily pushing you into the delicate headspace where your thoughts and sensations disappear as pleasure consumes you completely. The first time you slipped was after a long night of spanking and teasing and Joel fucking you senseless after you had been particularly bratty all day. He was genuinely terrified when you went limp under him, unable to say anything with tears steadily streaming down your face. He had stopped immediately and held you close to him until you came back to Earth and explained how he broke you in the best way. After that, it was a lot of trial and error, a lot of close supervision and reassurance check ins until you two fell into a comfortable routine.

He’s now completely comfortable pushing you all the way and that's exactly what he does. The tension of him choking you on his cock, quickly followed by him eating you out for a few moments before slamming into you while talking you through it the whole time was making your head spin.

Joel notices how your moans start to sound wet quickly followed by hot tears or pure pleasure wetting his palm. The tears scared him the most at first, but after you explained that they were more of a release of intense emotion and pleasure building up as he fucked you so well, he started to gradually feel more comfortable seeing you cry.

He moves his hand off your face and leans over, pressing his chest into your back. He slows his pace down considerably but doesn't stop.

"You're doing so well, angel." Joel praises. His tone is sweeter and gentler as he checks in with you "You doin okay?"

You nod lazily, your whole body shaking under him as tears flow freely down your face.

"Yes, sir. Safe word is m-mango" you choke out, already anticipating what he was about to ask "I don't want to use it, s-sir, please keep going"

Joel's heart swells and his cock simultaneously twitches inside of you, listening to you being so good for him, telling him that you're okay and begging for more, all with hot tears of pleasure falling down your face.

"Good girl" Joel whispers into your jaw. He presses a soft kiss behind your ear before standing up again, grasping your hips with both of his hands.

"Such a good fuckin’ girl" Joel huffs as he starts to quickly build back up to his original pace.

You barely register the slaps that Joel lands on your ass before he's slamming his hips at that devastating pace. Your body feels so light that you swear you would float away if Joel wasn't holding you down. Waves of pleasure washed over you, pulling you under like a riptide and holding you down until your mind goes blank of everything except for JoelJoelJoel. The world around you starts to fade away, your grip on reality withering away until it’s just you and Joel.

You swear you feel your soul leaving your body as you slip into a space of pure tranquility mixed with immense pleasure. It feels warm and comforting and incredibly safe. You're so pliant under his touch fully trusting him to take care of you. It's like you're offering your entire life to him on a silver platter.

You can hear him saying things to you, but your brain isn't working to make sense of the words, your mind too focused on his touch and the numbing pleasure of him pounding right into your g-spot. Your mouth is hanging open, smushed against the countertop, loud moans and the occasional sob tumbling past your lips as you start to drool on the marble.

Joel's watching you carefully, making sure that you don't slip too far under. His fingertips are digging into your hips, easily maneuvering you back and forth to meet his every thrust. He can't stop his own moans as he watches you succumb to the pleasure that he is giving you, seeing how malleable and soft you are for him right now. It's definitely not the first time he's delivered you to this point, but he can't help but be in complete awe as he watches you settle into this headspace.

He continues to pound into you, giving you what he knows you need. He notices the slight change in the tone of your moans and the way you start to clench around him so hard that he can't move and he knows your close. He brings two of his fingers up to your mouth, resting them on your bottom lip.

Your dizzy brain eventually registers his fingers, and you automatically wrap your lips around them, sucking them into your mouth. You hum happily, utterly content with one more of your holes being stuffed full. You swirl your tongue around his fingers, suckling softly on his two thick digits.

The edge of the counter is digging into your lower abdomen, adding even more pressure as Joel pummels into you. You can feel your orgasm quickly building up, making every inch of your body tingle. Joel removes his fingers slowly from your mouth despite your desperate whine.

You sob out loud, fat tears streaming down your face when you feel Joel bring his hand to your core, pressing his two spit-coated fingers against your clit and rubbing lazy circles.

You writhe under Joel's grip as your orgasm rips through you, choking on gasps and sobs that fall freely from your lips. Your heart pounds against your chest, every inch of your skin electrified as you are hurled over the edge with a loud scream.

"There you go, baby. Just let go f’me" Joel soothes, fully knowing that you're probably not even aware that he's talking. You're soon transported to a far away place, the pleasure pushing you out of your body and fully consuming you.

Joel's eyes roll back, his own pleasure starting to take over his senses when he feels you clench and gush around him. 

"Get so wet for me when you're like this, baby" Joel huffs.

He's not wrong. You're absolutely drenching him as you squeeze him tight, soaking his cock so much that it makes lewd squelching sounds and drips to the floor as he continues to fuck into you.

"You think Tommy cold fuck you like this, baby? Think he could fuck you absolutely stupid on his cock like this" Joel grunts between clenched teeth.

He's not expecting a response, but you moan out anyway.

"N-nooo, s-sir." You choke out in between sobs and moans.

It's music to his ears. He can't hold on any longer, the way you're squirming under him and squeezing around him, crying, and sobbing out for him is driving him insane. He grabs your hips as hard as he can and thrusts into you one, two, three more times before he's unloading deep inside of you with a loud, broken moan, just how he knows you like it.

You don't know how much time passes before the ringing in your ears starts to fade and you faintly hear Joel's voice calling out to you. You slowly return to your body, your sense slowly coming back to you one by one.

Joel has stopped thrusting completely, but he's still deep nestled inside of you, his warm chest pressed heavy against your back applying a comforting pressure.

"Come back to me, babydoll" He coaxes gently, brushing the hair out of your face. You blink your eyes open, your swollen eyelids and wet eyelashes blurring your vision. He presses soft kisses to your cheek, patiently waiting for you to come back from wherever you went.

You let out a soft whimper between sniffles, unable to make any other sound. You could stay here forever, in the warm, safe space pressed under Joel with his cock resting deep inside of you.

"You did so well" Joel muses against your cheek. He starts to rub a warm, soothing palm up your side. "Always so good, my sweet girl"

It takes every ounce of energy left in you to clear your throat and talk to him.

"Love you, Joel" You murmur with a satisfied smile.

You can feel Joel's chest vibrate with a laugh, feel his warm breath spread along your cheek and jaw. It's always the first thing you say to him when you come to, no matter how rough he is or how far he pushes you.

"Love you more, sweetheart. Lemme take care of you, yeah?" Joel asks softly.

You nod slightly, allowing him to stand up. You cringe at the cold air replacing the warmth of his body on top of you. He pulls out of you slowly, a fresh tear sliding down your cheek as you whine loudly at the loss. You hear Joel sigh as he watches his cum dribble out of your abused hole and onto your thigh.

"You look so pretty with my cum leakin’ out of you, baby" Joel says softly, running a palm up your inner thigh. "Can you take just a little more?"

You let out a high-pitched whine and nod.

"My sweet girl, taking whatever I give her" Joel whispers, swiping a finger through the cum that seeped out of you before gently pushing it back inside of you.

The sensation makes you nearly shout, your hypersensitive walls clenching so hard around your finger it almost hurts. He pushes his finger in and out so slowly that you feel every inch drag against your sore walls. He quickly finds the spongy spot on the roof of your wall, hooking his finger to nudge against it over and over again. You’re so sensitive but Joel knows how far he can push, and he’s not done yet.

“Give me another one, sweetheart. I know you can. Soak my fuckin’ hand” Joel commands quietly before adding a second finger. 

Your screw your eyes shut, a loud moan of echoing in the room as you squeeze around his fingers. You want to tell him to stop, that you can’t handle it, but you can’t even bear the thought of losing his touch. 

He’s quick to bring you right to the edge. You scream as your second orgasm in under five minutes crashing down hard on you, your whole entire body trembling as you squirt around his fingers. Joel groans deeply, watching your release gush out of you onto his hand and wrist and dripping down onto the floor. 

“Oh baby, look at that” Joel says, absolutely awestruck. 

He continues to slowly finger you until you come down from your orgasm. You whimper softly and try to squirm away from his touch letting him know that you’ve had enough. He removes his fingers, pressing a quick kiss to your lower back before standing up straight. He easily scoops you into his arms, knowing it's near impossible for you to walk right now. 

He carries you to your shared bedroom and places you down gently, making sure your head is resting on a squishy pillow. He takes a fluffy blanket from the end of the bed and drapes it over you, making sure you're fully covered. 

You sigh at the warmth, your muscles fully relaxing and melting into the bed.

"I'll be right back, angel" Joel whispers before pressing a soft kiss to your forehead.

In reality is takes Joel less than a minute to return but to you it feels like an eternity and a half. He eventually comes back, his hands full with a damp warm rag, a bag of pretzels, two wrapped squares of chocolate, a water bottle, and a bottle of Gatorade.

You giggle when you see him struggling to carry everything over to the bed and your heart swells in your chest knowing that he always takes such good care of you. 

He lifts the blanket and works a quickly and gently as possible to clean you up you just lay there, letting him maneuver your body however he pleases. Once he's satisfied, he quickly cleans himself up before tossing the rag onto the floor and climbing into the bed next you. 

He slips under the blanket, sitting upright with his back pressed against the headboard. Your heart is bursting at the seams as you watch him unscrew the caps of the bottles and place straws inside. He offers you the Gatorade first, watching intently as you sip, making sure that you get enough. After you finish, he unwraps a square of chocolate and holds it out for you. You eat it bite by bite, Joel holding it in his hand for you until you take your last bite. You innocently lick the melted chocolate off his fingers but it’s really just an excuse to have his fingers back in your mouth. You smile softly when you hear his breath hitch. He gently removes his fingers from your mouth, stopping you before he gets too worked up. He then offers you the water which you gratefully sip before laying your head back down on the pillow.

Joel sets the water down on the nightstand and slides down until his head is on the pillow next to you and pulls your body into his. You snuggle up next to him and rest your head on his bare chest, his heartbeat thumping softly in your ear as he wraps his arms around you. You close your eyes and smile, worlds beyond content and satisfied.

"That dress, angel. You're never wearing that in public ever again" Joel whispers as he tucks a stray hair behind your ear.

"How about when I need an excuse for you to fuck me like that again?" You tease.

"Oh baby, you just have to ask and I'll give you anything you want" Joel says quietly and you know he's dead serious.

You smile against the skin of his chest, warmth spreading through your body and quickly lulling you to sleep in the safe confines of Joel's arms.

----------

A/N: Thank you for reading!! I just finished my first year of my masters so get ready for a lot more content. This was originally a Javi P. fic but I think it went better with Mr. Miller as I writing it what do you guys think?? hugs and smoochies <3 mwah

[crying-fantasies]

Monsterfucking

Masterlist

Featuring Merformers! Rodimus Prime, smut/fluff/humor, CW: you fuck the fish, that's it, Roddy doesn't know about kissing, licking (sexy and lovingly), handjob, penetration, mention of a knot, barrier language, nesting, light gore (in a fight), mention of Rodimus’ creators, mer pups/cubs (I love these fictional babies so much), long fic.

Days in Cybertron tend to be regulated in cycles, the days are longer than average back on Earth, and it has been years but you still get problems waking up at the start of the day cycle, a new day to work, and a new day to try and not mess all up as a snake-like tail gets clingy, not letting go of your leg and purring when his claws get a hold of your torso again, hardly letting you hold on the data pad and give your boss a message of your more than sure tardiness just to get a thumbs up from her, almost hearing her say “work hard!”

Anything to help an endangered species.

Rodimus tends to be quite the hyper-energy kind of person, well, fish, he stands up more than the rest of the marine wildlife on this planet, and that's saying a lot given the unique metallic nature displayed, it’s a miracle that whatever kind of liquid filling most of the planet's oceans isn't cooking your meat out of your bones; Rodimus stands up, a lot, you've seen the others around, most are friendly, more inclined to curiosity when they touch your legs or look at you from some reef like structures, believing those as the better spot to hide but forgetting to low the light in their optics, first time it happened you were in for a shock as the rest of the team laughed at your spooked reaction to more than 20 pairs of optics shining bright under the liquid, all with overflowing attention to the new organic putting feet on the floating laboratory.

Rodimus would always be more noticeable to you, as he was the first pair of blue optics reaching out to you the same day your work put you there, so far away from your real home, all to preserve the mechanical nature of this planet and it's creatures, Rodimus escaped from his group, servos trying to catch onto his fins, all for nothing as the mech came up to a side of the lab where your official in charge was giving you the tour of the facility.

With shiny red-colored scales and flimsy paper-like metallic membranes, he was just like in the books, something from far away yet seemed organic, it was something so intricate no one could ever think of, the pads in his digits patted your right foot, feeling the texture of skin and thin body hair before giving a high pitched trill when he launched himself back to the liquid.

One of the scientists laughed, “Rodimus likes you”, almost catching on to his designation he emerged back, just to be dragged under by the rest of his group in a hissing feat, especially by a very mad hunter mech.

Mechs they call them, as in mechanical individuals, some skip over formalities and call them mers because the mers call themselves that way; and no, it’s not a joke as you see Chief Medical Darcy act as a referee when Optimus and Megatron are about to rip the fins of one another again as the doctor only sips on his instant chemical coffee, watching them both quarrel like an old couple, using sounds on a piano-like artifact to tell them to, in the mers own language, “frag off already, Optimus, you left him” while pointing at the blue mer, then to the almost smiling big-like ancient shark, playing his piano like a pro, moving pieces and volumes to say: "Megs, you shouldn't have acted like that, you started it”.

They are ancient, going way back to when Earth was still galactic powder, sentient in every way, they have language, culture, arts, and everything in between, the planet was under colonization until someone noticed the fishes could communicate, it all burned down from it, now considered a protected system the priority was to increase their number, as they could tell tales from bygone times, cures and methods never told before; the mer called Alpha Trion knew of a treatment for decayed fins, which somehow also worked on humans, it was incorporated to treat many skin diseases back on Earth, and the pros of keeping them alive overwhelmed the ones trying to sell them in pieces like it was done at first.

Rodimus is part of the reproduction program, more like one of the offspring resulting from it, but you've seen the program, it looks more like a dating event to this point, and then a nursery program, once the mers get good results, keeping the babies is high maintenance even for the most experienced ones, Cory tells you so once he catches on Rodimus going to you more times than ordinary, cuddling your side like an over-affective cat while purring, “he was just a small baby when I handled him, seems like it was yesterday”, he has a very worn-off expression, and the bags under his eyes tell you of unending nights while he has a new baby in his arms, you see a few mers in the pool connected to the nursery, passed out on the floor in uncomfortable positions over beds of wire-like kelp, some with their young sleeping like angels over them, and Rodimus, who is now shining and swimming in circles for some reason around you two as you also hold a baby, is very focused in how the little guppy holds the neck of your t-shirt, even using one of the sleepy carriers as some platform to show off his pretty red and orange scales, “never expected to live enough to see the day he would dance for a human”, you take a moment to think over it, process it, Rodimus has little time to do something when one moment you're standing there and the next you're running like you heard Megatron is coming with a bad temper.

Rodimus hasn't seen you since that day and makes it everyone else's problem while wailing on the shore closest to your room, and you, so shocked you almost dropped the baby back into the water, only hide in the sudden realization that an alien, mechanic, sentient fish wants to have something with you.

It was too much for a Saturday night, excusing yourself and leaving the baby with Cory who shouted something along the lines of it being normal, “Have you seen this fellow here?” he pointed at the red and silver mer in the pool, a new sire taking a rest while his babies were being rocked back and forth by you just a few seconds ago, the silver and white baby, now in Cory’s arms next to his red and white sibling, “have you meet Miss Astoria yet? The co-owner of this preservation program? These are her boys”

How can it be normal? How did it even happen between two different species on two different planets? How come the babies don't even look human? How?

And why is he trying so hard to find you? There is hardly time to even eat next to the shore before he appears once again, at least his blue optics peaking over the liquid before he goes back down, leaving you in a moment of solitude, raising your hopes, that maybe he finally settled for a partner of his species, but no, Rodimus only went back to the ocean and took out some kind of alien mechanical fish, still moving and trying to return from where it came, only to be gutted right there and then in front of you, Rodimus looks at you, expectantly, how can his optics shine so much?

“You know what? Fuck it”

Next thing everyone knows you're sunbathing in your free time on the beach, Rodimus making a donut-shaped nest at your side with his body, thrilling happily while doing so before you are called back, making him look at you, then at the nest, and back at you, big optics pleading and almost whimpering, “what is-? No, no! It's not that I don't like it! You shouldn't even be doing that here!”

Mers hardly do nests everywhere, as it is only recommended to do it near calm waters, safe to raise their young, close to the waters to ensure the moisture of the nest, with enough light to keep the iron sand warm and cozy for the growing protoforms.

Rodimus makes them where he likes or where you stay for a time long enough for him to get back at his job.

Cory tells you that's normal, since you said yes to Rodimus is normal for any newly paired couple to create their own nest, and also the fact that Rodimus is a recently matured young adult makes him more eager over the idea.

Maybe not exactly at the prospect of having a baby, more like the idea of banging.

Rodimus makes a lot of nests around the iron sand, he has one outside your shared habsuit, another out of your side of the laboratory, one in the sunbathing grounds like the other mers, but not one in the nesting grounds or the nursery, being extremely on edge if an unpaired mer looks at you or his nests, Rodimus is snarling at them when he notices, fins flaring with violent intent and only stopping when the other mer is at a distance he considered respectful before going to you as if he was the victim and not the curious young mech, chattering inconsolable until you let him snuggle in your lap, holding to you and whistling happily.

Mers, while being highly intelligent and sentient still go by their traditions, quite animalistic traditions as they fight over themselves to get a partner, and catch the attention of another; a group is wrestling in the iron sand in one of the little islands while you sunbathe with Rodimus, cleaning his fins of parasites or dead scales, taking samples while at it before a road and a snarl catches on your attention, jumping on your spot over the sand and looking at the island, two mers soon to kill each other while some others look, expectantly, waiting for the winner, the mers waiting to make a display and show their scales, show their array once the loser is bleeding energon in the sand and the winner takes the prize, you feel bad for the med, dragging his massive metal body back to the ocean, maybe soon to arrive at the medic area for medical aid, Rodimus calls your attention back at him, his servos holding your hands and pressing them back at his chest which rumbles, then holding onto your face to look him directly at his optics once you notice the healed scars under his scales or the growing pity on the injured mer just meters away.

Doesn't take much to know why he is always so clingy, or the reason for him to have so many scars when you look at his multiple medical reports, all gained after several mating seasons, losing every single one, being dragged back by Cory to patch him up even in a fainted state.

You look at him now, different, both resting in the bed inside your habsuit, still too early in the morning, Rodimus is curled next to you, his arms holding you, tail heavy over your legs, tangled within your legs, a remarkable subject that pointed out what he was and what you are, impossible to miss, still, you know about it now.

Nesting season is still a long way to come but the mating one is ever present once the fights for lovers have ended, Rodimus seems to not be moved by it, or he tries to appear as much as he grooms you with his hands and his glossa, it is more like an affectionate display but it still far from any sex, still, while he tries to rule over your hair with his oral solvents you catch on the puffy look his slit shows; most paired mates had long since gone to more private zones to let their needs and urges free, you are with the rest of the team as everyone gives their farewell to the newly paired young mechs, hoping for the best in the nesting season.

He tries to deny it, trying to keep up with the older mers who choose not to join the younger ones and the ones without pairs, all just doing their usual routines, Rodimus comes back much earlier than usual and becomes more anxious, just yesterday you finally noticed the reason why he didn't like to enter the nursery lagoon, using the piano-like artifact, asking him if he didn't like to come near the nursery even when you or Cory, his partner and his sire, were inside, his answer was simple “you don't like pups”.

Take a moment to let that sink and the misunderstanding born from the moment you realized his intent in courting you, Rodimus was, in reality, giving you much praise while snuggling next to you, presenting how nice you were with the young pup in your arms in front of his sire, happy by the way you two seemed to be getting along and then thinking in how happy his carrier was going to be when he came back with the hunting group, but his sire said something, making you jump and run, leaving the pup behind with his sire.

Rodimus believed you didn't like babies.

Which, in truth, wasn't exactly like that or different, “it may be impossible”, your words translated with the machine made his optics go big, soon pointing at himself, “Well, hard to happen”, Rodimus looked at you with barely closed optics, a little mad and hurt, “how can we be prepared? Or in any case, why now?” of course, it had to be soon, as the days progressed, and as every grooming session got heavier, sometimes you would nap while Rodimus cleaned you, soon feeling the way his servos were touching, massaging, his glossa looming over your neck, denta nipping at the skin.

He has been so strong so far, but it only takes a movement of your leg to make his tail recoil over it, rubbing his dilated slit over your hip, moaning during his recharge, optics opening just slightly when your fingers started to move along the opening, he squeaked, then rumbled out a groan, hissing while letting his slit open, you've seen the books, but it never said anything of it being soft, like rubber, Rodimus moves his hips, his massive tail pumping against your fingers as his arms go to your neck, anchoring himself to you while crying out in ecstasy, your fingers push a little more and you find a protrusion, pushing your fingers out for a moment to show his spike, letting you touch him more, lavish him more, his servos were frantically holding to the meat in your ass, trying to make you move against his spike in a rutted haze, barely giving your time or space to get the pajama pants off, “Okay, if only we could- could you keep it down?”, your laugh is nervous as he seems to be ripped apart on putting you over or under him, groping where he can while doing so, being careful to not catch your skin or hair with his frantic moving seams, finally deciding to put you down in the mattress, rocking his spike in between your open legs, knowing well the differences, but also the coincidences, between your bodies.

Where the slit of his tail was is also the point in which your legs connected.

“Come here”, your instructions are hard to follow as he is overthinking, full of joy while nipping at your neck, eager to couple but too excited to put it in, the little fighting you both do, one to put his spike inside of you and the other showering you with affection, finally ends when your hand catches on the pointy head of his spike, pumping at it while dragging him over, making him curl a little to be able and still be face to face plate.

Of course, you should've expected the unfamiliar sensation, impossible to compare to anything you've ever had, there was desperation in it, and his movements were too fast, too eager, still, Rodimus kept showing what you liked about him, smiling like a dork and holding to you, letting your legs brace to his tail, said tail rocking fast against you like he was swimming, putting your arms around his helm as he snuggled against your chest and neck, leaving bite marks just to show off, never to give you real damage, moving just enough, in that specific part to make you see starts with your breathless indications, easing your worry with forehead nudges that you changed for kisses, taking him for a surprise before he just let you continue, imitating you, when you felt his spike grow, inflaming, he was sure to make you come at least once before he started to pump faster, wilder, until the base was all in, pushing to a point never had before, looking at you with barely open optics as he started to coo and chatter, you didn't know what he was saying without aid, but Rodimus was singing you praises once again, “I love you, we are mates, mates for life, you're mine, I’m yours”, every short break in between his thrilled gibberish were supposed to be words, but you didn't have much to think straight as he kept on leaking into you, overflowing, keeping it all inside while relishing over your limp body as he still moved to let you get all of him, cleaning you once again to let you rest.

Once you slept well, he was back from wherever he went, coming back with food for the day for you both, once you ended your rations he would give you one of those glances, holding one of your legs, smoothly putting it over the beginning of his tail as you let him, seating you over his already wet and dilated slit.

Mating season wasn't a long period, but it was a delightful one, soon comprehended why so many people on base were missing for all of its duration, now being part of them and even learning why some told you to keep your clothes off most of the time except for a night coat easy to open, Rodimus was a good lover, as he barely left your side, and if he did, it was only to get rations from the cafeteria before leaving them to you and expanding the nest he was making outside your habsuit, using his body, curling it over the sand to make it compact at the base, then making a hole in the middle to keep water inside while you rested inside, not worrying about you leaving to do your science as he was sure the other humans just let you rest.

Months later, Cory found Chandler hissing at the ocean, just to stop, startled, like him at the sight of Rodimus, soon making direct eye contact with them, holding a still closed-eyed little black and silver hissing pup between his servos, presenting his own young and beaming with pride as they both heard you screaming Rodimus’ designation with two more pups in your arms from your habsuit, more than likely enraged and worried out of your mind by the lack of your firstborn in the nest where you left him with his siblings, then being startled by the potent cry of the pup that could only be comparable to a dying animal asking for mercy as he was soaked, cold and scared out of his young mind by the emotion of Rodimus’ to show off his offspring, and this was the fourth stop he made so far.

Rodimus’ carrier, Chandler, didn't give his own pup time to ponder what made you so mad before he was trying to knock some sense with violence into his adult pup like he was still a youngling after snatching protectively the pup against his chest to try and comfort him, Cory runs to them to try and save his son from the fury of his partner and his heavy servo, you appeared with your other two babies to see Rodimus being smacked by his carrier without mercy, “Have I not taught you well?! What in the PIT were you THINKING?! What are you DOING with a NEW FORGED PUP OUT OF THE SLAGING NEST?!”

Rodimus was a great lover, he was still learning to be a sire.

.

Inspired by the work of @tinydefector and @shyspider, love your guys’ work so much, totally lost Mermay but I can try it again with some good monsterfucking.

And if you realized, yeah, that hissing baby is Sunset.

@tf-kinktober2024

[tohokuu]

boobs, boobs, boobs - tengen, kyojuro, akaza, aizetsu

tumblr is based off a system of reblogs. reblog my work.

word count : 1.5k

warnings : tiddy sucking, somnophilia in akaza's

a/n : first time writing for kny...

TENGEN

tengen’s mouth watered when he saw your perky nipples sticking past the thin white fabric of your shirt. it was colder during this time of the year, so he knew that your nipples poking through was inevitable. his main concern was how he could help in fixing that. 

he didn’t want you embarrassed, ya know? imagine sanemi or kyo drop by and get a chance to see your perky tits. he couldn’t have that. your tits belonged to him. they were cute and squishy and all he wanted to do in this moment was sit you down on his lap and suck your nipples until you pulled at his hair. 

wouldn’t that be flashy?.. he thought. 

you sighed as you wrapped tengens thin blanket around you. it didn’t make much of a difference, though. you were still shivering cold. he knew the only way to keep you warm was if you were laying flat against him (tit in his mouth). 

“baby, is it cold in here or just me?” tengen spurred on. you looked up eagerly, staring at him in shock. “are you not cold?” you asked him. he shook his head. 

“i’m not but i can tell that you are.” you saw tengen’s eyes dart directly down to your chest, raising a brow as he stared shamelessly. “hmm, have they always been this perky?” he asked you slapped his arm in embarrassment.. or at least tried to slap his arm. instead, he grabbed you by the bicep. pulling you down onto his lap. 

it was in mere seconds, he had the blanket draped around your shoulders and your chest exposed for him. he could see goosebumps rising on your skin, standing up to the sky as he undressed you in the bitter cold. “fuck.” tengen sighed as he stared at your chest. 

“the piercings are so flashy, honey.” he crooned. you blushed, looking away from his face. 

“can i warm you up?” 

-

KYOJURO

kyo was pretty uncaring when it came to how you dressed around the house. you usually lounged around in some loose pants and a short, cropped shirt of his. today was no different. you were cooking when he walked in the next morning, shirtless with only a pair of trousers on. he didn’t pay much attention to your chest until you turned around, handing him a cup of tea. 

“good morning, kyo!” you chirped, smile fresh on your face in the early morning glow. kyo smiled tenderly. “thank you, my angel.” you kissed his pec after, walking away. kyo didn’t know what it was, that got him thinking that morning, looking at your ass and raising a thick eyebrow. 

“mm tasty!” he said as he sipped on the honey and lemon flavored tea. joining you on the couch, he leaned over, laying his head on your chest. he snuggled his face into your chest, groaning and grunting softly as some of the sleep was still settled in his mind. his eyes fluttered open and closed softly as you ran your fingers through his hair. 

“mmm.” he whimpered, enjoying the scratch of your nails against his scalp. kyo got up, getting on top of you and surprising you with his sudden outburst. his eyes darted down to your nipples poking through the thin cropped shirt. “fuck.” he groaned. your eyes widened as he help himself balance on his forearms, caging you in between. 

suddenly his head was under the fabric of your shirt, his lips attached to your nipples. they were cold and hard, and in need of his mouth. his tongue swirled around your buds that were getting harder as he teased them. you gasped, moving up to discard of your shirt. 

“kyo!” you cried, wailing as he bit and sucked at the skin. “you think you can just walk around like this with your nipples pokin’ out and not expect me to say anything?” he growled. kyo sounded eager, not in his usual gentle and soft nature. 

“gonna make you cum from sucking your tits alone.” 

-

AKAZA

akaza walked into your bedroom at around 2 am. your window was open and you slept soundly in bed. he raised his eyebrow and sighed. 

how many times had he reminded you to lock your window at night… 

you never listened to him, always arguing with him and teasing him. he was never angered, though. he’d smile thinking about you as he worked throughout the day, following orders. you were his comfort space, the one he’d visit at night when he had nothing particular left to do. 

he walked into your bathroom like he owned the place, washing his face sighing while he ran a wet hand through his pink hair. 

things were calm and quiet. a part of him wished that in another life where things were easier, he could just do simple house chores with you. it wasn’t that simple, though. life was hard right now and he couldn’t take care of you the way he wished. he had to settle for this. 

coming in to your bedroom unannounced at night and snuggling with you while you slept. he listened to your soft snores and soft whimpers when you had a impactful dream. today was one of those nights. 

he knew you were having a wet dream when he began to smell the wetness from you. a scent of pheromones bursting into the air and clouding his judgement. he watched as your nipples got visibly harder through the thin camisole you wore. his mouth watered. 

you turned towards him in your sleep, whining and pulling him closer, grinding your cunt on his thigh. “fuck..” he whispered. 

“a-akaza..” you whined, half asleep. he felt his dick get hard, making his pants uncomfortable. he suddenly didn’t care anymore. you had given him permission to touch you in your sleep before but he never went through with it, feeling a tiny sense of shame to do that to you without your knowledge. 

but his judgement was clouded today. his day was rough and he couldn’t care less about morals right now. 

he lifted your shirt up, his chest rising faster and faster seeing you whine for him even in your sleep. a primal urge overtook him as he dove into your chest, mouth wrapped around your buds completely. 

he sucked and whined, two fingers dipping down the waistband of your sleep shorts and feeling the slick gathered in your panties. “you dirty, dirty girl..” he groaned. 

he couldn’t wait for you to wake up to the hickey’s on your chest tomorrow morning. 

- 

AIZETSU

aizetsu was always sad. his eyebrows furrowed in sadness and worry. his zipped up the black nike tech in the mirror, unable to waiver the solemn expression on his face. 

he figured coming to see you would maybe fix his mood just a bit. 

the knock on your door at 2 am was a surprise. you didn’t get a call or a confirmation that someone would be showing up to your door this late. you took extra caution checking the peephole. 

the rush in your throat went down when you saw that it was just your solemn boyfriend, dressed in his usual tech. you opened the door, head tilted to one side as you invited him in. 

“zetsu, what happened?” you questioned. your boyfriend was often sad. he was quiet and didn’t speak much to others unless he had something significant to say. 

“nothing. i just missed you.” he softly spoke, staring down at the ground. your own eyebrows furrowed as you pushed him deeper into your apartment. 

“do you wanna cuddle with me?” you asked. 

he looked around nervously before nodding. you laid in bed, urging him to remove the hoodie he wore and just lay in his t-shirt. 

his strong arms wrapped around your body, pulling you in. aizetsu pushed his face into your chest, hoping he’d feel better. 

your fingers went straight to his dark locks, tugging at the strands softly. “what happened today, angel?” you asked. 

“sekido was making fun of me today.” he whined. his lips pouted, eyelashes fluttering to keep away a glimmering sheen of tears. “ ‘m sorry, zetsu. don’t listen to anything he says. he’s a dickhead.” you told your boyfriend. 

“can i suck your tiddies?” 

your mind felt like it broke. 

“w-what?” you asked. your boyfriend looked up at you, his eyes widened and brows furrowed as if he was ready to beg. 

“y-you heard me.” he whispered. you were right. you had heard his random and bizarre request. he had never asked before. in fact, you two hadn’t even done anything significant yet. 

“sure.” 

and suddenly your shirt was torn off of you, flung into a separate corner of the room. your boyfriends personality always made you forget how brawny and muscular he was. his body didn’t match his soft facial expressions and you could hardly recover from the whiplash you had received. 

aizetsu’s arms were wrapped around your waist and upper back, pushing your body into his face. he sucked your nipples harshly, no care in the world that it might have been hurting you or not. 

he licked and tenderly bit the skin, looking up at you with his brows this time pushed together to focus on the task. 

he planned on sucking your tits into making himself happy. 

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