#and it's the one he's been holding inside for a good long while

[plethorawrites]

How the Batboys would react to finding out and dealing with you self harming/having severe depression.

TW: Mentions of cuts, blood, suicidal thoughts, incorrect use of pills, sort of implied eating disorders.

Please don't read if this could upset you in any way.

---___---___---___---___---___---___---___---___---_

Bruce:

The first time he notices is also the first time you spend the night. The lights were dark and you were both a bit buzzed after downing several glasses of champagne to endure a boring event he invited you to as an excuse to see you. Of course he was more concerned with kissing the inside of your thighs than noticing the little healed scars on them.

He notices them the next morning though, when the sun is streaming through the window and you get up to find your clothes while assuming he's asleep. He wasn't. He saw the marks. The scars. He refrained from saying a word about them, waiting weeks for you to open up about them on your own terms. He could see they were healed so he wasn't terribly worried at that moment.

When you finally told him, you said you'd been clean for months. He had no reason to suspect you would start again.

But you did.

He didn't know the exact day, or the specific reason, all he knew is that you stopped wearing shorts to bed and stopped letting him leave the lights on to see you when you were intimate. You stopped smiling as often, too.

Of course, being a detective, he can tell when you start getting lethargic, not from work or stress but simply life itself. He hears when your words have less meaning, and your expressions are false. He makes it his mission to not let you fall into the spiral any more than you already have.

You might not want to tell him you're hurting yourself but he'd be damned if he didn't do whatever he could to make you stop. That started by holding you tighter at night so you couldn't sneak off to the bathroom to cut, he'd ask you to visit him at work, insist on every meal being at a restaurant so you didn't even have time to try to hurt yourself. And of course, he helps with the tasks you start struggling with, but pretends he doesn't notice.

He just says "Can I practice braiding your hair so I can help Cassandra?" and use it as a chance to make sure you don't start letting your hair tangle.

He even makes the braid a bit crooked even though he can French braid perfectly, just to sell it. He'll wash it, too, claiming it's: "A good excuse to spend time together." after a long day.

He just wants to make sure it's not getting greasy. He can see the guilt on your face when you sit in the tub, staring at the wall. You wanted to tell him to stop, that you could wash your own hair. But you probably couldn't. It felt like too much work and you just wanted to sink underneath the water of the tub for a few minutes of peace. He kept you upright though, kissing the back of your shoulder, the side of your neck, your cheek, making you hum.

You weren't able to feel much, emotionally speaking, but you could feel gratitude and love.

When he notices you skipping meals because you can't drag yourself to the kitchen or bother to cook, he will. He'll make anything, even if you change your mind about what sounds good and make him cook six different dishes before eventually accepting one of them. He doesn't care. He just wants you to eat. The second you show the slightest bit of interest in something, anything, it's yours. You make a comment about the beach sounding nice, the next thing you know he's taken the day off work and is driving you there with the top of a convertible down.

You say you kind of miss one of your old hobbies— be it painting or crochet, it doesn't matter what, the next day the nicest stuff for you to get back into it arrives. Fresh paints, massive canvases or imported yarn and crystal hooks. He watches, intently when you start to focus on something you like again, the heavy ache in his heart subsiding when he gets to show enthusiasm about your project when it's done.

You start holding him again at night, your face buried in his chest instead of sleeping facing the wall. One night you slide into bed wearing shorts and he can see your scars, red ones among the old faded pale ones from when you first met.

He knows they'll heal too in time. Just like you have.

---

Dick: He doesn't realize there's anything wrong several months into dating you until he catches you taking some pills when he was walking back into the room and later searched up the name, figuring out they're antidepressants.

He can't believe he didn't see it sooner and hates that you were always putting on a fake smile with him. He wants you to talk about it, but understands that it's hard for you too and your every attempt to open up to him ends with you in tears or walking out in frustration because the words won't form.

He suggests (very strongly) that you see a therapist and after some gentle coaxing, you agree. He sits in the car the entire time waiting for you and when you come out, numb for a few minutes as you sit there in silence before sobbing uncontrollably for the 20 minutes in the parking lot. He gets you whatever you want after— ice cream, cheesecake, brownies. Whatever you're craving.

He takes you every week, sometimes multiple times a week. He never complains and he's ALWAYS there. He'll wake up early, even if he barely slept. He'll skip family lunch, he'll rush out of a bank robbery just shouting for his brothers to handle it without him. It doesn't matter what, he'll be there.

He's taken to heavy positive affirmations, as well. He puts sticky notes up in the bathroom with smiley faces for whenever you brush your teeth or put on moisturizer. There are little hearts and words of encouragement on the front of the fridge and inside of it too for when you manage to crave a snack. Hopefully something healthy like fruit, but even if it's junk food, it's better than an empty stomach.

Every morning he wakes you up and tells you you're beautiful and he's grateful to have you.

He likes to remind you not to push yourself as well. "If you just manage to wash your hair, you'll have done something" and "If that's too hard, I'll help you make the bed." But also..."If you don't do anything at all today, you still survived. That alone is difficult, but you're doing it."

Every night he lays it on even thicker because he knows it gets harder at night. "I'm so proud of you for making it through another day." And... "I know it sucks right now but I promise I'll help you get through this." And... "Just take it one day at a time."

When you get homework from your therapist— to do 3 hard tasks over one week, make a list of every negative and positive thought to see them out loud and deduce why you have them, physical exercise—he does it with you. No matter how foolish or seemingly simple it is.

Your therapist told you to do something you struggle with? Done. He'll stand behind you while you do the dishes and help you dry.

You need to get something from a store that's dozens of miles away? Road trip. He'll buy the snacks and take turns driving so you don't het stressed out burn out.

You're told to get some physical exercise? He'll be your partner for whatever kind you want to do. Jogging in the park, keeping a slower pace than usual for you, practicing on rings while you climb the stairmaster—he falls, because he's distracted by your ass. But that's besides the point.

When you start to show signs of feeling better, that therapy is working, he's elated. And after several months and things are better, much better, you tell him whenever you're feeling off. Whenever that nagging feeling comes back over you. You guys work through it then and there to keep it from getting bad again.

Though sometimes, when he's leaving for work, you'll pout and say you feel sad just to get him to stay. You both know it's not a depressed feeling. You just don't want him to leave and he'll indulge you. "Oh, well, if that's the case, I'll just have to stay in bed with you until you feel better."

---

Jason: He's busy. Always. But that didn't mean he was oblivious. Yet, that's exactly how he felt when he realized you'd been abusing your medicine. He knew after the first few dates that you were on medication for chronic depression and he was more than understanding about it. Millions of people suffered from it, himself occasionally included.

But when he's laying in bed and catches you sneaking into the bathroom to take three more pills than you're supposed to, he's caught off guard. Then you slide down to the floor, sitting crisscrossed, making small cuts on your thighs, wincing in pain the entire time. It takes every ounce of self control not to jump out of bed and rip the blade from your hand. He contemplates it, he really does. But that would just make things worse. So he waits.

It keeps him up all night, though he pretends to sleep. And in the morning, you're back out of bed, taking more and sliding back in bed, pretending to wake up just like him.

He blames himself entirely.

He thinks he should have been better, done more, noticed something that made it better. It was his job to support you and protect you and he had failed and that killed him in ways that seemed unimaginable.

After an incredibly difficult conversation where he confesses to knowing you've been filling scripts you don't need and taking more than necessary, you're both an emotional mess. But he assures you he's not leaving or angry, just scared for you. He wants to help but needs you to let him.

He absolutely dedicates himself to keeping you away from anything even remotely dangerous.

The knives in the kitchen? Gone.

Even the butter knives are plastic now.

The razors in the bathroom? Thrown out in a trashcan outside so you couldn't find them.

Even the little blade in the pencil sharpener is taken out.

He won't let you have your pill bottles either, at least not at first. He makes sure you take them everyday, morning and night, then after several weeks starts to let you handle them by yourself.

He still sneaks out of bed to count them and make sure you weren't taking more than prescribed. He insists on being the one to wrap your arms, cleaning them to make sure they don't get infected. And wiping your legs as well. He has to remind himself not to squeeze them too hard, the way he wants to.

While holding you at night he makes sure not to hurt them, even though he wants to hold you much tighter to comfort himself as reassurance you're alright. He listens, late at night when you're whispering to avoid crying. When you explain the feeling it gave you. He knows it.

Once they heal and he can hold you tighter, not as afraid of hurting you by squeezing your thighs the way he likes to. He starts kissing them each night, making sure you know they're not embarrassing or shameful.

He's got scars on most of his body; you were the one to teach them to appreciate them. If he could return the favor, he would. A thousand times over.

He tells you the same things you told him. "You made it through."

---

Tim: When you tell Tim, and by tell I mean confess after he figured it out on his own, you're surprised to find that he doesn't have much of a reaction immediately. He stays quiet, hums a little, nods along. He never interrupts but you see his eyes glazing over a bit, the way they do when the gears start turning in his head. He knew, of course, that you had depression.

He knew you hurt yourself, not in the traditional way of cutting or attempting suicide, but in much subtler ways, like forcing yourself to finish a meal even though you're full and your stomach hurts, taking boiling hot showers that leave your skin red and raw practically painful to even touch from how dry it is, making yourself stay up late and function on the fewest hours of sleep possible.

You purposely made life harder for yourself and for the most part, didn't even realize it. He did, though. What he didn't realize was the amount of medicine you'd tried, to the point you felt none of them worked, the amount of therapists and psychiatrists you had seen, the level of depression you had truly sunk to before. It hurt him to realize once you started opening up. He wanted to make that pain go away. So, he researched. Constantly.

He wants to know every single thing that can cause depression, the statistics of self harm leading to suicide, the effectiveness of different treatments or facilities. He knows every antidepressant, their side effects, their manufacturers, and dosages. He suggests inpatient care for you, but absolutely refuses to send you to someplace like Arkham.

Instead, he finds the best of the best, way out of the city, where the entire staff passed his background check, the facility was up to date on every code possible, and the rules seemed relaxed enough to let you feel like yourself while also making sure you're safe. He's allowed to visit and does so as soon as possible, even manages to get extra hours in the night. You have the best of care there, too, he knows because he can see it on your face every time he's there.

The food is wonderful, the private room you have is nice (even if you miss his warmth at night), the activities they make you do remind you of the hobbies you used to love before they became unbearable. Even therapy sessions, always private because Tim knew you wouldn't want to speak about it in a group, are rather helpful.

When you get out after a few weeks, he's right there, waiting, like always. And he's got the biggest smile because he can see immediately the light back in your eyes that he missed so much. He keeps up with some of the tactics you learned or hobbies you started while there, gladly sitting on the floor with you while you do paper mache.

He always makes sure you know you're not weak for needing help and if you ever feel like you need to go back, even just for a week, or weekend, he'll be there for you. Just like always.

---

(Aged up. I imagine you both in LOA)

Damian: It didn't take a genius to know you were a miserable person. Most people in the league of assassins were. He rather liked your level of misery, usually. It was cynical, with a touch of wit and dark humor that always made him feel seen.

It wasn't until he caught sight of a few scars on your calf that he didn't recognize that he started to realize you were more miserable than he had originally thought. You tried to play it off, claiming you got hurt in a sparring match. But that was a lot and he knew it. Because A) you never lost. And B) the cut was at an angle a sword wouldn't be able to reach unless you were the one holding it.

You clearly didn't want to talk about it, so he wouldn't make you. He was always taught that emotions were weak and even though he didn't fully believe it as he used to, he still isn't big on a lot of sentimentality. Which is fine, because you aren't either.

He still keeps a quiet, very close eye on you. Maybe you noticed, maybe you didn't. He wasn't sure. He didn't care either way. He was worried and with your recent behavior, he felt he had every right to be. You started putting in less effort during training, if you even showed up at all. He'd find you on the balcony at night, leaning your head against the railing and staring at the gardens with a blank expression.

Even the things he knew you loved— your favorite foods, the music you liked to listen to on a record player while you got ready for bed. It stopped appealing to you. The meticulous way you'd fix your hair before bed every single night abruptly stopped, too. You simply fell asleep with it as is and woke up with it tangled. You still held him at night, but it felt less like an embrace for the both of you and more like you were clinging to him like a life line.

He pays extra close attention and anytime he isn't allowed to be by your side, he makes sure someone else is. It's hard to keep you away from sharp objects, given nearly everything around them was a weapon, but he tries to get you to vent your rage by cutting training dummies and not yourself.

He also takes you to the quieter, more secluded wing, into an empty room with pillows on the floor. He makes you sit with him and meditate, which he knows is hard at first, boring and you don't have the most energy, but he holds your hand, his fingers pressed to your pulse to make sure you're listening when he tells you to take a deep breath in and think— not of what you're grateful for, like some might suggest. No. Instead of asking you what you want to live for, he asks you what you can't die without. The grudges you're holding, the projects you haven't finished, the people who are just waiting to see you fail. He won't let you let them win.

And it works. That passion and drive slowly comes back with his help and support at your side, doing your hair for you at night and making sure someone brought you a meal three times a day even if he wasn't around to make sure you ate. Your need to be the best and spite anyone who thinks you aren't returns after a while.

One night he finds you training alone, sweat dripping from your brow, your scars both won in battle and self inflicted on display. Instead of interrupting, he simply watches, admiring your form which had improved since you started picking up your sword more often. He loved watching you find your spirit again.

[sennenpharaoh]

---

"Let me go! Get me out of here! What do you want with me?!"

Atem kept trying to reach out to Roy, who appeared to drift further and further away, out of his reach and almost out of his sight. Looking around he noticed something. He was neither in his Soul Room nor was he in the other's Throne Room. His body was still on the blanket in the quiet meadow, but his mind, or rather... both minds were in this limbo of darkness, the figure of his Colonel barely in view now.

"You..." He turned to glare at his "attacker", eyes showing a flicker of red. "You have one chance to bring me back to my Colonel before I execute you myself, or better yet have him set you ablaze!"

The other, a figure looking remarkably close to Atem's visage, save for one glaring difference: the highlights in his eyes and the corrupted circle upon his head, did nothing but scoff and release his grip on Atem.

Hmm. Swearing your life to him and already making him your attack dog. Funny, I thought you said you weren't going to compare him to your magician.

"Can it, you Monster! What is it you want from me?!"

Always with what I want... when you really should be asking yourself... if this is what you want.

"I said yes. How much more clear do you need me to be?"

Hmm. You did. Then I shouldn't have to tell you just who it is you said yes to, now do I? You and your little sob story about your own crimes... you never once thought of his own crimes, now did you?

"There's nothing to think about, no crime that he-"

So... what you're saying is you're okay with what he did to that nation. Is that it?

"That's not..." Atem began to approach the other in rebuttal before stopping, placing a hand to his chest.

"Don't... even bother trying to bring that up. I've said it to him and I'll say it to you. My thoughts towards what he's done are irrelevant. It doesn't matter what I think. I'm not the one he's... that got hurt."

The other raised an eyebrow.

So... all those people... all those families. A nation full of innocent people. They don't matter to you, do they... Pharaoh? The only ones that matter to you are your own people.

"Stop... saying that. I have... no right..."

All of those families. All of those children. You even dreamt it that very night, didn't you? To your own former Kingdom. Dreams are one thing, what he did actually happened. All those innocent lives gone in one... simple... snap.

A simple fingersnap from the other caused the area around Atem to light up in flames, forcing Atem to shield his eyes from the bright light. It wasn't just the light he had to shield himself, though. From out of nowhere he could hear panicked screaming, but it was not just one... it was many. Tens. Hundreds. Thousands. Tens of thousands. The screaming sounded so familiar, as he had heard it only one other time: when he heard it through a certain archive.

"Stop it." Atem covered his ears. "This changes nothing. Make it stop and give me back my Colonel!"

He's right behind you. Do you not hear him calling to you?

Atem...

That voice! He recognized that voice immediately. That was Roy's! He had to be calling out to him, trying to snap him out of this! He just had to!

"Colonel, I'm right h-" Atem turned around in the direction of the voice, seeing his Colonel... but froze when he saw a differently dressed Colonel. No longer in his fancy casual attire, this Roy was in his blue military outfit, a white overcoat covering his uniform, along with white gloves on his hands, one of which was raising and reaching towards Atem.

"C... Colonel...?"

Look upon him, Pharaoh. This is who you said yes to. This is who you decided to spend the rest of your life with. He says he wants to have a family with you, but who is he to ask of that when so many other families have been burnt to ash with his own hands? Tell me, Pharaoh! Who are you looking at right now?

"Stop it." He grasped his chest, that uncomfortable feeling beginning to creep up yet again. "I have no right to..."

Tell me who you're looking at right now! The Colonel of yours who wants to start a family with you... or the one who has put to death countless families with his blood soaked hands? Colonel... or...

---

"Stop it... I... I have no right to..."

Atem, still motionless, was completely unaware that his hand was being held or that Roy was anywhere near him. His gaze was blank, it was as if he was in a trance. The only semblance of consciousness was his soft muttering that if leaned in close one could hear him.

"C... C... Col..."

His voice seemed to be in a struggle, vacant violet eyes showed no signs of any emotion. However... amongst the violet... a flicker of red began to take them, a familiar flicker of red. His body once again began to stiffen and bristle up. Though as he opened his mouth, his body seemed... in conflict. His hands seemed shaky but were also still, and despite the growing flicker of red in his eyes... two of the smallest droplets slowly ran down his barely dried face. All as he sputtered one simple word.

"...M..."

"Murderer..."

Kiss after kiss, the moment seemed so beautiful. His heart feeling happy and full from the fact they were now engaged to be married, to take the next step in life together.

Roy knew that this was going to be its own adventure in and of itself, but he knew they could do it together. "You don't have to apologize, Atem. You know I'll accept you for all that you are. I would always wait for you to catch up and catch you." He assured him, cupping his cheek softly before pulling away.

Roy noticed him shakily about to reach out for the ring when he noticed his body stilled and his eyes didn’t look bright or emotional anymore. Roy wasn’t sure what was going on, but it worried him it was in his features and he grabbed his hand feeling him not really react but all he could hear was the soft words continuously mumbling.

“Atem, are you okay? Speak to me please.” Worry in his voice as he waits for something to happen. He wasn’t sure what was going on, but he would be here to ride everything out regardless.

This was familiar, if he remembered correctly this happened when Roy told him that he wasn't being honest with him about his feelings and that's when he acted completely different and was telling him things that he himself would never say, as if he was completely separate from Atem.

Roy knew that was Atem though, it seemed that side was a darker side to him, at least that's what he said himself. One that he knew he didn't want Roy seeing when he did and that was when he ran all the way to the park with Roy running after him and then they confessed to each other at the park.

What was he going to do? He would just have to do his best to prepare himself mentally for what was to come.

[illyrianslut]

Spymaster's mate - Azriel x Reader

Summary: Azriel is away on business for the Night Court, but Y/N needs satisfaction while he is gone. He senses through the bond what his mate is needing and winnows home.

Word Count: 2.8k

Warnings: Smut, overstimulation, breeding kink, spanking, masturbation. I think that's it..

Author's Note: I don't write smut a lot, so please be kind xD Ao3 Link

Masterlist | Ao3

You had known it was going to be another long lonely night at home without Azriel to keep you company, but that didn’t make coming home to your empty town home any easier. It had been a rainy, dreary day in Velaris but you’d made the best of it deciding to visit Feyre and Nyx at Feyre’s shop surprising them with treats from their favorite bakery.

Even after spending time with you little nephew the ache of missing your mate consumed you once you were alone. Of course you understood that Azriel’s job as Spymaster for the Night Court was an important one, and one that often stole him away from you for days at a time, it didn’t ever take away the ache of being away from him or not knowing if he is safe.

Throwing your things in a pile beside the door, you enter your home and make your way to the kitchen to begin making something for dinner. Much to your surprise, there is a bouquet of flowers sitting on the table, a card with your name on it is sitting beside it.

You look around your home, feeling that your mate isn’t there causing you to wonder how the flowers got into your -locked- home. The note was clearly written in Azriel’s handwriting, confusing you further. You give a small tug on the mating bond you share with him, but can tell instantly that his walls are up and there is no chance of you getting through to him.

Y/N,

I wanted to apologize for leaving you home alone for so long. You know how it kills me to be away from you. Rhysand needs me to stay here longer, I can explain more when I get home. I am so sorry for being away my love, I will be home as soon as time allows. I love you, Az.

A disappointed sigh leaves your lips, it wasn’t the first time his job kept him away longer than anticipated, and surely wouldn’t be the last. You know not to take it to heart, but that doesn’t take away the sting of missing him.

You give up on the idea of dinner, just wanting the day to be over. Sleep sounds much nicer anyway. You give the flowers a quick sniff and smile, he had always known your favorite flowers to get. But you’d still rather your mate be home than have flowers.

Tomorrow would be one week since you saw him, one week since you felt his calming pretense, and felt him inside you. Your core aches at the thought of your last morning before he left, as always he made sure to satisfy you fully before leaving. You get to your bedroom and throw on one of his shirts and crawl into bed, still thinking about that morning.

He had woken you with his lips wrapped around your clit, and hands on your hips to hold you in place while he devoured you.

You move your fingers to your needy cunt, and begin rubbing slow circles on your clit, remembering the feel of your mate.

“Az.” You moan running your fingers through his hair, hips bucking to meet his tongue that is currently lapping at your entrance as though it’s his last meal.

“Good morning my beautiful girl.” He says, moving to slide a finger inside you. “How many times shall I make you come for me this morning?” He questions, adding another finger.

You can’t help but sigh deeply at the memory of his fingers inside you, tossing your head back moving your fingers faster.

You hum in response to his question, but can’t find any words as pleasure is coursing through your body. He begins sucking on your swollen clit, making a knot form in your stomach. “I’m gonna cum.” You clasp a hand over your mouth to hold back the moan rising in your throat. But he stops, taking away the pleasure he’d been giving so freely moments before.

“Don’t you dare hide those beautiful moans from me, princess.” He pulls your hand away from your mouth and holds it with his free hand, then goes back to lapping at your core. “You come for me, baby girl. Come all over my face.” His words are your undoing, your release hitting you all at once. Your legs clench around his shoulders and you let go, cumming on his tongue as he keeps licking, and pumping his fingers inside you quickly.

A tug is sent from the other side of the bond, a satisfied grin plasters itself on your face knowing that Azriel can feel the please you’re giving yourself. You drop what little shield was left to you, letting him in fully, letting him feel the orgasm you’re close to giving yourself.

“Please, I need more.” You beg him, not feeling fully satisfied, needing his cock inside you.

“Beg for it, Princess.” He commands, placing rough kisses up your body, sucking once he gets to your swollen nipple. “Beg for my cock if you want it so bad.” His hand reaches up to play with your other nipple.

Your body can’t help but respond to his deep, lust filled voice. “Az please, I need your cock inside me. I need you to fill my pussy.” Your voice comes out in a desperate whine while you take in the assault on your nipples.

“Good girl.” He praises you, lining his beautifully long cock up with your desperate cunt.

He doesn’t take but a moment before pushing his entire length inside you, earning a lust filled moan from both of you.

A brief rustle beside you brings you back to reality. You can’t help but startle seeing a dark figure in the corner of your bedroom, but once you recognize the shadows of your mate you continue flicking your fingers over your clit.

“You dirty little slut.” Azriel growls, stalking over to the bed and gripping your ankles to pull you to meet him.

You laugh excitedly, knowing that you’re in trouble, but also knowing the punishment will be well worth it. “What did I do?” You ask innocently, eyes raking down the man before you. His cock bulging through his leathers, wings fluttering as they always did when lust overtook him, and his eye narrowed on you.

“You know exactly what you did.” He leans down, grabbing the hand that had just been rubbing your clit and pulled you to a sitting position. His lips are close to yours, but instead of kissing you he lifts your hand to his mouth and sucks on the two fingers covered in your wetness. “Take off the shirt.” He commands, leaving no room for argument.

You do as your told, and toss the shirt you’d taken from his dresser across the room. He stood above you not breaking eye contact, he loved to hold the power over you in the bedroom, to be in control. “Get your ass in the air.” Another command, causing your needy cunt to clench looking for something to fill it.

You turn yourself around so that your ass is in the air, and shake it for him. A hard smack lands on your left cheek, a moan from you as you savor the punishment. “Please Az, I need your dick inside me.” You beg, wishing more than anything that cock was filling you up like it had before he left.

He sucks gently at your collarbone, sure to leave a nice purple bruise after he’s done. His hips pull out of you teasingly slow before he shoves his cock back into you so hard your body pushes up. He repeats his thrust again and again, earning pleasure filled cries from you. “That’s right pretty girl, take my cock like a good fucking girl.”

You clench around his cock at his words, digging your fingers into his shoulder. “Good girl, clench that pussy around my dick. That’s right, take it just like that.” Another thrust into your aching pussy.

Smack. Your right cheek stings as he slaps it bringing you back to him. “Dirty slut, distracting me from my work.” One more slap to your left cheek and he pulls away, a whine leaving your lips. “Take my dick out, and if you’re a good girl maybe I’ll fuck you.”

You sit up quickly, facing him on the bed and begin undoing the leathers between you and his cock. A satisfied hum comes from him at your eagerness, earning you a soft caress on the cheek. As soon as you’ve undone his leathers and hauled them down you take in the beauty that is his length. Pre cum is spilling out of the tip, you lick your lips before getting to your knees in front of him, licking his entire length.

He groans your name, and puts a fist in your hair tugging at the roots. You open your mouth wide to fit him inside, and dip down to take as much as you could, using your hand to pump the remaining length. “Fuck, just like that princess.” He praises, keeping his grip in your hair while guiding you in sucking his cock.

A glance up at him shows you his eyes closed tightly, and lips parted slightly as his soft moans fill the room. You use your free hand to cup his balls and he stiffens immediately, eyes shooting open to look down at you. “You are my good girl, aren’t you?” He grabs both sides of your head and thrusts into your mouth several times, making your eyes fill with tears, and gag as his entire length is shoved down your throat. Just when you think you aren’t able to take more he stops, and pulls you up gently. “Aren’t you?”

You nod, wiping at the tears that had filled your eyes from the face fuck, and reach behind him to run a gently finger across the base of his wings. “Do you think you deserve my dick?” He questions, shuddering at your touch.

“Yes baby.” Your words sound like a plea. You can’t help but grind against his cock, needing the friction, your dripping pussy aching for relief.

He leans down to your shoulder placing an all too gently kiss there before wrapping his arms under your ass and picking you up. Instinctively you wrap your legs around him, and lull your head to the side as he sucks at the soft skin.

Before you know it, your back has hit the wall, and he crashes his lips to yours. “You are my good little girl.” He lines his tip up with your entrance and without another word, thrusts into you. “Who got your pussy so wet angel?” He asks, pulling out and thrusting back in quickly, his balls slapping against you while he fucks up into you.

“You did Az, my pussy is soaked only for you.” You moan, taking his cock up inside you, grinding as much as you can to create more friction on your clit.

He hold you up with one arm, still fucking you when he reaches between you and uses his thumb to rub circles on your clit. A red hot ball begins to form in your stomach, lewd sounds leaving your mouth as you try to form words around the ecstasy that you’re feeling.

“I’m g-gonna.” You try to get out, but just as the orgasm is about to take over you he pulls out and sets you on wobbling legs. “Az-” You beg, looking up, legs shaking as you’re unable to hold yourself up at the let down from you ruined orgasm.

“Not yet you’re not.” He drags you over to the bed, holding you up as your body comes down from the disappointment. “You’re coming on my mouth first, sweet girl.” He tells you, laying you down and kneeling before you.

His cock is being fisted in his hand as he pushes you down and pulls you to the edge of the bed. “You don’t cum until I tell you to. Is that understood?” His mouth is hovering over your soaked pussy, but he refuses to give you pleasure until you acknowledge his words.

“Yes baby.” You confirm, hips rolling looking for any sign of satisfaction.

He leans in and immediately starts lapping at your soaking cunt “You’re so beautiful.” He says into you, sucking and slurping sending lightning bolts of pleasure rushing through you. Your ruined orgasm coming back, full force.

As though he senses the oncoming orgasm, he tears his hand away from his cock so he can put two fingers inside you, pumping quickly while he continues sucking on your clit. The pleasure is about to burst out of you, and you know you need to ask before you come. “Please let me cum.” You beg, hips bucking to meet his finger thrusts.

“Come for me princess.” With those words you come undone, your pleasure fulled moans filling the room, mixed with the slurping of your pussy in Azriel’s mouth. “Mmm, good fucking girl.” He praises, as your body convulses, letting the orgasm run through you.

You moan his name and a string of curse words, running your fingers through his hair. “Now it’s my turn, and I’m going to cum in that little pussy of yours.” Another wave of pleasure consumes you as he lay over you and thrusts inside before letting you come down from your first orgasm.

He fills you so completely, stretching your cunt to the limits filling you with the most beautiful feeling. His large hand finds your throat, and squeezes just enough to send more pleasure through you, his pace quickening as he fucks into you harder.

You reach back and play with his wings, and close your eyes enjoying the feeling of his hand around your throat. “I’m gonna cum in your pussy and fill you with my seed. You little fucking whore.” His thrusts are becoming sloppy, he releases his grip on your throat and hold himself over you continuing to pump into you.

Your second orgasm burst out of you when he took your nipple in his mouth, the sensation overtaking you. You knew he was close, and the stimulation was becoming too much for you to bare, “Please cum inside me, I want you to put a babe in me, Az.” You knew the words would be his undoing, he’d been attempting to get you with child for years.

Just like that his weight was on top of you in the most loving way and you felt his cum filling you up. Your name continuing to fall off his lips as he kept thrusting to push his seed further inside. As he finished his hips pressed into you, creating an overstimulated cry leave your lips.

As he realized what caused the cry, he began grinding against you harder, a devious grin spreading across his lips. You try to push his weight off you, feeling another unwelcome orgasm creeping up inside you “Az it’s too much.” You beg, your hips betraying you and grinding into his.

The orgasm hit you like a ton of bricks, another cry escaping out of you. “You have one more in you, I know it.” He slides down your body, and holds your hips in place while he attaches his lips to your exposed cunt again.

“Azriel!” You cry out, the overstimulation crashing into you, tears falling from your eyes and your cunt clenching trying to hold back an orgasm.

He nips at your bundle of nerves and that is your undoing, your final orgasm leaving your body like an exorcism. Cries of pleasure and pain fill the room as your cunt aches from overuse. “That’s my good girl” Azriel walks away for only a moment before coming back with a warm cloth.

He kneels before you, as your body is trying to regulate itself. “I’m going to clean you now princess, and you need to let me.” He instructs, you can’t do anything but nod as your adrenaline lowers. As he gently wipes at your dripping and aching pussy you want to pull away, but he holds you there getting every drop off you.

You can’t move in the aftershock of your orgasms, so he wraps his strong arms around you and brings you to the head of the bed, tucking you in. “Come love.” He whispers, pulling you close to him, letting you rest your head on his check.

“You were so good for me, you’re such a good girl.” He presses a soft kiss to the top of your head, brushing a few stray hairs from your face. “And who knows maybe I will have finally put a babe in you.” He smiles lovingly at you, and you can’t help but swell with love also at the idea of carrying his child.

[muletia]

I just found a Transformers prime fic that makes cybertronians small and the human trio has to take care of them.

Now imagine this.

This happens with obsessed!Optimus, now he can go anywhere with you, gets hugs and warmth from you, and be able to be kept inside the house with you.

Especially if he has to be carried by you because of his size(maybe the size of your knees) so stay in the base is off limits because of his side, especially with the danger of being squished.

What do you think?

what a silly (affectionate) scenario

wrote some short of headcanons because this is such an adorable concept <3

At first, Optimus would be terrified. Going from a height that allows you to look down on everyone to having to tilt your head all the way back just to meet Rafael’s eyes isn’t something easy to adjust to, or accept. New dangers and uncertainties also arise. Will they manage to restore him to normal before the Decepticons find out (imagine a mini Megatron lmao)? Or before someone accidentally steps on him?

That terror quickly dissipates when you discover what has happened, replaced by embarrassment. You weren’t supposed to see him in such a state. Once, he prayed every night to Primus for just a sliver of your attention, but now he’d give so much just for you to look away. He wanted you to always see him as a worthy partner, not a sparkling utterly dependent on the care of others.

He abandons that mindset just as quickly when it turns out you feel an overwhelming need to care for him. To stay by his side and make sure no one steps on him. You practically never leave his side, every now and then stroking his helm or grabbing his servo.

Oh, holding his servo. Imagine you grabbed it instinctively, wanting to protect him from Smokescreen’s pede or another less careful bot. From that moment on, the two of you are inseparable. Seeing you apart, without any form of physical contact, becomes a true rarity because Optimus will take every opportunity to bask in your closeness. He becomes your shadow. A clingy companion who won’t let you take a single step without him.

Humans have a tendency to shower affection on anything adorable, and I think this case wouldn’t be an exception. It’s so easy to lose control of yourself when a mini version of Optimus is constantly looking up at you with big, puppy-like optics, clutching your hand tightly as if afraid you’ll vanish at any moment. And although he won’t be thrilled with public displays of affection, feeling uncomfortable when you shower his faceplate with kisses while Ratchet watches from the sidelines, his restraint evaporates the moment you have to take him home.

That’s when it becomes clear just how touch-starved he is and how much he craves being spoiled. Even as someone small and irresistibly cute, able to use those traits to his advantage, he still won’t want to impose his feelings on you. But honestly, he doesn’t even need to try. Because you’re always there for him. Your hand is always in contact with him — holding his servo, stroking him, or wrapping him in a hug.

And oh, he will hug you often. Mostly because of you—it’s nearly impossible to resist when you have such an adorable sweetheart by your side. The best part is that you can squeeze him tightly without worrying about hurting him. Mini Optimus absolutely loves it. He delights in your affectionate tendencies and lets you do whatever you please as long as you’re giving him attention.

He especially loves it when you cover his faceplate in kisses, making sure not to miss a single millimeter. He must have been a truly good mech his entire life if Primus himself rewarded him with such treatment.

So don’t be surprised if, when Ratchet eventually finds a way to restore Optimus to his proper size, he becomes very, very reluctant to return to being the leader and a Prime.

But what do you mean he can’t spend the rest of his life being spoiled by you and carried around in your arms?

[muniimyg]

*ੈ εつ‧₊˚° ♡ ༘ ctrl+alt+delete // jjk ༘ ♡ °˚₊‧ εつ ੈ*

19 // next // series m.list

note: oh wHAT DO YOU KNOW ABT MEET CUTES??? huashjdkfasjf.... ignore my mistakes ,, i am sick ! goodnight pretty pussy kimi friends <3

//

friday night. 

jimin’s voice rings through the chaos of the small, but somehow always too crowded, apartment. it’s filled with people yet jimin’s squeaky yapping is the loudest thing in jungkook’s ear.

“stop freaking out!” jimin cries, dodging around taehyung, who’s already got a hand to his forehead like he’s holding back a migraine. “bro, you look fine.”

“but what if this is the wrong shirt?” jungkook whines, his brows knit together, tugging at the hem of the plain black tee he’s been second-guessing for the last hour and a half.

taehyung groans, dramatic as ever. “what if i hit you right now?”

“what if you go kill yourself—”

before jungkook can finish, the sound of liquid splashing against fabric cuts him off. the liquor spreads fast and drips down his shirt.

jungkook takes a deep breath in.

“oops,” jimin says, not even trying to hide the grin as his tequila splatters all over jungkook’s chest. “now you have to change. you’re welcome.”

“you—!” jungkook starts, eyes narrowing like he’s about to lunge.

“do it,” taehyung interrupts, his grin lazy, sharp, and mean in a way that only jungkook’s closest friends can manage. “before ___ walks in and sees you covered in alcohol. how’s that for a first impression, mr. perfect?”

jungkook shoots both of them a glare, muttering curses under his breath as he storms off toward his room, the familiar bubble of frustration fizzing in his chest.

god. 

tonight, out of all nights; he’s spiraling. really—because how could they not see how serious this all is? 

you’re coming over. 

you. 

st4rg1rlyni3. 

… and since this is your first time meeting… he has to get it right. he has to at least look good. presentable. maybe even… handsome.

once jungkook reaches his room, he pulls open his closet door with more force than necessary. the shirts hang neatly—too neatly—because he reorganized them this morning, just in case you’d... what? wander in here and look inside his closet?

he groans at himself, grabbing the first thing that doesn’t make him want to scream, a striped blue button-up he swore he wouldn’t wear tonight.

as he shrugs the shirt over his shoulders, he’s halfway through tugging it down—arms trapped in the fabric, mid-struggle—when his door creaks open.

his heart stalls. freezes, really, like his whole body is buffering.

because it’s you.

you’re standing there, hand still on the doorknob, looking as though you hadn’t expected to walk in on this exact moment—but you’re also clearly trying to hold back a laugh.

“oh.” your voice comes out light, amused. you glance down at your phone for a second before back up at him, a brow raising. “taehyung said the bathroom was—hmmm. okay. i get it.”

jungkook is acutely aware of every awkward detail: his hair sticking up from all his stressed-out fidgeting, the half-buttoned shirt that’s probably wrinkled by now, the way his mouth is hanging slightly open because he still hasn’t figured out what to say.

“um...” it’s the best he can manage, voice a little cracked.

your smile grows, softening the edges of the moment. 

“nice shirt.”

he stares at you, feels his cheeks flush a little hotter. because of course you’d show up looking this good, all easy confidence and effortless charm, while he’s here feeling like a walking disaster. your hair is curled in such an effortless way that truly scratches his brain. you’re wearing a baby pink dress that tugs your curves perfectly. 

truth be told, he was just talking shit about the colour pink. 

seeing it on you? 

yeah. it’s his favourite colour now too—

that’s when jungkook realizes he’s been silent for a minute too long. you’re looking at him like you’re waiting for a response.

“thanks,” he finally blurts, so fast it sounds like one word. then he clears his throat, scrambling to add, “just—uh, just picked it.”

your gaze lingers on him, a smile tipping into something dangerously close to teasing. 

“what’s… with the awkwardness? am i prettier than you expected?”

his breath hitches, and you swear you catch the faintest blush coloring his cheeks. but jungkook recovers quickly, his lips curling into a crooked grin.

“the issue was never if you were pretty. you are pretty. there’s no denying that,” he admits, his voice steady yet soft. “it’s your attitude.”

your brow arches, feigning offense. 

“what attitude? i just got here.”

“that one,” he says, gesturing vaguely as if you radiate something he can’t quite put into words.

you scoff, crossing your arms over your chest. “oh, so we’re acting like we didn’t just celebrate seven days of talking with cake? like you aren’t completely obsessed with me—”

“okay, miss disliker.”

“mr. vlog dedicator.”

“weren’t you mad at me a few days ago for muting when i peed?”

“yeah. i can admit to that. if i made peeing videos, you’d watch them, right? can you admit to that?”

jungkook bites down on his bottom lip, a nervous habit you’ve started to notice, and inhales sharply through his nose. his tongue darts out to wet his lips, and for a moment, his gaze drops to the floor like he’s trying to gather himself.

the air stills.

“sorry,” he finally breathes, his voice low and almost unsure. “seeing you in person… god, i don’t know how to act right now. i’m sorry, baby.”

his words settle over you, warm and sweet, sinking into the spaces you didn’t know were waiting to be filled. your stomach tightens, flipping over itself, and you’re suddenly too aware of the way his voice dips when he calls you baby.

jungkook finishes buttoning up his shirt, his fingers fumbling slightly on the last button, and then he extends his hand toward you. 

“nice to meet you—”

but before he can finish, you reach out, wrapping your arms around his neck instead.

his entire body tenses for a split second, caught off guard before he melts into the embrace. his arms come around you, pulling you close, holding you tight.

you rest your chin on his shoulder, and for a moment, neither of you speaks. his cologne—something woodsy with just a hint of spice—wraps around you, grounding you in the intimacy of the moment.

why does this feel so right?

your hands flex against his back, feeling the solid warmth of him beneath your fingertips. it’s overwhelming—how natural this feels, how easy it is to lean into him like this.

he exhales against your hair, his breath warm and steady now, and you can feel the tension draining from his body. you pull back slightly, your arms still looped around his neck, and meet his gaze. there’s a flicker of something in his eyes—uncertainty, maybe, or hesitation—but it’s quickly swallowed by a softness that tugs at your chest.

his hands slide down to rest on your waist, grounding you in place. “hi.”

you blink, your stomach flipping again as his words settle in. he’s staring at you like you’re the only person in the room, and it’s almost too much to bear.

“hi.”

“i’m really nervous, to be honest. jimin and tae have been eating up my anxiety and i’m… i’ve embrassed myself in front of you already so what the hell?” he says, his grip on your waist tightening just slightly. “you’ve been in my head. and now… now you’re here, and i don’t know what to do with myself.”

you smile softly, trying to keep things light despite the way your heart is racing. 

“excited much?”

he laughs, the sound warm and a little breathless. “only a little.”

you don’t know who moves first, but somehow, you find yourself leaning in, his forehead pressing gently against yours. his eyes flutter shut, and for a moment, the world outside fades into nothingness.

“you smell nice,” he murmurs, his lips so close to yours that you can feel the ghost of his breath.

“so do you.”

he chuckles, his hand lifting to brush a strand of hair away from your face. “this feels too perfect,” he whispers, almost like he’s afraid saying it out loud will break the spell.

your stomach flips again, and you’re suddenly so aware of everything—his hands on your waist, the warmth radiating off his body, the way his lips hover just a breath away from yours.

“then don’t ruin it,” you tease, your smile growing.

he grins, leaning back just enough to meet your eyes, and for a moment, you’re both caught in the weight of everything unsaid.

“not a chance,” he says, his voice steady now. 

you believe him.

the night feels like a dream. 

not the kind you forget the second you wake up, but the kind you spend the rest of the day reliving, hoping to hold onto every detail.

jungkook’s mind if filled with you.

every time he looks at you, touches you, or hears you—he can’t help but feel like his heart is beating outside of his chest. it’s so strange and love has never felt this way—so intense and real… so fast. 

you’re witty in a way that makes his chest ache, sharp without being mean, playful but never overbearing. he can’t remember the last time someone teased him, really teased him, without making him feel small. you make it fun—safe, even.

and god, you’re beautiful. 

not in the way he thought before, through screens and pictures, but in a way that’s... more. the kind of beauty that makes him feel like he should thank someone—maybe you, maybe the universe—for the chance to be here, breathing the same air as you.

he notices the way hobi smirks when he catches jungkook staring at you too long. the way taehyung elbows him whenever you laugh at one of his dumb jokes. the way jimin whispers “she likes you, idiot” every time you brush past him, your shoulder grazing his.

it’s obvious. 

to everyone. 

and apparently, to you too, because you’ve joined in. 

you’re teasing him just as much as his friends, your words sharp and deliberate in a way that keeps him on his toes. it’s almost unbearable, the way you make him feel like a little kid with a crush, heart pounding and cheeks burning every time you look his way.

and then, in the middle of it all, he snaps. 

not in a bad way, but in the way you’d snap a rubber band to bring yourself back to reality. he steps closer, his hand finding your waist, his fingers curling just slightly.

“can i show you something?”

your brows lift, curiosity flickering across your face. you nod. 

“sure.”

jungkook leads you to his room, the chaos of the party fading behind you. his fingers brush yours as he walks ahead, close enough to touch but not quite. it’s deliberate, like he’s trying to keep his cool but failing miserably.

once you're in his room, he gestures towards his balcony.

you two step out and it's this set up of a cozy and quiet escape. there are string lights wrapped around the railing, a single blanket draped over the chair, and the view—god, the view is stunning.

the city stretches out like it’s alive, blinking lights and faint noises making it feel infinite.

“i fought for this room,” jungkook brags, leaning against the doorframe. “tae wanted it, but i beat him in an arm wrestling match.”

you laugh softly, stepping out onto the balcony.

“it’s worth the fight.”

“it is.”

he doesn’t mean the room, though.

you settle into the blanket he hands you, the conversation flowing into something softer, deeper.

“it's been a few hours already but... it’s still so weird seeing you in person,” he admits, his voice quieter now, like he’s letting himself be vulnerable. “i feel like... i’ve known you my entire life. it feels...”

“different?” you offer, your gaze steady on him.

he nods, his lips curving into a small smile. “in a good way."

“in a good way." you echo.

with that, you two settle in to each others presence. looking out at the view and laughing at each others lame jokes. for two sociable people, you two sure love your space from everyone... perhaps, it's because you're with the one.

as the conversation drifts, eventually, jungkook asks, “so... the anon thing. have you figured out who it is yet?”

you shrug, pulling the blanket tighter around you.

“no, not really. hobi told me to take it slow. to focus on myself for now.”

“what does that mean for... you know.” his voice drops, suddenly shy. “your content.”

another shrug.

“i’m not sure. i don’t know if i want to keep going, but... i don’t think i have any other options.”

he frowns, leaning forward. “what do you mean by that?”

you hesitate, your fingers tracing the edge of the blanket. “i don’t really know what i am these days, to be honest with you.”

that's the plain truth.

you haven't really admitted it to anyone... honestly? hardly to yourself... but for some reason, it just came out. for a moment you think; maybe this is dangerous. trusting someone so fast and feeling how natural it is to say the hard things...

then, there’s a beat of silence before he speaks.

“that’s okay.” jungkook voice is steady, sure. “not knowing is okay. being you is enough.”

you blink, startled by the simplicity of his words.

they hit harder than you expected, settling somewhere deep. it’s strange, feeling so understood by someone you’ve only just met.

the moment is broken by the buzz of jungkook’s phone. he checks it, lips quirking into a smile.

“jimin says everyone went to the pool.”

he stands, holding out a hand. “come on.”

jungkook leads you to the rooftop pool. 

the rooftop is alive with soft laughter and the sound of water splashing, but all of it fades when you step out hand-in-hand with jungkook.

every set of eyes shifts to where your fingers are intertwined, lingering just a second too long before darting to his face, then back to yours. you feel your cheeks heat up, suddenly shy… but you two don’t let go. instead, you hold his hand even tighter. 

instinctively, you move slightly behind him, but jungkook isn’t having it.

he pulls you forward gently, his hand sliding to your waist, keeping you anchored there. 

for fucks sake… the prettiest girl at the party is with him. why would he hide this? why wouldn’t he boast?

“do you guys swim often?” you ask, trying to deflect from the weight of their teasing stares.

jungkook shrugs, playing it cool. “only when i wanna vlog and get your attention.”

you laugh, shaking your head. “right… because you just hate it when people only like you for your body?”

he nods, lips twitching into a grin. “exactly. oh, you so get me—”

“hate to break it to you,” taehyung interrupts, draping an arm around jungkook’s neck, “but posting thirst traps isn’t exactly original content.”

“what does that make me?” you quip, arching a brow.

taehyung shrugs, also playing it cool. “jungkook said he’d beat me up if I ever click your links.”

you snort, covering your mouth to hide your laugh.

“oh, come on,” taehyung continues, pulling at the hem of jungkook’s shirt, threatening to lift it. “jungkooookieee… go for a swim and do the whole romantic wet hair look. she’ll love it.”

“shut up—”

“no, seriously! right, ___?” taehyung calls over his shoulder, his grin mischievous. “you’ll love it, right?”

before you can answer, jimin comes barreling in, teaming up with taehyung to ambush jungkook. they shove him into the pool, their laughter echoing as jungkook resurfaces, glaring at them.

you step to the edge, watching as the three of them wrestle and splash around in the water. hobi appears beside you, crossing his arms with a knowing smile.

“this is gonna get worse before it gets better,” he teases, nudging you lightly.

you kneel by the pool, your gaze following jungkook as he swims to where you’re crouched. his wet hair clings to his forehead, and there’s a boyish charm in the way he grins up at you.

he’s breathtaking like this. 

wet hair curling just enough to look messy, droplets sliding down the sharp line of his jaw, catching faint glimmers of the rooftop lights. his shirt clings to him, fabric plastered to every dip and ridge of his body, leaving nothing to the imagination—not that it matters. you’ve spent enough time watching him online to know every detail by heart, but this is different. 

you swallow hard, a little lightheaded. 

“help me up,” he says, holding his hand out.

“no.”

his grin falters. “what? why not—”

“you’re gonna pull me in.”

“no, i won’t.”

“yes, you are.”

“how do you know?”

“i know you.”

jungkook tilts his head, his grin returning as he leans his arms on the pool edge. “oh? you think you’ve got me figured out, huh?”

you smirk. “don’t i?”

“you don’t,” he challenges, wiggling his fingers. “come on. trust me.”

against your better judgment, you give him your hand. the second his fingers close around yours, you know you’ve made a mistake.

“jungkook, don’t—”

but it’s too late. 

he tugs you in, and the cold water shocks you, stealing the air from your lungs. you bob to the surface, pushing your hair out of your face, only to see him laughing like a kid who just got away with a prank.

you splash him. “you’re the worst!”

“am i?” he teases, swimming closer.

you’re still laughing when he scoops you up under the water, holding you bridal style. he hums, grinning down at you. “saved you.”

“you pulled me in.”

“okay, fine. i pulled you in.”

“you give in easily.” you tease, splashing water to his face. jungkook squints, taking the splash. before you can say anything else, he defends himself with a few words that make your stomach turn again. 

“how am i supposed to argue with a pretty girl like you?”

back in his room, jungkook has a hoodie and a pair of sweats laid out for you. he’s drying off with a towel when you step out of his bathroom, his clothes hanging loose on you.

he pauses mid-motion, the towel draped over his shoulder as his eyes take you in. “you look better in my clothes than i do,” he teases, his voice dipping just slightly.

“gross.”

he grins, leaning against the dresser. “i’m serious. i might have to start hiding my hoodies.”

“please. you’d hand them over without a fight.”

“not true.”

you roll your eyes, stepping closer. without a word, you take the towel from his shoulder and start drying his hair. he freezes for a moment, caught off guard, before leaning into your touch.

your fingers work through his damp hair, your eyes inadvertently drifting to his lips. the air between you feels heavier now, thick with something unsaid. jungkook tilts his head slightly, his gaze dropping to your mouth before flicking back up to your eyes.

he leans in—so close, you can feel his breath on your skin—and then stops himself, pulling back just enough to create a sliver of space.

“i... i’m gonna wait,” he says, his voice low, almost a whisper.

“for?”

jungkook exhales, dragging a hand through his half-dry hair, the strands falling back into a soft, messy tangle that makes your stomach flip. the towel around his neck shifts as he fidgets with it, like it’s the only thing grounding him right now. 

“i don’t know,” he murmurs, voice quiet, like the words aren’t fully formed yet. “i want to show you i’m patient. i want to show you that i’m a good man. i am... so...” his eyes flicker to yours, holding your gaze for a beat too long, raw and unguarded. “let’s go? i’ll drive you home and hold your hand the entire way.”

you tilt your head, biting back a smile. 

“you’re really not going to kiss me right now?”

his lips twitch into a soft laugh, dimples pressing into his cheeks as his shoulders relax.

“i just want you to know that you’re perfect for me,” he says, his tone so sincere it makes your breath catch. “i want to be perfect for you... and it’s hard when i’m losing my patience. if i kiss you right now…” he hesitates, his voice dipping lower, “i won’t stop.”

you lean forward, close enough to catch the faintest scent of his cologne mingling with chlorine. 

“okay, i get it. you wanna be a good boy. fine by me…” you whisper, your lips brushing the air between you. “you’re right. maybe you shouldn’t kiss me tonight—as a matter of fact—don’t.”

his brows lift, the corner of his mouth curving into a grin that feels dangerously addictive. 

“really?”

“yeah.” your smile widens as you lean just a little closer, your nose nearly grazing his. “i like making people wait.”

his grin deepens, the heat in his gaze undeniable. 

“yeah?”

“yeah. i like it because it usually leads to begging.”

and then, before he can respond, you close the distance—not to his lips, but to his cheek, pressing the softest kiss there. when you pull back, jungkook's stunned expression is almost too satisfying. 

almost.

[jayparked]

heeseung + 3

WARNINGS: toxic heeseung, teasing the TEASING, forced confession? slight possessive hee, hair pulling

WC: 633

"you gonna keep running to me every time you and your pathetic boyfriend break up?" heeseung grunts as he pulls on your ponytail, arching your body so he can position his cock to a new angle inside your fluttering walls.

you choke on your reply, a stifling moan taking the place of coherent words instead. one of heeseung's arms wraps around your midsection, holding you tightly against his body while he rolls his hips into you.

"you miss him so badly you can't go a full day without cock? hmm? or do you use me to forget him? which is it?" slowly he pulls his length out until just his tip is still inside before slamming it back inside you, grinding against you to make sure he's as deep as he can go, holding himself still until you answer him.

"i-...i-"

you feel his breath on the back of your neck, making your thoughts scramble in your mind. goosebumps erupt along your skin and you clench even harder around his length, heeseung wincing near your ear in response.

"c'mon, baby, use your words and i'll start moving again."

you can hear the smile behind his soft, low, chuckle. heeseung releases your hair from his hand and it feels like you can finally breathe properly again; your chest rising and falling quickly as you try to catch your breath. he smooths his hand over your hair, petting it back into place before trialing the same hand down your bare back.

"it's because i miss him and want to forget him." the words don't come out as genuine as you originally intended. instead, there's a pout to your tone, lips naturally pursing and hips moving slightly to feel him move inside you.

heeseung grabs your hips and stops your movements, he inhales a surprised gasp, laughing shortly after as he starts to thrust into you again relentlessly.

"it's neither of those things!" heeseung's devilish laugh doesn't stop, his movements fast and excited with his newfound discovery. "oh, you like me!"

"i do not!" you yelp, but you can't help the way your walls contract against his thick cock. his nails dig into the flesh of your hips even more, his body hovering over yours with the perfect amount of leverage to make his thrusts hard and deep.

"you run back to me because it's the only way you can have me again. i bet whenever you miss me and my cock you purposefully try to get him to break up with you so you can finally be pleased again.

"that's not true! i love him!"

heeseung chuckles again, slowing down his pace to a smooth languid rhythm, "that's sweet and all but does he touch you the way i touch you? fuck you the way i fuck you? mm, yeah, didn't think so." heeseung throws his head back and groans when you grind your ass against his pelvis.

"just shut up, heeseung." the anger bubbling up in your chest is suffocating and you hate that you can't straight up deny his allegations. it's something you didn't want to think about, something you've been avoiding for a very long time now. and having those feelings come to light while you're in a vulnerable position like this? probably the most embarrassing thing that's ever happened to you.

unrelenting, heeseung laughs again and flips you over. now, face to face, you can't avoid his confident smirk or the way his eyes sparkle under the soft room lights. his arms are on either side of your shoulders, perfectly caging you beneath him.

"you're mine, huh? always have been. oh, this is just too good, you made my day, baby. i'll make sure to make you feel so good you won't even bother with a loser like him ever again."

♡ for part of my 1k follower celebration ♡ masterlist

[agendercrisisx]

𝙳𝚎𝚜𝚝𝚛𝚞𝚌𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝚘𝚏 𝙶𝚘𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚗𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚝 𝙿𝚛𝚘𝚙𝚎𝚛𝚝𝚢

Ship: Simon "Ghost" Riley x female!reader

If there are any mistakes they will unfortunately not be corrected, because I'm too tired to read and this is what has been served. <3

Warnings: SEX! Porn no plot at alllllll, nipple play, vaginal sex, vaginal fingering, switch Ghosty, desperation, reader-insert, reader gets fucked... and cum a lot of cum and creampie.

Summary: Ghost has been away on a mission for way too long and you miss him more than you can handle. This is pure smut, no plot.

Word count: 3880

Your legs are hugging each side of Simon’s hips, his hands are placed on either side of your waist, holding you firmly in place. He is slowly pulling you back and forth on top of his aching crotch, pulling soft whimpers from your lips every time one of your sensitive spots grazes him. The pair of boxers he is wearing is the only thing separating the two of you, the only thing any of you are wearing. You had dropped most of your clothes the moment he had stepped through the door. His jacket and boots were the first to go, and then he was almost ripping the clothes of your body. Not that you were wearing much.

You had waited for his return, hoping he would be sent home a day early. Hoping for his immediate arrival home. You were desperate. You needed him, and your hand was far from enough anymore. Not even the toys Simon had bought for you, to “help” while he was gone, had any effect. You had been pent up for days, and not a dropped had spilt. You were more than desperate to see your husband again. Touch him. Feel him. Fuck him. And as his gaze had met yours, you realized how pent up he too was.

He had quickly picked you up and thrown you over his shoulder. Ridding you of your remaining clothes on the way to your shared bedroom. His movements were gentle as he had put you down on the bed, but you knew that his soft and gentle touches weren’t going to stay like that much longer. You were right, they hadn’t.

His grip tightens and the rub of his clothed dick, against your sensitive pussy, is almost already too much. You knew you were pent up, but to this extent? You were so addicted to your husband, and he you. A groan escapes his lips as he presses you down on him, while he grinds up into you. A whimper falls from your open mouth, and he is quick to pull you down to swallow it whole.

His cock is painfully hard and not long ago you could clearly see a spot, from where he was dripping precum. Now everything is soaked, and it is entirely your fault. The moment he had laid his hands on you, your whole body had set into breeding mode. Your breath turned short, your face red, your legs shaky, your nipples hard, your pussy wet, and nothing or no one could stop you from climbing the mountain, that is your husband.

“Mhm… Need, need you…” You take a shaky breath, in a desperate attempt to calm your voice enough to utter the words. “… You in… inside. Please… Oh please. Simon, please.” Your voice is dripping with need, and the words falling from your lips are barely understandable. But Simon understands enough.

“Anything…” A groan falls from his lips as you press your hips harder against him, it isn’t even intentionally, your body moving on its own.

“Love, gotta… oh fuck. You gotta… let me breathe…” His breaths coming out raspy, letting his head fall back into the pillows. He is trying to compose himself enough to get inside that pretty pussy of yours, but the way you’re grinding against him, has his mind blank. He can’t think about anything but you, and how good you make him feel. He is even more pent up than you, you at least had the time to make the worst go away. He hasn’t touched his cock in eight days, the last time he came was in you, right before he left. Just the thought of you while he was away, made him nearly dizzy. Price had to pull him out of his own head several times, but even on missions his mind always found you. Your soft skin, your smile, the way your eyes light up when you see him, your voice as you tell him about your day, the way your hand feels in his, your mind-numbingly beauty, the way you say his name, your moans, the whimpers he can pull from you with just a finger, the way you feel around him, you, you, you. You. Always you.

He can’t think anymore, his thoughts always filled with you, are mush. He can only register how good you feel, nothing in his mind. And he isn’t even inside, he is going to bust the moment his cock touches your sweet cunt. He needs you so bad. He needs you more than water. More than the air he breathes. If this was his last moments on Earth, he would die happy. Nothing more than you fills his senses. Now he just needs to fill you.

His muscles are flexing painfully, his whole body on edge, every nerve feels like it could snap, his entire body pent up, ready to bust any second. His hands are clenched by his side, his legs cramped up, and first as a soft feathery kiss is laid on his inner thigh does he realize your weight is missing. You aren’t sitting on him anymore and his underwear has been removed too. He tries to lift his head to look at you. But his body doesn’t move.

Another light kiss on his inner thigh, makes his body tense to a point he thinks it’s going to break. Whimpers and groans are leaving his lips like a waterfall, and drool is running slowly down his chin. His chest is covered in sweat, his dick is twitching almost violently, and his teary eyes are clenched shut.

You plant a last kiss on his thigh, just besides his balls and another whimper leaves his lips. He is sensitive. More sensitive than you think you have ever seen him before. It’s been years since you were separated for so long, normally it’s just a few days and you can both barely handle that. It has been over a week, you get pent up when he doesn’t touch you for a day. This is nothing short of torture.

Simon throws his head back in a silent cry, as you nose lightly grazes his ball. You bite softly down on his inner thigh and a moan slip past his lips. Normally he wouldn’t make a sound, he doesn’t like being vulnerable, but his mind is so blank he can’t even seem care. The enjoyment you get from the sounds he makes, is clearly shown in slick dripping down your thighs. The sheets under you already ruined, and you haven’t done anything.

You’re sitting on your knees between his thighs, you press your legs apart so your throbbing cunt can rub softly against the already soaked sheets. You whimper at the contact and your mind fall numb for a few seconds, before a soft gasp can be heard from Simon and you mission becomes clear. You must help your darling husband, he seems so tense, he needs relief, and it’s beyond clear that he can’t handle that himself.

Your lips brush his pelvic bone, and your lift yourself up on your elbows to have full access to his leaking cock. You grind your hips against the bed, and your moan mixes with his groans. You lean down to softly kiss the tip of his aching cock, you push your tongue out, and you softly kitten licks the tip.

No more than two grazes in, and his body cramps up. A delicious groan is pulled from Simon’s lips, his hand finds your head on instinct, as he takes a good grip in your hair. He pulls you back to his cock and a last soft kiss to the tip has him cumming undone. His body convulses and string after string of hot cum, falls over your face. Your mouth opens, trying to catch as much as possible. His hips are bucking into the air and his dick is twitching relentlessly. His mind is only filled with pleasure and no coherent thoughts is anywhere near him.

As he finally unloads it all on you and the bed, his lips stay open. Short, shaky breath leaves him, and his chest is falling rapidly. You let a hand run along his thigh, and his desperate sighs is more than enough to make you keep going. He always came so much and so many times, when he comes home after deployment. And you aren’t going to stop, when you know just how much your poor husband need this special treatment.

Your mind is almost as blank as Simon’s, but you desire to keep your husband cumming and happy is stronger than any lust could ever be. Your pussy is going to be second priority right now, it’s your darling husband’s sweet turn. You know how many loads he has in him normally, if he hasn’t cum his entire deployment, and he normally doesn’t, then he needs more than a single measly orgasm, a lot more.

His chest is rising and falling rapidly, and soft moans are escaping his swollen lips. He must have been biting them as he came, he does that sometimes, trying to keep his delicious sounds concealed. Not that he did a very good job this time.

“Gon’ make you cum’ again, pretty boy.” It’s more to yourself than him, but soft whimpers come from your husband. Your face is rubbing softly against his crotch, you let your tongue slip out running along his balls. Slowly pulling one into your mouth and sucking softly on the sensitive flesh. Simon’s hand is flung over his face in a desperate attempt to keep his flustered face hidden from your hungry eyes. You pull your lips off his balls with a ‘pop’ sound following, and a grin spreads on your lips.

“I love you soo’ much. Gon’ make you feel al’ good.” Muffled sounds can be heard from your husband, but his arm covering his face makes it hard to make out if he is saying something or if it’s just more pathetic whining. You wrap your lips around the tip of his cock, finally getting to put his sweet cock in your mouth. You wanted that for days, you missed his cock, his taste, him. You missed him so much. And what better way to show him than let him cum in your throat?

You pull your lips off, to lick a long strip up the underside of his cock. Before lapsing your lips back on his leaking tip and getting your first good taste of your darling husband. A mix of cum and precum was running down and the salty but sweet taste got your own body tensing, close to your own high. His hips are bucking into your awaiting mouth, letting his own body fight for the sweet relief of your lips. You swirl your tongue around the head and a soft moan leaves your lips. Simon groans at the added vibration from your sweet voice.

“Got’a… need’… baby… fuck… just… please… I need…” His soft voice is finally coherent enough for you to make out the words, even though there is no meaning behind them. Every word interrupted by a groan while you move you lips up and down his hard cock. It hadn’t softened at all after his first orgasm, and his movements were more than desperate.

“You got’ to speak up.” Not that your words were much more understandable than his, but it was so rare to see him like this. You needed to remember every moment of it, save it in your brain like an exceptionally good porno. Needed to save every whimper, every moan, every soft sound slipping past his bodacious lips, every damn movement. You needed it all engrained in your brain, like a light picture.

The view from his crotch up was godlike, his abs perfectly laid out before you, shiny and covered in sweat. The bumps of muscle sprawled out before you like a meal, and you are nothing, but a woman starved. You keep your attention on his cock, but the need to lick his abs. Taste the sweat on his hard stomach, kiss along the scars and feel his abs tense as you nibble at his skin. The urge to ride his abs, grind you swollen clit along his broad stomach, and make yourself cum just by grinding on his muscles. You know he would love it. He loves watching you, your every move, studying you, memorizing you. You could put on a show for him to remember.

Maybe take a hold of his soft pecs, the muscle on his chest jiggly and delicious. His chest was nothing short of breathtaking. Simon is a fucking baby, loving to suck on your chest, nibble and suck on your sensitive nipples. And as the sweet wife you are, you decide to repay the favour. You lick his tip a last time, before lifting yourself up. You press your chest against his stomach and groan escapes his lips, one of his large hands move to tangle into your hair. Your lips wrap around his nipple and a soft pull can be felt in your hair. You smile and as your teeth softly grazes his hardened bud, and the sweetest groan leaves him.

His grip tightens and he pulls you up so his sore lips can come in contact with yours. He is aggressive but in a sweet way. Pushing his mouth so firmly against yours, that for a moment your teeth touch. His tongue dominating and in control. You body is pulsing, clamping around nothing but air and occasionally when a breeze flows through the room you can truly feel how wet you are. A dripping mess for him, a river of desire for him and only him.

A light touch against your clit, makes your body collapse. You press your face against his neck burying yourself as a moan leaves your lips. His finger circles you again, slowly dipping down to collect some of your wetness to make the glide over you easier. As he comes back up and softly pinches you. A loud whimper escapes your lips, while your body desperately starts humping his hand. Fighting for any sort of friction, to make that awfully lust differ.

His lips find your neck, tracing his tongue along your jugular and planting a kiss right below your ear. He must have composed himself, because soft words leave his lips and you cum in an instant. The way he says, “cum for me darling,” has your entire body convulsing and cramping. You moan and whimper into his neck, biting down on the muscle of his shoulder. You pussy contracting around thin air, but begging, begging so desperately for his cock.

 “Please, ple’se, ple’ce.” Your words are hard to distinguish, and the letters warps together into a blur. But he understands it. More so from the way your body moves, the way your head falls back into the pillows, and the way you so desperately reach for him. He knows. He knows you so well. Every movement of your body is underlined for him, he has looked and studied them a hundred times over and he is sure of every twitch.

A smirk grows on his lips as a single digit of his snakes its way down your fragile body. His nail softly scratches the skin of your stomach as you grow more and more impatient. A whimper falls from your lips, and you buck your hips into the air to get his attention. His eyes find yours and he chuckles. Removing his finger from your stomach to set his hand down beside him. He lifts himself from the bed, to move down between your thighs.

The slightest moment of control seems to fall from his grasp as he sees the wetness dripping from your desperate pussy. His eyes light up and his tongue peaks out to lick himself around the lips like some starved animal. He falls to his elbows, his face now just inches away from you. He can smell you, the meal he is so desperate to taste. His eyes surveying your soft flesh, hungrily looking at your bare cunt. Inspecting your pussy.

The smile on his lips is soon gone, as his head is roughly pressed between your thighs. His tongue darts out to taste you, running along your tight walls, eagerly licking up everything you have to offer. Your screams and whimpers are not of short, as he grabs the back of your thighs with his hands and pulls you even closer. Pressing his nose against your soft bundle of nerves, while his tongue explores your insides. Your hand desperately reaches for anything to grab but finds nothing other than the soaked bed sheet. You moan, and as he hits a particularly sensitive spot, your hips buck into the air pressing even harder against his face. He laughs and the small amount of vibration is enough to push you over the edge.

Your high hits you like a wave, your body contorting and contracting in a mess of limps. You pussy doing anything to find back to him and his so sweet relief. Your hands finally finding something to hold and taking a firm grasp in his hair. You moan while you push his face against your cunt, milking every last drop of your orgasm from his sweet tongue.

You fall breathlessly back into the pillows, taking a moment to catch your breath. But not a second later, you whimper as Simon once again comes in contact with your pussy. He knows you are not done. You know it. But the orgasm that had just rippled through your body had taken its toll. But he and you was fully aware that if he just slightly pushed into you, you would be back on top of him etching him to move.

His finger runs slowly up, a gasp leaves you as his finger glides over your aching hole and another one as he just barely touches your clit.

“You gon’ give me another one. Need ‘nother one luv, come one darlin’, please. Need you to cum for me, y’know just once more. Please sweetheart, just once. Just cum for me once more, I’ll do wa’ever you ask. One time? I’ll make it worth your while.” The tone in his voice always made your knees weak, but with a slight hint of him begging for you to cum. Him begging? No one would believe you. But you know and that is enough. That the big strong sergeant is begging for you, saying he will do whatever you ask. With the fact that his digits are pushing into you, stretching you out, and your pussy is eager to welcome him.

Two of his fingers finds that sensitive little spot in you, and a gentle nudge and another soft whisper from him. “I’ll let you on my cock if you cum again, hmm? Promise to fuck ya’ real good luv.” You nod your head and bite down roughly on his shoulder. A groan escapes you and your body cramps in an instant. The heat enveloping makes you lightheaded, and the pulsing of your sensitive pussy makes your heart beat even faster. You cum around him in a sweel of cuss words and praise. Your body pulling him closer to you in anyway possible, wrapping any part you can around him.

Your mouth agape and legs falling apart, the view in which from Simon sees you is astounding. His beautiful wife, spread open for him. Whimpering at any soft contact and begging for him to touch you.

Your eyes find his and the lust in his makes you crave the sweet taste of him even more. You need him more than air to breathe.

“You are such a good fucking girl for me.”

His hands roughly grab the fat of your thighs and pulls you into his lap. Your still twitching pussy rubbing against his throbbing cock. His hands move to feel the soft ski of your waist and gently rub his thump against you lowest rib. The few seconds of gentleness is quickly overthrown by his own his eagerness to feel you and you no longer remaining self-control.

Before you realise you are pushed into a pillow, his right arm holding him over you as his left is helping him push the dripping head of his cock against your eager pussy. You whimper at the soft contact and a scream of pleasure rips from your chest as his slams into you. Filling you to the brim. His pace is set, hammering into you as he pulls your legs to rest on top of his shoulders. Letting his cock hit you at a new angle, a different string of sounds leaves you as you get used to the girth of your husband’s cock.

You clamp down around him as another orgasm is ripped from your body. Leaving you shaking as he continues the bruising of your cervix. His gaze meets yours and his eyes has a faint haze to them, he isn’t thinking he is running on pure adrenaline and lust. He is only thinking about the way you feel around him, the way you squeeze and moan. The way your hands are gripping at the hairs on his neck. The way your legs are pulling him closer. The way you bite down on his shoulder to keep yourself mildly composed. He only thinks about you.

“You feel so good luv’, can’t last long like this.” His words are a mess between heavy breathing and whimpers. You nod and pull him closer, your hands pulling his chest against yours. Running your hands up to his shoulders and down to his biceps to get a grip as his movements speed up.

He is so close, he can’t control himself any longer. His movements getting sloppy and unprecise as his body tenses.

“I’m gonna fill ya’ up yeah? Be a good girl for me and take it.” His words are followed by grunts and the feral movements of his body is all you need to know. You pull him tighter against you, whimpering against his ear and nothing else is needed for him to come undone. Groans falling from his lips, his body contracting and convulsing as he pushes harder against you. His head falling against your shoulder as a last string of cuss words escapes him.

…

"Dear Y/N L/N Riley,

Your intimate relationship with the Sergeant, Simon Riley, is to be none of the officers’ concerns. But as of late, a law of the state has been broken.

As the laws dictate, all destruction of government property is prohibited. As official, Sergeant Riley is defied as such, therefore the damages that have come to the Sergeant is classified as a crime.

You will not be incriminated for this instantaneously, but this shall refrain from repeating.

Regards, Captain Price

-don’t let this repeat Y/N, we cannot have Ghost running around with love bites on his neck in uniform."

Your cheeks are burning. You would have never guessed them to send a letter regarding sexual intercourse with your husband. But this only taught you one thing. Don’t leave hickies where others could see.

I've had this is my drafts for months and I just never pulled myself together to finish it. But now I finally did, the ending is a bit rushed but I would rather write something than nothing. I hope you liked it.

[immortalmrwavell]

More Like A Real Man

(Original story posted September 8th 2022) This story has been significantly Updated!

A rare Gay to Straight themed story from me here so if that’s your thing then I hope you enjoy! 😜

“Finally I’m starting to look less like a nerdy piece of shit and more like a real fuckin man.” Henry smirked as he checked himself out in the selfie camera. At last he was starting to see the results of his labour. His body was finally starting to take shape. All the new muscle he’d been able to pack on made him a far cry from the stick figure of a man he was before. “Next thing will be to get some contacts so I don’t have to wear these dumbass glasses half the fuckin time.” He scoffed.

———

This all started over 6 months ago Henry was practically the picture of a skinny booknerd. With his frail body, glasses that framed his average face and clear lack of fashion sense. He was intelligent for sure, easily making it into one of the most advanced courses at his local college, but that only made him less popular when it came to the jocks. Henry was everything they weren’t. And most of all he was gay which didn’t help his reputation with the jock either.

Despite this, one day Henry found himself sneaking into Coach Kent’s office. The Coach had been in charge of the college’s football team and physical education courses for quite some time now. However, news had recently spread about Coach Kent deciding to leave. Saying something about a “Change of scenery”. And so this day was said to be his last day at the local college. Of course Henry, being the meek gay nerd that was, couldn’t pass up the opportunity to see if the coach had left anything behind for him to steal. After all, he'd had a secret crush on the older burly man ever since he started going to this college.

He’d hoped to find maybe an old shirt or pair of shoes. Anything Henry could use to remember the Dilf that was Coach Kent in his own perverted way. What he didn’t expect to find was one of the coach’s jockstraps!?! He couldn’t believe the coach had left it behind but he certainly wasn’t going to complain. The nerd swiped it up without a second thought, giving it a good long sniff before shoving it into his bag.

Henry made another sweep of the office to see if there was anything else worth grabbing. He grabbed an old blue cap that had been left hanging on the door along with a pair of football socks remembered seeing Coach Kent wear a few times before. He was already imagining how hot the cosplay was going to be as he quietly slipped out of the office. Knowing he was gonna nut in that jockstrap as soon as he got home had him struggling to hide his boner.

Once in the comfort and privacy of his bedroom, Henry tossed his bag on the bed and immediately stripped down. He pulled out the worn jockstrap before pressing it to his nose yet again, loving the strong masculine scent left behind by Coach Kent. All the while thinking back on all the fantasies he’d had of worshipping the hot older man.

Eventually however he was able to pull jockstrap away from his face long enough to start putting it on. Sliding up over his lanky legs until the pouch pulled over his moderate cock and balls and the straps came up just below his flat butt. As expected it was far too big for him. So much so that it wouldn’t stay on properly without Henry holding it in place. But it was still super hot nonetheless. Causing his already stiff cock to pulse even harder with excitement as he used his free hand to jerk it.

He was already thinking of grabbing Coach Kent’s socks and cap to wear too… until a strange dizziness washed over him. He could hardly explain it as he started to lose what little strength he had before collapsing on the bed behind him. It was like his consciousness was being squashed down from the inside. That was the only way to explain it. But it wouldn’t matter as he soon faded from consciousness.

———

“Fuck sake! Why did this skinny nerd faggot have to find it first.” Henry shouted in frustration as he looked down and his scrawny body in disgust. Pawing at his non existent biceps and flat chest. Only it wasn’t Henry anymore. “I was sure I told one of the faggy jocks to check my office after I left!” Even his own voice was pissing him off now. Completely lacking any kind of real masculinity or power behind it.

Henry didn’t know it at the time but the jockstrap he’d stolen actually had Coach Kent’s very soul embedded into it. It was part of a sacred ritual that would allow him to take over the body of whomever wore the jockstrap. His plan had been to trick one of the younger closeted gay Jocks into taking it and putting it on but clearly things didn’t go exactly to plan. “I can’t do that fucking ritual for at least another ten years!” The coach vented in frustration.

The body snatcher looked himself up and down in the nearest mirror he could find. “Jesus Christ. I’ve seen chicks that don’t even work out with bigger muscles than this…” When he’d put his soul into that jockstrap he’d hoped to find himself in a new body that was young and strong. One that had potential to become a great athlete some day. Unfortunately Henry met only one part of that criteria. He might’ve been young but his physique was laughable at best. It was practically just skin and bone. And now that’s exactly what Coach Kent was stuck with. “Why did this pathetic little shit have to ruin everything…” He grumbled while gritting his teeth.

It was tough for him to adjust at first. Kent couldn’t remember the last time he’d been this puny but there was nothing he could do about it now. He was stuck in this imp’s body for the foreseeable future as infuriating as it was. However he had no plans looking like a thing for the next ten years so he did the only thing he could do to fix this fuck up. He got Henry’s skinny ass body into the gym.

It was embarrassingly tough at first for the once manly and imposing coach. Only being able to lift some of the smallest weights and having to set the machines he used to a light load. But despite that he pushed this pathetic worm’s body as far as it could go. He combined his efforts with a well thought out meal plan that he stuck to religiously over the next couple of months. It took some time but eventually he began to see some results in muscle gains that made him slightly less disgusted by his own reflection.

Those weren’t the only changes Kent had been making to Henry’s life however. In this time Henry’s friends had noticed a very sudden shift in his behaviour. He used to be a kind and timid guy that loved to talk about nerdy things with them. Yet one day he suddenly began acting crude, boisterous and talking like an absolute gym rat. Just like the dudes that would bully their friend group. In less than a week Kent had already cut ties with them after he started acting like a complete douchebag and calling them all a bunch of homophobic slurs. He didn’t want to be friends with a bunch of geeky homo’s anyway. Henry might’ve been a fag but Kent was as straight as a fuckin arrow!

Speaking of, it didn’t take long for him to have his straight orgasm. On the very first evening of being inside his new body, the coach first opened Henry’s laptop to find tabs upon tabs of gay porn open and in bookmarks. He was disgusted by it and was even more disgusted when his body reacted and got a semi for it. “Fucking faggot body…” He muttered to himself before swiftly deleting all the gay porn tabs with a strong grimace.

“Time to fix this broken dick.” He smirked before clicking on the search bar and pulling up the hottest straight porn he could find. It didn’t take long for Kent to find countless incredible videos of beautiful big breasted bimbo’s shaking their tits and fingering their wet pussies. Their feminine moans were like music to his ears. He glanced down at his cock as he started jerking it. “See? This is what you’re supposed to get excited about.” He said seemingly to no one but his own stolen dick as he returned his attention to the hot chicks on the screen. “Tits and pussy.”

The first few times he jacked off he found it tough to get fully hard due to his current body’s innate gay urges. Thankfully it got easier with each load he busted to the sight of huge tits. Almost like he was shooting out this body’s homosexuality in small doses with each orgasm. This of course only spurred Kent on more. Jerking off Henry’s once gay dick to the thought and sight of women every single night. After that it wasn’t long before the coach had fully conditioned his new cock to get incredibly hard at the sight of women and only women. He was proud to finally have a straight dick again that craved tits and pussy, like he believed all men should have.

But what happened to the real Henry during all this? Well his soul was cursed to be suppressed and trapped inside his own mind. He could see and hear everything but had zero control over what Coach Kent did and said with his body. Kent was in the driver's seat permanently. Henry tried to fight it but there was nothing he could do. Only being able to watch and feel as Kent forced him to workout and be an asshole to his friends. Forced to be a spectator as Kent redecorated his bedroom by ripping down the Star Wars posters in favour of putting up posters of footballers and women in skimpy bikinis. The Coach even went as far as to sell Henry’s comic collection and figures to make money and room for some new weights and home exercise equipment.

“Maybe I can make something outta this shitty body and life after all.” Kent would comment, looking at all the changes he’d made for the better so far. He still had a long way to go if he wanted to transform Henry’s life into the alpha male jock life he’d wanted to relive but it was a good start.

———

Jumping back to the present, Kent had finally gotten his new body into pretty decent shape with some good muscle and size showing. He managed to fill out most of the clothes that’d been baggy on Henry before and some he’d even had to trade for a size larger. His biceps were showing at last and his pecs were starting to come in nicely. Henry's once skinny legs were now looking a fair bit meatier. Not to mention his back and shoulders looking noticeably broader, giving him a far more masculine build. Naturally he still wanted to get much bigger but at least now he felt as though he could look in the mirror and see a real man staring back at him.

In this time he’d even signed up to the college football team at the start of the academic year where he was able to make some new bro friends. Though it a little strange for a couple reasons. One being that most of his new bros were players that he used to Coach before the takeover. The other reason being that most of them also used to bully the old Henry and make fun of him and his former queer friends. That said they gave Kent a hard time at first. Not that Kent minded. If anything he was glad that the young jocks he used to coach weren’t going easy on someone they believed to be a worthless faggot. It showed that he’d done a good job at raising them to be real men as well. And it also meant that he’d have to prove himself to them.

The attitudes of the other jocks began to turn around sooner than he expected. Mostly thanks to seeing the sudden shift in Henry’s attitude to become a jock like them. It wasn’t long before they started to admit how they were actually pretty impressed by the gains he’d made and that he was maybe cooler than they’d originally given him credit for. Especially now that he’d stopped hanging around those losers he was with before. What had earned their respect the most however was how well Kent played on the field with them during practice. By all accounts Henry should’ve been a complete amateur but with Kent in the driver's seat he had decades worth of experience that allowed him to keep pace with the other jocks.

Once again through it all the real Henry was helpless as he watched himself be transformed into even more of a typical straight jock with everyday that passed. Being forced to watch himself become ‘bros’ with the other jocks that he detested. Fist bumping and bro hugging them whenever he saw them whether it be at the gym, football practice or elsewhere on campus. He’d even been forced to use the same kind of dumb brotalk that all the jocks used. And of course joining in alongside them as they hurled homophobic insults towards the types of people he’d have been great friends with before. It was torturous!

The most torturous part for Henry however was the way Kent saw Women. He constantly found himself disgusted at the way Kent used his voice to talk about ‘hot chicks’ to his new bros. Describing how fat their tits and asses were to them and how he’d wanted to bend them over rail their tight pussies. Henry was disgusted at hearing the words leave his mouth. He would never have agreed with objectifying women like this. Yet now he found himself unwillingly staring at the huge racks of any sexy babes around the campus and feeling his bulge growing at the sight.

Tonight however was the night both Coach Kent had been waiting for and Henry had been dreading. Since getting into much better shape, girls around the campus had begun to take interest in the new, confident jock on the football team. Noticing this, Kent thought it was about time to shoot his shot and landed the number of one of the art students Talia. She had a reputation of being one of the “hottest chicks on campus” so when the other Jocks heard they all crowded around ‘Henry’ while jumping and cheering for him. That certainly boosted Kent’s ego for the first time in a while since taking his new body.

After a couple dates, Talia was finally coming over to Henry’s place for the night and wouldn’t you know it before long the two began pulling off each other's clothes. On the inside Henry was cringing, wanting nothing more than for this to stop and take back control of his body and life. Unfortunately on the outside his cock was rock hard as Kent was busily sucking on Talia’s tits while massaging and fingering her pussy like a pro.

“Oh my godddd…” Talia whined lustfully. “Where’d you learn how to touch a girl like that?” She asked between bated breaths. Going on to imply that no other guy she’d been with had been nearly this good at pleasuring her.

“Dunno.” Kent shrugged with a sly smirk. “Just instinct I guess.” He answered playfully before burying his face between her tits again, of course not revealing that in reality he had many decades worth of experience.

Henry’s protest became more and more frantic as things started to heat up. He was begging for it to stop when Talia wrapped her lips around his cock and began to stop but the only things that left his mouth were the soft grunts that the Coach let out. But when the busty college girl laid herself out on the bed, legs spread eagerly, Henry was reduced to screaming ‘NO! NO! NO!’ Over and over again. But his protests fell on deaf ears as they always did. Completely powerless to stop Kent as he their cock up with Talia’s slick entrance. And for the first time in his life, Henry felt himself plunge his cock deep inside a wet welcoming pussy.

“Fuuuuuuckkkk yeahhhhhhhh…” Kent growled at the familiar feeling. Also enjoying the subtle differences in how it felt fucking with a different cock to his previous one.

Henry tried his best to fight against it. To rebel and protest but nothing worked. He couldn’t even stop himself from moaning internally at the feeling of being inside a pussy. After all he could still feel all the same pleasure as Coach Kent pumped in and out rhythmically while groaning out in Henry’s noticeably deeper voice. The thrusts grew faster and more aggressive as the two changed positions a couple times. It wasn’t until Kent had already fucked Talia so good that she’d orgasms all over his dick that he could feel a load welling up in his balls. Something Henry was terrified about. Yet, a few more powerful thrusts and a long groan later, Henry found himself being forced to do something he never thought he would. Pumping a tight pussy nice full with his thick potent load.

In that moment something changed. The Coach was still in complete control but suddenly the real Henry found his mind linking up to Kent’s. Like the act of breeding a woman had left them both in such bliss, whether the real Henry had wanted it or not, that it allowed them to become truly intertwined. After that Henry found himself in a daze internally as Kent’s very soul weaved itself around Henry’s, corrupting him slowly but surely.

‘Maybe I like pussy after all…’ Henry would soon start to think, oblivious to what was happening to him. ‘Maybe being a football jock isn’t so bad…’ Tye corruption would spread as his old sense of sense began to dwindle. Little did he know that soon his individuality would be wiped without a trace. His consciousness would become like a mirror to Coach Kent’s until Henry was more than happy to go along with anything Kent had them do. Whether that be sports, joining the fraternity and fucking busty bimbo’s left and right.

And after that Henry would be consumed entirely, leaving only Kent and his new body…

[hexb0nes]

A WOLF IN SHEEP'S CLOTHING - A JAYCE TALIS X PLUS-SIZED READER SMUT FIC

word count: 4k

warnings: unbalanced power dynamics (jayce's your boss, you're his assistant), tit-sucking, semi-public sex (fucking in the lab after hours), deepthroating, some puppy!jayce moments, we swallow not spit in this house, praise kink, dom!reader/switch!jayce, fingering, a bit of brat!reader, cervix bruising, tummy bulge from massive cock!jayce, mating press, breeding, unprotective sex, full nelson, getting fucked dumb, 'pleasure' is written too many times but god damnit there's no good synonyms for it, reader is gonna need a week off from work after this, happy endings!

summary: you and viktor enjoy your weekly romps in the night, relishing in the secrecy of your relationship. however, someone very familiar is hot on your tail, vying for your attention. perhaps, a late night at the lab with jayce will some unexpected results.

a/n: in celebration of 69 followers, i pushed myself to get this up and posted! i know many have been waiting, so please enjoy!

You were Viktor’s favorite secret. 

The small glances the two of you would exchange throughout the work day, the gentle “accidental” touches, and the smiles you would share with him filled Viktor with a sense of warmth and comfort. While the days were full of innocent affection, the nights spent with you were for hedonistic pleasure. Oftentimes, Viktor would visit you in your apartment across the city, reassuring Jayce—whom he lived with—that his nightly outings were under the pretense of research or personal time. Little did his partner know, the Zaunite was instead plowing his assistant. 

Your nights together would start out with small talk, catching up on life events and such. Then one of you would initiate a kiss, sweet and innocent before melting into unbridled passion and lust. Viktor would grope at your chest like an excited teenager and your hands would drift down to his trousers, undoing his belt. After holding onto his pent up arousal all day, Viktor would unleash it onto you, usually fucking your face with his fat cock, devouring your cunt like a divine meal, and pounding you until you saw stars. These romps in the night were one of the things you looked forward to the most. 

However, in recent days, you swore that someone could sense your scandalous affairs. Sometimes, it would be a lingering glance too long after you came to work with a hickey present on your neck or the quirk of an eyebrow when you accidentally wore two left shoes because you were so exhausted from the previous night’s activities. Your face warmed up at the thought of someone discovering your secret. You feared the consequences of discovery, whether public shame by your family or the loss of your assistantship.

Yet, your questions were soon answered in the form of a gift from your boss, Jayce Talis.

It was a late night in the lab, Viktor left earlier in the day because of a flare-up and Sky was out of town for family business. The council wanted a new invention ready for presentation at the end of the week, so you and Jayce were hard at work to ensure that would happen. You forget how many times you had to run between the various shops in Piltover to the lab for supply deliveries.

“Thank you,” your boss offered you a smile, his famous ‘Golden Boy’ grin, when you handed him off the final item on the materials list, “I should be good to resume some tinkering in the morning when Viktor comes back.”

“Alright!” you were relieved, your feet achy from the continuous trips. High heels were never meant for the cobblestone pathways of Piltover, “I’ll head out now, unless you want me to add up more overtime pay.”

“Before you go!” the inventor jogged to his workstation and rummaged through its content, “I have something for you,” in his hands, Jayce held out a buttercream yellow box. Curious, you accepted the box and thanked him before opening it up to see what was inside. 

It was a dress, black and silky to the touch. However, when you fully pulled it out of the box, you realized how skimpy it was, the length only going to the mid-thigh. You gave the fabric a thug, noting that it was stretchable, and questioned Jayce, “Uhm, Mr. Talis, what’s this?”

“An apology gift,” he elaborated, stepping closer. You tilted your head up to look your boss in the eye, quivering slightly at how much taller and beefier he was in comparison to you, “For when I spilled coffee on you a few weeks ago.”

“Oh!” you smiled, “Well, thank you, but,” you placed the dress against your body to model its low-cut shape, “I don’t think this is appropriate for me to wear in the workplace.”

“No, no!” Jayce shook his head, “Not for the workplace, just a little something to use when you have your nights with Viktor.” 

Your blood turned icy when he mentioned Viktor to you, “Y- You,” tears swelled up in your eyes, “You know?” you stifled back the urge to cry, “A- Am I fired?” you stammered, mind racing in a panic. 

“What! No, of course!” your boss reassured you with a comforting smile, “You two are adults. While others may turn up their noses at your relationship, what the two of you get up to after hours isn’t my concern,” your shoulders relaxed, “Oh thank Gods,” realization suddenly hit you, “Wait, how did you know?”

Now, it was Jayce’s turn to stutter, “Oh! Er, well- uhm,” he rubbed the back of his neck with a nervous chuckle, “Cat’s out of the bag, I guess,” your boss cleared the phlegm out of his throat, “I knew since the beginning when you, uh… had your first encounter in the bathroom.” 

You gawked at his confession, horrified beyond comprehension. Jayce placed a hand on your shoulder—Gods, was his hand bigger than your face?—and explained, “I left to find you after Viktor did to give you a sweatshirt to use when all that happened. You two were pretty noisy and I didn’t want to understand but at the same time, I didn’t want anyone else to interrupt you both and find you in such a position, so uhhhhh…” he let out a low laugh, “I stood guard.”

You set the dress aside and covered your face in embarrassment. Your boss caught his partner fucking you. I’m gonna have to resign in shame, you thought, There’s no way I can come to work moving forward with all this!

“Hey,” Jayce grasped your chin lightly, his warm brown eyes peering into yours, “It’s okay,” he cupped one of your cheeks and stroked his thumb across it, “I promise it’s okay.”

“Mr. Talis,” your body trembled with nerves, “This isn’t… I don’t…” Hypocritical to suggest his actions weren’t appropriate when you had been sleeping with his partner since the previous month. However, a part of you relished in Jayce’s touch. His hand was calloused from days working in the forge, a nice contrast from the delicateness of your cheek.

“I know,” he purred, “I know that this isn’t right, that I’m your boss and you’re my assistant,” he placed your face between both of your cheeks, squishing them just a bit, “but I can’t keep hiding my feelings any longer.”

“Feelings?” your heart skipped a beat. 

“It’s easier for me to just show you,” mumbled Jayce, leaning closer and closer until his lips made contact with yours. You let out a surprised ‘mmpf!’ at the kiss, but slowly melted into it and wrapped your arms around his waist to stabilize yourself. His kissing was more restrained and shy than Viktor’s eager and confident kissing, “I’m sorry,” he rasped after ending the kissing, “Say the word and we pretend this never happened.”

“Mr. Talis- Jayce,” he cut you short, “I just kissed you, you can forgo the formalities.”

You nodded in response, “Ok, Jayce,” you inhaled deeply and summoned whatever courage you had in you, “I want this,” it was already established that you and Viktor weren’t exclusive, the latter too deep in the trenches of Hextech research to pursue a romantic relationship. Although you held out on the hope that maybe you two could be together, you weren’t opposed to exploring new options, “I don’t want to lead you on. I’m not sure how I feel about you, given the new information, but,” you pulled your boss into an embrace, “I want to explore all this with you. Is that okay?”

“That’s more than okay,” he returned the hug, muscular arms folding around you, “I understand completely,” you looked back up at Jayce and smiled, “Sooo…” you giggled, “Tell me what you wanna do tonight.”

“Would you be upset if I said-” he lowered himself to your level and whispered in your ear, “-that I wanna let loose all these sexual urges on you?”

“Sexual?” your chest tightened with excitement. Jayce nodded, “Yes, ever since I first laid eyes on you. I’m still figuring out the romantic side of things, but,” he trailed his hand lower and lower until it stopped at your ass, “You drive me crazy. You don’t know how many times I’ve fucked my fist to the thought of you,” confessed Jayce, as he gave your ass a rough squeeze. You held back a moan, “Am I really that irresistible? I didn’t realize that you and Viktor fancied the same kind of girl.”

“What can I say?” hummed Jayce, “I’m enamored with hips, dips,” he placed his hands on your sides, “Thick thighs and chubby tummies,” his hands moved to your stomach then down to your thighs, “You’re like a goddess among mortals.”

“Jayce,” you whined, “Please, just fuck me already,” his charming voice and actions already had your panties drenched, the wetness uncomfortable to stew in. Jayce launched into action, pressing hot kisses on your neck before biting down to mark you. His canines pierced your soft skin while he loosened your tie, “Fuck…” he pulled himself off your neck, a splattering of hickets now present, “You taste amazing,” your boss moved his hands to your chest and unbuttoned your blouse, your bra on display with a bit of your tits spilling out. 

“Like what, you-” your flirty comment was interrupted by an abrupt rip, as Jayce tore through your bra, “Hey!” you scolded him, “Do you know how pricey these kinda bras are?”

“I’ll buy you ten more,” he breathed out, his hands glued to your chest and groping them with such intensity. You tried your best to suppress your moans, but soon succumbed to Jayce’s assault, whimpering out his name while he nibbled at your flesh, nipping like a playful puppy. His mouth found its way to one of your nipples and latched on, sucking hard while playing with your other breast, “Ah! Jayce!” you whined, “Please be gentle!”

Jayce lightened up his intensity, unaware of how strong he truly was. As Jayce had his way with your breasts, you lifted up your skirt and stuffed your hand inside your opaque tights, rutting your clothed cunt against it. You were simply soaked, a bit of wetness dripping down onto your inner thighs, as your boss got off to the simple act of sucking your tits.

“Jayce,” a surge of dominance overtook you, as you unlatched your boss’s mouth from your tit, “Pull your pants down,” he did so without question, you sensed how eager and excited he was to please you. Only his plaid boxers remained, a prominent bulge evident. You got on your knees—thighs squishing together, much to Jayce’s delight—and teased him with your fingers, trailing your nails down his sides and against the cloth, “You’re so cute,” he let out a whine in response. Gods, he really is a puppy. You decided to spare the poor man and pulled down his boxers, his cock slapping you in the face. 

“Holy shit.” He’s massive! You admired Jayce’s dick, almost as thick as your and as long as your forearm with a downward curve. It was nothing like Viktor’s cock, still thick and long but not to this degree. Fuck, is this gonna fit me? You then eyed his balls—wow, those were the fattest balls you had ever seen—and grazed your fingers against them, “They look so heavy.”

“I haven’t had time to, uh, remedy that with all the late nights spent at the lab,” chuckled Jayce. You wrapped your hand around his dick and gave the tip a kiss, “Let me fix that for you,” you opened your mouth and slid it inside, carefully taking each inch. Unfortunately, you couldn’t get all of it in before his cock hit the back of your throat, some spit leaking out your lips and down your chin. Fighting the instinct to gag, you bobbed your head to and fro, happily taking your boss’s cock like the good little whore you were. 

“Fuck!” grunted Jayce, entangling himself in your hair, “Gods, now I know why Viktor’s been coming to work so happy! He had a nice cockwarmer like you all to himself,” you picked up your pace and lifted a hand down to your cunt to continue your own pleasure while the other touched your neck, feeling the bulge from your boss’s dick, “Not anymore, though! You’re mine, too!” he huffed and puffed, his mind overtaken by lust and desire. 

In a split second, Jayce slammed his cock all the way, earning a choked moan from you, and climaxed, shooting hot salty cum down your throat. You greedily drank as much as you could like a refreshing glass of milk before Jayce pulled you off, as you coughed and spewed some cum out. Jayce squatted before you and wiped off the excess cum from your lips, “Sorry,” he apologized, “I got too excited.”

“It’s okay,” your voice was hoarse from the throat fuck, “You just gotta return the favor,” Jayce peered down at your lower half and scooped you up in his arms, “Oh!” you exclaimed, shocked. Damn, putting that forge strength to use, huh? He walked over to his workstation and shifted his hold on you, shoving any trinkets and papers off with his free hand. Jayce plopped you down and kissed you tenderly on the lips, as he pulled down your skirt to reveal your tights. He eyed the tights and with a bit of mischief, he tore them open with ease. 

“Now, you owe me new tights,” you mused aloud. Jayce let out a hum, his focus on your soaked panties, “I’ll buy you a new wardrobe, anything you want,” he mumbled, dragging a finger against your clothed slit. A small gasp stumbled out, as you watched Jayce play with your cunt, “Jayce… Don’t tease me!” you whined with a pout.

“Sorry, sorry,” he chuckled, “I’m just so fixated on it,” he tugged at your panties and you lifted your legs up, Jayce yanking the undergarment. You spread your thick legs wide and displayed your pussy before your boss, “Like what you see?” 

Jayce’s pupils were blown out with intoxicating desire, engrossed with the sight of your bare cunt. It shined with clear slick, leaking from your slit and dripping onto Jayce’s desk. Jayce raked a finger against the entrance and you inhaled sharply. His finger stroked your folds, exploring your anatomy. Yet, Jayce pulled his finger back, much to your disappointment, and rested his head against one of your thighs, “You’re hot.”

“Thanks,” you snorted, “As are you,” Jayce smiled, not his usual ‘Man of Progress’ grin but a simple yet kind smile. Heat spread throughout your body at the sight of such a sweet smile, “Oh, Jayce, you’re lovely,” you exhaled. 

“Don’t make me blush,” he murmured, suddenly shy. You grinned, “Oh, is the Golden Boy a fan of praise?” his face flushed a pretty shade of red, “I’ll take that as a yes.”

“Well, I mean- you’re such a good boy, Jayce,” you beckoned Jayce to stand and he placed his pelvis against the workstation, dangerously close to your pussy. His dishevelled hair and blissed out expression ignited a flame of boldness in you, “You know, in hindsight, I see how you look at me,” you brushed your hands against his torso, admiring how strong but gentle he was, “Ever since I was hired to be your assistant, you always found an excuse to be extra close to me. Isn’t that right, Jayce?”

“Yes!” he croaked, “I- I couldn’t help myself. You’re breathtaking, it was so hard to restrain myself like that,” the inventor rutted himself against your cunt, the tip of his fat cock grazing your clit and folds. You bit back a whimper and continued to toy with your boss, “I bet you just wanted to take me right then and there, in front of everyone. Sky, the Council, Viktor, you wanted to claim myself like a hound marking its territory.”

Jayce groaned, shifting his pelvis and grabbing his cock. He stroked himself to your words, squelching emitting from his fast jerking, “I wanted- fuck- it was so hard to keep those thoughts to myself. I couldn’t let myself-” his cock leaked more precum and lubricated his shaft more, “I couldn’t let that urge take over, but hell- I want to devour you whole!” 

“Then do it,” you removed his slicked-up hand from his cock, “Devour me.”

Jayce’s eyes darkened at your request, but remained somewhat in control, as he guided a finger to your cunt, “Gotta prep you first. I don’t think you can take me without some help beforehand,” the inventor reached under his desk and into a drawer, producing a bottle of lube from it, “Er… my emergency supply,” he elaborated upon seeing your confused expression. He squirted a good bit on his fingers and lined one up to your entrance, “Ready?”

“Ready,” you confirmed. As gently as he could, Jayce slid a finger inside your cunt. You gasped at the sensation, his one finger easily filling you up. Slowly, Jayce pumped his finger in and out of your pussy, monitoring your reaction. His finger brushed against your sweet spot and you nearly crumbled on the spot, Jayce grinning in victory, “There it is!” he cheered. Gods, he’s too adorable. “You okay with another finger?” he asked, to which you nodded.

Jayce pulled his finger out and you mewled in disappointment, already missing the fullness. He positioned his two fingers in front of your cunt and shoved them in, you trembled with ecstasy while your boss fingered you fast and hard. You nuzzled up against his chest, allowing Jayce better access to your G-spot, and unbuttoned his dress shirt, finally seeing his fit and muscular form on display. Fuck, he’s hot. You nibbled his tanned skin and left dark hickeys in your wake, marking Jayce up with sloppy kisses. All you could think of was getting fucked by your boss, him claiming you like Viktor did. The idea of having both brilliant scientists to your own made you drool. Gods, I want both. I need both of them.

“Should be good enough,” hummed Jayce, as he withdrew his beefy fingers from your cunt. You shuddered from the pull and pouted to yourself at the lack of fullness. Jayce shook off his dress shirt, now fully naked with you, and poked at your chest, “Lay down, please.”

“Yes, Mr. Talis,” you giggled. In response, he pressed a kiss to your forehead and growled in your ear, “If you call me ‘Mr. Talis’, things aren’t going to end well for you,” a cheeky grin formed on your lips, “Thank you for the warning, Mr. Talis.”

In a split second, you were shoved down onto the workstation and Jayce slammed his girthy dick inside, only two thirds of it making it before meeting your cervix, “Fuck… this might hurt a bit,” the scientist warned you before thrusting the full length inside, bruising your cervix in the process, “Holy shit!” you cried out, pain muddled with pleasure, as stars danced around your vision. 

Jayce began his assault on your womb, pounding his cock inside you mercilessly. No longer was he the little puppy wanting your praise, but rather a wolf ready to consume every inch of you. Jayce lifted one of your legs and placed it on his shoulder, slamming his dick deeper and harder. In your daze of overwhelming delight, you peeped over your plump tummy and gawked in pleasant excitement at the glimpse of Jayce’s dick bulging from your pelvis and stomach. 

Jayce switched up his tactics and lifted your other leg up to his shoulder, folding you in and pressing down hard, “Gotta make sure you get the most out of this,” he rasped before pistoning himself in and out of your pussy. Your body jiggled with each thrust, your heavy breasts nearly smacking you in the face from Jayce’s speed. His cock was perfectly angled at your cervix, abusing it to his glee. Skin slapping against skin echoed throughout the lab, as Jayce had his way with you while trapped in a mating press, “I’m getting close,” he hissed, “I hope- hope you don’t mind if I knock you up by accident. I need to cum inside!”

You were too fucked dumb to properly respond, your body craving Jayce’s seed. Abruptly, Jayce flipped you over on the workstation and forced you up. He locked your arms above your head and hoisted you further upwards, your legs dangling helplessly. Jayce raised your legs up and gripped his hands tight on them, angling his cock once more to your cunt and bucking himself inside.

Never in your life had you experienced such an intense wave of overstimulating pleasure, your mind fogging up with unbridled tantalizing thoughts of being Jayce’s cocksleeve, as he continued his endless pursuit. Your body jerked in tangent with Jayce’s movements, your eyes rolling into the back of your skull with your tongue rolling out of your mouth with shameless glee. The knock in your stomach tightened and tightened while Jayce assaulted your G-spot, the inventor biting down at your neck and piercing your flesh once more with his canines. Your toes curled in anticipation, as you approached orgasm alongside Jayce, “J- Jayce, gonna- gonna cum!” you cried out.

“Let’s!” he thrusted again and again, his cock almost splitting you open.

“Do it!” Jayce’s pelvis slapped against your plump ass, his breath sharp and ragged.

“Together!” he let out one final whine before climaxing. Jayce shot ropes of cum inside your womb, some spilling out because of the limited capacity of your pussy. 

You unraveled soon after Jayce, the knot in your stomach breaking loose while you convulsed from the peak of your climax. Your clit and pussy throbbed from the aftermath of your orgasm, mind hazy while Jayce finished his own. You went limp in Jayce’s arms, cum and drool dripping out of you. 

Jayce transferred you into the bridal hold and carried you off to the push-out couch he and Viktor would use for all-nighters at the lab. As careful as he could be, Jayce laid you down on the couch, resting your head on a pillow and covering you with a warm blanket. You incoherently babbled to yourself and drifted off to sleep, satisfied from a great fuck. 

Jayce redressed himself and bent down to your level. He then kissed you sweetly on the lips, “You did amazing,” he murmured. He rose from the couch and relocated to a comfortable place in the lab for a makeshift bed, building it close by to you and laying down to fall asleep.

“Well, aren’t you a dirty slut?”

Jayce’s eyes shot open, Viktor standing above him, “Shit! Vik! What are you doing here?”

“I stopped by her apartment to deliver a package when I noticed that she wasn’t there,” the Zaunite gestured at your sleeping form, “The most logical conclusion would’ve been that she was at the lab, hence why I stopped by. However,” he pointed at Jayce’s now flaccid cock, “I walked in when you had her in the mating press.”

“You were watching us?!” Jayce restrained his volume so as to not wake you up.

“It’s only fair since you did it first,” commented Viktor.

Jayce sighed deeply at his partner’s rebuttal, “Okay, okay…” he then peered over to you, “So… are we gonna swap weekends or?” to which Viktor waved him off, “That’s a morning issue,” he walked over to the couch and touched his forehead to yours, “Sweet dreams,” Viktor then returned to Jayce’s side and stated, “You better clean the lab, it reeks of musk and sex.”

“I will, I will,” the exhausted scientist reassured, “Care to have a sleepover with us?” he offered. Viktor pondered the idea for a moment, “Well,” he pointed to the remaining space on the pull-out couch, “As long as I get the couch. You know how my back is.”

Jayce held back a snort, “Sure thing, Viktor, sure thing.”

Once everyone was situated in their sleeping spots, Jayce turned off the lights and laid back down, “Goodnight, Viktor.”

“Goodnight, Jayce,” replied Viktor, as he and Jayce slowly succumbed to sleep.

[callsign-rogueone]

house calls

Sawyer Henrick x reader (peach!)

words: 1.7k

🏷: set in the second half of iron flame. some soft moments in aretia with the gang before they head back to school. peach is a baby whisperer, sawyer is adorable, deep convo at the end, mentions of wildfire and mild peril (they both lived, clearly), made some more stuff up about sawyer’s family, teeny ridoc and sweetheart cameo, replacing jesinia with peach here kinda… more hints about peach’s relationship with the gods, I hope it’s not obvious that I’ve only seen snow twice and have never interacted with a baby, their next chapter will be the end of iron flame for them, including… that. (spicy chapter before this one tba!)

You aren’t expecting Ridoc to be the one to answer the door, but he offers you a grin nonetheless. “Hey, P!”

The rest of the squad turn their heads, waving from where they’re crowded into the living room, along with several riders and fliers you’ve never met.

“I was wondering where y’all ran off to,” you laugh. You stomp the snow out of your boots before you step inside, letting down the hood of your cloak. “It’s going to storm tonight, so I asked if I could go around and make some house calls before everyone gets snowed in. This is my last stop.”

Sawyer takes the giant basket you’re holding, offering his arm to hold onto as you take off your boots and set them in the heap by the door. “That’s new,” he manages, finally noticing your outfit.

“Major Aisereigh gave it to me. She said it’s a traditional Tyrrish dress. I think it’s the nicest thing I’ve ever owned,” you laugh, brushing off the skirt.

Sawyer continues to blink at you, taking it in. Nice is an understatement. It looks like it was tailor-made for you — a bodice that’s just the right amount of tight in the places that matter, strings tied in a bow behind your back to cinch around your waist before it melts into a long pleated skirt that ebbs and flows with each step you take, woven with a complex striped pattern. You’ve layered a white long sleeve underneath for warmth, but it could just as easily be worn without on a summer day to dance around in a field of wildflowers.

You’re covered from wrist to ankle, but you’ve never looked more beautiful as you do now, winter sunlight warming your skin, snowflakes melting in your eyelashes and the cold warming your cheeks.

“Say something,” Sliseag prods.

He finally finds words. “You look absolutely perfect in everything you wear, but this… this might be my favorite.”

“I think it’s mine, too. This beats those terrible robes any day. And it feels more… me than the rider’s uniform. Oh, hi!”

He clears his throat, making a hasty introduction. “This is Rhi’s sister, Raegan. Raegan, this is my girlfriend — she’s training as a healer.”

“Everyone just calls me peach,” you offer, extending a hand to shake. “And who’s this?”

“Lukas.”

“Hi, Lukas,” you coo. “You’re such a cutie. How old is he?”

“Just about six months.”

“Congratulations, both of you. How are you doing?”

“He made a good adjustment to the move, thankfully. But he’s teething now, which has been a struggle, especially at night. Neither of us are getting much sleep.”

“Oh, I bet,” you empathize. “My mom would suggest letting him chomp on a cold washcloth — but I’m sure Ridoc could set you up with plenty of clean snow for him to snack on.” You touch Sawyer’s elbow — he’s still lingering by your side. “Don’t let me distract you. And there’s snacks in there, if y’all want anything.”

————

When you finish up with Reagan and Lukas, Sawyer waves you over, half a cookie in hand. “How did you… These taste exactly like my mom’s.”

“I’m glad,” you laugh. “It’s her recipe.”

He looks at you like you’ve just told him that you genuinely believe that the earth is flat and the sky is just a blue bed sheet strung up to dry. “She gave it to you?”

You laugh. “Yes! We made them together, while you and the boys were out fixing the fence, and she wrote it all down for me. Said to hang on to it for the future when I had a household of my own.”

“Peach,” he says, way too seriously to still be still talking about cookies, “she’s never given anyone that recipe. Even my aunt doesn’t know it.” You don’t seem to understand the significance of this, but he certainly isn’t going to explain that his mother gave you the seal of approval to join the family.

“You Lucerans are weird,” Ridoc says, shaking his head, but not before he swipes a cookie out of the box.

“Take one for your girl, too,” you nudge quietly.

“I’m gonna break it in half,” he responds over his shoulder. “More romantic that way.”

You shake your head, amused. “That’s actually adorable.”

“It is,” Sawyer agrees. “Sometimes I wonder how he landed her, and then he does stuff like that.” There’s a soft silence before he speaks again. “How are you feeling? Being here?”

It’s been a few days since your arrival, and you’re still getting acclimated — getting to know everyone, and no longer getting lost on the walk between the infirmary and your room.

“It’s good,” you answer. “Different, but good. It feels like home, in a lot of ways. Like being home, but with friends.”

He gazes at the group, who are comfortably chatting and laughing as they work, spread out across the floor and crowded around every chair and table in the house. “Like it’s Harvest day, but all the time.”

“Yeah,” you say quietly. “Like that.”

There’s a soft cry from the cradle, and you turn immediately, striding across the room. “You’re okay, sweet boy,” you coo, gathering him into your arms and swaying gently to comfort him. He quiets almost immediately, content just to be held.

“How?” Sloane asks in sheer disbelief.

Sawyer looks at you, shrugging. “She’s always been beloved by animals and babies.”

“You’re dating a fairytale princess, dude,” Ridoc says with a soft laugh.

“I know,” he replies, still watching you with the little boy, who is now resting happily against your shoulder as you hold him. “She’s everything I’ve ever dreamed of.”

“You better marry that girl,” Maren orders, pointing her pen at him.

“I plan to.”

The table sits with the admission for a moment before they resume their studies.

He watches you turn to Raegan, speaking quietly so you don’t disturb the babe — you must have promised to watch him and let her get some rest, as she offers you a grateful smile and disappears through a door in the corner of the room, closing it behind her.

“You don’t happen to know any old Lucerish, do you?” Violet asks quietly, sounding exhausted.

“Only some old sayings. Farmer’s wisdom. Probably not anything that would be in there.”

“Humor me?”

You lean against the armrest of the chair Sawyer is sitting in, still holding the baby — he curls an arm around your hips, keeping you steady as you lean down to read the journal. The page she has open is covered with swirling symbols, most of which you’ve never seen before. But besides the numbers… “I know that one,” you say, gently tapping one of them with a fingernail. “Atem. Breath.”

She blinks at you, her brow creasing. “Breath?”

You nod. “There’s an old adage about harvesting fall vegetables — when you can see your breath in the morning for the fifth time that season, you should pick everything you can that day or take it inside. Otherwise the frost will kill it within the week.” You continue scanning the page. “But the rest… I have no idea. Kids aren’t taught any of this in school, especially not where we’re from. I’m sorry I couldn’t be of more help.”

“No, you helped a lot, actually. I’m gonna head back to the house; I need to talk to Brennan about this.” She stands, piling everything into her bag. “I’ll see you guys at dinner.”

You slip into her chair, tucking your legs underneath you — it’s much warmer inside than out, but it’s still a bit chilly in here.

Aretia really is like home.

——————

The fresh snow crunches under your boots as you make the walk back to school, side by side. It’s so quiet out here that you almost don’t want to speak at all, but now that you’re finally alone, you can say what’s been on your mind for the last two hours.

“Do you remember the fire?” you ask softly. “When we were still in school?”

“Of course I do. How could I possibly forget that?”

“I don’t know,” you reply, watching the trail of footprints in front of you — the rest of the squad had left a bit earlier than you did. “I kept trying to forget, but it didn’t work. Thought you’d brushed it off — you were always the brave one, not me.”

An unusually dry year had led the fields to burn easily, strong winds sweeping the fire through the landscape in a matter of hours — quickly enough that when you and Sawyer finished up your daily chores, you realized you were trapped.

“I thought we were going to die in that barn,” you admit. “I prayed for a little while, to all the gods I could think of, but eventually I just accepted it. We were hardly fifteen, but we’d lived good lives, done good things and helped feed our families and dozens of others for years. And we were together. That was it, really. That we were together, holding hands.”

He holds you a little closer as he responds. “I think about that day a lot. Whenever I’m scared, or I need to be brave, I think about the two of us sitting in that gross water trough, soaked to the bone and waiting to die, and I tell myself that we were spared for a reason. What that reason is, I have no idea. But if it’s anything, it’s probably this.”

“Probably.”

“What made you think of it?” he asks.

“It’s been on my mind a lot lately. Probably because y’all smell a little bit like smoke all the time. But hearing some of the things you all talked about today... I still only have half an idea how any of this works, but I know it’s not good, and it won’t be easy, either.”

He makes a soft noise of agreement, but lets you continue.

“My point is, I think we could get through anything as long as we were together. Including this.”

“I feel the same way. And just like then, I don’t plan on letting go any time soon.”

You laugh, remembering how you’d refused to separate, falling asleep on the floor of his grandparents’ living room still holding hands.

“Neither do I,” you say quietly. “Neither do I.”

[secretlysimpash]

3 way call🏷🚁

Warning(s): afab fem reader, smut, phone sex, poly PriceNik x reader, MDNI

The phone rang once...Twice...In the middle of the third ring, a familiar, gruff voice picks up. One that is rough from years of cigars, but also one that holds a softness for you.

"Hey, doll...You need somethin'?" John's voice comes through, accompanied by the quiet drone of a car engine and gravel under tires.

"Jh...John, I was just...Calling to check in." You say, trying to keep your tone as even as possible.

Though...It's a bit hard to keep a steady voice devoid of any stuttering or certain sounds when you're bent over the kitchen counter, a thick cock rutting along your soaked folds. The tip rubs over your clit again and again, before slipping in just enough to make you suck in a deep breath.

"I'm just headin' home now, love. The meeting went smoother than expected. Store was absolutely packed too, but I got what we...Needed for...The cannolis?" You can practically hear his brow furrowing over the phone when you shudder out a breath. "Doll, is everything okay? You hurt?"

You try to string together a response, lips close to the phone. Maybe too close...So Nikolai threads his fingers through your hair, yanking just enough to bring his lips to your ear.

"Well...? Are you hurt, малышка?" He asks in a teasing tone, low enough that Price probably won't pick up on it. His hips snap forward after he shoves the skirt of your dress up more, drawing an honestly pathetic mewl from you. "Answer him, baby..." He ends that last demand with a nip to your earlobe.

"Nnh! No! No, not in pain, John!" You babble out, trying to cover the next moan with a forced cough. "No, I'm okay...Dih...Did they have thhh...The powdered sugar...?" A stupid question from the depths of your fucked-stupid brain. His dick hasn't even been inside of you that long yet...Pathetic, truly.

Silence on the other end. Silence while Nikolai sets into a steady pace, thrusting into your gummy walls.

"'Course they did." John responds after a moment of your own deep breathing. You can hear the sound of his car stopping through the speaker. "I stopped at the store near base, so I'm still about twenty minutes away."

Oh, lovely.

"O-oh yeah...? I'm--ohgod--I'll see you soon..."

Faintly, you hear him kill the engine. Then, the rustling of clothes...A zipper being tugged down.

"I think you'll see me right now." He said matter-of-factly, followed by a soft chuckle. "Nikolai...Help our bird out, hang up."

Your cheeks burn slightly when you realize that he knew. Of course he knew. A soft, frustrated whine leaves you as Nikolai stops thrusting for a moment. He stalls inside of you, cock twitching as he hangs up the call. Not even a second later, a video call comes through.

Nikolai picks up, positioning the phone to keep both of you in view.

"John! This view is fine, yes?"

On the other end, you can see John leaning back in the driver's seat, fly undone and pants shoved down enough to free his cock. He's slowly stroking it from the base to the reddened tip, eyes on you and Nikolai.

"Good...Fine for now. Might ask you to give me a different view soon but...Resume for now, love." He instructs, his eyes darker than you remember. "Keep making those pretty noises for Nik and I...Can't drive the rest of the way home like this..."

Without hesitation, Nikolai goes back to thrusting...Even deeper than before as he buries himself inside of you. He pulls you up slightly, enough that John can see him pawing at your tits, tugging your hardened buds to pull more moans from you.

Once Nikolai and John came, John instructs Nik to keep you plugged up until he gets home...And the rest of the night, your husbands made sure every hole was filled over and over and over.

[lullabyes22-blog]

Snippet - Red Line - Forward but Never Forget/XOXO

Jinx narrates Ekko's life story.

Forward but Never Forget/XOXO

tw: death, police brutality, violence, sickness.

Snippet:

To make a short story long:

One night, many moons ago (twenty years to be precise), the Fissures were hit by what is known as Die Pest—not a mass extermination of rodents, but a deadly contagion known as the Ash Plague. It turned thousands of residents into hacking, howling, hole-riddled wraiths who had little choice but to be quarantined at great expense inside the Skylight Commercia's glass dome, under the Council's decree.

All access to the Bridge was restricted: Fissurefolk were barricaded from crossing over to Topside's salubrious climes, where well-heeled, well-met folks went about their business on the immaculately paved streets while a slow poison whittled down their sunless neighbors, leaving nothing behind but bones.

Two of the soon-to-be-damned were a couple with a young boy, barely a year old. They weren't wedded, this being the Fissures and nobody giving a rat's flea-bitten behind; the only ones in town who kept up the tradition were undertakers and tax collectors, both being in the business of last rites, though one was more lucrative than the other (and a damn sight more sanitary).

Point being: the couple were spared the penance but not the plague. Within weeks of its landfall in the Fissures, it spread through the community like wildfire. The woman died first; her man and baby boy both watched her heave her insides out until all she had left were tears and teeth, and not even a mouthful of either by the time she'd kicked the bucket.

It broke the man hard, her passing. She took everything but his breath.

Then the baby came down with the same fever, and threatened to leave him with nothing.

They say that when a person loses their heart, they have a bottomless hole in its stead. One that can be filled by whatever a heart can hold. This man didn't lose his heart; instead what died in him was cowardice, or maybe common sense.

So he fortified himself on zinfandel, swaddled the baby inside a cloth, and decided to do the impossible.

He slipped out of his family's hovel at sundown. Then he crept into the ginnel—that's a backalley, for the uninitiated—just beyond their stoop to check whether there was any blackshirts lurking. No one save for the Night Watch making their rounds, and he had two blocks on those blokes.

The man snatched up some ash, which was scattered across the streets in the remnants of that frosty Fissure evening. He rubbed it into his skin until his dark flesh held the same pallor as the ill.

Then down he went: as quietly as a rat stalking a scrap. He and his late lady-love were Tausendkünstlers. That's the local nickname for a jack-of-all-trades. In more esoteric circles, it has another meaning. The closest translation is "conjurer," but the wordplay is often lost on folks who don't have an ear for language.

Or a taste for magic.

This man and his partner had spent much of their lives defrauding people blind to the truth that, well, there ain't no such thing as magic. Only the odd miracle, and only if you've got enough coinage to make it happen. The rest's a matter of timing. Luck.

And for the truly savvy: trickery.

Which bought us to this fellow slinking through the shadows: dodging street lamps and dripping lines of laundry alike. To get out of quarantine, he'd need to conjure a few miracles.

And use up the rest of his luck.

So this man sprinted through the streets with his squalling babe against his chest, until he hit the jackpot. In a courtyard by the Black Lanes, there stood a vehicle.  It was a rudimentary motorcar, just the wheels and chassis really. The man had been fixing up the innards before his lady-love got sick.

Still, it was good enough to pass a cursory inspection at the Bridgeside, given the sheer volume of vehicles carting supplies upriver each day.

Our fellow had neither papers, nor permits. Not to mention a suspicious lack of supply boxes loaded into his trunk. He just had his hands on the wheel and something foreign banging around in his ribcage.

Maybe that was bravery? Or, as mentioned, magic?

Maybe it was love?

Whatever you call it, the man was in full grip of this feeling. He gunned the engine, and began a laborious ascent up the roughshod streets toward the Bridge. In the passenger seat, the baby wept in fitful bursts, while the man dabbed at his feverish little face with a cloth which, coincidentally, was all that remained of his lady-love's favourite dress.

That dress tells the story of how they met in three distinct panels:

The first panel: Him and a group of ruffians, headed by two epically hard-headed rascals known as Vander and Silco, taking a joyride in his motorcar—cobbled together from a hijacked Enforcer's paddywagon—when they knocked a woman off the sidewalk and ass-backwards into the muck.

They rush out in a panic—him the first to reach her—to find a charming pair of stockinged legs sticking out of a well-stitched woolen skirt, and an even longer seam of swear words flying out of a prettily-plump mouth.

The second panel: A slightly less raucous encounter, and the man apologizing profusely over a pint of ale to this fetching, foul-mouthed lady for his recklessness. Her face is a frigid moue; she's plainly not interested. At least, until they go outside and she sees him fiddling with the motorcar engine. A spark comes alive in her eyes: she's a tinkerer herself. But her passion lies in mechanized textiles—fashionable clothing made from "sensible cloth," a cotton-steel blend that's both stylish and stab-resistant.

She smiles. He chuckles.

Their eyes meet, and on this newfound common ground, a sweeter bargain is struck.

The last panel: they sit, side-by-side, in the musty dimness of Benzo's shop—in the backroom, where the real business is done without a single signature crossing the dotted line—working on a dress. It's got a special pattern of steel-meshed weave.  Stab-resistant, as mentioned prior. Also great at keeping shrapnel shards at bay. Better safe than sorry, especially now that she's running with Vander, Silco and his crazy lot, too.

Running with this man in particular, who wants only the best for her, even if that's not always possible to deliver. His love language isn't words; it's the hard work and honest sweat as he works with her on the dress, stitch after loving stitch, even though it leaves his fingertips sore.

It's worth it to see the way her tongue curls prettily between her teeth as she concentrates on aligning the seams. At the warmth of her arm, a smooth line against his own, and how he imagines the fabric unfurling between them, so he can see their shared future, sewn right in the steel flux: a chance encounter woven into courting danger and courting bliss in equal parts.

When the dress is finished, she throws her arms around him and laughs. His fingers ache, but his heart's fit to bursting.

Then she kisses him, and he thinks: 

 Boom.

Because a boom's always the best start to a love story.

That dress would take all kinds of hits during their days together—burns, bloodstains, the occasional stray bullet from fleeing the Enforcers storming Vander and Silco's underground rallies. Not the ideal lifestyle—nor a choice the man would've made.

But choice was slim pickings in the Undercity. And the past months had brought a lot less carousing, a lot more casing. Not too proud of it, but what else were they to do? There was no money in gadgetry. Not without a rich patron. The only means of true survival was smuggling, safe-cracking, and grand larceny on the wrong side of town.

Not to mention all the legups that came with having Vander and Silco's back, and knowing they had yours. 

The couple needed a legup. They needed someone in their corner.

See, they had a whelp on the way. A babe on a hip, soon enough. That'd keep any man's eye on the horizon.

In the passenger seat, the babe squalled. The man was catapulted back to the moment. Ash streaking his forehead, and his dead love's dress a crumpled heap in his fist.

The motorcar's creaky wheels rolled doggedly up the streets.

The man hoped to cross the Bridge before the curfew bell clanged. Hoped to trade the boy a worse fate for a better—the golden cage over the black pit. His plan—if it can be called that—was such: he'd get pulled over at the checkpoint. The guards would demand documentation. When they shone their lanterns at him, they'd see the grey grime smearing his cheeks. Instantly, they'd recoil, as Topsiders did at anything less than spotless.

In that moment, with them rearing away, he'd scoop the boy into his arms, snugly enfolded in his love's dress, and make a mad dash across the Bridge. 

All he had to do was cross the red line at the border. Once he did, he'd be under the jurisdiction of Piltover proper, rather than the Wardens. They could gun him down in broad daylight. But the child would be pronounced a ward of the state, which meant they'd place the little thing in an orphanage, where medicks would treat his sickness.

Where he might grow up healthy, happy and bright.

Where he might become someone, like his mother always wished.

The motorcar crept up the crumbling streets, skirting past piles of dead dogs, rats, cats—they'd all perished too. Flies swarmed in clouds over the mangled heaps of fur and flesh.

In the distance, the harbor glowed: a golden hand beckoning.

As the motorcar neared the Bridge's ramparts, the man spotted a squadron of Enforcers posted between two caravels across the road. The line to get past was long and winding. Each carriage took half an hour to inspect.

A long time. Too long!

By the time the man reached the front, the curfew bell would have rung.

Gods, all he needed was to cross that red line. To be given leave to enter the promised land. A small mercy, just a tiny scrap. Please. Why couldn't they give him that?

The man's eyes fixed on the checkpoint, jaw clenched so tight he felt his back teeth chip. The line crept forward one laborious inch at a time. Every bump in the road jostled his bones.

Halfway there, the curfew bell started clanging; the Enforcers lined up on the rampart, barring further entrance. All the vehicles waiting to cross were summarily turned away.

The man's stomach dropped to the car's floor, and then dropped through the floor, and straight down into the Pilt.

In the passenger seat, the baby wailed.

In a world of slim choices and shrinking odds, the man knew he had none left.

When you get only one chance in hell, what've you got to lose? Nothing—which is exactly what he had. He might be waylaid before he got halfway across, sure. A broadside could snaffle him at the wheel; his windows could shatter from a rifle stock bashing the glass in; a hail of lead could leave his guts spilled across the cobblestones.

His body, floating in the Pilt in the aftermath, a knife-edge moon in its reflection...

...but, if there was a chance his son might make it Topside?

He risked it.

Bracing a palm across the baby's chest, the man floored the gas pedal, screeching his way through the barricade like a hot blade through butter. He ploughed right through the middle of the blockade. Crates toppled. Enforcers scattered like loose coins. Shouts rang out, then a chorus of gunshots.

In the passenger seat, the baby let out a hiccupping cry.

 We're going to make it, the man thought. Just across the line.

Boom.

An explosion shook the Bridge, knocking the car sideways. Something massive, maybe a gatling gun—had blown out the car's tires. The wheels ruptured, sending the vehicle skidding off the pavement. It plunged, nose-down, into the vertiginous canyon below. Moments later, the gas line ruptured, sending an impressive fireball sky-high over the River.

Sparks rained down. Soot followed.

In the backdraft, the boy's scream rang out—clear, shrill, angry.

Alive.

By some miracle—or maybe old-fashioned Tausendküstler trickery—the man had snatched up the wee lad—snugly enfolded within his mother's dress—into his arms, and leapt from the careening car. They'd hit the cobblestones, rolling and rolling, as the car tipped off the Bridge.

They stopped—a hair shy of the demarcation. Right near the painted line separating the Undercity from Piltover.

The man ran.

One boot missing, his shirtsleeves shredded, his elbows and knees streaked with blood. And still, he held his son to his breast, and ran like hell.

 He kept running, even as the Enforcers greeted him with the traditional Topside salutation. Bullets ricocheting at his heels, ripping up stone, metal, meat, as he sprinted across the Bridge. As shouts rose, and sirens skirled, and a storm of brass buttons and spit-shined badges lunged in hot pursuit.

One bullet winged him across the temple. Blood sprayed.

Teeth gritted, he pushed hard. Twenty-five yards from home plate.

Twenty.

Fifteen.

Ten—!

Boom.

A third bullet went clean through his skull.

The man staggered, with less than half a yard to go. The baby squalling in his arms, his big brown eyes raised skyward to the golden city as the night and his father's life seeped away.

Finally, the man fell, tripping over blood-slick cobblestones.

He dropped to the ground inches from the red line, curling around the child in a final embrace, as the Enforcers advanced in jagged silhouettes, with rifles drawn and torches held high.

Which is where Benzo and Vander, in the vicinity after a supply run, found Ekko squalling in his dead father's arms.

Ekko would never cross the red line. Instead, he'd spend much of his early toddlerhood curled around the fraying dress, its bloodstains gone coppery-dark. The last relic of his parents, two Tausendküstler fools, taken in by the illusion of a golden elsewhere beyond the river, and the lie that is Topside's creed:

Progress.

As he grew up, Ekko's whole life would be spent in pursuit of something better. Something real. Something that he'd build right in the Fissures.

Because if a city could change, on the level, it must change together. Honesty, grit and guts would get you halfway there. But cleverness, greased gears and a fistful of audacity was what'd see you past the threshold.

Ekko was a Tausendküstler, too. But no fool. Even on the nights when his fingers ached, like his old man's once had, as he stitched together the threads for a brighter tomorrow.

 He just didn't know that a blue-haired girl, who'd lost her own family on the Bridge, would be the match to set the spark in motion. Two ends of a lit fuse. Different sides, same story. Same old fight: getting to the Promised Land, however many yesterdays it took.

Even if the Promised Land was their own doorstep.

But that story is still in progress. For now, there's only the boom.

And a pinch of magic called love to make up for the rest.

[tojipie]

˚ ✧ ────────

you’re 5 minutes into your first round and to be quite honest, you’ve never been more sure that fushiguro toji and his god given ability to dirty talk is something you’ll take to your grave.

you’d been with other guys before, ones with a nasty habit of running their mouths during sex. ones that’d grab you by the neck and whisper sweet nothings in your ear, telling you how good you felt, how tight you were, how they couldn’t wait to fuck you again.

toji is entirely different. nothing, and i truly mean nothing, compares to that old man when it comes to mouthing off in the bedroom. he’s formulating sentences you never thought possible, spewing stuff that would have you clutching your pearls and running for the hills any other given day.

you’re holding onto your composure by your teeth hearing him say the things he does, thighs and arms burning as you rock back and forth on his dick.

“take what you need pretty. uh huh, keep fucking me,” he chuckles, winding a fist into your hair to pull you back onto his cock when he notices you trying to crawl away.

you honestly don’t think you can take it anymore. if the way your guts were currently being pummeled into oblivion wasn’t enough, the way he’s talking to you right now has you in crisis.

it’s all too good, suspiciously good, and embarrassingly enough, you think you might be nearing your edge only 7 minutes after making it to his bed. your arms fail you as you try to crawl up the bed and away from the too-good feeling currently frying every wire in your brain.

“awww, you runnin’ from me?,” he laughs, letting your hair go to cage you in from behind, two solid arms settling on either side of your head.

your words escape you each time you muster up a response, eyes rolling back and he takes over again, shoving you face down and absolutely destroying that special spot tucked away inside of you. toji’s like a furnace, cooking you alive with the heat the radiates add his abs and chest.

“told ya you couldn’t handle it,” he teases, watching you writhe under him. “not with this dick.”

you feel something wet—a tongue you realize— traveling up the base of your spine and tapering off at your neck before solid teeth clamp down on the skin there.

okay, wow. fuck. you realize he’d lapped up the moisture settling in the dip of your back, licking the sweat from your skin like an animal.

“gonna let me taste every part of you? hmm?” he says in that too sweet voice you only hear when he’s teasing. he lets go of your neck with a pop to admire the bruise his bite leaves in its wake, sucking another one right under it for good measure.

you fall over the edge with no warning, so overwhelmed with pleasure that your mind and body continue to work separately.

the sound toji makes is beautiful. low, long, and guttural. radiating from the deepest part of his chest like a fan, and for a minute, you think he might be feeling the same overwhelming pleasure you are.

“ughh-hah don’t move, don’t move,” he whispers over and over, massaging the fat of your ass while your body flutters around him. you feel something viscous leak out of you, dripping down the seam of your heat and onto the sheets.

“when the fuck did you have time to cum?,” you finally muster. you don’t think you’d be able to move if your life depended on it, limbs sinking into the mattress like tubes of jelly. you really can’t move once you feel 200 pounds of laughing muscle settle on top of you, keeping you grounded like a paperweight on a measly little envelope.

“what, y’ quitting on all of this?” he laughs, gesturing up and down himself so you know just how irresistible he thinks he is. the worst part is that he’s right, just based off of how hard he’d rocked your world in the last 10 or so minutes.

you feel invigorated by some stroke of a miracle, pressing back on his still-leaking dick as a silent invitation.

“what, more? y’need more of me you little minx?” he laughs, grrriiiinding his tip right up against that fleeting spot you would have never been able to get to on your own.

and just like that he’s back to fucking you, pulling you into him like a toy at that same perfect pace.

“bite me hard if y’ want me to stop, you hear me?” he commands, shoving your face back into the pillows once he sees you nod.

[lizziesloopy]

NSFW ALPHABET W DARYL DIXON

A - Aftercare: I don’t care what anyone else says, Daryl is the master of aftercare. He’s always worried about you, so he always insists u rest and take a minute after u two do anything, and gets a warm washcloth or tissue to clean you up, and or water. If you’re the type to get tired after sex, he sleeps with you, lets u sleep on his chest while playing with your hair.

B - Body Part: He likes all of you equally, but he’s a sucker for your breasts and hips. I will DIE on this hill. Daryl has a thing for hips, holding them while he’s fucking you, keeping them down while he’s eating you out, brushing his thumb along them while kissing you.

C - Cum: Daryl has a breeding kink. He’s already generally protective of the people he cares about, especially you, and that doesn’t change in the bedroom. The idea of filling you up, cumming inside you, thats what does it for him.

D - Dirty Secret: Daryl is a pretty reserved guy, so I don’t think he’d ever admit to any kind of dirty secret unless you asked first. But, he secretly really likes the idea of you riding his face, and really likes the scent of you.

E - Expirience: The only expirience Daryl has is from before the apocalypse, and even then it was never all that good. He was usually intoxicated when he had the occasional one night stand, most of his sexual knowledge coming from Merle. But once he’s with you, he’s very eager to please you, whether he knows what he’s doing, he WILL make it his mission to learn.

F - Favorite Position: Contrary to popular belief, I think Daryl is a pretty vanilla guy. He mostly enjoys missionary, he likes to be able to see your face, and hold you close. He also likes spooning, it feels much more intimate, and it’s usually a go to for sleepy sex. He also never complains when you want to ride him because god does he love it. But I don’t think he’d like to bend you over something or do doggy style, he feels it’s too degrading or disrespectful.

G - Goofy: Things stay pretty passionate and serious between you too when being intamite. But, when something is akward and happens to be funny, a little laugh here and there isn’t unusual, especially in the beginning.

H - Hair: I mean, it’s an apocalypse, I don’t think people are all too focused on how well groomed thier bits are. Despite that, he doesn’t let it get crazy, keeps it tame, very clean. He doesn’t like the feeling of being unkempt down there, it’s uncomfortable. As for you, who could give two shits bush or bald, as long as he can get in there, he’s a happy man. And if he’s being honest, he’s likes when you have a little more hair because he likes the scent of you.

I - Intimacy: Daryl is extremely intimate nobody is changing my mind. I don’t understand how yall think this man would fuck you like an animal against a tree, absolutely not. He’s very private about your sex life and plans to keep it that way. He’s quiet overall, but that doesn’t stop him from absolutely ravishing you. He likes being as humanly close to you as possible, whether that be spooning you, reverse cowgirl, pulling you impossibly close to him in missionary, anything.

J - Jack Off: Daryl isn’t much of a masturbater. Never has been. He doesn’t have the highest sex drive, and when he does, he has you. He’d rather have you than his hand, always.

K - Kink: Like I said, he’s pretty vanilla, but not to say he doesn’t enjoy a thing or two. He 100% has an oral fixation, going down on you or you going down on him, obsessed with it. He also likes pulling your hair every now and then, but never too hard.

L - Location: Only the bed. Yall are crazy for sayin ‘over a table’ ‘in the middle of the woods’ like what the FUCK are you on 😭. He’s a very private man, who prioritizes your comfort over anything else, therefore, the bed.

M - Motivation: I mentioned how he wouldn’t have a very high sex drive, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t get turned on by you. If you’re in the mood, that’s his motivation. But also, seeing you all sweaty or working hard, or when he’s teaching you how to use his crossbow, seeing you use it, that turns him on hella.

N - NO: There’s a lot of no’s for Daryl when it comes to intimacy for you. He would never hurt you in any way shape or form, that consists of spanking, slapping, hitting, restraining, choking, etc. IF you asked him to choke you he’d be ok with doing it very lightly, but still worried. He’s not ok with risky/public sex, degrading you, and certain kinks like mommy/daddy. I hate when ppl say he’d have that, he’d hate it.

O - Oral: ORAL FIXATIONNNNNNNNNNN!!! This man is a certified MUNCH. Bro feasts like it’s his last meal alive. He love love loves that he can make you feel that good, because he’s exceptionally good with using his tongue, and has learned all the ways you like it. He likes watching the way you loose control of yourself, your face and your body. He also loooves when you go down on him, but he never says that. He actually has an extremely hard time containing himself when you suck him off. He usually doesn’t last long. Seeing you on your knees, looking at him through your eyelashes with his cock in your mouth, it’s his wet dream.

P - Pace: Depends. Depends on the mood, how you wanted, how you both are feeling, if he’s stressed, if he’s relaxed. I mentioned earlier he likes being intimate, therefore I’d say most of the time he’s not too fast or hard, maybe when he’s getting close or knows you’re getting close though. But times when he’s stressed, or he can tell you are, he’s a bit more fast paced with it.

Q - Quickie: Nope. 100% absolutely not. He despises the idea of rushing sex. He needs to feel comfortable in a safe environment where he knows he has time and there is no danger.

R - Risk: No risks. He doesn’t take risks with places, kinkiness, or new stuff. Unless you specifically say you want to try something and he’s ok with it, or he thinks it something, than nah. The only thing I could think of is he loves cumming in you, so there would be the risk of pregnancy if you are fertile.

S - Stamina: Depends again. He can go for long if you can, but when he’s tired, one round is enough to put him on his ass. But, just solely pleasuring you alone, he could do that all day.

T - Toy: He is definetly not opposed to anything that makes you feel good. If he were to ever stumble upon something on a run, or some other way, he’d definetly grab it. Using something like a vibrator or a dildo on you is definitely something he’s very open too, but when it comes to him, he’d rather not use anything.

U - Unfair: There is lots of teasing in your relationship in general, but when it comes to sexual teasing yes, but very subtle, never things other people would notice. But when it comes down to actual sex, neither of you like to be kept waiting.

V - Volume: He’s mostly quiet like usual. Grunts mostly, especially when he’s cumming, he usually burries his face in your shoulder to muffle himself. He loves to hear how vocal you are though. I think he could be a bit of a whimperer when you give him head too.

W - Wild Card: He doesn’t mind when you’re on your period, he’s just extra cautious with the mess. Puts a towel down or does it in the shower.

X - X Ray: He’s pretty big, not too big, but above average. It’s mostly the girth, cuz damn. Your first time with him had to be slow and steady because YOWCH.

Y - Yearning: Well, I already said this before but he had a medium sex drive, not awfully high. But if you do, especially if you’re younger than him, he’s more than happy to get you off. Eating you out, fingering you, letting you ride his thigh, whatever you want.

Z - zzzz: He gets pretty eepy 😴 He doesn’t like quickies because he likes to have his time with you, specifically time to cuddle you and sleep afterwards. Which is why he mostly prefer sex before bed/at night.

Hope you guys liked it!! My first time writing something like this, lmk how you like it and if I should do a SFW one.

[phantom-playdough]

Macaque x GN!Stressed Reader: Fluffy Cuddles

It's been a while since I've written a fic, much less completed one. Especially for the LMK fandom because I've kinda fallen out of the fandom. But I miss writing fics for this show and have been needing a bit of an outlet. And what's more comforting than shadow monkey cuddles? Nothing. That's what I thought lol

Also posted on my AO3: My_inner_phantom

Things have been really exhausting lately. So many things have been pulling at you, demanding your attention that you've hardly had time for yourself. Much less your clingy boyfriend, Macaque. But every time things seem to finally be settling down, something happens that gets in the way of you being able to spend time with him. Needless to say, you're exhausted.

He's been trying his best to be understanding, and he's done a good job so far. Especially by his standards. So, when he finishes training one day, he decides he's sick of sitting around in his hut and doing nothing without you there. It doesn't feel right without you beside him, especially for this long. It's not your fault that you've been so busy, and it's hard for him to be mad at you for long, anyway.

But he misses you.

You've been working so hard lately and have been under so much stress practically every day that it's a miracle you're still holding it together. Heck, if he had to deal with everything you've been coping with, he surely would be doing way worse. But he's sick of being patient when it feels like the universe just keeps throwing things at you. And he'll be damned if he's going to let the universe keep you away from him like this, especially when you both need each other's company.

He lets out a dramatic sigh before dropping into a portal and landing on your couch in your apartment. He can tell you're not home yet, so he decides to lounge on your couch for a bit until you get back. Your scent in the room helps soothe his nerves just slightly, but it also just makes him miss you more. However, he plays it cool when he hears your footsteps enter the building and walk up to your door.

Opening his eye, he peeks over to see you walk inside and kick off your shoes. You don't even seem surprised when you see him on your couch. If anything, you seem relieved.

It's only a moment before you make it over to the couch and face plant into his chest, to which he responds by loosely wrapping an arm around your waist while the other stays behind his head. Despite his casual expression, the way his tail wraps more firmly around your leg is a clear indicator of how much he's missed you.

"Rough day?" You nod into his chest. "Need me to beat anybody up for ya?" He gently offers, which earns a small laugh from you. "Maybe later." You half-joke. His arm and tail tighten around you just slightly, showing clear restraint from pushing you for details or going on a hunt. You appreciate the effort and reward him with a kiss on the cheek, which surprises him a bit.

He'll probably never get used to your affection, and he secretly likes it that way. Every peck on the cheek from you feels like the first, and it reminds him that there's still some good left in this world. In his world.

He smiles after a moment, leaving a small kiss on your forehead in response. If there's one thing you know, it's that he's not going to let you get up for a while.

[astraule]

"What I Want"

Pairing: Demon!Dean x Reader Song: You’re All I Want - Cigarettes After Sex “We fucked so hard it left me faded for all you are.” Tags: 18+, first time having sex, teasing, fingering, PIV, guiding you through it. Y/N: She/Her virgin reader. Word Count: 1.7 K Summary: Dean called out for you as you hid. You had agreed to a game of hide-and-seek to keep him busy, but he quickly found you and reassured you in his bedroom, telling you that everything would be taken slowly. Next morning, resting in his arms, Dean felt immense happiness seeing you as everything he wanted. When gently waking you up, you looked up at him with puffy eyes.

3RD POV: (Bunker Kitchen)

"Y/N~" Dean's voice called out as you squatted in the pantry of the kitchen. While Sam was out looking for a solution to bring Dean back to normal, it was your job to stay in the bunker to distract him, to keep him from getting out.

He suggested playing hide-and-seek; if you won, he would listen to every word you said. But if he won, you'd be at his beck and call. "Come out, come out, wherever you are~" His voice echoed in your mind, quickening your heartbeat.

The corridors had been silent for a full ten minutes; apprehension began to set in, had he left the bunker? You didn't have much time to spend in your hiding place, where you had firmly decided to go and find him. "Gotcha," Dean said, the silence now broken, right next to you.

“Dean." your voice caught as you swallowed hard. "Do you remember our little deal?" he asked, the corners of his lips twisting in a smile. "Dean, I'm begging you." You looked at the hand circling your wrist-soft and yet unyielding.

(Dean’s Bedroom)

"There's nothing to be afraid of,” Dean murmured, his form looming above you, "I assure you, I'll go slow." You had no idea what you were getting yourself into when you agreed to his little game earlier, but now the reality of the situation was beginning to sink in.

As his thumb delicately drew circles on your stomach beneath your shirt, your mind was racing with ways to divert him from whatever it was he had planned. "Dean, seriously. We both know this isn't right. Sam could walk in at any moment," you protested. "What does it matter? Sam will understand," he replied with a teasing grin.

Dean smirked, his hands roaming over your torso beneath your shirt, sending a shiver down your spine. "Come on, I know this is what you've been craving since the first time you met me, the real me. You think you're good at hiding it? The truth is, you want me." And he wasn't wrong; that desire was there since the moment you first saw him. Yet, deep inside, you wanted to share this moment when Dean was truly himself again.

For Dean as a demon, you were just another body to warm his bed, but you had to hold onto that hope that somehow, somewhere the real Dean really did have feelings for you. "Come on, baby, don't hold back." His voice cut through your internal musing as he tugged your shirt over your head. The cool air of the room cascading down your spine.

You took a deep breath, realizing you had made your choice. If this was what Dean wanted and it was what you wanted, why hold back? As you wrapped your arms around his neck, you whispered, "Just be gentle with me." His smirk returned, playful and knowing. "I would never hurt you, Y/N. Believe it or not, you mean a lot to me, the real me.”

Dean, as a demon, had this attitude that felt like the real Dean, but it wasn't really. For one thing, he didn't have an ounce of morality on him. It sounded weird when he said he cared about you. The real Dean always kept things close to his chest, and Dean as a demon did that too.

"Can you imagine how long the real me has fantasized about you? You drive the real me crazy, do you know that?" Dean broke the silence; his fingers dug into your torso and left white imprints that seemed to disappear right afterward.

"Why not treat ourselves a little?" He grinned, lifting your leg onto his shoulder and trailing soft kisses down from your knee to your ankle, leaving you breathless. "I could never resist you, Dean; irrelevant who you're playing at the moment," you replied, your hand over your chest.

As he carefully slid your leg off of his shoulder, peeling off his shirt at a very sweet pace, you couldn't help but catch your breath when he revealed his perfectly sculpted four-pack. Although Dean wasn't nearly as obsessive about working out as Sam was, it would be a gross mistake for anyone to say he wasn't in top physical form.

He refocused on you, his hands sliding down your slender figure and finding their way to the softer curve of your stomach, where your uterus lay. "So soft, I love it," Dean muttered, leaning down to nip at that exact spot his hands had touched a moment before. The bite marked and slightly puckered.

“Dean, please," you whispered, your fingers gliding to his face, gently guiding him to meet your gaze. "Show me just how much you want me." A playful smirk danced across his lips as he made his way down, peeling your shorts away from your body along with your panties.

Dean smiled softly, his voice soothing as he said, "There's no rush, sweetheart. We can savor every moment." His fingers explored your warmth, which elicited a surprised gasp that you quickly stifled. "There's nothing to be embarrassed about," he reassured you, gently taking your wrists and guiding your hands above your head. "Dean…" you murmured, feeling the tears well up in your eyes. This wasn't how you had pictured your first time feeling like.

"Everything will be alright, love. You'll get used to it soon enough." He consoled, placing a gentle peck on your forehead that made your heart flutter with a tiny bit of comfort before his fingers started delving inside you once again, prompting you to close your eyes instinctively.

Dean leaned in closer, and against your ear, his warm breath whispered, "I gotcha, sweetheart. Just trust me and let go." His fingers continued to move deep inside you, a teasing prelude that sent a shiver down your spine, heightening your nerves for what was about to happen.

His fingers tormented you for what felt like hours, as you held on to the pillow, your wrists clasped tightly by him. He finally withdrew his fingers and brought them up to his lips, making sure to lick them off while staring intently at you.

Suddenly, you were filled with his hot, pulsating length, not even realizing when he had undone his jeans. As he released your wrists and placed his hands beside your head, your back involuntarily arched off the bed. Your arms clasped his neck again, holding him as if he was your anchor in the storm.

He wrapped an arm around your back, pulling you close to him while his other hand clutched the pillow beside your head. "I gotcha, sweetheart," he assured you. "Dean…," you whimpered, tears streaming down your face from the burning pain.

As he started moving inside you with the most delicate touch, more tears streamed down your face. "Shhh, you're doing great, love," he said in a whisper, pressing soft kisses against your cheeks where the tears fell, even as your cries grew loud. "It hurts," you whispered, your nails digging deep into his back leaving deep marks, which made him gasp in pain amidst his heavy breaths.

He whispered to you, "Trust me, you'll be feeling great in no time. Just let your body relax." As he loosened his hold on your back, he leaned in, pressing you against the mattress. Before you knew it, your tears turned to whimpering, then to moans that came deep from within, as your breathing grew quicker by the second. A smug smile spread across Dean's face as his thrusts quickened, slight groans escaping his lips.

You gasped, "Dean," your eyes fluttering as a wave of pleasure washed over you. "There’s the reaction I love," Dean replied, his lips teasing at your neck. His thrusts came faster, full of a desperate intensity, making the bed creak and sway beneath you.

You were so sure the bed was going to break under the noises it was making and from Dean's pace. You could only hold on to him, soft moans escaping your lips while silently hoping he’d protect you if the bed did come undone. "I've got you, don't worry," he reassured you as if his brain picked up your thought waves. He then captured your lips with his, your tongues dancing together while you both let out a symphony of moans and groans.

Your eyes suddenly widened, and your head leaned back, your lips breaking away from the kiss as an intense sensation began to rise up inside of you. Dean caught on in a second; a smirk began to spread across his face as he teased, "Go ahead, darling, let it all out. Show me just how good I make you feel." Before you could utter anything in return, you found yourself enveloping him with your warmth.

"Dean…," you panted, hoping he'd pick up on the cue as he slowed down, but then you saw that sneer creeping back onto his face as he sped up again. "No… it’s too much," you whined, your eyes fluttering shut as more pleasure washed over you. "I'm not there yet," Dean whispered softly in your ear.

Dean POV: (Next Morning)

As Y/N rested in my arms, her arm slung across my chest, and her leg thrown over my waist, I couldn't help but smile. She was everything that the real me had always longed for, and I was desperate to fill this want. If there was even the slightest chance that the real me could emerge from the depths of my soul, then I wanted him to have her by his side.

As I stroked her bare back, soothing her, she stirred a little in her sleep. "Hm. so warm," she murmured, still lost in her dream. I couldn't help but wonder, ‘Have humans always been this adorable?’ as she snuggled up to me closer. "Y/N, it's time to wake up," I whispered softly, running my fingers through her hair which made her flutter her eyes open.

"Dean…" she whispered, looking up at me with eyes a little red from the night before, and it stabbed me in the heart like an arrow. "I really am so sorry I hurt you, love; you just felt so good." I said, kissing the crown of her head softly, and she sighed happily.

She whispered, "I don't have the feeling in my legs," as her cheeks flushed a soft pink, and that made me chuckle soft and low. "No need to worry," I replied, lifting her effortlessly in a bridal carry, the blanket still wrapped around her. "How about I run you a nice bath, okay?"

I was literally kicking my feet and giggling while I put this together! In a previous post, I mentioned that TikTok was down in the U.S., which meant I'd be writing more frequently than just once a month. Well, guess what? It's back up and running! But don't fret, I don't think I'll be spending as much time on TikTok as I used to, so I will try my hardest to keep the writing flowing.