#and I probably now need to do more in this vein since it was fun but unfortunately: school

[laligraves]

chp.2 - poolside

morning run series

joel miller x fem!reader

[18+] | wc: ~2.7k summary: Your nap is interrupted by Joel. masterlist | AO3

warnings: HBO Joel, TLOU AU, dubious consent (i'm so serious, don't read if it makes you uncomfortable), NSFW, pre/no outbreak, some proofreading (not enough so sorry for mistakes), Joel is a tall and very strong man, older man/college-aged reader, no use of y/n or too many details on reader's appearance, alcohol consumption, pet names, some degradation, breeding kink (yeah), fingering, squirting, unprotected sex, creampie

a/n: i'm still here <3! just busy with real life :( i don't have a huge plan for this series except to make little one shots here and there since i have a lot of fun with these two characters lol. other stuff on the way i promise <3

You left two days after that encounter with Joel Miller. Your head was still spinning and your pussy still sore, but the semester started and you needed to be back on campus. 

The first night back in your dorm, you debated throwing out the roses that now sat on your desk. You lasted 10 minutes just looking at them before you were touching yourself to the memory of him. You could still feel the scratch of his beard on your neck and remember the smell of his cologne. 

He’d put his phone number in your contact list and you debated calling him. But what would you even say? 

You should be mad at Joel for what he did. Yet somehow, he managed to reach into the deepest corners of your mind and fulfill one of your darkest fantasies. 

Now, back in town, you can’t help but feel a little excited to see him again. Even if the more sane part of your brain is trying to convince you to slap him across the face if he comes near.  

“Hey, lazy girl,” your sister calls out. 

“Hey,” you respond softly, not moving from your spot on the lounge chair. 

“I’m leaving. Are you sure you’ll be okay?” 

“Yeah,” you reply, knowing you’ll probably spend the entire week swimming and sunbathing by the pool. 

“I left money on the counter and the keys to my car in case you need it.” 

“Okay, mom,” you say sarcastically. 

She throws a pool noodle at you and leaves with her friend after that, promising to text you when she reaches her destination. Any other time you’d be disappointed that your sister was leaving for a full week just as you arrived for summer vacation, but she’s been working so much that she deserves a trip. 

The stress from the semester leaves your body with each lap around the crisp pool and the warm sun. You go back into the house to make yourself a tequila soda and make your way back out to the chairs underneath the canopy. 

A sudden thought pops into your head as you look around the empty backyard. The fences are tall enough and the gate leading to the backyard is locked. Your sister doesn’t have cameras that face this side of the house yet, so there’s really no reason for you to be so nervous. 

You’ve never sunbathed in the nude, there’s just never been an opportunity for it. But now, with the house empty and the tequila coursing through your veins, it would be the perfect time to do so. 

Before the courage leaves you, you slip off the strings of the bikini and spread out on the lounge chair.

“Absolutely nothing to worry about,” you whisper. 

You eventually doze off, moving around until you’re once again face down. A text message from your sister lights up your screen, but at this point you’ve fallen asleep and don’t pay any mind to it. 

I forgot to tell you that Joel Miller from down the block is stopping by. He’s going to plant the roses Susan wants, but needs to take a look first. Help him with whatever he needs. Tell him thank you! 

You start to dream of Joel massaging sunscreen on your back, trailing his hands over your sides until they land on the soft, plump flesh of your ass. 

His hands massage and spread your cheeks open, presenting your asshole and pussy for his eyes. Joel lands a glob of spit right on your little winking star and you flinch slightly. 

“It’s okay, babydoll,” he coos. 

The tip of his finger circles your asshole just a bit, enough for you to shiver from the sensation. 

His fingers trail down to your pussy where he slowly teases a finger up and down your slit, gathering the wetness. 

“Joel,” you whimper. 

You push back on his hand, overcome with need.

Joel laughs at your desperate attempts to fuck yourself on his hand and moves your thigh to the side, giving him the perfect view of your cunt. 

Before you have a chance to complain, he spreads you open and runs his tongue through your folds. Your hands grip the towel and you almost scream in surprise. 

At the scrape of his teeth on your inner thigh and the scratch of his beard on your skin, you begin to wake. This isn’t a dream.  

“What–” 

“‘bout time you woke up,” Joel growls. “Dreamin’ about me, babydoll?” 

You lift your head, slightly delirious, still grinding back on his face. 

“Joel, whatthefuck–” you whisper, words slurred from sleep. 

He tongues your entrance and swipes a finger over your clit, a movement that has you almost seeing stars. Joel ignores your pleas for him to wait, choosing instead to push two large fingers into your pussy. You choke down on your words at the stretch, still confused. 

“Can barely fit my fingers in this sweet cunt,” Joel says.  

“Wait–” you whimper, “fuck, wait.” 

With his fingers still in your pussy, he moves up to lie partially on top of you. He bites your shoulder, neck, runs the tip of his tongue over the shell of your ear. 

“No waiting, babydoll. Gotta stretch this tiny hole,”  

Vulgar. He’s so nasty with his words, still, your pussy beats with its own heartbeat. 

“Joel–” 

“All this time waitin’ for you to call me,” Joel hums into your ear, “just used me for my cock, didn’t you? Little slut.” 

“No, I didn’t. I–” 

“I knock you up?” 

You give a tiny, jerky shake of your head, no, unable to form words. 

“Guess we’ll have to try again, yeah?” he murmurs in your ear. “Gonna’ fill up this pussy.”

“No—“

You mean to say it with conviction. But your voice wavers, and you cum right into the palm of his hand, soaking him.

You grind down on his hand and bite into the towel to muffle your screams. 

“Good girl,” Joel groans, “just love makin’ a mess, don’t cha’?”   

Your hands slowly let go of the towel and your body becomes limp. Joel stands from the chair and you hear the clatter of his belt and the soft rustle of his clothes landing on the ground. 

Your nap being interrupted by Joel is not something you were expecting. In fact, what is he doing here?

“Joel, what are you–” 

His hands reach for your hips and he’s flipping you over on your back, making room for himself between your thighs.

“Needa look at your pretty face and pretty tits while I fuck ‘ya.” 

“We can’t–” 

Joel’s calloused fingers pinch your hard-tipped nipples and as if your body is already conditioned for him, you push up right into his hands.

“Fuckin’ gorgeous,” Joel groans. 

Before you know what’s happening, Joel leans down to drag his tongue over each peak. He bites, leaving only a hint of pain and shushing your needy whines. 

He grinds down between your open thighs, covering his cock in your slick. You moan and writhe on the lounge chair, twisting your hips with each bump of his mushroom head right on your swollen button. 

 “Joel, please,” you beg. 

But you’re not quite sure what you’re begging for. The sane part of your brain tells you to put an end to this, to send Joel far away from you. But then he sucks your nipple into his mouth and your mind goes blank.

Joel keeps biting, sucking, lapping at your tits until you feel the familiar sensation in your lower belly. As if sensing another orgasm, either from your moans or the way you're grinding up on his cock, Joel stops, placing a soft kiss on each nipple before leaning back. 

“I needed to taste those tits before I fuck ya’,” Joel rasps. 

You tremble beneath him, laying there in a sweaty heap. Joel’s face is slightly flushed and his chest rises with each ragged breath he takes. 

Fuck, he’s handsome. Salt and pepper hair, creases around his eyes, a hooked nose and a huge cock make him the most attractive man you’ve ever seen. 

The second he releases your hands, you drag your fingers down his hairy chest and over his soft belly. He’s hard and soft, muscular from working outside but with a belly that you want to lay your head on. 

He moves your hand away, linking his fingers through one of yours and uses his other hand to bump the tip of his length at your entrance. You try, in a small voice that’s just about surrendered to the lust swirling in your head, to stop Joel, suddenly remembering that this is not your house, but your sister’s. 

“Joel, my sister is inside–” 

He tsks in disappointment. “She’s gone for the week,” he interrupts, swirling the tip of his cock on your clit, “don’t lie to me, babydoll.”

Your mouth opens to ask how exactly he knows that, but Joel takes that moment to slide right in. A high-pitched squeal claws its way out of your mouth at the stretch of his cock. 

Joel groans, sounding almost pained. His eyes shut and his mouth drops open while you fight to push him off of you. You forgot just how large he was, and even if your cunt is slick and this isn’t the first time, it’s still a little painful. 

Joel places your hand above your head, still keeping his fingers linked, and uses his other hand to push up your thigh. His nose brushes yours and he gives you a soft kiss.  

He rocks his hips slowly, pushing his tongue into your mouth and matching the pace. You don’t kiss him back, too preoccupied with the cock spearing inside of you and the loss of air in your lungs. 

“Too much–”, you mumble, “too much!” 

Joel moves his lips down your chin, the tip of his tongue dragging a hot path down your neck. Goosebumps erupt on your skin as you try to catch your breath. Each thrust of his hips make you lightheaded. 

“No,” Joel murmurs into your neck, “you can take it, babydoll. Take it like a good girl.”  

With your free hand you try to push at his hips, for him to just give you a moment to breathe. Joel quickly takes your other hand and places it above your head, locking both of your wrists in his grasp. 

Your tits are in Joel’s face, pushed up by the arch of your back. Joel takes full advantage and runs his tongue over your swollen nipples. 

You’re not speaking coherently anymore. Between your pleas for him to slow down, please you whine with each hard thrust into your pussy. 

“Fuckin’ greedy,” Joel groans, “pussy keeps suckin’ me right back in.” 

“You’re so fucking nasty,” you mumble in half-hearted anger. 

But he’s right. Your pussy flutters with each slide of his cock and your thighs bracket his hips, keeping him as close as possible.

The thick head of his cock bumps your womb and you’re almost certain he’s growing bigger inside of you. You can smell him, his cologne and sweat, the scent of a man who spends his time working outside with his hands. 

If Joel were any other man, you’d hate the smell. But with him, it’s intoxicating. 

The first time together was quick, in his front yard where you were forced to stay quiet and take whatever he gave you. Now, your whimpers are loud and he’s in no rush to finish quickly. 

“Gonna breed this little cunt,” Joel slurs, “gonna make you a mommy.”

His hips move faster and tears begin to fall from the corner of your eyes. Joel invades your space and kisses every inch of skin he can reach. Imprints of his teeth and his saliva are left on your neck, tits, and mouth. 

“You want that babydoll? Wanna make me a daddy?” 

Any other man, especially one who is practically a stranger would make you cringe. But Joel’s breeding kink doesn’t phase you. You fall into the fantasy of him cumming inside of you and giving you a baby. 

He pushes his tongue almost down your throat while he fucks you. You kiss him back and suck his tongue on instinct. He whimpers, a sound that makes your pussy tighten in response.  

“Jesus–,” Joel groans. 

“Joel, please,” you whimper, “m–more, please!” 

The chair shakes with each of his thrusts, just about able to hold your combined weight. Joel lets go of your hands and leans back to watch his cock slide into you, seemingly mesmerized at the sight. 

Your hands reach for his sweaty chest, arms, caressing his heated skin. Joel pushes your thighs open and you hear every sticky, wet slide of his cock.

He’s suddenly sliding a hand underneath your neck. 

“Look, babydoll,” Joel gasps. 

You don’t pay him much attention, your eyes barely able to focus on his face.   

“C’mon–fuck.” 

You lean up on your elbows with the little energy you have left and watch his length, veiny and large, covered in your slick, piston in and out of you. 

If it didn’t feel so good, it would be almost scary to look at. Joel, so much larger and stronger than you, somehow able to fit so perfectly inside of you. 

You fall back on the lounge chair and Joel places your ankle on his shoulder. He turns his head to nip your soft skin, leaving another imprint of his teeth on your body. 

He pushes his thumb inside of your mouth and doesn’t even flinch as you bite down. 

“I almost drove down to that college of yours,” he moans, “wanted to drag you outta the dorm and fuck you in the hallway.” 

You moan around his thumb, lost in the fantasy of big, broad Joel dragging you by the hair and fucking you out in the open, in front of everyone to see. 

His words are slurred at this point. But he's so drunk on pure lust that he can’t help himself but keep talking. 

“Wanted to show everyone who owns this slut pussy.”  

The way he speaks to you should make you angry, but you pussy only flutters and squeezes as he calls you his little slut.

He removes his thumb from your mouth and gently slaps your cheek before swiping his spit-covered thumb over your clit. 

He swipes over your swollen bud, once, twice, using your spit and slick that now covers both of your lower bodies.

Your orgasm tears through you, washing over you in warm waves of bliss. 

Joel keeps fucking you, moving faster until his hips piston and you're being used as a toy while your orgasm courses through your body. 

He lays on top of you, keeping your thrashing and whimpering body bracketed onto the chair. Joel’s moans grow loud in your ear and you know he’s close. 

“Not inside–” you whimper, “don’t cum–” your words not having any real meaning behind them except to add to your fantasy. 

“Fuckin’ mine, my little cunt,” Joel snaps, “gonna cum in my babydoll–” 

He swells impossibly larger inside of you and then you feel it, the hot splash of cum. Ropes and ropes fill your cunt and he grinds his cock into you, buries his head in your neck and groans your name over and over again. 

Your body, still recovering from your orgasm from only a few moments ago, trembles once more. The warmth of his cum painting your womb shakes another one out of you. 

You’re not sure how long it lasts. Joel continues to whisper in your ear about how fuckin’ sweet you are and how you have the tiniest cunt ever, babydoll while his cock fills you with cum. 

Joel continues to lay on top of you and while he’s larger in every sense of the way, his weight is comforting. The setting sun is blocked by the canopy which you're grateful for because you don’t want him to move. 

“How are ya’ feeling?” Joel asks. 

You’ve almost fallen asleep at this point. 

“Full… and sore,” you whisper. 

“Maybe this time I’ll actually knock you up,” Joel whispers, placing a kiss on your forehead. 

You roll your eyes and push him off of you. 

“Not going to happen, old man. I’m on birth control. And we just met!"

“Shame,” he sighs dramatically. “How about I grill us some steaks?” 

[slytherinshua]

⏾　SLEEPLESS NIGHTS　( 오시온 )

genre hurt/comfort , established relationship , sion x fem!reader   cw sion is stressed & can't sleep , maybe a bit of overworking mentioned , not proofread   wc 875   request anon for sion + waking up from a bad dream for the 3k event   note oof this took a lil while to write and post since i rewrote it like 3 times but it's finally here!!   net @ncity-net @kstrucknet @chrimatanet

Sion was always one to put up a bold front. He was the oldest in his team, the leader, and as such, he had the responsibility of being a rock for everyone else to lean on. The cornerstone: immovable and unshakeable. He loved goofing around, smiling and laughing, mostly at his members, the people he was closest to. It was therapeutic in a way. Seeing them happy made him happy. All the stress he put on himself for them was worth it just to see them smile. 

But when he got home to you, the chance to truly decompress from that stress came. And on particularly hard days at work, or a bad week building up, Sion felt close to breaking by the time he got home to you. You seemed to always know exactly what was going on in his head and exactly what he needed to relax. Somehow, you were able to repair him enough so he felt strong again for the next day.

He wondered what he would even do without you. While everyone was relying on him throughout the day, Sion relied on you during the night. Every warm hug, comforting kiss, and soft-spoken word reminded him that you would already be right by his side, through the highs and the lows. Whatever storm clouds blackened his mind; you were right there to fight them off, to bring the sun back again. 

And sometimes, all it took was some rain.

Sion couldn’t sleep well. It was unusual. The man who claimed he could easily sleep for 24 hours straight was now unable to fall into that dreamland, despite how exhausted his body was. He kept drifting in and out of dreams— all of them unpleasant. His schedule had been particularly busy that week, and his workload as the leader was especially challenging. He tried to not let it affect the team, always doing the best he could regardless of his mental or physical state. Professionalism seemed to run through his veins. He wanted to set a good example for the younger boys as well. He couldn’t show how much he was struggling as well. Not in front of them. 

But, in front of you, he was able to be vulnerable. He could tell you all his worries without it affecting team morale. You were a shoulder to lean on— his comfort. He relied on you more than he would like to admit. There were always fun times in your relationship, but nothing was ever perfect. During the harder times, you held each other tighter and got through it as a team. If there was one thing you promised when you first called Sion your boyfriend, was that you wouldn’t leave him to suffer through something alone. 

Sion tossed and turned, mind dizzy from the miserable dreams he was having whenever he managed to force his body to sleep. It was probably 3AM by now, and he knew he had to get up by 6. He needed more sleep.

He hated disturbing you, especially when you looked so comfortable under the blankets, one leg propped up over his under them. But he also knew what you would say if you saw him leave for work tired again. Your skin was warm, and he was aching to hold you closer. So, he swallowed his selflessness and turned over, leaving the blank ceiling from his vision and replacing it with your sleeping face. 

He rubbed your arm gently, waiting for you to stir. And it didn’t take long; you had always been a light sleeper, unlike him. Once you blinked your eyes open enough to adjust your vision, noticing the outline of your boyfriend’s face and how he was awake, you knew something must be wrong. 

“What’s wrong, baby?” you sat up, fully alert by now. Your boyfriend was never awake this late in the night. You were about to reach for the lamp until Sion’s hand stopped you. 

“It’s nothing serious. Just can’t sleep,” he mumbled, voice sleepier than yours despite his obvious lack of it. 

“Can’t sleep? That is serious,” you pointed out, lying back down on the pillow. “Nightmares?” 

“Yeah, I guess. I think I’m just stressed,” your boyfriend admitted, hand rubbing over his eyes. 

“Work has been a lot lately. I’ll help you get to sleep. Come here,” you motioned him closer, and Sion obliged, falling into your arms with ease. You adjusted his messy hair to be out of his face and rubbed his back, hoping to lull him to sleep as quickly as possible. A 7AM workday start certainly didn’t leave much more time. 

“You put too much pressure on yourself, baby,” you reminded him while your fingers traced lines over his face in a soothing manner. He hummed in acknowledgement, agreeing to your statement wordlessly. 

You knew it would take more of you repeating those words for him to truly ease some of that pressure off his back, but you were determined to win the race steadily. In these simple moments, your love for Sion shone the brightest. When he was at his weakest, you were his strength. When he felt broken, you pieced him back together again. And he knew he could always rely on you.

nct wish taglist (bolded could not be tagged): @kangtaehyunzzz,, @eternalgyu,, @lexeees,, @nyukyusnz,, @planetkiimchi,,

@haecien,, @talkingsaxy,, @thesunsfullmoon,, @hursheys,, @mjupis,,

@lilly-cherry7,, @kpopandbookschild,, @taroddori,, @lexeees,, @voikiraz,,

@xikskrrrs,, @cupidslovearrows

[radioactiverats]

Mentor Starscream x seeker!reader (7/?)

Initiation! First time engex with Skywarp <3 Starscream is decidedly not pleased.

Double whammy post bc I need some crack after the last one.

Hammering on the door of Starscream's habsuite is the last thing you'd expect when winding down for recharge. Earlier, Starscream had comm'd you with curt instructions not to wait up because he would be working late - you had no idea who would be here at such a late hour unless it was something urgent.

The door slides open with a grand whoosh to reveal Skywarp, smirking as he leans against the doorframe. It's been a while since you last saw him and Thundercracker, and it's nice to see him again despite the unexpected nature of his visit. He's probably not here for you, though.

"Hi," You greet. "Starscream's not here." Oddly enough, the smirk on his faceplate only widens.

"Exactly," Skywarp drawls. "Wanna go out?"

Out? At this hour?

More importantly, would Starscream allow it?

"I'm not sure I should," You begin, the incident with Ratchet still fresh in your mind, but Skywarp waves your concerns away with a flippant servo.

"Don't get your processor in a twist, kid. Screamer already gave us the A-OK."

You find this slightly dubious, but you don't think Skywarp would outright lie to his trine leader like that, so Starscream must have approved something. In spite of Skywarp's mischievous nature, you do trust Starscream's trine, so you shrug and slide off the berth to follow him. Skywarp makes no attempt to hide his satisfaction.

"It's a bit of flying to get there," he says airily. "Little place off-planet. But that makes it all the more fun, huh? When's the last time you got off this dirtball?"

It's true, you suppose. It really has been a while. You're not high-ranking enough to accompany the officers on off-planet missions, and the war is now firmly situated on Earth, after all.

"Are we even allowed?" You hedge.

"Pfft," Skywarp casually waves your concerns off with a servo. "We'll probably see half the ship there."

He pauses for a second before adding: "We'll probably see Autobots there, too. Just giving you a heads up - Swerve's is kind of a neutral ground, so no storming in with guns blazing, 'kay?"

You know he's joking around - you generally don't do any storming, and your weapons at most are a wheezing ember rather than a blaze, but his carefree attitude about running into The Enemy gives you food for thought. You'd never really aligned yourself with the Decepticon cause, and that run-in with Ratchet and Bumblebee had only strengthened your convictions that war was stupid, but you hadn't expected others to be so open about it.

Quick as lightning, Skywarp transforms, a streak of purple blitzing into the sky, and you quickly follow. Breaking the barrier into zero-gravity is exhilarating - without gravity weighing your frame down, your speed practically doubles. The Terran planet falls further and further behind as stars, twinkling like diamonds, wink in the darkness of space before you.

"This way," Skywarp's voice crackles into your comms, and you jet after him. This airspace is unclaimed - close enough to the Terrans' planet that no race had staked a claim on it, nor bothered to legislate use of it - yet far enough that the Terrans' space technology was still too undeveloped to reach it within the time of one lifespan.

Eventually, Skywarp leads you to a little square block of a building planted firmly on a rock you could really only term space debris. Energon still thrumming in your veins as you land, you feel absolutely invincible. Zero gravity flight really was something else. Skywarp lands next to you and, laughing, slings an arm around your shoulders. "Not bad," He teases. "You kept up pretty well. Looks like Screamer's actually been pulling his weight - I don't have to worry about losing you in outer space, after all."

He hustles you through the door and immediately, raucous chatter and uproarious laughter fill your audials. Decepticon insignias mingle with Autobot ones in a sea of vibrant paints, gleaming as they catch the neon light of the bar's interior. Much like the building itself, the bot behind the bar is square and stocky, broad grin on his faceplate as he cheerfully polishes a square glass.

He turns his equally polished visor on the two of you, grin widening as Skywarp swaggers up to carelessly plunk his elbow on the bartop.

"Look what the turbofox dragged in," The bot - Swerve, you assumed - joked. "I was starting to think that Megatron had finally gotten sick of you."

Skywarp smirked. "What, been missing little old me?"

"I'd be nothing without my highest-paying customer," Swerve threw back, and both of them roared with laughter. You were still soaking in the atmosphere of the bar, far from refined but cozy and harmonious - something you weren't used to - when Swerve finally noticed you.

"You sure this one's legal?"

"As legal as your bar is."

"Oi! I'll have you know this is a licensed establishment."

"There's your answer."

Skywarp winks at you, laughing as Swerve rolls his optics and turns away to make your drinks.

"Swerve's a good guy," Skywarp says, patting the barstool next to him. You settle yourself on the stool as he continues talking. "The place is his. No guns, no swords, no briefcases."

"It's nice," You say softly, and Skywarp glances at you, clearly having picked up on the real meaning of your words.

"Sure is," He finally says. "Tell you what. Say the word, and I'll bring you here anytime you want."

He laughs when you turn your shining optics on him, making zero effort to hide your hopefulness. "Yeah, I know, I'm the best. No need to thank me, kid."

Swerve reappears to plunk two cubes of fizzy pink liquid in front of you.

You blink at it for a nanoklik. It's unlike anything you've ever seen - the energon you're accustomed to is blue, and this liquid bubbles in a way you've never seen before. You lean closer to take in its scent, and Skywarp cackles as a bubble pops irreverently in your faceplate.

"Cheers," He grins, and promptly downs his in one swallow while you watch in a mixture of horror and fascination.

You glance at Skywarp uncertainly.

"...Do I have to do that too?"

"Yes," Skywarp says, with an air of exaggerated gravity, but the look on your faceplate must have been utterly hilarious because he breaks more or less immediately. "No, no. Of course not," He wheezes, as you slump on the barstool in poorly disguised relief. "Take your time. Tiny sips."

You cautiously lift the cube to your intake. The sharpness of it immediately assaults your senses, and you sputter a bit as it burns all the way down. Mindful of your wings, Skywarp thumps you on the back to clear your pipes. "Engex," He chuckles. "Takes a bit of getting used to. But give it another try, yeah? Dunno if you can pick up a bit of smoothness towards the end..."

You're more prepared for the second sip, allowing the liquid to settle over your glossa for a nanoklik. Not viscous, but thick and rich in the way high-grade jet fuel is - it summons a memory to the forefront of your processor. Near the end of every stellar cycle at the Academy, cadets would be given a small allowance of high-grade jet fuel as a reward. Even before the war, high-grade was a rarity - you'd been lucky enough to try it once before it pretty much became a thing of the past. This time, the heat of the engex melds pleasantly with the warmth in your chassis.

Skywarp watches the change taking place on your faceplate with smug satisfaction. "Yeah?"

"Yeah."

"Excellent. I'll have myself a real drinking buddy in no time, unlike those party poopers back on base. Hey, Swerve!"

Skywarp's tolerance really is sky-high, you note. You watch him knock back an objectively impressive amount of engex as you slowly nurse your cube. Before you know it, he's unsteady on his pedes and evidently, while under the influence, really, really sociable.

"'m gonna go say hi to a few bots," He cheerfully informs you. "Be right back. Don't go anywhere, 'kay?"

Before you can answer, he's already off, loudly greeting a group of bots who react with equal enthusiasm when they see him. Swerve sighs, shaking his helm, but it's fond.

"You'll be here a while," He tells you. "Take it easy."

For a while, you feel great. Amazing, even. Your frame feels light, your processor clear without the fog of anxiety to cloud it, and you even make some small talk with bots waiting for their drinks. If only you were this confident all the time. Wouldn't that be great?

Unfortunately, allowing your thoughts to stray in the direction of hypotheticals was probably not the best thing to do. You're nowhere near purging, but some long-buried emotions begin to rear their ugly heads when your cube is half empty. What could have been, what hadn't been - and even though you and Starscream had ironed out your little incident about missing training, you still felt guilty about it. You're grateful that Swerve makes a point to come and check in with you every so often, because you spend the next half of your cube fluctuating wildly between immense guilt and wishing Starscream was here so you could direct all your newfound confidence into telling him just how much you looked up to him.

Cube empty, you plunk your heavy helm onto the bartop with a clang. "Oof," Comes Swerve's concerned voice. "You alright there?"

Before you can respond, you suddenly become aware of an unsettled silence that befalls the bar behind you.

"What's Starscream doing here?" A bot whispers. You furrow your brow as you pick up on the unease in the room. The Starscream you knew could be scary, sure, but was there something warranting that level of dread which you didn't know about? Secondly, Starscream, here? You clumsily peel your faceplate off the bartop to look. Sure enough, even as bots uneasily resume their chatter, your commander's frame easily stands out from the rest. There's a scowl on his faceplate as he scans the crowd, snarling as a reveller accidentally bumps into him. While others shrink back, you can't help the silly smile that spreads across your faceplate. You know that scowl - it's been directed at you many times. Starscream is worried.

You barely hesitate before sliding off the barstool, pushing through the crowd to get to him. Your smaller frame is easily hidden by the larger warframes that mill around you, so the naked surprise on Starscream's faceplate when you wrap your arms around his waist is genuine. All at once, the relative return to normalcy in the bar is once again disrupted. You, however, are completely unaware of the atmospheric equivalent of a bucket of ice water being dumped over the room, because you're too busy smooshing your burning faceplate against the cool glass of Starscream's cockpit.

"What the frag," Some bot whispers.

You pay it no mind. Without letting go, you pull back slightly to meet Starscream's gobsmacked expression. "Sir," You say severely, with all the furious determination of a bot who will make themselves heard (even if the furious blue tint of your faceplate robs you quite significantly of your intended decorum). "Have I told you that you're super cool?"

Furious chatter explodes promptly around you, though not without some poorly suppressed snorts of laughter.

"Who is that?"

"...Starscream, super cool?"

"How are they still in one piece?"

"Super cool?"

Starscream looks utterly mortified, servos hovering awkwardly in the air like he has no idea where to put them.

"We're in public, cadet," He hisses. "Pull yourself together."

Yet, he makes no effort to push you away. Just like that, the tense atmosphere in the bar lapses back into one of easy relaxation.

"I talked to them earlier at the bar. Nice kid. Guess Screamer can't be that bad if he's got someone like that looking up to him."

You feel a tremor run through Starscream's rigid frame. His left optic is twitching - he looks utterly torn between interpreting the comment as an insult or a compliment. But soon enough, he seems to realise that shows of power are useless currency in Swerve's bar, and your little show of humanity might actually have elevated him in the eyes of many overnight.

It is at this moment that Skywarp chooses to reappear, supported by an exasperated Thundercracker. He's clearly just purged somewhere out back. "Screamer!"

"I'm going to kill you," Starscream hisses. "I'm going to take you apart, piece by piece. I must have been out of my processor to let you supervise tonight. Look what you've done to my student!"

His threats, of course, are the furthest thing from intimidating considering that you're still clinging stubbornly onto him. Like it's your fault he's so warm, and his presence makes you feel safe.

You blink up at him, all wide and innocent optics. "Are you still mad at me?"

That makes Starscream stop. Did his word really mean that much to you?

"We've been over this," He scolds, even as he's gently wiping engex from your faceplate with his thumb. Starscream carefully tilts your helm this way and that to inspect for any damage - upon finding none, beyond your unfocused optics, he ex-vents and lets go of you. "You've already made up for it with extra training, have you not?"

"Oh," You mumble, decidedly not letting go of him. "Okay."

Burying your faceplate back into his chassis, you feel the steam of his heavy ex-vent before the warmth of his servos settle over your shoulders. He'd rather die than admit it in the middle of a busy bar, but learning that he actually, genuinely, matters to you makes his spark pulse with warmth.

He already knows that there's no way you can fly in this condition and he'll have to tow you back. But just as you'd go to the ends of the earth for him, he would also do the same for you.

"Come on," He murmurs. "Let's go home."

Previous / Next

Edit: NOW WITH AMAZING ART from @xarology !!!!!!!

Edit 2: MORE AMAZING ART AND MEMES by @jackalackqwq !!!!!!

[moonshineshrew]

VALERIE IS EXPANDING!

Why am I doing this?

I believe women need and deserve a space to express themselves creatively without censorship. They deserve a magazine that isn't constantly trying to sell them things or make them feel bad about themselves. Continuing in the vein of feminist theory and analysis, Valerie will expand to include a much more varied and diverse selection of content. Rather than all content in an issue focusing on one specific topic, each issue will have several pieces of writing on that topic interspersed throughout amongst other general writing and content. We believe women deserve fun and joy in their lives and that we can make space for this while still emphasising feminist analysis and ways of thinking/living. Expanding our reach like this means more women will be exposed to radical feminist theory, and lifestyles/futures they may not have considered before. Some content that Valerie will publish includes

interviews with women about their lives

writing by women in various lines of work, discussing their careers and the misogyny they may have faced getting to where they are today

practical d.i.y advice/ideas/tutorials by women (Home repairs, renovation, car repairs/alterations) This is to help empower women to know they can do things themselves, even things that might typically be considered a "mans job."

Women's own recipes or their family recipes that they would like to share. This is not about being sexist or stereotyping women as belonging in the kitchen. It is simply about the fact that women deserve to make and eat and ENJOY delicious foods, to nourish and feed our bodies and souls.

Women's writing about... anything! Their culture, their hobbies, their art... anything they're passionate about.

Film reviews and book reviews, and writing on current pop culture/trends, of course through a feminist lens.

The down-low on standing up for yourself and your rights in a world that is working against you.

Short stories, poetry, and creative writing, with a feminist slant.

When am I doing this?

The changes will commence alongside the release of the July issue on Women and Disability. May's issue on Male Violence will have the same formatting and style as the previous two issues.

What other changes will there be?

Valerie will remain a bimonthly (as in every other month) magazine - it's only logical, at least for now, considering the production times and the time it takes for each issue shipped out to reach its destination. However, it will hopefully be "sizing up" from a5 to a4, and I also aim to have it printed and bound by a third party printer. This allows me to spend more time working on the actual content of the magazine. It also ensures the colours will be more vibrant, the paper higher quality - and it allows me to make the magazine a lot more colourful in general, since I will not be worrying about using up all the ink in our printer at home. Obviously this will be a bit more costly for me, and as such there will probably be a limited amount of copies available of these issues. I am still working out the costs and budgeting for this, but thanks to your support, I should be able to afford it :). The pdfs will still be free, as usual.

What about my submissions?

As previously mentioned, the issues with a "theme" will still feature several pieces focused on that theme/topic. This goes for the topics Valerie had planned for the rest of the year - Male Violence, Women and Disability, Mothers and Daughters, and the sex industry.

However, we are also welcoming submissions of all sorts of content - as listed before, pretty much anything is welcome! I know this freedom may be daunting - but please don't be scared!!! I would love to hear from you :) If you have an idea you're not sure about submitting, you're welcome to reach out to me at handsomefruiteater74@gmail.com, to ask me if you think it'd be a good fit. I most likely will say yes - I'm always thrilled to receive content for the magazine.

[dontmixpaintinyourcoffee]

I think if Soos got a glimpse of the kind of home life Pacifica has he would be like "Nope!" And do his best to yoink her right out of there. Cue chase sequence starring attack peacocks!

I would like to present for your consideration- The Mystery Shack Crew: Fall, Winter, and Spring Edition!

Soos Ramirez!

Mr. Mystery himself! Owner, tour guide, salesman, chief handyman, and proud boyfriend of Melody! He's living his best life. He takes the crew out on adventures every once in a while to find inspiration for new attractions, and often they come back with evidence of actual cryptids. Not that the average tourist can tell the difference. There's a lot of classic Stan-isms around the Shack, but he's running it all in his own Soos-y way. The place has become a lot more popular with kids since he took over.

Melody Lastname!

Cashier, bookkeeper, and proud girlfriend of Mr. Mystery! Soos insists that she fits right in with this place because she's "literally too awesome to not be magical, dude". It's a weird job, probably the weirdest she's had, but she has fun and she likes the people there. She adapts to the supernatural incredibly fast, and she and Soos are working on making an updated version of the journals based on Ford and Dippers notes. This time it's more in the vein of an instructional guide to safely interacting with the various phenomena in Gravity Falls. (Candy has insisted that they make pamphlet versions as well as guidebooks.)

Wendy Corduroy!

Same as always. She stays working at the Shack through her last years of high school, and is having a blast working for Soos. Her job performance has gone way up since he took over lol. Stan totally isn't bitter about it. She and Melody both man the cash register, but mostly Wendy works on operating and managing the attractions and shows. She and the Multibear have a whole deal where they pretend to wrestle to the death in a bimonthly performance. The Multibear doesn't really want or need money, so Wendy pays him back by playing bodyguard whenever the Manotaurs send a newbie to go and kill him. She has tons of deals like this set up.

Pacifica Northwest!

Pacifica is doing both better and worse. Her parents have gotten more strict and tense since they lost their fortune, and Pacifica has looked for more ways to stay out of the house. She worked at Greasy's for a while with Susan, but that really pissed off her parents (they're even more stringent with their public image now, and are offended that their daughter would be working at all, let alone at a diner like some common townsperson.) It stopped being a safe space for her after they found out about it. Luckily, Soos was there! He offered to let her hang out at the Mystery Shack, explaining how crucial it was in his own childhood. She was reluctant at first, but agreed. Turns out the environment cultivated at the Shack by the other three is exactly what she needed. She hangs out with Wendy a lot, she's basically her "being a normal kid" tutor. Soos and Melody also insist on giving Pacifica the full dumb kid stuff experience, everything from tacky animatronic restaurants to Lazer tag. She's not the best at expressing it, but she's super grateful for everything. Also turns out she's a natural with numbers, so she helps Melody with the books sometimes. It feels good to be good at something beyond the surface.

[therhythmafterthesummer]

A Helping Hand (M) ~Seungmin

Pairing: LabHybrid!Seungmin x GN!Reader Themes: Smut | Fluff | Best Friends to Lovers | Roommates to Lovers Word Count: ~4k | AO3 Synopsis: After one too many shots of vodka, your best friend confided in you a little problem he’d been dealing with for a couple of months now. Tipsy-you figured that you were more than suitable to give him a helping hand. Warnings: mentions of alcohol consumption · overall hybrid shenanigans · Seungmin has a dirty mouth · pet names · Smut (warnings under the cut). let me know if i missed any💜

Author’s Note: can’t believe my first ever published Seungmin fic is a hybrid au lmao. got a weird boost of inspiration for this after seeing @starlostseungmin talking about it, so here it is ! Special thanks to @notastraykid for giving her very valuable input to improve the first draft, as well as @comet-falls for letting me know it didn’t suck skjdfhsdkjf

Due to all the abovementioned warnings, this story is intended for an adult audience only. Minors please do not interact.

Smut Warnings: this is, as usual, some monsterfuckery · handjobs · praising · breeding kink (kind of) · hybrid anatomy (knot) · copious amounts of fluids. again, let me know if i missed any

Disclaimer: the story represented in this work does not represent Stray Kids in any way; anything described in this story and all actions performed by the characters are purely fictional, this was created just for good fun.

“You–You don’t have to do this, serious–Oh, God…”

You swallowed, focusing on your best friend’s face. Focusing a bit too much on the vein that popped on his neck when he threw his head back, on how pretty his eyelashes looked when his eyes fluttered shut, on those pouty lips of his you totally didn’t wish you could have on yours… All while trying to ignore what you had between your hands, all while trying to ignore the obscene, squelching sounds their continuous movement produced…

“I said I’d help you, didn’t I, Seungmin?”

Seungmin inhaled deeply. His ears twitched, his tail seemed to have a life of its own, it had started thumping against the headboard of the bed the moment he’d sat down and you’d taken a hold of him.

After opening his eyes again, Seungmin looked at your face, and you saw his Adam’s apple bob when he swallowed. “You did”.

“And I always keep my word, don’t I?” You twisted your wrists, never stopping the motions of your hands.

Seungmin sighed, and some of the tension in his shoulders seemed to evaporate with the motion. “You do…”

A spark of doubt flared in your mind, large enough it was impossible to ignore. Your hands stopped, and the tiniest whine left Seungmin’s mouth. “Unless you… Are you feeling uncomfortable? I can– I can stop”.

Seungmin’s hands flew to your wrists, preventing you from pulling away completely. “No. No, no, please, don’t… I… Fuck, I really want this. I really, really need this”.

You would’ve never expected the afternoon to take you here… To your best friend’s bedroom, to him sitting on his bed, with his back against the headboard, and with his legs spread. You would’ve never expected to have his cock in your hands, barely even out of his lounge shorts. In your mind, this had never been a real, genuine possibility. Yet here you were.

How long had it been since you realised you had a crush on your best friend? Too long, probably. It might’ve been a bit embarrassing, but you truly couldn’t even remember a time when you weren’t pining over him, a time when you weren’t thinking how it would be like to be with him physically, intimately…

Although, to be fair, this situation was far more sterile than all those fantasies you’d allowed your mind to wander into only in the wee hours of the night. It wasn’t as if Seungmin had confessed his feelings for you, or you to him. It was more like… like you were giving your friend a hand–literally and figuratively.

Seungmin was a hybrid. A black labrador hybrid, to be exact. He’d been your best friend since you were a kid, when the school you attended finally started allowing hybrids as students. You could still remember the first day you saw him, standing in a corner by the lockers. You’d approached him, mostly because your mother had taught you that hybrids must be treated well, just like you’d treat anyone else.

He was a shy boy, totally out of character for a lab hybrid, but the more you got to know him, the more he warmed up to you, the more you started to see that bright personality of his. As soon as he’d deemed you trustworthy, it was almost like that shyness had never been there in the first place.

He started to come over to your place to hang out or do homework, to open up about his life, and even to show more of his mischievous side. He’d call you everything from dumb dumb, to human kiddo, to little human, just because he could. But it was fine.

Even if at the beginning it annoyed you that he simply wouldn’t call you by your name, it eventually became such a Seungmin thing to do, you just couldn’t find it in you to be mad at him when his eyes sparkled so brightly whenever he used his little nicknames for you.

Seungmin was chaotic, he was funny, and he was the most loyal friend you’d ever had. He’d been with you through thick and thin. Every broken friendship and relationship, he was always there to console you, to hold your hand and tell you it was going to be alright. He was always there for you, without fail. He’d always joke around and say it was one of his lab traits, but you knew better.

Whether he was a hybrid or not, you knew Seungmin would still be the same Seungmin.

Your Seungmin.

A couple of years ago, you finally got to move out of your parents’ house. It was only natural that you ended up renting a place with your best friend, considering he, too, wanted to move out, and he didn’t particularly enjoy the thought of living with strangers.

Decades had passed since hybrids were integrated into human society. They finally had rights, they were treated as people and not some pet you bought from a store–no disrespect to pets, they had their rights, too. But pets weren’t people. Hybrids, on the other hand, were.

Hybrids had free will, they could reason like humans could, and they certainly deserved to be treated as equals. These were the values that you’d been taught as you grew up, and it was something you believed in still to this day.

Regardless, hybrids still had their animal urges and needs, which Seungmin seemed to have been struggling with for a couple of months now.

The confession happened last night, while you both threw a tennis ball back and forth at each other, after one too many shots of vodka–to be more precise, it’d been three. Three shots of vodka only. 

Alcohol wasn’t deadly toxic to Seungmin like it was to other hybrids, but his body certainly couldn’t digest it very well, which usually manifested not only in the flush that spread all over his face, but also by shutting down every single one of his filters. ‘I haven’t been able to come in two fucking months. Two months! I feel like I’m dying, dude. I just need to blow’.

You’d asked him how that was even possible, how he had not managed to bring himself to orgasm in two months, considering you knew he was a person with a moderate sex drive–based on the amount of times you had to stay in your shared flat while he had company over… His answer was a very graceful ‘The fuck if i know… Nothing works, my dearest little human. Porn doesn’t work. Literature doesn’t work. And my imagination clearly doesn’t work, either’.

He looked genuinely distressed about it, especially when he sighed, and his tone lowered. ‘I’ve been checking forums online… Going anonymous to ask strangers, specifically other hybrids, but most of them said that I needed to find the root cause, that something in my environment could be affecting my physical performance, but it’s… It’s really frustrating, because I genuinely have no idea what’s going on’.

‘Have you tried, I don’t know, getting laid?’ was what your tipsy self asked. You wouldn’t have asked that question fully sober for sure. You really didn’t want to know if Seungmin was out there getting laid these days. It had been a little over a year since you had seen him date anyone, and the thought of him dating someone now, admittedly, made you jealous. Which was potentially very stupid on your part considering you were just friends. The best of friends. Only friends.

‘Nah. Can you imagine if I’m with someone and I can’t fucking come? Distress… Besides, I don’t want to just… You know, do it with a random person. People are kinda… ew’. You could understand completely why he wouldn’t want to go out and hook up with a stranger. After all, some people still saw hybrids as sex slaves, or they were heavily fetishised, so it wasn’t exactly safe to partake in one night stands for him. 

Besides, your best friend was not one for hookups and one night stands in the first place. He had trust issues, especially with humans, so you could definitely understand his predicament. 

‘What if it’s someone you know?’ You threw the ball back at him just as you’d boldly asked the question, because spirits always made you voice things sober you would never have the guts to say.

Seungmin caught the ball and scoffed, completely sure that no one he knew would want to be that intimate with him, and not think ill of him if he didn’t manage to perform. 

But you had to open your big mouth again, very confidently telling him ‘And what about me? I can do it’.

The ball suddenly fell from Seungmin’s hand, landing on the floor and rolling under the coffee table. His eyes followed the movement like a hawk–or, maybe it’d be more accurate to say like a dog. He stretched his body a bit out of the sofa, not even bothering to stand up fully, trying to get the ball while he chuckled, maybe a bit nervously.

Seungmin genuinely thought you were joking for a second. That was exactly what he’d told you, but then he saw how serious you were about it, and, after a few minutes of silence, he simply said that you should have this conversation sober.

Which you did.

Which took you right here, right into his room, with his painfully hard cock in your hands.

Seungmin knew you wouldn’t judge him if he couldn’t come. He trusted you enough to be vulnerable with you in more ways than one, to tell you what he needed or wanted, so you would gladly help him–the fact that you had a major crush on him made you feel a bit self-conscious, you’d admit… Like you were taking advantage of the situation to touch him this intimately. But you had already offered it, and he had already accepted it, so you just didn’t feel like backing down on your word.

“Tighten your grip a bit more”, Seungmin mumbled, and once again he threw his head back when you did as asked and continued working his cock. “Fuck, yeah. That’s it…”

You were starting to heat up yourself. Especially whenever he spoke like that, with the tone of his voice as low as it was. Seungmin was one to swear a lot, very openly, but in this context, it certainly felt… filthier. And it affected you. Maybe embarrassingly so���

You couldn’t help but swear under your breath when your eyes drifted from his face to his length. How could you not look? When he was there, letting you touch him…

Clear fluid leaked from his tip, dripping all over your fingers and aiding your movement, intensifying those sinful wet sounds that resonated in your ears with each stroke. You knew his specific breed tended to produce more fluids than a human would, he’d told you this before in passing, but you had honestly not expected it to be this much.

Seungmin didn’t seem fazed at his slick soiling his clothes. On the contrary, it seemed like he didn’t even care at all.

“Like what you see?”

Your head snapped upwards to meet his eyes, and you immediately felt heat rush to your cheeks. 

“I’m sorry, I’m trying really hard not to look, but…” You suddenly felt small under his gaze, even if your hands didn’t stop. His eyes were so dark, staring right into yours so intensely the hairs at your nape stood on end.

Seungmin always tried not to look people in the eyes, ‘It activates this primal instinct in me, it’s a bit annoying sometimes, to be honest. I only make eye contact when… when I… Well, you know…’ He’d said once, very vaguely, but even back then, you understood. 

He didn’t need to tell you in which situation he enjoyed eye contact. Whenever you looked him in the eyes, you always felt trapped under his gaze, like you wanted to submit. And, somehow, it also woke the butterflies in your belly. Right now, that feeling seemed to have heightened tenfold.

“You’re trying not to look, but…?” Seungmin licked his lips, reaching forward to take a hold of your forearm. Not to stop you, but simply to drag his thumb over your skin in soothing motions.

“But…” You swallowed. You figured now was as good a time as any to let the thoughts out of your head, otherwise they would haunt you forever. “You’re so big”.

Seungmin giggled, a sound that he hardly ever let anyone outside of his close friend group hear, the flush on his face deepened, and his eyes crinkled at the corners. Adorable, even in this context… “You think I’m big?”

“Haven’t touched someone this big ever”, your pace was still slow, but you made sure to stroke as much of him as you could, as tight as he had asked you to. It wasn’t like he was crazy big, he wasn’t particularly long, but he was just… girthy. Girthier than you had ever seen in your pathetic excuse for a love life. “Not only that, but… It’s just… pretty”.

At that, Seungmin looked genuinely incredulous. “Pretty?”

“Mm… pretty”.

He was going to speak, but before he could, your movements sped up, and the whine that left his mouth as soon as you did had your insides instantly firing up. It was a completely involuntary reaction, how could your body not react when the sounds coming out of his mouth were this sinful? When the almost canine whines stirred the butterflies flying freely in your belly?

“Oh, fuck… That’s it, baby, just like that, shit…”

You didn’t even acknowledge the pet name that just escaped his lips. You were convinced it was a heat of the moment thing, so you swallowed that saliva that had suddenly pooled in your mouth, and continued to focus on your motions. 

With both of your hands, you went from the base to the head a few times, until you settled one of your hands at the base and the other at the tip. You had heard that the base of a canine hybrid’s cock was sensitive, not as much as the head, but much more than a human’s would be, and Seungmin’s wagging tail and content sighs proved that to be true.

You made sure to pull the foreskin with you when you pumped his head, and your eyes naturally drifted to the sight again. Pretty, indeed…

“You’re so fucking good at this, fuck…” Seungmin’s head was tilted back against the headboard, but he was still looking at you through his lashes. His chest rose and fell with his laboured breathing, he was essentially panting, his tongue poked out from between his lips, and the movement of his thumb on your forearm had long since stopped. He was now just gripping your arm, lightly digging his fingers on your skin.

“You think so?” You couldn’t help but ask.

Maybe it was a bit selfish, but you definitely wanted to hear more of his praise. It fed a pool of arousal in the pit of your stomach that you just knew you’d have to deal with as soon as you were on your own and away from his prying eyes…

“Fuck, yeah… You’re so good to me, so…” His words trailed off, stopped when he swallowed thickly. 

You wanted him to continue what he was going to say, you almost asked him to, but before you could, he spoke again–with an edge of desperation in his voice that almost made you faint.

“Squeeze a bit harder at the base”, so you did, twisting your wrist as you went up and down, and the loud moan that fell from his mouth made you dizzy with need. “That’s it, keep doing that, fuck…”

You worked his cock for a while, all as words of appreciation continued to fly past his lips, all as his slick kept dripping all over your fingers, as he directed more pet names your way. Until something started to feel different…

“Oh, oh, fuck… Fuck, shit, don’t stop, baby, please, don’t…”

You wouldn’t have dared stop, not when your fingers suddenly weren’t able to touch where you held him. You kept the motions on the head of his cock, but the base seemed to be swelling under your grasp, loosening it a bit.

“No, no, don’t stop there. Squeeze it. Keep touching it, pup”, Seungmin pleaded, tightening his grip on your arm while small whines escaped his throat, almost drowned by the sound of his tail thumping against the headboard.

“Oh, my God…” You knew hybrids were anatomically different to humans, but you had never really considered just how much they could be, so it really took you by surprise.

You were experiencing one of Seungmin’s hybrid attributes first hand. There, at the base of his cock, a knot was quickly swelling, and you would’ve never expected how much the sight and feel of it could affect you. Your mind raced, suddenly curious as to how it would feel like if he were pushing his cock into your warmth, how he would stretch you out to your absolute limits…

Seungmin might’ve been the hybrid here, but you were certainly salivating at the feel of his swollen knot in your hands.

Tightening your grip around his knot, you started massaging it, just as you pumped his head faster, coaxing a string of groans and moans and swears to come out of Seungmin’s mouth.

“Your hands… They’re so soft, so… perfect. That’s perfect, pup, you’re doing so fucking well”.

Seungmin was talking to you like you weren’t the one working him up. It would’ve amused you, had it not been feeding the fire that was burning bright deep within yourself.

You could feel your underwear sticking to your skin, drenched in your own fluids because of Seungmin, and the sounds he was making, and his heavy cock under your hands, and that fucking knot of his…

“Seungmin… Shit, you… This…” Being honest, you were speechless. 

“What? Huh?” Seungmin finally let go of your arm, instead he cupped your cheek, making you look at him, just as he started to thrust up into your fists. “I know what you want to tell me. Or, at least, I think I do, fuck… I can hear how fast your heart is beating, pup. I can smell it all, you know? I wanna know what you’re thinking. Tell me”.

You licked your lips, staring into his eyes. You were sure your face couldn’t be any warmer, yet the heat seemed to spread further the longer you looked at him, the faster you moved your hands and he thrusted into your grip.

“I’m… Fuck, I can’t help but think how it would feel like inside me, stretching me open…”

“Oh, shit–” Seungmin threw his head back. His tail thrashed against the headboard, and his ears were twitching nonstop. “I can–Fuck, baby, I can give it to you. Whatever you want, just say it and I’ll give it to you”.

With your lower lip trapped between your teeth, you took in a deep breath, almost shivering when Seungmin pulled his shirt up to reveal his torso just as he mumbled the most desperate “Close, so fucking close, puppy. Don’t you dare fucking stop. Tell me–tell me more…”

“I want… want your knot… I want you, Seungmin. So much, so, so much. Need you”, you emphasised each statement with a tighter squeeze to the swollen base of his length.

“Oh, fuck!”

With a few more thrusts of his hips, and a few more twists of your wrists, Seungmin gave you a quick warning, only for your name to fly past his lips, and explode seconds after. Thick ropes of cum spurted from the tip of his cock, painting his torso in the creamy substance and dripping all over your hands. It was so much cum, more than you had ever seen anyone ever produce.

The sounds coming out of his mouth were absolutely pornographic, they entered your ears and shot straight to your aching, needy insides. Needy for Seungmin, for his knot, and his everything.

You kept working his cock, pumping the tip to make sure every drop of his cum came out, squeezing and stroking his knot through it all. Until Seungmin’s body slumped against the headboard.

The movement of your hands stopped, but you didn’t remove them. The sight was straight out of a wet dream, his torso, his shirt, his shorts, your hands, everything was covered in cum, and you suddenly had the urge to taste it. But you begrudgingly resisted that urge, this was probably not the moment for that.

When you finally looked away from the mess, your eyes found Seungmin’s. His chest rose and fell with his ragged breaths, his lips were slightly parted as he gasped for air, and he was looking so deeply into your eyes you simply couldn’t look away.

You weren’t sure who moved first, maybe it was you, or maybe it was him… Or maybe, it had been both.

Before you knew it, Seungmin’s soft, moist lips were on yours, kissing you like a starved man. And you retaliated, of course. You kissed him with the same enthusiasm he had, licking his bottom lip to get your tongue inside his mouth, and very quickly, you started to feel lightheaded.

Kissing Seungmin was better than you could’ve ever imagined. Hearing him and seeing him come was a transcendental experience, and you were sure that your brain chemistry had just been altered forever. How could you ever go back to anyone else after this?

The kiss was messy, sloppy, tongues intertwining and teeth sinking on soft skin, producing wet noises all around. You would’ve honestly loved to stay there forever, kissing him, with his length in your hands and his cum all over your fingers. Unfortunately, though, you needed to breathe, so you finally disconnected your lips from his, and took a deep breath.

Seungmin looked into your eyes, and you looked right back. They were still dark, still alluring, but there was something else, something softer… Maybe more vulnerable. The stare-off lasted for a few moments, a few moments spent in silence, until you both broke into a fit of laughter.

Seungmin was practically glowing, he looked possibly the most handsome you’d ever seen him. Even when he was covering the lower part of his face with his hand while he laughed, trying to hide that pretty smile of his after years and years of insecurities produced by the now long since removed braces on his teeth, you still found him incredibly handsome and adorable.

“I take it you enjoyed it? You must have. Look at this mess you made”, there was a teasing smile on your lips, but the truth was, you genuinely wanted to know. 

“As much as you enjoyed, it seems”, Seungmin scoffed, and he gestured between your bodies, where you were still holding his cock. He was still just as hard as he was before he came. 

“You’re still hard?” You couldn’t hide the surprise in your voice, nor the way your eyes widened at the sight, and it made Seungmin smirk immediately. 

“Baby, I’m a dog. My cock thinks it should be inside someone right now, keeping all my cum contained with my knot. Of course I’m still hard, it wants to breed”.

“To… to breed?” Your voice was airy, shaky, suddenly unable to contain the feeling of pure arousal you felt coursing through your veins.

“Mm… to breed”, Seungmin repeated, and he bit his lip when you started to gently squeeze and caress his knot.

He detached himself from the headboard just enough so he could pull his shirt off. After a few moments of silence, he spoke again. His gaze softened further, and he brought his hands to your cheeks so he could softly caress the skin with his thumbs. “Thank you. Fuck, I'm so grateful right now. That felt so good”.

“Oh, please… It was my pleasure”, you chuckled, finally letting go of the head of his cock so both of your hands could focus on giving attention to his knot, hopefully helping relieve any possible discomfort he might be feeling since it was out in the open, unable to fulfil its purpose. 

The motions clearly made Seungmin’s blush deepen. He looked at you for a few bated breaths, and before you could even understand what was happening, you were on your back, gasping in surprise. 

Taking his discarded shirt, Seungmin knelt on the bed, right between your legs, and he cleaned your hands, as well as his torso of as much of his cum as he could. 

“Your pleasure, pretty human, hasn’t even started yet. Let me make you feel as good as you just made me feel”.

Tagging: @oiminho · @dundullresident · @straylightdream · @biribarabiribbaem · @dearalice · @alexis-reads-fics · @xcookiemonsteer · @knowleeknow · @ven-fic-recs · @liminaldaydream · @bintificreads · @svngiem · @princelingperfect · @aestheticsluut · @skzhomiehopper · @cessixja · @mimzibee · @hipsdofangirl · @floatingcoffecup · @toplinehyunjin · @goblinracha · @viviixlyy · @kpop-bbdoll · @meloncremesoda · @fawnpeaks · @dalamjisung · @jaiuneamesolitaiire · @lilramennoodle · @stayconnecteed · @iadorethemskz · @junebug032 · @meowmeowhoon · @poutypoutybin · @seo--changbin · @yeetfellx

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© therhythmafterthesummer 2023. all rights reserved. do not repost or translate my stories.

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General Masterlist

[fuzzybirdie]

This work was fully inspired by the following prompt/post and @freedomanddisorder 's amazing art, please! Check out both!

~~~

Ch.1 A Vacation To Gotham! What Could Go Wrong? (Pt1)

It had been 1 year scince Danny's accident, and 1 year since his parent's masterpiece miraculously started working. In celebration, danny's parents decided to take a holiday to gotham. Mostly to look at the bats, who were obviously ghosts. Just look at signal! Litterally creating ghost orbs. But, as the bats only come out at night (excluding signal) there nothing to do during the day. Nothing exept the mundane things like amusement parks and fast food restraunts.

Danny could tell that his parents were bored and upset that they couldn't interview any bats, (and boy, was danny glad that they'd chilled out after a year of actually interacting with ghosts) but they were still trying to make things fun for themselves too.

The Fentons had split up near the enterance, agreeing to meet up at the food stalls arround 1 for lunch. His parents went to the haunted house - ever reasearching, Jazz would wonder arround for a bit before deciding on her rides, while Danny went right for the roller coasters.

On the way, Danny had an idea; his parents were on the other side of the park, so they wouldn't question him if his hair and eyes suddenly changed colour, and he had been meaning to experiment with looking more alive in ghost form...Ducking into a bathroom, he started transforming. Slowly, Carefully, not touching the clothes, there. Finished, he looked at the miror to find- "I look like a ghost in a tee and jeans."-his skin still had the green tint from the ectoplasam in his veins, and his hair was steaming like dry ice.

The hair was more obviously inhuman, so he tackled that first. It would need to be solid, condensed, thicker and thicker, -too thick!

What once was steam now looked like a plain old block of ice. Maybe, his hair being made of ice would be fine if he seperated it a bit? If he peeled each layer into tiny little strings luke normal hair. Little by little, piece by piece, perfect. The ice string hair was curlier than he'd thought, waves of snow tickling his ears, eyebrows and the back of his neck.

The next problem was the green tint. This would take some thinking. He couldn't just pretend to be cosplaying a Vulcan from star trek. Could he turn his ectoplasam back into blood? Probably not, either he'd end up 'suffocating' (if that was even the right word) as a ghost or just turn back into a human and need to do this all over again.

Veto'd, too dangerous.

Thinking back, didn't frostbite say there was something odd with his ectoplasam and blood? Thats right! There were slight ammounts of ectoplasam in his blood and vice versa. If he could manipulate his remaining blood into the capillaries along the surface of his skin, it'd look like he still had a beating heart!...

Ok, that sounded bad even in his mind.

Shaking off that thought, he pushed his blood to his skin and checked the mirror one last time. Normal teen with white hair? Check. Now, Roller Coaster!

~~~

This is the first! || next

Thanks for reading! Unfortunately, I had to cut this in half. (Curse the word limit!) When I have time to post part 2 I'll link it down here. If the links work... Anyways! Please tell me if there's anything I can improve! Last time I posted something was back in... 2016? So i'm very out of practice

[darsynia]

Heyyy. I hope ur requests are open. Anyways. Can I get a shot of tequila w/ Steve Rogers and the reader reunited after like 6 months apart because he went on the run and didn’t want to disrupt her life. Like maybe she was on Tony’s side in Civil War but helped Steve anyway because they were together since CA:WS. She tracks him down in Switzerland and he comes home to the safe house to see her heels by the door like they usually would be back in New York. Then he sees her sitting in the dark, save for the fireplace, and they argue about how he can try to leave but she will find him everytime because she loves him. So they have some “reunion fun” and maybe after, they’re having some pillow talk where she’s worried that he’s been with other women in 6 months apart. because let’s be fair, we can’t blame her. have you seen the nomad-hair ‘n beard?… 😭

Thanks for the request, nonnie! I couldn't work in the very last bit, but hopefully you'll enjoy. Rating is NC-17, minors DNI. 1,800 words. (I forgot to add, 180F is a good temperature for green tea--and yeah, a kettle would be in C probably but bear with me for the metaphor ❤️)

180

The chilly wind is not the reason Steve feels cold on his walk home. He’s living in a fully furnished home for the first time in six months, but nothing about the space feels welcoming. He can’t settle. Somehow the many barracks he’s lived in over the years made him feel more comfortable, and he knows the reason why.

You’re not there.

The thought stings, and he grits his teeth, keeping his eyes on the road. The last thing he wants to do is look familiar, and maybe that’s the problem. If he’s not allowed to be Steve Rogers, no amount of handmade quilts and cozy living room furniture will make him feel at home.

He rounds the corner, pulling out his key with a half of a block to go. The rental is quiet, out of the way, obscure, even. Half the time even he struggles to find it. From three houses away, he sees a pair of deep red heels next to his front door, as incongruous among the quaint townhomes in Willisau as a palm tree. The spasm in his chest isn’t something the serum in his veins can heal, but Steve tells himself nothing’s really there. He’s imagined your shoes waiting outside of almost every place he’s laid his head since he left, and now it’s Switzerland’s turn.

He studiously ignores his lintel as he unlocks the door and goes inside.

 Steve’s sure he’s right when everything is the same as he’d left it. You've never failed to leave your personal touch in his living spaces--a hand knit scarf hung next to his coats, a delicate bunch of flowers on the table in a vase he'd long ago forgotten he owned.

The orange of sunset stretches across the floor from a back window, and he can smell the tang of woodsmoke, a familiar occurrence in this neighborhood. It isn't until he puts his shoes and keys away and pads into the kitchen that he finally realizes he’s not alone.

The smoke smell isn’t from outside. The fireplace is lit, and when Steve steps into the doorway, he sees a familiar, precious silhouette. Even though you have to have heard him, you don’t turn around, so he chooses discretion as the better part of valor. You’ve always said a warm cup of tea is comforting after a long day, and it has been that.

He sets the temperature on the kettle, places two mugs, and then goes looking for tea, concern and frustration growing. You've never not greeted him, but those had always followed a goodbye, something Steve hadn't had the courtesy to give when he'd left. The first two cabinets yield nothing, and you haven’t spoken or come in, yet.

Then, suddenly, you’re there, walking in and showing him exactly where the tea is, right in time for the kettle’s finishing beep. You’ve always been like that, exactly what he needs at exactly the right time, and that hasn’t changed. It’s damning and loving all at once.

Steve grabs at one of the tins, but you set a light hand on his, leaving it there are you say something about temperatures and tea leaves. He’s barely listening, focused on the way your touch has jump-started his heart, his lungs, and… everything else.

“Steve!” you say, snatching your hand back and giving him an affectionate, frustrated look. It’s more the latter than the former, but at this point he’s parched soil grateful for a slight drizzle. “Did you hear any of that? I asked what temperature you set the kettle.”

“Uh, whatever the default is?”

Brand new to this kitchen though you are, you pick it up and start it again, noting that the water bubbles up right away. “208 is my guess. That’s too hot for this. It’s green.”

Steve very much wants to point out that all tea is green, but he knows better. Instead, he says, “We can pour it out and start over?”

You look at him for a long moment, your body a foot and several hard conversations away, and finally nod. Neither of you say anything as the new water heats up, but Steve feels the metaphorical distance between the two of you narrow as you breathe each other’s air for the first time in forever.

When the kettle finally sounds, it’s somehow familiar. In his head Steve feels another timer go off, and he heeds it.

“I’m--” he starts to say, but you interrupt.

“I know.”

To hide his apprehension, Steve grabs the sugar, a spoon, and an amused look. “You don’t know what I was going to say!”

“I know all of them. You’re sorry. You’re not coming home. You’re doing this for my own good. You’re lonely.”

“You’re right.”

“I know.”

The two of you settle next to each other on the couch with a not inconsiderable amount of painful distance between you. That doesn’t translate to the conversation, though. It’s full of honesty (“I didn’t want to leave. I wish it didn’t have to be this way, but I’m not done with the things that need to be done, and it’s not safe for you here.”) from both sides  (“You’re physically gone and I hate that, but emotionally, I know you don’t want to let me go. I’m always with you, and I’ll always find you. There’s no one that can keep me safer than you can.”).

Once the tea’s long gone and the fire has died down to embers, neither of you have said the most important words, the healing words. 

Finally you whisper them, tears welling up in your eyes. “Steve, I love you. It doesn’t have to be like this.”

He opens his mouth, certain of his mission, as sacrificial as it is--but you slide up beside him, warm and loving and his.

“It can be like this,” you rasp, sliding your hand along his chest and up into his hair to pull his lips down to yours.

Steve groans in gratitude, angling his head in welcome and grasping at your hips to drag you onto his lap where you belong. He sends up a prayerful apology to any member of his family that still checks the earthly realm to watch him live a sinless life. Today is not that day. 

You’re wearing soft dress pants, just loose enough for him to slide his hand past your waistband, thumbing caresses along the heat of your inner thigh until your hitching ‘yes’ of a sigh gives him more explicit permission. He’d missed your body, missed this, the warm slick of your welcoming folds, the way you gasp and tense when he strokes you. This angle shouldn’t work, but he’s strong, and he knows how much you love that, so he nuzzles the join between your neck and shoulder, breathing you in.

You release your deathgrip on his shirt to snake your hand up into his hair, dragging your fingernails deliciously against his scalp. Your movements are imprecise and shaky, a testament to his own erotic movements, and Steve groans aloud at the realization. The timbre of your voice as you whisper his name hints at how close to orgasm you are, and he takes the opportunity to escalate his onslaught.

“Let go, sweetheart,” he whispers against your skin, thrusting his fingers inside at unpredictable intervals to prolong your pleasure. You have always both loved and hated that, wanting instead to lose yourself in the rhythm of predictable movements--but your most vocal climaxes come just like this.

Steve backs off again, and you roll your hips, tempting him to return. “I’ll never let go,” you growl, pushing off just far enough to start unbuckling his pants. “You should know that.”

It’s an inflection point, and though Steve’s a soldier, he doesn’t fight you. You’d been so close your whole body had started to tremble, but instead of taking what you could from him and then shifting the mood, you’d taken the route of self-sacrifice. Those thoughts flee the battlefield when you urge him to lift up enough to tug his pants out of the way. Impatience sings through his veins. He wants to take charge and--

“Oh,” he says. The whole world shifts from black and white to color as you slide down between his legs, taking him in your mouth. He’s almost too sensitive for this, grabbing a fistful of the couch instead of your hair, knowing his own strength. You anchor yourself with a hand grasping that same forearm, moaning as you suck as if feeling the flex of his muscles is itself erotic.

Steve knows the whining noise he can hear is coming from his own throat, but doesn’t care about anything but the surging joy of this moment. You know exactly how to work him, adding everything he loves about you, about the ‘us’ he’d wanted to build with you. When he’s almost, almost there, when he knows your next move would be a deep-throated encouragement to spill in your mouth, you pull back.

The lesson is sharp and warranted, but Steve’s trust doesn’t waver. He looks down at you--‘submissive’ at his feet but fully in charge of the moment--and nods. I get it. Your light smile and little squeeze of his arm before you get up feels more like home than anything in months.

“I love you,” he says, and means it more than he ever, ever has.

“Hasn’t anyone told you not to say that in the middle of sex?” you tease, moving fluidly to shed the rest of your clothing. The only thing you keep on is your electric blue bra, and Steve lets out a tiny little noise of want when he sees it. It’s his favorite. Eight months ago you’d tried to get rid of it and he’d snatched it up out of the ‘to toss’ pile and buried it in his drawer, the drawer you’d given him in your bedroom for when he slept over.

He hadn’t wanted to leave it behind, to leave you behind, but it felt like the right thing to do at the time. Now, looking at your sultry, challenging expression, he truly understands the mistake he made.

Steve opens his mouth to tell you how beautiful you look in the firelight, how sorry he is that he ever thought he could walk away to make your life safer, how--

“Prove it, soldier,” you tell him. The words are confident, but there’s a waver in your tone that he put there.

He reaches for you, pulling you onto him, into him, straight through his skin, your sighs writing your name on his heart. It's exactly where you, where he belongs. The result is a rolling boil, a volley of exploding shells, a Brooklyn apartment with a pair of red heels at the door.

It’s been a battle, but he’s home.

Note: I misremembered boiling point, embarrassingly. Fixed.

[thestarfishinjootsoffice]

Clinically Jealous

Your two lovers have a slight problem ♪°

Yandere-ish jotaro x reader x yandere-ish kakyoin

Warnings: mentions of very light threat and violence. Slight yandere behavior? Very Cringe old writing, out of character. Very cringe.

Relationship: romantic.

This has been rotting in my notesapp for a good while now.

"What is wrong with you!?" You shout.

Smack!

"You... You merciless beast! I will take revenge on you!" You dramatically cry out as you pick up the pillow Kakyoin had thrown at your face.

"Ho? Let's see you try." Kakyoin says with a smirk as he picks up two pillows that were behind him.

"Come at me as much as you'd like!-"

Smack!

The next few moments were filled with squealing and laughter as you both throw pillows at each other. Running around the bed you were sure you both could've broken it but you two were having too much fun to care.

The door opens with a grunt following a small 'good grief' could be heard. You and Kakyoin both stop and look at Jotaro who pulled his hat down as he closed the door behind him.

"Wanna join?" Your question was met with an immediate "no."

Kakyoin grins and throws a pillow directly at Jotaro's face, but Jotaro caught the pillow before it could land on him but he couldn't dodge the one that was sent by you immediately after Kakyoin's. In his defense, how could he? When he's so relaxed and off guard around two of one of the most important people in his life? He doesn't need the feel to be cautious of anything. At least not now...

Kakyoin couldn't be any more happier. This feeling of contentment was something he so desperately searched for, with you and Jotaro filling the hole in his heart. He would never, ever, let any of you two go. The moment the anguishing ache of loneliness settles in again is the moment he'll lose his mind.

A proud laugh escaped your mouth followed by kakyoin's chuckling. Jotaro grunted with an unamused expression but let out a small smile as he picked up the pillow you had thrown at him, his hat blocking his face as he bent over to do so. He walked towards you both, a pillow in both his hands with a slight smug look that said he was going to indulge in the pillow fight for a bit. But he wasn't going to hold back...

Out of panic both you and kakyoin started fighting against Jotaro for the sake of both your lives now.

~ ~ ~

You sighed as you sat down between the two men on the bed. Jotaro on your right side and Kakyoin on your left, being sandwiched between two men was quite... The golden experience. Especially if those two men rarely ever showed their bare physique. Kakyoin was in a whole ass pajama but it was relatively thinner than his uniform frabic so you could see more of the outline and curves of his body a bit more clearly. And jotaro was in a damn tank top (plus he finally put down his hat). Almost not being able to take your eyes off of his bare arms, especially since it wasn't everyday you'd get to see someone as buff and chiseled as him this close. Focusing on every vein that bulged out of the back of his hands and forear- you should sleep. You swore you could've almost heard them holding in their laughs.

Of course, you three wouldn't forget the small ritual you would all do when all three of you were in a bed together. You giving them good night kisses that would sometimes be a little too passionate that would sometimes turn into full blown make out sessions that would probably last half an hour- but it never escalated anything above that. Besides it does a great job making you all fall asleep a little faster.

Intertwining your fingers with Kakyoins, he always wanted to be in contact with you one way or another. And while Jotaro insists he doesn't need it, he doesn't try to stop or pull away from you once as you wrap your hand around his. Indulging in Kakyoin's physical wants and needs doesn't stop him from "accidentally" Brushing or placing his hand on certain parts of your body though. (He'll stop if you express your discomfort and will apologize like a million times.)

As you close your eyes, feeling relaxed and comforted by the darkness and the warmth of your two lovers. A small frown attended Kakyoin's face as he exchanged a quick knowing glance at Jotaro who nodded slightly.

"Reader..." Kakyoin called out.

You opened your eyes and let out a hum. Almost simultaneously both Kakyoin and Jotaro got closer to you, inching their bodies towards yours as kakyoin gripped tighter on your hand and Jotaro wrapped his arm right under your chest at your ribcage as he held on firmly onto your left arm as to keep you in place.

"Me and Jotaro have been wanting to discuss about something.. To you." Kakyoin said in a soft voice although there was a bitter undertone in it.

"It's about that friend of yours." A deeper voice you knew as your boyfriend and the person on your left said. Jotaro's voice becoming slightly harsher and cold at the emphasis 'friend'.

All the comfort and relaxation in your body had been thrown out the window, feeling extremely uncomfortable and confused as your heart now pounded against your chest heavily. As if they sensed the fear in you, Kakyoin cut you off as soon as you opened your mouth to say something.

"We won't hurt you or anything, cherry." He says in a soothing tone that would've comforted you if it weren't for the situation you were in right now as he softly caresses your cheeks with his fingers. "Swear we won't lay a bad finger on you.." His voice hushed as he tried to 'reassure' you. It didn't make you feel any better in the slightest, really.

"You know that, Right?" Jotaro asked in an almost threatening tone as his fingers gripped on the side of your face, squishing your cheeks ever so slightly. You quickly nodded.

"Good." With that he let go. Your fear definitely did not subside.

"Now we got that out of the way, I think you should stop seeing them... For a while until or unless they fix their behavior around you. Or... You can let us take care of it." Kakyoin says. Your eyebrows furrowed slightly in confusion but then the realisation of what they were talking about hit you.

Of course that one friend who always seemed to laugh a little harder around you. Kakyoin suppressing showing any expression of annoyance but sending occasional glares whenever your back was turned. Even an idiot could tell Jotaro was annoyed and irked just by glancing at his face once.

That one friend who seemed to always brush their hands or arms against yours. Or hugged you a second or two longer than they should've. A clear frown on Kakyoin's face as he clenched his fist while watching the scene. Jotaro's eyes devoid of any indication of being okay with the interaction. For a man of a few words, he was sure good at speaking (anger) through his eyes.

That one friend who always seemed to want to hang with you way too much. Almost every day. Jotaro and Kakyoin pretending it doesn't piss them the hell off when almost everytime you guys are together and you keep getting texts from your friend just for the sake of not wanting to make it apparent they're jealous and irritated. But lately it's been getting harder.

That one friend who seemed to compliment you way too much, way too happy and eager to be around you. There was no mistaking it set both of your lovers off. Upset with the whole relationship dynamic with this 'friend'. Let's be honest here, are you sure they see you as just a friend? If you knew then... You would tell your friend off, right? You would consult Kakyoin and Jotaro about it, right? You wouldn't keep or hide anything away from them... Right?

"They're too damn touchy with you." Jotaro's voice snaps you out of your train of thoughts. "It's annoying as hell." He added, his voice deepening as he did so.

"I... I'm sure they didn't mean anything by it! They're just touchy like that! I'll tell them to stop" You reply and hope they'd be a little more understanding... Although it shows that it doesn't actually help in the slighest.

"See now, it doesn't matter if they're naturally touchy or they didn't mean anything by it." Jotaro's face gets a little closer to yours.

"We fuckin' hate it. And we want it to stop." His voice getting deeper as he continues speaking.

"You wouldn't like it if we let another girl keep touching us, right?" After a few seconds you slowly nodded. I guess it was reasonable enough...

"Good, we knew you'd understand." You feel Jotaro's hand softly caress your hair. "You'd always listen to us because we're your boyfriends and we want the best for you. Don't forget that, there are people out there to harm you and it would kill us if we let them hurt you. Please understand." Kakyoin pleaded softly, something about his tone... It felt so... Odd...

Your hands gripped on the bedsheets to try to calm your nerves down. You controlled your breathing and you felt the panic in you slowly die down. You closed your eyes, hoping this was all a horrible sick dream that you don't ever wanna experience again....

.....

You open your eyes to see the bright orange sunlight flooding in the room, you turn your head slightly. Kakyoin on your left and Jotaro on your right, their faces as innocent as ever... You sigh softly, what a nightmare. You sat up carefully and went over to the edge of the bed, your feet made contact with the ground and you were about to get up.

"Reader?" Startled, you looked back, this unfamiliar gut wrenching feeling in your stomach forming itself deep in your gut when you saw your lovers awake. Almost as if they weren't really asleep the entire time.

"Where are you going?"

"The- the bathroom..."

"..." An eerie silence filled the room for a second.

"Reader?"

"Hm...?"

"This better not change anything between us, alright?" You felt the churning in your stomach manifold and you grip the edge of the bed when you felt like needles were prickling the inside of your throat and your eyes starting to burn. It wasn't a dream. Dammit...

[yvainetres]

Scars

Ninjago Headcanon

Description: Ranked list of who I believe has the most to least scars in the Ninjago crew. (Early seasons) Plus how easily they scar. Bonus Sal (My OC) at the end.

List from most to least.

Jay - This boy definitely has the most scars when he joined the team. With the amount of machinery and tinkering he does, there is no doubt he has burnt, cut, and bruised every bit of his body at some point. Maybe not the biggest scars but the most, and he scars easily. Like ink on paper. He's practically littered in tiny/medium scars with one or two major scars after being with the ninja for a while. I also believe he loses physical awareness when he's focused, causing more injuries which causes more scars. The only thing that doesn't scar him is electricity, thank goodness. Otherwise, he'd probably be dead.

Kai - He worked in a blacksmith with sharp tools since he was a child. Considering the fact he has no self-preservation and he refused to let anyone help him (Nya especially), his body is practically a canvas of scars. A mix of small and medium ones. His skin scars pretty easily, which doesn't help, his hands in particular being the main victim to his normal injuries. The only reason he has less than Jay is he can't get burnt. Removing 50% of the scars he would have.

Coles - About the midrange of the team, Cole has a few scars, but due to being the Master of Earth, he has tough skin. Therefore, he doesn't scar easily, but when he does, he SCARS. Like scar scars. Massive scars that make a person question what animal he had to wrestle to get them kind of scars. Truthfully, none. He did mountain climbing for fun and has learnt many lessons from those scars.

Nya - The only reason she doesn't have many scars when joining the ninja is because her overprotective brother made sure she didn't get the chance to gain scars. And if she did get one, he had a herbal paste he used to prevent it from leaving anything visible (why he never used it on himself Nya doesn't know). However, when she joined the ninja, she started gaining a few. Kai too distracted to take care of them now. Still, she doesn't have many even though she scars easily, (not as easily as Kai).

Zane - Zane's a tough one because well... he's a robot. His synthetic skin does scar, but it doesn't heal the same way as a human, and it definitely takes a LOT to even break the skin. In order to repair it, he has to replace it or coat it with a special metal like paste. Something he didn't know about when he thought he was human, luckily his skin was pretty much perfect with maybe one or two cuts that just didn't disappear. Not until they discovered the paste. Zane hates having to replace sulynthetic skin, which is only done if damaged beyond repair (he's only needed to once). The fake skin is hard to find and leaves patches unless his entire skin is replaced. Something he has never done and luckily never has to do once he gains his titanium body. Overall, his body doesn't really scar thanks to its metallic qualities.

Lloyd - I wholeheartedly believe Lloyd can't scar. Like at all. And believe me, he's tried. With the mix of Oni and Dragon blood flooding through his veins no matter how injured he gets, there will be no trace of it once it heals. His skin is completely flawless.

Bonus:

Sal - When she joined the crew, she was in between Cole and Nya. She doesn't scar easily, and when she was on her own, she was very on top of preventing scaring. However, the moment she joined the ninja, that care was focused on their health rather than her own. Eventually, after a few major events, her level of scaring became roughly in between Cole and Kai.

[shaisuki]

❝ SLEEP, SLEEP, SLEEP. ❞

FEATURING. ISAGI YOICHI, BACHIRA MEGURU, ITOSHI RIN

SYNOPSIS. falling asleep is nothing but when you say their name while asleep things change.

ISAGI YOICHI

“you can sleep here, (y/n).” isagi commented. your eyes droopy and a telltale sign of you being sleepy. patting his shoulder and you only nod.

“thanks, yoichi.” putting your head in his shoulder and you were off dozing while the train ride starts.

busybodies step off on the train platform. smoothing out your skirt to avoid someone getting a peek under those isagi could feel the softness of your thighs, a blush adorning in his cheeks at what he was about to do.

“yoichiiiii.” you whined and isagi froze. he awkwardly laughs, explanation in the tip of his tongue but it stops when he sees your sleeping face.

isagi's cheeks burned at the call of his name, followed by a smile. you were too adorable in isagi's eyes and he smiles. shaking his head. before holding your jaw to better sleep in his shoulder.

he was all smiles until the stop.

BACHIRA MEGURU

he's bored and he's looking for his own sort of entertainment and what's more fun to pull a prank to his chubby girlfriend's sleeping figure. draw a funny emoji's to your face.

his bright, yellow eyes widens in amusement, a pen in his hand and the tip of it is ready to create cat whiskers in your cheek not until you move and a word that stops bachira from what he was doing.

“meguru, love you....”his golden irises widening at your choice words and his heart swells of love.

bachira can't help but to chuckle and presses his forehead to yours. kissing the tip of your nose.

“i love you too.”

ITOSHI RIN

the screen coming from the television was the only source of light in the dimness of the room. a stephen king movie playing. rin's gaze remain fixated on the tv screen.

his expression remains stoic throughout the movie. his heart beat pumps a few beat. adrenaline running in his veins. the blood it was everywhere, watching as a character dies in the movie. he was in the most climax of the movie not until a voice interrupted him.

"rin." a familiar voice calls out to him and rin looks below him. his girlfriend fast asleep while the movie plays in the background.

did he misheard you, probably he didn't. it was your voice but you where asleep or his head is playing with his imaginations. too much horror movies, he thinks and rin continues to watch not until he hears you call again.

your head in his thigh and your hands holding the hem of his sweater. cheeks squished in his thigh and rin's heart made a badump sound.

placing his palm in your cheek, "rin." you call out again and a ghost of a smile appears on rin's face.

sighing, you're too good to be true sometimes. if only you knew how much he loves you.

rin just rests his palm into your cheek and caress the skin there. his gaze returning to the television screen and for the first time, he showed emotion while watching those horror films.

BAROU SHOEI

“oi, where the fuck are you?!” barou groans, you were supposed to be helping him clean your shared apartment but it's been half an hour since you went missing.

barou didn't need help with cleaning. he can get the work done faster but he can't refuse his girlfriend to help him and it would only get him the cold shoulder if he refused.

now, he's stuck waiting for you. rubbing the spot where mold and spores would gather when ignored. you were supposed to be bringing him the solution that would surely rid the annoying mold in days and his patience is running out.

his heavy steps echoed through the place. first stop in the bedroom and damn, he's right. your plump form sprawled in the bed while you slept.

he can see the rise and fall of your chest and barou kept silent. admiring his girl and for somehow his annoyance dissipates while looking at you.

“shoei....” barou's eyes slightly widens. his red irises scanning all over you if you're awake but you only changed your position to the side, your soft belly squished to the side.

another call of his name was heard and somehow barou's expression softens. are you that attached to him to call his name in your sleep and pride swells in his chest. you were truly made for him. a queen fit for a king.

maybe he could skip on scolding you for today. yeah. maybe. nope. you two are cleaning today and barou pinches your cheek.

“wake up. now” he firmly said and you whined from being disturbed in your sleep.

you only stare at him through your half-lidded eyes. trying to adjust your eyes to your surrounding.

“sho-chan.”

“we have to finish cleaning.”

“okayyyy.”

standing up and you wrap your arms around him. barou only grunts. accepting the hug you gave him.

“that's enough.”

“eh, stingy.”

a tick mark appearing on his forehead and you only laughed.

“we cleanin' now. happy? can i get hugs later?”

“yeah. after this.”

the little things for you.

[fictionalsimp09]

castle – @rosekillermicrofic – 367 words 

This is the last time Evan will listen to one of Barty’s idiotic ideas. A little bit of fun and chaos is not worth the two weeks detention when they get caught. And get caught they did. Honestly, fuck him! But as they walk back through the castle to their dorm, Evan realises how uncharacteristically quiet Barty is. He hasn’t tried to apologise since McGonagall told them off. He hasn’t even tried to catch up to Evan’s long strides. 

He turns around to see his friend shaking, not looking where he is walking until he runs right into Evan. All anger he had at the other boy immediately dissipates. 

“Sorry,” he mumbles. 

“What’s wrong, Bee?” Evan asks, his tone as soft as he can muster. Barty just shakes his head and tries to walk past him. Evan places a hand on his shoulder and anger courses through his veins once again as Barty flinches. Not at him though, at his father. At least he has some idea about what’s troubling him. “Is this about your father?” 

“McGonagall said she was disappointed in us,” Barty croaks, still not meeting his eyes. 

“But she’s not like your father. She won’t hate you forever because you got in trouble once.” 

“You don’t know that.” 

“I do, Bee. I really do, and if I’m wrong, you can blame me, okay? Everything will be okay.” 

Barty walks right into him again, this time on purpose. Evan wraps his arms around his shoulders and they stay there for a while; he’s not going to be the first to pull away, not with how desperately Barty needs the comfort. 

“We should probably go,” Barty says after a few more minutes pass by, and stands back slightly, “before we get even more detention.” They walk back to their dorm, shoulders brushing occasionally, and by morning, Barty was his normal, annoying self – though Evan could tell it was fake. But his mood drastically improved after Transfiguration, and McGonagall didn’t treat the pair of them any differently than she usually would, constantly praising Barty on his exceptional display of magic. Maybe now Barty can start to learn that one small mistake isn't the be all, end all.  

[hattrick336]

Wild Onyx Storm Theory

SPOILERS BELOW THIS POINT

Okay so, I have been seeing two major theories re. Lynx and him being a shadow wielder. While I do love the idea that he is actually a mimic and his signet just copied Xaden's cause he was using it at the time, I will admit to leaning more towards the idea that Lynx IS the new shadow wielder because Xaden is going to get a new signet once he is cured.

And I have a pretty solid guess of what it could be:

Heliomancy or Sunlight manipulation.

Here me out:

Xaden's eyes- His eyes are very well noted to be onyx, but we do have those iconic golden flecks, like sunlight peeking through the dark. They turn amber after he becomes venin, but it still works as it could be reflective of a setting sun.

Xaden's character shift- Signets are noted to be based on need/personality. When he first bonded Sygael, Xaden was guarded and mistrustful (rightly so). He needed to keep his secrets and know who to trust. But that has changed because of Violet. By falling for Violet, Xaden has learned to be more open, at least with her. He has also learned to trust others as he trusts Violet's friends (a big example is Ridoc in OS when he agreed to his terms to keep his venin secret; Xaden back in FW would have a million arguments against that ultimatum). Even if it is just with her, Xaden has learned to open himself up, to be vulnerable, to rely on more than just a select few. Ergo, his new signet would need to reflect that change. It would also still fit the more deadly aspects of him since the Sun can LITERALLY burn everything to a crisp and we have seen Xaden go scorched earth for Violet before (rescuing her from Basgiath in IF being a big example).

Xaden's emotional freeze/self worth issues- OS established that Xaden feels his emotions icing over, using a lot of freezing and cold wording to describe him in those moments of apathy. Unconsciously, Xaden would likely not want to feel that way ever again, resulting in a sun signet since, you know, warmth. In a similar vein, Xaden has felt throughout OS that he is now tainted/too dark to be with Violet. Imagine the emotional beat that would happen if Xaden developed a signet that was pure light? Devastating but so healing.

Match Violet's/Six most powerful- We obviously know Xaden, no matter what, will be counted as one of the big six that OS mentioned. We have Violet, Lynx, and Garrick as shoo-ins with Bodhi and Aaric as potential candidates as well. Having a sun-based signet would let Xaden fit into that easily as A. it would be another offensive signet versus the three more defense-based ones and B. fit as it would be a spectrum with Lynx being absolute darkness and Violet being a bridge. It would also let Xaden and Violet still be mirrors/compliments like he is as a shadow wielder since it would be a stormy/sunny day reflection and allow both to draw from the sky over the Earth.

Irony- Sygael's name means "shadow" so it'd be a nice bit of irony that Xaden's new signet is the antithesis of that.

I know this is probably very out there, but I just thought this was a fun theory and gives me some hope for our boy.

What are your thoughts?

[reversemoon255]

Oh my goodness; new DigiXros content!? Did my birthday come early this year?

For a little context, the user "Ray Chan" on Behance posted a bunch of concept art from a game they worked on in 2013 under the developer The Playforge for a Digimon Fusions game commissioned by Saban. I'll leave a link [HERE] if you want to go read the full thing and see some of the mock-ups.

But I'm a big fan of DigiXroses (or in this case Fusions), having designed quite a few myself, so I thought it would be fun to go through all of them and give my thoughts. I know these are more in the style of things like DonShoutmon and BalliBastemon than the toyetic stuff I design, but a DigiXros is a DigiXros, and some of these are really cool.

Let's start with the Shoutmon stuff. Ray Chan mentions that they chose to fuse random Digimon together as an exercise, and all of the Shoutmon Xroses feel like that. Which, honestly, I think is a fun idea, and one I might try doing myself some day.

As for the Shoutmon X Shadramon design, I dig it. We have three versions here. The very superhero, uncolored design is probably my least favorite, if only because it's trying too hard to be cool. I much prefer the smaller version of the design. It does a good job of merging the already existing segmentation in Shoutmon's design with the Courage Armor aesthetic. The flame details on the mask are also very sharp. The lankier version is ok, but I think it suffers from the same issue I had with the uncolored one where it's trying very hard to be cooler than it needs to be. Those proportions feel closer to an Armor Evolved Shoutmon than a DigiXros.

Then there are these two, the last of the new Shoutmon X2s. The first Pharaohmon Xros is very fun, and I like the additional red. This one also feels very superhero, but Pharaohmon already has that silhouette naturally, so it works. The second design feels more like how the show would blend them, similar to things like PawnShoutmon or JijiShoutmon. It's not as visually appealing as the first, but small touches like the new shoulders really help it stand out.

I really appreciate that they did a Revolmon/Deputymon Xros, since he was a member of Xros Heart. As for the design, it's pretty great. There's a more subtle V incorporated into the poncho, Shoutmon's face is well incorporated into the bandana and horns. It really blends the two ideas to make something new yet reminiscent. However, it doesn't feel very DigiXros; if you used Shoutmon King instead, you could easily call this a Jogress in the same vein as Paildramon.

And we have a new X4! It's such a weird combination of Digimon, but that's part of why I like it so much. I like the humanoid design more, personally; Shoutmon, Lunamon, and Revolmon all have those general proportions, so it makes sense that a Xros of them would maintain that. The gun arms I also feel work in this case. Of all the versions they did of it, the one with the hat is my favorite, as it's obviously Revolmon's hat, but also blends Shoutmon and Lunamon into it. The one issue I have is Togemogumon isn't very incorporated apart from the feet and a few colors; this could have been a X3 with a little tweak.

The less humanoid design I don't like as much, but I also really appreciate it. Not every Xros should be cool; some of them should be weird or goofy. This version has a unique silhouette, and blends Togemogumon a lot more than the other, even if Revolmon is less apparent apart from the chest cannon (and even then, it's very generic). And there's nothing to say the same four Digimon can't Xros in multiple ways, something SkullKnightmon and DeadlyAxemon did in the show, and something I've been working with with Himemon XAT and XSR.

Now we move onto what is personally my favorite of all the revealed concepts, Sparrowmon X Guardromon. It stands out to me because, with a few tweaks, I could easily imagine this as a toy, where Guardromon's head flips into the torso, and its forearms open up and swap the hands for the drills. On the rare chance I get around to kitbashing a Shoutmon X5, I'd definitely want to try doing a Guardromon so I could do this form as well.

As for the design itself, the fact that its forms are so visibly separated is what probably appeals to me to most. The drills are most likely inspired by Sparrowmon's ray guns. The only thing stopping this from being a near-perfect toyetic DigiXros is the feet, but I understand the want for a visual shake-up.

And now we get to talk about the most interesting through-line in this series of concept arts; Dracomon. It seems like the designers had the idea that, to match Shoutmon from Xros Heart, they could use Dracomon as a similar-sized mascot character and center point for Blue Flare. Dracomon's combinations are much more Fusion than DigiXros, but I really like the idea of re-imagining the Blue Flare team with Dracomon as the center.

As for Dracomon X BlueMeramon, it's a neat design. I like the general shape and flaming wings, but it doesn't really feel like either of its components. The face is too different, and the armor shapes and core come from nowhere. It feels like a Lv5 evolution of Dracomon, like Wingdramon or Groundramon (do we have a Flardramon?). A really cool Digimon design, but a pretty bad DigiXros, sadly. Really glad they didn't go with the superhero shaped one.

And then, like Shoutmon, we have this random X4 using Yasyamon, MetalMamemon, and Catsuramon. Despite its appearance, having two Lv5s in there would mean it's probably pretty powerful. Unlike the previous one, this one actually incorporates all the elements of the component Digimon quite well, having Dracomon as a base, and various armor parts from everyone else dotted throughout in a slightly better way than Shoutmon's. I also really like the uncolored concepts as well, even if they feel less like DigiXroses than the one they went with. (Wonder if I could convince Poyo to draw #2?)

But I think the set of designs that will grab most peoples' attention are the Dracomon and Blue Flare Xroses. These feel like the only designs that were made for the game as a forethought, rather than being a fun experiment.

Dracomon X MailBirdramon is a pretty good Xros, borrowing quite a bit from MetalGreymon in the claws, tail, and wings, but the smaller nature and head design do make it feel more its own. I do wish it differentiated itself a bit more, maybe brought in a bit more green, reduced the armor a bit, but think it's a good start. I also really like how the changed the horns.

Then we get our Shoutmon X4 equivalent. I suppose this would be Dracomon X3? It definitely pulls a lot from it, with the heads on the shoulders and the humanoid silhouette. That being said, and knowing that's what it's trying to accomplish, I think it pulls it off really well (with the caveat of it being a Fusion and not a DigiXros). It does a good job of pulling in elements from all three Digimon. It also has a similar vibe to the WayGreymon design I did a bit ago, so I wonder if I can use some of these ideas as inspiration in the future? Still, I think this is a fun design, and accomplishes what the designers seemed to be setting out to do.

And the last design we have to look at for today is Dracomon X4. Funnily enough, this feels very show Xros, essentially being Dracomon X3 with elements of Cyberdramon added onto it. It definitely feels very final form, but maybe not hero final form? Though I suppose that works for Blue Flare.

At the end of the day, I'm just pumped to see more DigiXros content, even if it isn't the toyetic stuff I'm more fond of. It's also the first new DigiXros content we've gotten since Boy Hunters ended over 10 years ago, even if it isn't "official." Like I've said about my own content, I hope these inspire a few people to try designing a DigiXros. I'd love to see other peoples' takes. I'd also love to be not the only person who draws this stuff.

So thanks to The Playforge for designing these, and to Ray Chan for sharing them. It really made my week.

[astridthevalkyrie]

corner | samantha larusso & robby keene

“Zara…” Robby runs his fingers through his hair again, clearly stressed out and trying to give himself some comfort. Sam feels a bit of sadness—she knows Johnny had to go see Carmen, but had he even said goodbye to his son? She couldn’t imagine her dad leaving the country without at least hugging her, and telling her to be safe.

“Zara came up to me,” he continues, snapping her out of her thoughts. “And I don’t remember anything after that. But…I woke up in her bed today.”

Sam’s veins turn to ice.

tw: discussion of rape, assault, and how zara took advantage of robby + how kyler took advantage of sam. light johnny, daniel and demetri slander. light slander of everyone tbh, including sam and robby. very dialogue heavy.

Her dad is going to kill her.

And if not him, then Chozen.

It shouldn’t be the biggest deal in the world, but they’re here representing Miyagi Do, so the female captain losing her headband looks incredibly bad. Not that Sam thinks she’s lost it, it’s probably in the boys’ room (the singular room, because they’re idiots). She vaguely remembers tossing it off after getting back to the hotel last night, going to visit Miguel out of habit and then remembering he wasn’t here and that he wouldn’t have cell service for a long while. After the run in with the Cobra Kai goons and Axel trying to kiss her, it was a shitty end to a shitty day. She’d all but ripped the headband off in frustration.

It’s in the boys’ room. It has to be. They don’t need another problem right now, what with Miguel having to leave.

With the key card Miguel gave her, she opens the door, not expecting anyone to be in. The other guys are likely either training or wandering around the hotel somewhere. With any luck, Hawk and Demetri had made up, made out, and would stop hindering everyone with this drawn out argument.

It feels weird, not being the center of the drama for once. Weird, but good. Love triangles weren’t fun.

Speak of the devil (or at the least the triangle he was part of).

Robby’s laying on the bed, disheveled and clearly out of it, staring up at the ceiling. He seems to not even have heard her come in until she throws out a casual, “Hey.”

He flinches unexpectedly, and suddenly Sam’s on guard too. But there’s no fight, he only looks at her blankly and responds, “Hey.”

Okay, then.

She and Robby hardly have moments alone anymore, mostly because Sam felt it would be wrong, that even spending any one-on-one time with him would be like cheating on her boyfriend. But that’s bullshit and she knows it, and she doesn’t want to give in to that patriarchal way of thinking even if it is a self-imposed punishment she’s convinced herself she deserves—oh, all of this is so irrelevant right now, she needs to find her headband.

It’s not anywhere in plain sight, so Sam prays it’s on the unoccupied bed. She takes the blankets and ruffles them up and down, looking over and under to no avail.

“Are you looking for Miguel?” Robby asks.

That makes her pause. With a furrowed brow and a tone that might come off a little rude, she responds, “No. Miguel’s not here, remember?”

Robby blinks. “Oh. Right. Um, any word from him or my dad?”

“Not yet.” Sam lets go of the blankets and frowns, noting that he’s wearing the same clothes he was yesterday. “Are you okay? How drunk did you get last night?”

A fearful sort of shadow passes over her fellow captain’s face, and yet he still doesn’t get up, still lying stiffly on the bed. “I don’t know. How drunk did I get?”

Maybe he’s still drunk. She wouldn’t know, she’s never seen a drunk Robby Keene, nor has anyone else. Maybe he was just a little dumber after he had a few shots in him.

“I don’t know,” she repeats his words back to him, lips quirking in a thin line, “I left, remember?”

Robby swallows, visibly. “You left?”

“Yeah. Didn’t wanna be in the same place as the Cobras. Not that it mattered, a few of them caught up with me anyway.”

He sits up, suddenly more lively than he’s been since she walked in. “Did they hurt you?”

“No, they were drunk too. Just spouting off some nonsense.” Besides, even if they had tried to attack, she was almost certain her and Axel could’ve taken them (though she cringes at the thought of Axel translating it to some kind of power couple moment). “Robby, did you hit your head last night or something?”

It’s meant as a joke, albeit a serious one, but he doesn’t laugh. He only runs a hand through his hair, like he’s not quite sure where he is and he’s trying to come back to reality.

“I…don’t remember much,” he confesses quietly. “I remember the Cobras coming in and talking to me. Just trying to start shit, same as they did with you,” he reassures her when she steps forward with wide, concerned eyes. “I couldn’t find Eli or Demetri. Couldn’t find you. And then Zara…”

“Zara?” Had Zara been there? What were the odds of all of them going to the same bar? Barcelona couldn’t possibly be this small.

“Zara…” Robby runs his fingers through his hair again, clearly stressed out and trying to give himself some comfort. Sam feels a bit of sadness—she knows Johnny had to go see Carmen, but had he even said goodbye to his son? She couldn’t imagine her dad leaving the country without at least hugging her, and telling her to be safe.

“Zara came up to me,” he continues, snapping her out of her thoughts. “And I don’t remember anything after that. But…I woke up in her bed today.”

Sam’s veins turn to ice. 

“What?”

There’s a falter in Robby’s expression as their eyes meet, and he winces lightly. “Yeah, I know I fucked up, sleeping with the competition and all.”

There’s a buzzing in her head that is begging for Robby to be playing a practical joke on her. She doesn’t want to acknowledge what he’s saying. They’d all been there at the bar—Hawk, Demetri—she’d been sure one of them would be Robby’s designated driver, or walker, in this scenario. One of them must have seen…one of them must have noticed…

“Robby, you…” Sam swallows, a queasy feeling rising in her throat. “You don’t remember going to her room?”

“No.” His eyes are dim, and he looks down at the bed as though he’s talking about a sparring match he lost. “It was a stupid mistake, okay? You don’t have to tell me.”

Her heart feels like it’s in her throat. “No, Robby, that’s not what I’m saying.” Finally, her feet move, and she sits on the bed in front of him, eyes searching his face in an urgent worry. “You two had sex?”

He bristles. “Apparently. Like I said, I don’t remember. She said she did, though. I didn’t even ask her anything, I just felt weird so I came back here and I’ve been doing nothing.”

Voice cracking, she says his name as softly as she can. “Robby.”

The ends of his brows meet as he furrows them, his body shrinking under her scrutiny. Sam wants to ease up, wants to back off and allow him her space, but she feels like she can’t breathe.

Zara didn’t. Zara couldn’t have.

And Robby can’t be referring to it as a mistake. Least of all his mistake.

Her heart cracks seeing his dazed but nervous eyes, kind green eyes that had never been good at seeing the injustices dealt to him. How is she meant to say this? How is she meant to tell him?

Robby, you were assaulted.

“Um, if you were drunk,” she starts, biting her lip, “it doesn’t sound like you, um…it doesn’t sound like you consented to it.”

Something flickers in his gaze, and Robby leans back, shaking his head. As if to say no, that’s not possible. “I must have at some point last night. I probably said yes.”

“You were drunk,” Sam whispers, her nails digging into her palms, “Robby, that’s not consent. Was…was she drunk too?”

From just the look he’s giving her, she knows what the answer is. She knows what Zara must have done. The unimaginable. 

And suddenly she’s fantasizing about knocking the girl’s phone out of her hand before proceeding to give her the beatdown of a lifetime. Sam feels her blood run hot, as Robby shakes his head again, saying she remembered everything again. And this isn’t any particular desire to beat her on the mat, oh no. Right now, her current fantasy is kicking the shit out of Zara after she’s expelled from the competition entirely.

How dare she. How dare she, how dare she, how dare she. How dare she do it at all, and how dare she do it to one of her friends.

“We have to tell someone,” Sam chokes out, barely keeping a hold on her anger, “we have to tell my dad, your dad—”

“No!” Robby says, raising his voice for the first time, his eyes wide. “Don’t tell them anything, Sam. I mean it.”

A hopeless sort of feeling blooms in her chest and she responds in a weak voice. “What? Robby, what she did isn’t okay, we can’t let her just do that and walk off scott free! Someone needs to do something! Oh my God, if Tory finds out what she did—” And Sam leaps up, her heart pounding out of its chest from rage, concern, fear, she doesn’t know what at this point. Her feet are moving on their own, almost like she could just walk up to Tory’s room right now to tell her exactly what the fuck Zara did so that the two of them can kill her together.

But before she can take a step, Robby is up on his feet too, grabbing her hand in a panic. “Don’t tell Tory.” His voice cracks. “Please.”

The little tremble that follows is what calms her down just enough to look at him. To really look at him. Not just his disheveled, confused, hurt state, but. All of it. Robby has been a mess since they got here, and since maybe before that. Wracked with guilt for what happened with Kenny, devastated at having to watch his almost stepbrother get to go to college while he himself would never even apply, faced with fighting against his girlfriend in the biggest tournament in the world. 

She thinks back to a few days ago when she’d given him grief for not telling them about Kreese, and Sam hates herself a little.

Robby’s shaking, still holding on her hand in such a light grip that it doesn’t really seem like he’s trying to stop her, but rather trying to ground himself. She breathes his name and raises both their hands up, along with her other one, to rest on his cheeks. It’s not a good look, to cup her ex-boyfriend’s face when her actual boyfriend is in a whole other country, but right now, she couldn’t care less.

He leans into her touch, shutting his eyes. There’s a lump in Sam’s throat and she feels tears spring to her eyes, tears that she commands with all her willpower not to fall. He just…he looks so beat up, despite a lack of bruises or cuts, and she’s seen Robby look hurt, angry, upset, but she’s never seen him look so defeated.

Slowly, without being sure who moves first, Sam is hugging him. His own hands rest weakly on her back, and he, Jesus Christ, still smells like alcohol. Oh, Robby. She wants to scream, wants to cry, but wills herself to try and be rational, or at least as rational as she’s supposed to be after learning one of her teammates, one of her friends, was taken advantage of in such a horrible way.

“I should never have drunk anything,” comes his quiet voice, and even as she shakes her head to try and tell him not to even think about blaming himself for this, he keeps going. “Of course someone did something to me. I was so stupid.”

“Don’t say that,” she pleads, pulling him closer, hoping that her hands that are constantly training and fighting might still have some comfort or compassion in them. “Robby, this wasn’t your fault. You can’t think that.”

“I’m the one who got drunk.”

“Everyone there was drunk. I—fuck.” Sam pulls back and Robby automatically stumbles back and sits without the support of her arms, so she follows suit and sits too. It’s uncharacteristic of her to swear, or at least to swear out loud, but the horrible feeling in her chest has spread down to her stomach. “I should never have left. I was sober, I should have kept an eye on you instead of leaving it to Demetri and Hawk.”

Even now, with everything that’s happened and the fact that he’s the one who got hurt, he still gazes at her with those kind green eyes (even when he was in Cobra Kai, Robby’s eyes never had the look—he didn’t really have the killer instinct, and she wonders if anyone else noticed that) and he reaches out and touches her hand. 

Robby, Robby who’d cut her off at Moon’s party which feels like forever ago, Robby who’d let her lean on him the entire walk to the car, Robby who’d taken her to his dad’s place despite hating him then just to keep her from getting in trouble. Robby who she should’ve taken care of the same way yesterday. 

“This was not your fault,” the same Robby says, firmly sounding more sure about that than anything else he’s said the past few minutes, “it wasn’t.”

He’s not touching her just to reassure her, Sam realizes, it’s because he’s desperately trying to get some kind of contact, some kind of comfort. So she turns her palm and lets him hold it without any kind of hesitation.

And she doesn’t believe him, but this isn’t about making Robby soothe her own conscience, so she drops the topic. For now.

“Are you okay?” she asks first, immediately cringing at how stupid it sounds. “Sorry, I mean, just, how do you feel right now? Shitty, I know, but—”

“I’m okay,” he mumbles, in a decidedly not-okay way.

“Can I ask…can I ask why you don’t want to tell anyone?”

Robby looks away, a wary, hazy expression on his face. “I just. I’m already letting everyone down, Sam. Don’t say it’s not true,” he cuts off her protest, “the first round, you and Miguel were still going strong, and I let myself get distracted and forced us out. And I just, keep fucking doing it. I got captain and I’ve done nothing to actually earn it. Both our dads are disappointed in me. I’m letting the team down. I’m letting myself down. I wanted to win. I wanted to win,” he repeats in distress, and she can only squeeze his hand intently, “and all I’ve done is lose. Last thing I need is for them to realize that I’ve done something even more pathetic.”

She wants to argue. Wants to say that none of this matters, that the team and their fathers wouldn’t ever blame him for this, but how can she say that? How can she say for sure? In the most horrible corner of her mind’s eye, she can almost see Demetri shrugging. At least she’s hot. She can see her father making an awkward face, trying to make things sound better than they are. We don’t want to make a scene and jeopardize our place here. She can see Johnny…can she see Johnny? Has she even seen Johnny talk to his son one-on-one since they’ve been here? Would there be anyone on the team who would wholeheartedly support Robby right now?

Miguel would, she thinks, because she’ll go insane if she doesn’t. If Miguel was here, he’d be right next to Sam, comforting his brother. He’d know what to do. He’s much more rational than she is, ironically the Miyagi Do-esque stopper on her Cobra Kai-esque tendencies. 

But everyone else on the team, Sam can’t say. She hates it. She doesn’t want to believe the worst of them, but can’t believe the best either.

So all she says is, softly, “And Tory?”

Robby shudders, shutting his eyes for a second. “You don’t think if I tell Tory she won’t try and commit murder? Tory needs this win. She can’t get kicked out of the competition. I can’t do that to her.”

That’s true. Tory would fly off the rails. Sam’s been the target of that insane rage once before. A very vengeful part of her wants to see Zara be the next target. Wants to assist. Maybe to ringlead.

But if Robby doesn’t want her to say anything to anyone, how can she go behind his back to do that?

Sam’s face twists into something painful, a grimace that always makes itself visible when she loses something. “That’s not fair. It’s not fair that you’re trying to spare everyone’s feelings but your own. Zara deserves to get kicked out of the competition, at least. I know there’s no way of reporting it without letting the senseis find out, but…Robby, it’s not fair,” she says again, as though he’s not completely aware of how unfair it is. “That’s not—it’s not—you didn’t deserve that. No one deserves that. I don’t…I want to help you. Tell me how I can help you,” she pleads.

Above everything, Sam hates feeling helpless.

He looks down, staring at their joined hands with his messy hair sticking out in different ways. It shatters her heart completely, thinking of him coming back to this room in the morning, completely out of it, and then being alone. It reminds her of how she’d cried the first time she found out he’d been living without electricity and all by himself at his apartment. Alone then, too.

But fuck that, she thinks spitefully, she’d made sure he had food and water and a home then, and she’ll make sure he always has at least one person on his side now. Even if it means not getting to beat the shit out of Zara, even if it means snapping at her teammates if they badmouth the other captain. Robby’s been through enough. She doesn’t care about winning this much.

“Can you stay here?” he requests softly, and Sam nods vigorously.

“Yeah. I’ll have room service bring us up some water and food, okay? You haven’t eaten?” He shakes his head. “Okay, I’ll order up some pancakes. And eggs too. And ice cream?”

He shrugs. “Whatever you want.”

It should be whatever he wants. But no one goes through things like this with their appetite as their first priority. So she gets a little bit of everything off the breakfast menu, as Robby lays back down, staring up at the ceiling again. She thanks the host, before hanging up and joining him. They’re both above the blankets, not really looking at each other, wondering what to do. 

This time, Sam takes the initiative and reaches out to hold his hand. He squeezes and she can feel the gratitude.

“You’re, um…” Robby speaks up after a few minutes. “Really knowledgeable about this. I mean, fuck, that’s the wrong word. You just seem like you know what you’re doing.”

There’s a question in there, but she doesn’t know if she wants to talk about the answer. Remembering that hand, trying to touch her, the sinking feeling in her stomach when she’d realized how fucking stupid she’d been.

“We weren’t in the same school then,” Sam begins hesitantly, “but a little bit before we met, I…I was on a date. The guy tried to…score.” She cringes just saying that. “He never got far, I stopped him, but he still tried. And the next day he spread a rumor that we. Y’know. Did stuff. Pretty much everyone believed him.”

There’s no answer, so she turns her head only to realize Robby is all but glaring, not at her, but his brows are pinched so hard that she’d believe he’d invent time travel to prevent it from happening to her in the first place. “Who?”

Any other day, she would say it didn’t matter. Today, because it’s Robby, she answers simply, “Kyler.”

His eyes widen. Sam knows what he’s thinking immediately. He’d hung out with Kyler. Had practically been friends with him. At that time, it hadn’t felt as big a betrayal as him being friends with Tory, because Robby only just learned about Kyler—he’d always known that Tory had attacked her. And if it was anyone else, on any other day, Sam might’ve asked if it would have mattered if he knew about Kyler. If Robby had been so bent on hurting her, would he have really stopped at that boundary?

(And would it have hurt him so much if she had cheated on him with anyone other than the guy who had humiliated him at the All Valley? The guy who his dad had chosen over him? Had she crossed the unimaginable boundary first? Had she deserved what came next?)

She’ll probably never have her answer. But Robby offers a muted, “I’m sorry, Sam,” which makes her need for an answer a little less urgent. “Does Miguel know…?”

“No.” Of course he didn’t. A few months ago, after his campus visit, Miguel had laughed recounting everything to her, saying Kyler’s kinda okay now? and she’d said nothing, only smiling along and pretending that she didn’t resent it. Miguel didn’t know what he’d tried. She’d never spoken about it until now. But he had known about the rumors. Hell, he’d been the one to beat Kyler up for them. For all of Hawk’s snickering about how everyone Kyler had bullied got to beat him up, she’d never had the opportunity. 

Once again, Sam wonders if it would matter. A second later, she reminds herself that this isn’t about her. Not right now.

“It’s okay,” she murmurs, even though it isn’t.

After a few seconds, she asks, “What about Chozen?”

“What about him?”

“Would you tell him? He doesn’t really do the whole disappointed dad act.”

Softly, he snorts. “Yeah, but he overreacts. Besides, word will still get back out to my dad.”

She turns to face him. “So you’re just going to…let her get away with this?” It’s crude of her to say, and a year of competitions and karate gang wars have definitely twisted her mindset into one that only seems to care about winning. And this isn’t just losing. This is an attack, a blow, a sucker punch when someone isn’t looking. 

Robby squeezes her hand again, facing her too, a never-ending, tired fight in his eyes. “What else am I supposed to do, Sam?”

It’s a genuine question. She’s tempted to simply pull him into a hug and hold him close until she was sure Zara was out of the vicinity, the building, the fucking country. She’s tempted for her answer to just be for him to lie low and let her take care of it—and whether taking care of it looks like going to the board and informing them what happened or breaking down Zara’s door then crane kicking her Dad-style in the face, she hasn’t decided yet.

There’s a knock on the door that makes them both flinch, and their shoulders relax at the same time when the person calls out “room service!” Sam stands, going to grab the food.

She might have overdone it, she realizes, when she runs out of hands to hold everything. Eggs, pancakes, bacon, hash browns, waffles, donuts, eclairs, ice cream, small cakes, and more. 

Right as she’s about to request that the delivery guy just leave the cart with them, Robby comes up behind her, taking the rest. He thanks the guy and closes the door, and their eyes meet in bewilderment until a small laugh escapes him. Sam’s heart flutters at the sound, amazed that he even has it in him.

“You really ordered everything, huh? You know we have a limit on how much we can charge on the card?”

“It’s okay.” Sam puts everything in her arms onto the hotel table, sitting on top of it before opening the bags. “I’ll charge it to my card before my dad finds out and gets pissed.”

Robby nods, setting the trays in his hands down as well. They both look down, and her stomach even growls, but neither of them dig in. 

He looks uneasy.

“Hey,” she says softly, “penny for your thoughts?”

Gnawing at his lower lip, Robby sits on the rolling chair in front of her. His expression is pensive, and he makes no motion to touch the food, so Sam doesn’t either. It wouldn’t be fair.

“How am I gonna do the next event?” he whispers hopelessly. “Seeing Tory and Kwon is already messing with me enough. Now Zara? I don’t want to see her. I—I’m getting the feeling that if I do, I’ll be off my game even more. I don’t wanna fuck this up, but I will.”

Sam takes a deep breath. “Robby, can I be honest?” A small nod. “You’re putting way too much importance on the competition. I know it means a lot to you and everyone else to win, and I want to win too, more than anything, but…” She thinks for a second, wondering if she really wants to sue more discourse, but then decides screw it, she may as well. “You’ve been dealt a really shitty hand here. Our dads haven’t been fair to you. Our team hasn’t been fair to you. And I contributed to that when I told everyone about Kreese and Tory, and I’m sorry. I can’t make everyone else change what they think, so I don’t know if this helps you at all, but even if you singlehandedly cost us the next match, I won’t be mad at you. And no one’s gonna say shit to you if I can help it. If you don’t want me to tell anyone what Zara did, fine, I can respect that. I haven’t told anyone about Kyler before either. But I’m also telling you that I’m in your corner whether you end up needing me or not. If you wanna win this thing, let’s eat and go train right now. Somewhere outside, so we don’t have to see Zara, or Kwon, or Tory. If you want to forfeit, I’ll help you figure out how and tell anyone you don’t wanna deliver the news to. If you wanna just stay in here and talk or not talk or order a hundred more things we won’t eat, I’ll do it.” She sets her jaw.  “We’re co-captains. It’s about time we act like it. I don’t care about the competition. You’re my friend. I care about you.”

She’s out of breath by the time she finishes her spiel, and she already knows there’s a million things she forgot to say, and a million more she knows she sounds privileged over—it’s easy for her not to care about the competition when she’s not pinning her entire future on it, of course, and she’s almost about to apologize but stops herself, because Robby Keene has never looked at her the way he is now.

His lips are parted, breathless. His cheeks are tinted red, less in embarrassment and more in astonishment. There’s tears in his eyes, but just like hers earlier, they don’t fall. The two gems shine like emeralds, the same way they do when he gets a point on someone in a match. She always notices them, bad as might sound when she is someone else’s girlfriend, but she can’t help what her mind focuses on.

“You’re in my corner?” Robby repeats, ever so quietly and with a tremor in his voice.

With a small, encouraging smile, she answers, “Always, Keene.” At least, starting now.

“Thank you.” His voice cracks, and Sam thinks it might be okay that she didn’t say all that she wanted to. She thinks Robby gets it. He’s good at that, at knowing what she’s thinking.

 “You wanna train?”

And that’s why it’s hardly surprising that he nods, because she clearly is also good at knowing what he’s thinking. There’s always more fight left in Robby even after life makes it its personal mission to try and beat it out of him. 

And speaking of which…

“I promise not to tell anyone if you don’t want me to.” She reaches over and squeezes his hand just like before. The image of herself in a black gi flashes in her mind’s eye, and for the first time, she isn’t scared of it. “But I also promise that if we advance, and I meet Zara on the mat, I’m going to knock her out so painfully her sponsors will never even put her face on their damn coffee mugs.”

She half expects him to argue, but instead—

“Ice cream first, it’s melting,” Robby says, and Sam agrees, and they eat.

[ghostsvacuumcleaner]

Okay, so I just read Salvatore and like, I've had this thought in my head for a while now. Kinda hoping for smut? I was thinking of a fan fiction of Leon's birthday. He comes home from the office, most of the lights in the house/apartment are out. There's candles and a birthday cake for him. And since his last name is Kennedy, like JFK, The reader is naked but does what Marilyn Monroe did for JFK'S birthday and sing him happy birthday!

Okay so this request was really fun to write! You just gave me the most plausible excuse to write some more porn, which honestly it's my favorite thing to do. Thank you for the trust and for this amazing idea and request; and I hope you enjoy it ♥

Happy b-day, Agent Kennedy |3.4k

ao3 | masterlist ✦ Pairing: Leon S. Kennedy x f! reader ✦ Summary: Its Leon's birthday. He thought you went out for a business trip, when actually, you have a little surprise for him at home. ✦ TW: NSFW MINORS DNI, explicit, f!reader, little to none f! physical appearence descriptions, smut, very much porn, soft dom leon, p in v, unprotected, lots of dirty talk, very pornographic, bit of fluff in the end

Leon was staring at his computer screen with little to no concentration at this point. He had spent the entire day trying to form connections between two clues he received on someone that the government had been sure was working for Umbrella. He sighed in frustration and let his body fall behind in the big chair; squeezed his eyes, he was tired.

So tired, the clock hit 8pm and he was still far from home. So tired he apparently forgot a very essential fact: his very own birthday. 

Realization fell over him when he unblocked his phone screen and checked the last text you’ve sent that day - a big red heart, after a cute “Happy birthday, bae! I’m sorry for not being there with u. Will compensate. x”. He closed his eyes, mindly damning himself for his workaholic behavior, how could he forget about his own birthday? “Must have lost my fucking mind, it’s drinking day.” He muttered to himself, before getting up and starting to pack up.

As much as he wanted you there with him, he was comprehensive to the fact that it wasn’t your choice not to be: you received an emergency call from work that same day earlier, and needed to pick up the first available plane to Seattle. Leon felt like a needy dog: always near you, always with his hands all over you – always checking you out. He didn’t want to look even more desperate about you and grumble about something out of your control, he understood better than anyone that work came first and foremost in situations like that.

He couldn’t help but feel frustrated to know that you wouldn’t be waiting for him when he got home; a box of beer for each, classic rock playing and you – dancing with you. Eating you. His expectations were put down, he would get drunk alone, listen to his songs alone, and probably find some relief in those polaroids of yours he affectionately kept to himself.

He gathered the documents and papers on the case and put it together in his backpack, turned off the lights and went out; let a deep sigh while going to the elevator towards the parking lot to pick up his car and go home.

━ ⟡ ━

Leon held two boxes of beer along with a bag with a few snacks and a tiny cupcake. He gave a little wave to a neighbor with a small, gentle smile on his face as he fit the key into the door lock and spinned it; to his surprise, the door was already open. His eyebrows instinctively frowned, he felt a cold feeling rising through his spine, he got worried. When working with what he worked with, caution became part of your daily routine; he held the bag in one hand and opened the door slowly, his adrenaline running through his veins, he was ready for anything.

There was a tiny source of light lighting up the spacious and cozy apartment living room; the light trembled through the shadows on the walls; candles. They were everywhere, some white, others red. An intoxicating, delicious smell floated through the air – your smell. Your perfume seemed to be deep-rooted everywhere. There was a small homemade cake on the center table, twenty-nine little candles lit up on top of it. 

The agent's alert state disappeared almost instantly, immediate relief swelling his lungs and releasing the most delightful breath of his life, and he couldn't contain the little mischievous smile that formed in the corner of his lips. He took a few steps forward to reach one of the chairs and leave the bags he carried on it, and intended to find you right after. 

Before he could even do anything, at the moment his figure gave a generous space between himself and the door, it shut itself behind him; Leon felt a shiver crawling through his spine, his stomach contracted slightly feeling your soft, naughty hands caressing his belly, raising his shirt up just above his navel, just enough so you could touch his skin under it with ease.

Your arms wrapped him, and your body clung to his back. His mind became white, slave to the sensations that you caused him; he could know by the perfect shape of your breasts against his back, and your spiked and delicious nipples, that you were naked. He felt a scratch coming down through his belly, the heat beginning to appear and burning his skin after every touch; your sharp nails scratched the skin of his chest slowly, those hypnotic movements of yours made him feel the blood flowing through his veins increasingly stronger, warmer, needier.

“Happy birthday to you…” You started to sing, your soft low voice tickled against his ear. You had to stand on the tip of your feet to reach him; one of your hands rose through his chest to his neck, causing him to drop his head back. You left a slow kiss followed by a roaring laugh down against his ear. “Happy birthday, Agent Kennedy... Happy birthday, to you,” you finished, the intonation of your voice seemed to move with every screw inside his head. 

“Full of surprises aren’t you, babe?” He asked in a rough, low voice, seeming like he could hardly control the excitement that at that point was already apparent in his voice. 

Leon closed his eyes with a smile on his face, he licked his lips slowly, already able to feel the resistance of his pants straining against his hardened cock starting to bother him. 

“Only for you. A special birthday deserves a special gift, hm?”

You smiled against his skin as you traced gentle, slow kisses against his jaw, his neck, left a bite there. Your hand squeezed slightly around his neck, your nails briefly crawling onto the skin with some traces of a recently shaved beard. Leon let out a low purr, the desire and tension almost unbearable to him at that point; his hand abruptly grabbed onto your wrist, and held firmly as he turned around himself.

In a matter of seconds, you felt him pulling you closer, his other hand grabbed your waist with desire as he attacked you with a ferocious kiss. You repaid in the same intensity, your arm wrapped around his neck, your hand grabbing the outstanding blonde threads that got messy with the intensity of the movement in your embrace, your body burned - his hand digging your hip, your ass - he tightened his grip heavily, as if he stated - your body was his.

“Want to drive me crazy, don’t you?” He muttered against your skin as he intensified his wet, messy kisses against your jaw and neck. His arm contracted in pure force when he raised you with one hand, causing you to wrap your legs around him in an intimate hug; you sighed in pleasure. That side of his belonged to you, and only you. No one else could provoke him that way, make him that horny and needy with only a touch, only a plead. That one Leon you had taking you, ravishing you right now was the death of you; when he held you tight, squeezed you with so much will, marked your skin with his bare hands.

“I like when you get wild, babe don’t blame me...” you hummed, trying to contain your heavy breath and the panting noises that came out of your mouth. “It’s your fault, I’m such a whore for you.” you smiled mischievous, biting your lip.

One of his hands still held you against him, the other moved to your neck as he moved into the combined kitchen next to the living room room; as his hands climbed over your body around the curve of your hips, he pressed you hard against the kitchen bench. Your back hit the cold surface and his body projected against yours, his weight immobilized you and you couldn’t hold back a soft moan when you started feeling the bulge on his pants pressing against the core between your legs.

“How am I supposed to not think about you all of the time when you’re like this…” he muttered, pressing his restrained cock against you once again. “Grab it.” he ordered, and you did it. Your hand squeezed into his rock hard cock through the thick fabric of his pants, starting to do slow and soft movements; he bite his lip and let out a growl in yearning.

Leon lowered himself, his mouth skillfully descended through your neck leaving a wet trace through your skin, his hand tightened around one of your breasts as if it were his favorite toy; you purred when he increased his grip strength, and breathe out deeply when he let go, the man’s lip suckling one of your nipples, his tongue slowly rolling into your most sensitive skin.

“No, you look at me.” He commanded, and one of his hands abruptly held your face by your jaw and forced you to lock your eyes onto his. He glared at you, lust overflowing from his look. Leon seeked to see your reactions, mindly recording them in his thoughts; to eat you alive, ravish you. One of his hands stimulated your nipple, the other squeezed raw your breast giving his mouth enough space to consume it. “Good...” he praised, as his kisses descended through your stomach, belly, fuck.

“L-Leon... Ah, fuck...” you purred, your body melting in pleasure against his mouth.

You were indecently trying to control your breath, but his slow movements seemed to destroy any part of you that was capable of self-control. Your hips instinctively moved against the volume in his pants, but Leon didn’t seem determined to finish you off quickly. He wanted to take his time with you. 

He pushed your body backwards against the bench, raising your legs around his shoulders; his head found space between your thighs, one of his hands palmed your stomach, pressing it down against the bench while the other tightened against one of your thighs. His tongue parted your folds in a smooth, almost insensitive movement. You felt your breath catching on your throat.

“You wanted that? You seem needy, darling.” he teased, the hand that caressed your thigh being replaced by now a finger movement, his index and middle finger parting your folds steadily leaving your clit even more exposed to him. “So wet this little cunt, aw...” he whispered, suckling you slowly. His body trembled and you frowned in pleasure with his tongue twirling around your clit as he traced slow kisses and slow suckles and velvety kisses against your core, your juices flowing through your thighs mixed with the spittle he was leaving there.

You growled in response, a submissive purr, a proof of your desperate need for him — more, of him. His hand against your belly intensified your sensations and made you squirm under him, your body started to slowly and autonomically move against his, your hip pushing yourself in a thrust against his mouth; you felt your conscience drop further every time he’d moan against you, like he was eating the most delicious meal he ever had in his lifetime.

“You close, aren’t ya?” he muttered with a naughty smile, why did he had to know you so well.

You lied. You were ashamed of how quick you felt you’d come. Tried to push him away from you, vain efforts - he ignored your hand and your push, and started to only push you harder towards your climax. He couldn’t hold his own needs by seeing you squirm ever so willingly onto his hands, that at this point, couldn’t help themselves but to work on his belt in record timing. He unbuckled it, unzipped his combat pants with ease just enough so he could pull down his boxers. His cock bobbled out in a very deserved relief, gleaming wet in desire.

Grabbing tight onto his length, Leon finally started pumping himself in slow, hard movements - masturbating himself to the obscene picture of you spreading your legs wide to him right now; everything about it was enticing to him: your wet cunt, your teary eyes while you were seeming so dumb, trying to hold back your orgasm, take off his control of you. You could hear the low and slicky sound of his movements while he was eating your pussy off with pleasure.

“Stop being foolish, my dummy baby… come for me.” he asked, with a pleading expression. “On my tongue, c’mon…”

“Leon, babe no- s-stop I’m- I can’t hold it longer…” you warned, and you were right - your eyebrows frowned in a painful, pleasured expression; your body started moving against your will stopping you from even trying to get away from his tongue. Your orgasm got you slowly, not on a surprise - like a very slow flowing sensation down your lower belly. You felt your body stopping for once, your feets squeezing themselves while Leon felt the little trembling pulses of your clit against his mouth.

“Delicious,” he whispered, licking off his lips and tasting every little piece of your slick he could possibly have. “You’re delicious.”

Another slow lick of his between your folds made you spasm a bit, you cursed under your breath before he smirked and left your pussy to rest coming up to you, kissing your body along the way, stomach, collar, mouth. He got rid of his shirt in record timing - you could feel his wet cock against your thighs, and so he pulled you out the bench and backed off slightly. The sudden void between your bodies made you whimper in need, but when you interrupted your kiss looking forward to complaining, the image of his got to you like a punch on your lower belly just again.

Shirtless; his pants open only enough so his cock was there, hanging ever so hard, twitching in need, reddened by the desire - pulsating, his arm contracted by the movements he was doing, pumping his length while staring you, drinking you in, licking off your slick from his own lips. 

He took you again, roughly putting you on your back and you couldn’t help but to mischievously smile, a naughty look on your face while your hands palmed the bench surface. His gaze was locked on your small figure under him; like a little bitch of his. A good, little bitch he had all to himself. 

“See how you get me… Fuck, can’t even hold myself, make me look like a teenager all again.” he hummed, feeling your wetness with a hand that palmed your cunt entirely, making you space out your legs. You could feel his tip against your folds now, tracing a path between them - it made you burn, tremble. “You want it? Yeah?” he asked, torturing you, finding it very amusing how your voice would get thinner and thinner, needier and needier.

“Yes, please.” you pleaded, biting your lip already so wet the sole contact of his cock with your core was making a nasty noise.

Leon wanted to make you beg some more; he wanted to, you knew it. He wanted to see you asking, pleading for more so helplessly, but he, himself couldn’t hold back any longer, he craved you. He took a handful of your hair and pulled it to him, making you arch your back just enough for your head to almost touch his chest; you were so drenched you needed no stretching, no preparations and he so knew it when he slowly fit his length onto your cunt. Your walls tightened to the feeling of his cock, the thickness making you let out a little cry in pleasure; he bent his head back, little drops of sweat forming on his head from how hard he was holding himself from not ravishing you restlessly for once.

He purred, and you felt that tip of his poke your insides the moment he fit the whole length; he stood, giving you a couple seconds to get used to this new filling of your empty space. God, how you wish you were filled all of the fucking time.

He kissed your neck, and breath heavy against your ear, none of you being able of forming complete senseful phrases at the moment; his hand was digging onto your waist, his body towering over yours, his weight pressing you even further against the counter you held so tightly into. 

“I want to die like this” he muttered, against your ear. “Inside this tight little cunt of yours”, he took a bite to your ear and before you could formulate a response, he thrust.

You purred even louder, your breath heavy, your mind going empty for a few seconds as he started to pump into you harder, those slow hard movements, your walls clenching hard against him while he was thrusting his hips so hard you felt like you could break anytime.

“Don’t stop-” was all you could say, your voice got caught stuck in your throat, your nails were digging tightly onto the counter wood; you were on your tiptoes so he could reach your entrance, your feets started looking for space as he bent you even further, stepping on top of his. 

He let go of your hair for a moment and pushed you down the counter, his hand pressing your head against the surface. The movements were wild, filled with passion, with fire, lust, chemistry - your sex was the best, you knew it, he knew it. He could barely hold himself together, he turned feral in a matter of seconds. The grunts of his need, your moans of pleasure alltogether. 

“You gonna kill me-” he grunted. “That’s it… That’s it, babe.” his voice was almost mute, you knew he was trying to hold back just as much as you. 

Your legs started to tremble from the effort, from your heavy breathing and from the pleasure that started taking over you once again; 

“Leon-” you moaned just again along with some incoherent sounds, and bite your lower lip, you could barely move yourself right now, he was toying you like a doll, making you his the way he fucking wanted it. He grunted out loud, you felt his hand reach up to your pussy through you body and stimulating over your sensitive and hurting clit - all hopes you had of holding yourself were vain at that moment, you lost the game; couldn’t hold any longer.

Your body squirmed and you let your head fall behind, a long and loud painful moan came out of your mouth, the pain mixed with the pure pleasure, your second orgasm of that day - it was almost too overwhelming for you. 

Leon’s stomach contracted, his muscles showed up, the veins on his arms were jumping from the efforts, sweat dripping off his forehead, his discharge was like a shockwave against his entire body; he shivered, almost unable of holding himself back the moment he pulled out and gave himself only a few pumps, enough so a big load of his cum hit your buttcheek, slowly dripping from your thigh while he tried to hold his breath steady; his head was now against your back and you could feel his breath catching your skin from time to time, while you tried to gain off conscience again.

You closed your eyes, tired and completely satisfied. He kissed your back ever so gently now, his arms wrapping around your waist and pulling you together standing again, letting your body rest against the counter in some support; after fixing his pants back in place.

“Thank you.” he muttered, digging his face against the curve of your neck, hugging you into a tight and passionate embrace. You smiled a little against his skin. “you tricked me just fine.” he raised his eyebrows.

“I know, right?” you laughed off a little, looking at him - his eyes, then low at his lips before stealing a little kiss. “You brought beer, right? I baked a cake. I’m not sure if it’s edible but it does smell nice.” you raised an eyebrow and he couldn’t hold off a little laugh to your commentary.

“Yeah, I did.” he sighed, not wanting to do anything else but hugging you in that embrace for at least some other hours, or perhaps for the entire night if you’d let him. “I love you.” he muttered, giving you a long affectionate kiss on the cheek; you couldn’t hold back a genuine, little smile.

“In italian.” you asked in a purr, your eyes with a solicit gleam. He brushed your hair with his fingers, before giving in.

“Ti amo.” he smiled, to which you answered a truly loving “I love you too, agent.”