#and almost every expansion pack

[ezlo-x]

I am begging on my knees for new tloz fans who have only played botw, to get themselves an emulator and start playing I take no excuses. Or read the tloz lore books (Hyrule Historia/Encyclopedia) and read the lore of the older games (and ignore the timeline cause it's pointless that will make you more confused 👉👈)

you got two weeks before totk releases go go go!!!!!!! 💥💥💥💥💥💥💥

[fushiguro-megloomy]

strawberry wine

[part 2] pairing: modern au!viktor x artist!reader prompt: “if somebody were to kiss me, i’d want that person to be you” tags: you're jayces childhood bff, no use of y/n, alcohol, heavy kissing, drunk kissing, basically just a bunch of buildup towards a smutty fwb part two???, viktor being a menace wc: 4k notes: AU where nobody is sick or dying yay! also i think i managed to keep this pretty gn!reader but any future parts will be afab/fem art is from pinterest, dividers from chachachannah & webc00re

You never meant for things to get this far. You told yourself it was just a little fun, harmless and fleeting—nothing more. You had a career to focus on, friendships in the balance. But now, here you are, pacing the living room carpet thin, your cuticles raw from nervous chewing, and your thoughts spiraling into places you swore they’d never go.

It feels juvenile, almost laughable, like some smitten teenager waiting by the phone and sneaking kisses in shadowed corners. You were supposed to be above this, weren’t you? I mean, as a grown adult you should know how to keep it casual, uncomplicated. 

But nothing about this is simple anymore. Not the friendship. Not the secrets. And certainly not the way your heart betrays you every time his name crosses your mind.

It definitely wasn’t supposed to be like this.

Moving back to the city hadn’t been on the bingo card for this year, but here you were. Your life had been tucked away in the quiet of rural landscapes, where your art had room to breathe—endless skies, rolling hills, and the kind of solitude that made inspiration flow without any distractions. But your career had expanded, and with that expansion came the relentless pressure of galleries, art buyers, and a future that demanded more from you than that peaceful escape ever could. 

So, the city had called you back. Concrete towers, crowded streets, the city offered more. Shows. Opportunities. Jayce. The only thing about this cold, steel jungle that still felt like home. Jayce—your childhood friend, your constant in a world that had never stopped changing. Thrown together since you were practically in diapers, he was the one piece of your old life that had somehow survived the years and distance between you two. And now, after what felt like an eternity, here he was, sprawled across your tiny couch, looking too comfortable for someone who was just supposed to be a guest. The apartment was a bit small, as city apartments tended to be—packed between towering neighbors—but Jayce’s presence was the only thing about it that felt remotely like home.

"You know," he said, half-lounging. “I’ve got someone I want you to meet.”

You didn’t look up from your canvas, your brush already dipping into the paints like second nature. “Who?”

“Viktor” 

You paused, only long enough for your brush to hover midair before you flicked your gaze in his direction. “Ah, yes. The famous business partner.”

Jayce’s grin didn’t falter, but there was something softer behind it now. “Yeah, something like that. But seriously, he’s a good guy. Brilliant, actually. You two would get along.”

You didn’t reply at first. Instead, you let the brush finish its arc, eyes back on your work, moving with the rhythm of a familiar task. “mhm” you murmured, distracted by the way the strokes of paint were bleeding together. “If he’s anything like you, how bad can it be?”

But Jayce, of course, wasn’t done. His voice took on that soft  tone he reserved for moments when he really wanted to get his point across. “I’m serious, okay? I want you two to meet. You both mean a lot to me, and I think you’ll really hit it off.”

You didn’t look up, but you felt a weight behind his words, pushing against you with silent pressure. “Yeah? I’m sure it’ll happen, then.”

Jayce’s eyes lit up, a flash of triumph in them, like he’d just won some small but important battle. “You’ll see. I’m telling you—when you meet him, you’ll click. I know it.”

You leaned back in your chair, releasing a slow exhale, the kind that said everything without saying anything at all. A nonchalant nod was all you offered, unwilling to give him the satisfaction of saying more. “Fine. Fine. I’ll meet him. But don’t make a whole thing out of it.”

Jayce chuckled, and there was an odd note of relief in the sound, like he’d just been granted some unspoken permission. “No big deal, I swear. But you’ll see. You two are more alike than you think.”

-

When you finally did meet Viktor, Jayce was practically vibrating, his energy as unsubtle as ever. It had been after one of your gallery openings, a night you’d half-dragged yourself through on fumes and politeness. Your heels had barely cleared the threshold of his apartment before the faintest twinge of suspicion began to creep in—something about the way he hovered, grinning like a man with a secret.

“You deserve a good meal after tonight,” Jayce had said, ushering you in with the kind of charm that usually preceded one of his schemes. “Thought you’d want to celebrate somewhere that doesn’t reek of overpriced wine and small talk.”

You rolled your eyes but let yourself be corralled, the promise of food outweighing the odd note in his voice. His large apartment, at least, was familiar territory: warm, cluttered with bits of tech and sentimental junk from years past, the faint scent of whatever candles he refused to admit he hoarded lingering in the air.

And then you heard it—the low murmur of another voice, sharp-edged and vaguely amused, drifting from the kitchen.

Jayce froze, his grin faltering for a split second before it reappeared, brighter than ever. “Oh, right,” he said, far too casually. “Viktor’s here.”

You blinked, narrowing your eyes at him. “You conveniently forgot to mention that part.”

“Come on,” he pushed, throwing an arm around your shoulders and steering you toward the source of the voice. “It’s no big deal. Just dinner. You’ll like him, I promise.”

And there he was, perched by the kitchen counter with a faintly perplexed look on his face. He was slimmer than you’d expected, pale and sharp-featured, with hair that looked like it hadn’t met a comb in days. His amber eyes flicked up to meet yours, narrowing slightly as if he were trying to solve a puzzle that had just been placed in front of him.

“Ah,” he said, his accent lilting and crisp, “so this is the infamous artist.”

You shot a glare at Jayce, who was already heading for the stove with the kind of forced cheer that made it painfully clear he’d orchestrated the whole thing. “You owe me for this,” you muttered under your breath, stepping further into the kitchen.

Viktor’s lips twitched, the barest hint of a smirk appearing. “And here I thought I was being ambushed. Seems we’re both victims of his enthusiasm.”

Jayce turned from the stove, wooden spoon in hand, his expression utterly unrepentant. “You’ll thank me later.”

The dinner was simple but undeniably good—Jayce’s doing, of course. The man couldn’t let anyone step into his apartment without insisting they be properly fed, and tonight was no exception. Roast chicken, buttery vegetables with rice, warm bread that filled the space with its yeasty aroma—it was the kind of meal that made you feel at home even when you weren’t.

Conversation flowed easily around the table, mostly carried by Jayce, but Viktor wasn’t exactly quiet, either. He had a way of chiming in at just the right moment, his dry humor landing squarely between Jayce’s more exuberant anecdotes and your own occasional contributions.

“You mean to tell me,” Viktor said at one point, leaning back slightly in his chair, “that Jayce still hasn’t learned to cook rice without burning it? After all these years?”

Jayce, halfway through explaining some disastrous culinary attempt from his youth, turned to glare at him. “Excuse me, this rice was cooked perfectly.”

“It was fine,” you agreed, though the memory of a slightly crunchy bite or two made your lips twitch in amusement.

Viktor’s amber eyes sparkled as he gestured broadly. “Oh, fine! A glowing review, truly. Don’t let it go to your head.”

Jayce groaned, but there was no real bite to it. “You’re insufferable.”

“And yet,” Viktor said, raising his glass in a mock toast, “here I am. Invited to dinner. Again.”

Jayce just rolled his eyes and went back to his story, leaving you to glance at Viktor with a small smile. He caught it, of course, and gave a little shrug as if to say, what can you do? For all his sharp humor, he was easy to talk to, his wit balanced by an underlying warmth that kept him from coming off as too cutting.

Which was why you were only mildly surprised when the spoon incident happened.

Dinner was winding down, Jayce had disappeared into the kitchen to fuss over coffee, leaving you and Viktor to handle the cleanup.

He moved with a surprising ease, balancing a stack of plates in one hand, his cane steady in the other. It was a casual sort of competence, as though he’d long since adapted to whatever limitations life had handed him. You hadn’t thought much of it, impressed by how naturally he maneuvered, until the soft clatter of a spoon hitting the floor broke the quiet rhythm of tidying.

“Ah,” Viktor said, glancing down at the rogue utensil with a faint frown as he set down the plate stack. “Of course.”

You paused mid-step, glancing between him and the spoon. “Need a hand?”

He tilted his head, his expression a little too innocent. “If it’s not too much trouble. You know, the leg and all...”

“Oh, for—” Jayce’s voice floated from the kitchen, half-annoyed but not quite committed to intervening.

You sighed, setting down the napkins you’d been folding. “Yeah, sure. I’ve got it.”

But just as you crouched down, Viktor shifted. A casual tap of his cane sent the spoon skittering across the floor, its metallic clink faintly echoing as it landed farther away.

You froze, staring at the spoon in disbelief, then turned your gaze to him slowly. “You’re kidding.”

Viktor’s lips twitched, the faintest glimmer of amusement flickering across his face. “What?”

“You just—”

“What?” he repeated, wider-eyed this time, his free hand gesturing vaguely toward his cane. “I’m handicapped.”

Jayce reappeared in the doorway, a coffee pot in hand and a look of pure exasperation on his face. “Viktor.”

“What?” Viktor said again, his voice laced with mock indignation. “I am!”

Jayce muttered something unintelligible as he poured coffee, his focus shifting between you and Viktor like he couldn’t decide which one of you deserved his scolding more. Meanwhile, you straightened, crossing your arms as a grin tugged at the corners of your mouth despite your best efforts.

“You’re lucky I’m feeling generous,” you said, stepping across the room to retrieve the spoon—again.

“Very generous,” Viktor agreed, his tone breezy. “Honestly, it’s quite inspiring. Jayce, you should take notes.”

Jayce groaned, setting the coffee pot down with a little too much force. “You’re both ridiculous.”

But you were already laughing, the sound bubbling up before you could stop it. As you returned the spoon to the table with a pointed look, Viktor gave you a small, almost triumphant smile. And maybe, you could see what Jayce meant when he’d said you’d get along.

-

The first time you realized you might feel more than just friendship for Viktor was when you noticed the way your sketches had started to change.

It had been weeks—maybe even a couple of months—since that dinner with Jayce, when you had awkwardly danced around each other, getting to know one another. The initial weirdness had faded into easy companionship, and you found yourself spending more time with Viktor than you expected. You hadn’t quite noticed it happening, but somewhere along the line, you’d become an unintentional trio. Jayce had been bursting with barely-contained glee at how easily the two of you seemed to get along, and it made your chest warm, knowing how much that mattered to him. It felt... right, this newfound ease between the three of you, a quiet sort of harmony that made you smile more than you expected.

But as the days passed, something shifted without you realizing it. You were at home one evening, flipping through your sketchbook, the soft pastel dust smudging the edges of the pages as your fingers moved. The forms you’d drawn were abstract models, capturing shapes and shadows in a fluid, organic way. It wasn’t anything new—nothing that stood out. But then, you stopped.

There, in the shadows of the page, you saw it.

The subtle arch of a jawline. The curve of lips that you knew too well. Even the moles, small and almost unremarkable, but there they were—on the page, right beneath your fingertips. You blinked and flipped to another sketch, only to see it again. A line here, a shadow there. It wasn’t him exactly, but it was.

To the untrained eye, maybe it wouldn’t have been obvious. Hell, maybe even to you on any other day, it might’ve gone unnoticed. But now, in the quiet of your studio, the shapes were almost unmistakable. The soft angle of his nose, the way his eyes looked when he was thinking too hard, the way his smile would pull up on one side when he was being particularly smug.

You frowned, setting the sketchbook down, your hands hovering above it as if it had betrayed you. Was this some kind of coincidence? Or was it something more, something you had been avoiding realizing? You’d never consciously set out to draw him, but there he was, tucked into the lines and curves of your art like an uninvited guest you hadn’t known you were entertaining.

It was ridiculous, you told yourself. Of course it was just... coincidence. But even as you tried to convince yourself, there was a small, unspoken truth sitting in your chest, heavy and undeniable, and the first time you realized Viktor might see you as more than just a friend was subtle, almost imperceptible, but it hit you all the same.

He mentioned a piece you’d shown him, his tone thoughtful. “You’ve been doing something different lately. I can’t quite put my finger on it, but there’s a change. It’s...” His gaze flickered to yours, then dropped back to the floor, but the brief flash in his eyes sent an unexpected flutter through your chest. “...more. More than what you usually show.”

The words themselves were harmless, even complimentary, but it was the way they hung between you that made something inside you stir—something you couldn’t name, not yet. You didn’t think much of it at first, but the way his eyes lingered just a second longer than necessary made your breath catch. The way the corners of his mouth lifted into a half-smile, not teasing, but... fond.

It was a simple thing. A fleeting moment. And yet, it lingered in your mind as you retreated to your apartment, your thoughts whirling with the possibility that Viktor—your friend, the one you had so casually laughed and bantered with for months—might be seeing you differently, too.

The shift was subtle, but it was there. And it unsettled you more than you cared to admit.

-

Everything came to a boiling point one night at your apartment. You’d ventured into town earlier that day, mostly for a change of scenery, and happened upon a small farmers market. You couldn’t resist grabbing a few bottles of strawberry wine, its sweetness and fruity undertones practically calling your name. Jayce had scoffed at it when you got back, claiming it was too sugary to have any real punch. “There’s no way I’ll even get drunk off this,” he’d muttered with a dismissive wave.

An hour later, he was sprawled out on your pullout, snoring softly with a stupid grin plastered across his face. You and Viktor stood nearby, both trying—and failing—to suppress your amusement at how quickly Jayce had succumbed to the wine’s effects. For all his size, Jayce was a surprising lightweight.

“I swear, every time,” you said, laughing quietly.

Viktor, leaning against the doorway, gave a soft chuckle. “Some people just don’t know when to stop.”

You rolled your eyes, glancing over at the slumbering man. “Guess we let him sleep it off.”

“Let him have his beauty rest,” Viktor teased, his voice light as he nodded toward the bottles. “We can always finish it ourselves.”

So you did, winding up on the roof with the cold night air around you. The worn-out couch up there had seen better days, but it was still enough to settle into and talk, a simple quiet comfort settling over you both. The soft glow of string lights and the silvered moonlight made the world feel like it was wrapped in a quiet hush despite the never ending sounds of the city. You both settled into the couch, the cushions sinking in the middle, which pushed you just a little closer to Viktor than you'd anticipated.

For a moment, neither of you said anything. The silence was easy, like you had spent years in it. You noticed how close you were sitting now—your thighs pressed together, and when you passed the bottle of wine, your fingers brushed his. A small spark of awareness ran through you each time, and you tried to ignore it, feeling your face warm despite the cool air.

The wine was sweet, fruity, and a little stronger than you expected, especially when you found yourself reaching for another sip and another, the soft buzz in your head gradually growing stronger.

By the time the bottle was halfway gone, you were both leaning more heavily into the couch, and you couldn’t help but giggle at how little wine was apparently needed to bring Jayce to the brink of passing out. You felt... lighter. Almost giddy, as if the laughter that came so easily was spilling out along with the alcohol. And Viktor, sitting just beside you, didn’t seem to be immune to it either. His face was flushed in the soft light, his lips curling into an easy smile.

“You know,” you said, leaning back and feeling the warmth of the couch soak into your bones, “I don’t do this enough. I’m so... wrapped up in work and life and... I just forget to relax.”

Viktor tilted his head, eyes slightly narrowed as he watched you. “Relaxing can be overrated,” he said with a smirk, the words a little slower than they’d been earlier. He took another drink from the bottle, his thumb brushing against the glass in an unconscious rhythm. When he passed it to you, your fingers brushed once again, and you lingered just a bit longer than necessary.

“Well, maybe for you,” you chuckled. “But, for me, it’s like... it's like a luxury, I guess. You know? I don’t remember the last time I just sat with someone and... and didn’t feel like I had to be somewhere or do something.”

“You eh–... don’t have to worry about that here,” Viktor said quietly, his voice light, with that usual teasing edge. But something was different in his tone, something that made the words feel heavier than they should have been. You couldn’t quite put your finger on it, but the air seemed to shift, the quiet between you stretching into something almost… charged.

You took another sip, your hand a little unsteady now. The whole situation felt absurd—awkward, even, yet strangely intimate in a way you hadn’t expected. Your gaze drifted toward his lips without thinking. It was brief, but enough to send a flutter through your stomach, and suddenly, your mind couldn’t focus on anything but that soft, confident curve of his mouth. Maybe it was the wine, maybe it was something else entirely, but you couldn’t seem to think straight anymore.

Viktor shifted closer again, and the couch beneath you groaned as it sank with the weight of it. The space between you closed, and you could feel the warmth of his body pressing against yours shoulder to shoulder, like the alcohol spreading through you, making your pulse quicken.

For a long moment, he didn’t say anything. His presence was a solid thing beside you. His eyes were locked on yours, studying, but still so calm. You could feel the punch of his gaze on you, like it was seeping through your skin, sending heat rushing to your cheeks. It wasn’t just the wine now—you could feel it all over, heat blooming beneath your skin, making you fidget slightly.

“Sometimes… you get caught up in what you’re doing, and you forget about everything else,” you mumbled, trying to ignore the way your nerves were tightening your chest. “I’ve been focused on my career and—god, I’ve probably been a little… I don’t know, closed off.” You laughed lightly, but it was nervous, unsure of where this was even coming from. But suddenly all your senses were barraged by him, his smell, his eyes.

“I just—I haven’t thought about it. Relationships, I mean. Not in a long time. I don’t know if I’m even ready for anything like that. Not now, not with everything I’m doing.” You trailed off, self-conscious, suddenly feeling like you were saying too much, rambling without stopping. The words seemed to just slip out of you, tumbling over each other.

You took another shaky breath, your heart thudding in your chest as you tried to make yourself stop, but you couldn’t. It was like you were helpless.

“And, I mean, if anybody were to kiss me…” You faltered, realizing too late just how much you were giving away. Your pulse quickened, your thoughts jumbled as your mouth just kept moving. “I would want that person to be you.”

The air between you thickened, the silence stretching long and heavy. Your heart pounded in your chest, a nervous rhythm that drowned out everything else. You waited for him to say something, to break the tension that was suffocating you. But there was nothing. Just the weight of his gaze on you, steady and searching.

When you finally dared to glance at him Viktor's expression was unreadable. One thick eyebrow was cocked slightly, and his mouth hung open just enough to suggest he was about to say something, but didn't. He was so close but somehow the distance between you felt infinite.

You opened your mouth to say something, to fill the silence, but before you could speak, his hand moved, his fingers brushing against your jaw in the gentlest touch. The sudden warmth of his palm made your breath catch, and before you could even fully process it, he was pulling you in. His lips met yours, soft at first, as though testing the waters, as if the moment itself was delicate. But that softness didn't last, between the buzz of alcohol, the closeness, the heat between you—it all blurred together. The kiss deepened, quickly turning urgent, hungry. His hand moved to the back of your neck, pulling you closer as the bottle slipped from your grasp, its clang against the concrete floor echoing in the quiet of the rooftop

You didn't care. You were too lost in the feeling of him against you, his lips moving against yours with a desperate kind of need. The kiss grew messier– clumsy, teeth scraping, tongues tangling. You could taste the faint sweetness of wine on him, the mix of flavors making everything feel dizzying overwhelming.

You found yourself gripping his shirt, pulling him closer, as if trying to merge your bodies together, desperate for the contact, for whatever it was that had been building between you two for so long. 

-

The next day was a harsh slap of hangover reality. Your head pounded, your mouth was dry, and every time you glanced at Viktor across the room, your stomach flipped in a way that had nothing to do with the booze.

Jayce, of course, was none the wiser. He chatted away over breakfast like nothing had changed, blissfully unaware of the shift that had unraveled everything you thought you’d had under control. And you? You were wholly committed to keeping it that way. It was a one-time thing, you told yourself. Just a fleeting, drunken thing—something you could both quietly bury and move on from.

At least, that was the plan.

Until it happened again. And then again.

Now it feels like a thread being pulled tighter and tighter, until you’re not sure if you’re going to unravel completely or snap under the weight.

This wasn’t supposed to happen. But here you are. And you don’t know how to stop.

©lilsworks 2024

[mrsbuckybarnes1917]

Sex on the Beach

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: Suncream...cum, is there a difference? Bucky is painting you either way.

Word Count: 6.2k

Warnings: bratty reader with Bucky doing his best at taming, teasing, oral sex (m), bucky fucking your tits, p in v sex, sarge/good girl kink, fingering, creampie, Bucky getting his own back at the end.

A/N: Thank you Daisy @firefly-graphics for this banner!

As Bucky sprawled out across the plush double sun lounger, his chiseled physique on full display in nothing but a pair of well-fitted swim trunks, he exuded an air of pure tranquility. The Ray-ban sunglasses you had thoughtfully gifted him just before the trip now shielded his eyes from the late morning sun's gentle rays, which danced across his lightly tanned skin. Every muscle in his body was completely relaxed, not a hint of tension to be found, as he teetered on the edge of drifting off into a blissful morning nap.

The lounger was situated on the expansive deck of Tony's luxurious Hamptons beach house, mere steps away from the glistening, azure waters of the pool and the endless horizon of the ocean beyond. The expertly positioned fencing surrounding the property offered the two of you a welcome sense of privacy, shielding you from prying eyes while still allowing the soothing sounds of the waves crashing against the nearby shoreline to reach your ears.

When you had first packed for the weekend getaway, the weather forecast had called for nothing but rain and stormy conditions, and you had almost left your vibrant yellow bikini behind, certain that there would be no opportunity to don it. However, Bucky had insisted that you bring it along, and now you were endlessly grateful that you had heeded his advice, eagerly anticipating the chance to join him in soaking up the unexpected sunshine.

As you emerged from the pool, the cool, refreshing water droplets glistening on your skin, you couldn't help but marvel at the unseasonably warm weather. The sun's golden rays felt almost soothing against your unclad flesh, a stark contrast to the chill of the pool you had just left. With a towel wrapped snugly around your waist, you cast a playful, impish glance over at Bucky, who hadn't moved from his reclined position on the nearby lounge chair, sunglasses perched on his nose. A mischievous smirk crept across your lips as you bent down and scooped up a handful of the chlorinated pool water, your fingertips lightly skimming the surface. Carefully, you tiptoed over to where Bucky lay, the water sloshing gently in your cupped palms. 

Though his eyes were shielded by dark lenses, you knew Bucky's heightened senses were ever alert, a byproduct of his turbulent past living in fear - whether under HYDRA's control or on the run. Sure enough, as you neared him, one of Bucky's eyes snapped open, his body instantly tensing, ready to spring into action at the first sign of perceived danger. But when he saw it was merely you, a playful glint in your eye and a splash of water in your hands, his posture relaxed, and he sat up, the sunglasses sliding down his nose as he fixed you with a playful glare, silently daring you to make your move.

“Whatcha doin’ there, doll?”

You flicked the remaining water droplets in your hand at him but they barely reached his bare chest.

“That the best you got?” he taunted, his piercing gaze daring you to try again.

“Not even close,” you replied with a mischievous grin, letting the towel slip just slightly as you pretended to consider your next move.

Bucky raised a single, dark eyebrow, his playful glare still firmly in place. “You think you can just come at me with that pathetic splash? I’d be ashamed if I were you,” he goaded, his deep, rumbling voice sending a shiver down your spine.

Unable to resist the challenge, you let out a bright, carefree laugh that seemed to dance in the air around you. “Oh really? Is that a challenge, Barnes?” you retorted, your eyes sparkling with mischief as you prepared to retaliate, the tension between you electric.

“Depends on what your idea of a challenge is. Because if it involves getting me wet, you might just succeed.” He smirked, leaning back slightly as if preparing for something.

You laughed, sitting down beside him, letting your wet skin rub against his as you rubbed the towel along your arms. “Do my sunscreen?” you asked, looking over your shoulder at him and batting your eyelids coquettishly.

Bucky raised an eyebrow, the corner of his mouth quirking up as he shuffled closer. “Sunscreen, huh? You sure that's all you need me for?” he asked huskily.

He was halfway through a playful eye roll when your hands moved to the back of your neck, swiftly undoing the halterneck string of your bikini top to reveal your soft breasts. “Don’t want to risk getting tan lines,” you smirked at his widening eyes.

“Of course not,” he mumbled, shaking his head at your antics.

“So you gonna help me or not?”

“Get over here.” He wrapped his arm around your waist and hoisted you into his lap. With his flesh arm he flicked open the bottle of sunscreen, making the same popping sound that you associated with him opening a bottle of lube and you felt a shiver through your body, your skin erupting in goosebumps.

Bucky noticed immediately, there wasn’t anything he missed when it came to your body’s responses. “Cold?” he smirked.

A soft gasp escaped your lips as Bucky pulled you closer, his chest pressed flush against your back, his breath tickling the nape of your neck. Despite the warm fall air, a shiver of anticipation still rippled down your spine at the feel of his body against yours.

“N-No,” you breathed out, your voice a breathless whisper. “Just a bit… sensitive.”

Bucky's eyes darkened further, a wicked smirk playing on his lips as he felt your shiver and heard the huskiness in your voice. He knew the effect he had on you, and he loved it.

He leaned in, his voice low and deep, his lips brushing the shell of your ear as he spoke. "Sensitive, hmm?" he murmured, his breath hot against your skin. One of his hands drifted downwards, tracing a slow, tortuous path along your bare hip.

"Mmm, don't forget the front," you moaned.

Bucky's smirk grew even more wicked at the sound of your moan, his chest rumbling with a low, appreciative growl. He shifted you in his lap so that you were straddling him, your legs on either side of his hips, giving him full access to your front.

He leaned back, the sunlight casting a glow around his head like a halo, his eyes roving hungrily over your body, taking in every inch of bare skin.

"Are you just going to sit and stare? Or you want me to get burned?”

Bucky chuckled, his eyes sparkling with mischief as he met your gaze, his hands still resting on your hips.

"Patience, doll. I'm just admiring the view," he teased, his thumbs rubbing gentle circles on your hips, sending prickling shivers through your body.

Slowly, he began to apply the sunscreen on your torso, his hands moving in sensual, deliberate circles, covering every inch of your skin in the creamy liquid.

Bucky's hands slowed as they reached the curves of your breasts, his palms hovering mere inches away, as if reluctant to touch them just yet. His eyes locked onto yours, his gaze dark and hungry. He swallowed hard, his breath coming out in a shaky exhale.

"You don't know how hard it is to keep my hands off you, doll," he murmured, his voice gruff, his hands slowly moving closer, his thumbs just barely brushing against the swell of your tits.

You leaned forward so your hardened nipples grazed his chest. "Who said you had to?”

Bucky's breath hitched at the feel of your nipples gliding across his chest, a low, guttural moan rumbled in his throat. He shifted his hips, his growing hardness pressing against you through the thin fabric of his swim trunks.

"Mmm, doll. You're a damn tease, you know that?" he panted, his fingers digging into your hips, his thumbs still brushing against your sensitive skin, teasing but not quite touching where you wanted.

"Who's teasing?" You asked innocently, pushing your ass down into the growing bulge in his trunks.

Bucky's eyes darkened, his expression shifting from playful to downright feral, the veins in his arms bulging as his muscles tensed. He let out a growl, his voice deep and strained.

"Oh, you're playing with fire now doll," he warned, his hands gripping your hips tighter, his body quivering with barely restrained desire. He bit his lip, trying to hold back, but it was taking all his willpower not to throw you down onto the lounger and take you right then and there.

"The only fire I'm feeling right now is that giant ball in the sky that's unevenly tanning my boobs right now," you pouted.

Bucky let out another soft growl.

"Aww, did I make you mad?" You put on a baby voice.

Bucky huffed out a sardonic laugh, his fingers absently tracing patterns on your hip. He was far too distracted by the feel of your body on top of his to be truly angry.

"Mad? Nah, doll. Just struggling to control myself with you being so damn frisky right now." He raised an eyebrow, his eyes locking onto yours, the heat in his gaze undeniable. "Question is, what’re you gonna do about it?”

"Want me to kiss it better?" You leaned forward with pouty lips.

Bucky's eyes darkened at the sight of your pouting lips, his resolve slowly crumbling. This teasing game you were playing was getting torturous, but damn if he wasn't loving it. He reached up, his hand cupping your chin, his thumb tracing along your lower lip.

"Mmm, I think I might need a little more than just a kiss, doll. You're being a brat and you know it.”

"Ask nicely.”

Bucky bit his lip, his breathing growing heavier as your defiance only seemed to fuel his desire. His hand threaded through your hair, pulling you closer until your faces were mere inches apart.

"Please, doll," he said huskily, his voice low and thick with lust. "Stop being such a damn tease and let me have you.”

"Only if you're good, Sarge." You bit your lip seductively.

Bucky's breath hitched at the sound of the nickname, a low moan rumbling in his chest. You knew how much he loved it when you called him that, and the effect it had on him was always immediate.

"Doll, you know damn well I'm always good," he said huskily, his eyes locked on your lips as you bit them seductively, his hand in your hair gently pulling your head back, exposing your neck. "But today, you're going to need to follow my orders.”

Your walls fluttered with excitement at his words and you bit back a moan.

Bucky smirked at the reaction he saw in your eyes, his gaze raking over your body possessively. He could see the effect his words had on you, and it only made him more possessive. He knew your weakness, just like you knew his.

"So obedient," he murmured, his mouth hovering over your neck, his lips just barely grazing your skin. "But I want to hear you say it. What’s the safe word?”

You whined against his ear, wiggling your ass in his lap. "Oklahoma.”

Bucky let out a harsh breath, his eyes fluttering closed for just a second as your body moved against his in his lap. He took a moment to collect himself before opening his eyes, a smug look on his face as he looked at you.

"Good girl," he praised, his lips finally claiming your neck, his mouth hot against your skin. "Now, why don't you get on your knees and show me how good you can be for me?”

"No, thank you.”

Bucky's eyes widened slightly at your defiant reply. No one disobeyed him, especially not when he had laid out clear instructions.

He chuckled, but there was an edge to it, a hint of a warning.

"Doll, you can’t be defying my orders already. I know you know the punishment for being a disobedient little brat. Is that what you want? A reminder of who’s in charge here?”

"You're so cute when you try and control me, even though we both know that I'm in charge," you smirked.

A deep rumble left Bucky's throat at your words. He knew you were playing, pushing his buttons and testing his patience, but it was getting harder and harder to hold back.

"Oh really, doll? You think you're in charge?" he purred, his eyes darkening as he held your gaze, his hands gripping your hips tightly.

"Maybe I need to remind you who you belong to.”

"Do it, I dare you.”

Bucky's eyes flashed with a predatory gleam at your challenge. It was as if you were dangling a steak in front of a lion, and expecting it not to pounce. You were playing with fire, and he was itching to teach you a lesson.

In a swift, fluid movement, Bucky shifted your position on his lap so that you were lying back on the lounger. He hovered over you, his body pressed against yours, trapping you beneath him.

"Oh doll, I'm gonna do more than just remind you," he growled. "You're gonna do as you're told.”

"Yeah?" you asked breathily.

Bucky smirked at the breathlessness in your voice. It was clear that you were already affected, your body responding to his proximity, his touch. He brought his face closer to yours, his lips hovering just millimeters from your ear. His voice was rough and low, carrying a threat that made your heart skip.

"Yep. I'm gonna teach you a damn lesson in obedience, doll. And you're gonna love every second of it.”

"Oh, am I?”

Bucky leaned back to look at you, his eyes raking over your body, taking in your flushed cheeks and heavy breathing. He could see the effect he was having on you, and it only served to make him more confident.

"Damn right you are," he said, his voice a low rumble. "I can see it in your eyes, doll. You love it when I get all dominant, when I take charge. And I love it when I have you all submissive and pliant, begging for more.”

You could only whimper in response, your body consumed by the arousal and promise of his cock.

Bucky smirked, noticing your inability to form a response. He could easily see how turned on you were, how badly you wanted him to take you. His eyes darkened with a mixture of lust and satisfaction. Slowly and sensually he rolled his hips against your core.

"See, doll? You can try to play the brat, but deep down, you know what you want. You want me to be in charge, to take control and make you feel good. And that's exactly what I'm gonna do.”

"Good luck... with... that." You wanted to continue with your little game but his proximity had your resolve faltering. 

Bucky chuckled at your attempt to keep up this charade, but he could see that your resolve was weakening. Your body was responding to his proximity, betraying your act of nonchalance.

He leaned down, his lips grazing your ear, his breath hot against your skin.

"Doll, you forget who you're dealing with," he murmured. "I've got you all figured out, and I know all your weaknesses. You can try to resist, but deep down I know you're craving my touch, begging for it, in fact.”

"So what are you gonna do about it?" you challenged softly.

Bucky's eyes darkened at your challenge, his smile turning into a predatory grin. He knew damn well what he was going to do, and he was aching to show you just how in control he was.

"Oh doll, don't tempt me," he warned, his voice low and husky. "I can think of plenty of things I could do to a disobedient little brat like you. But I think you'll find it hard to keep up this act when I've got you pleading and begging.”

"Oh please, I can do this all day.”

Bucky chuckled at your defiant words, taking in your flushed cheeks and breathless state. He could see the effect he was having on you, the way your body was responding to him, even as you tried to keep up your act.

"Is that so, doll?" he taunted. "You think you can keep this up all day, huh? We'll just see about that.”

For the first time since you started this game, you held your tongue. You welcomed whatever punishment he had in store for you... you craved it.

Bucky smirked at your sudden silence, sensing the shift in your attitude. It was clear that you were finally submitting to him, and he loved it. He could see the desire in your eyes, the need for him to take control and give you what you wanted.

"Looks like someone finally realized who's in charge," he murmured, his hands roaming over your body, tracing gentle patterns on your skin, his touch both soothing and dominating.

"Ready to be a good girl and do as you're told?”

"No," you breathed softly.

Bucky chuckled at your persistence in playing this game, his eyes darkening with a mixture of annoyance and desire. He knew you were testing his limits, seeing how far you could push him before he snapped.

"What do you mean, no? If I want my dick in your mouth, it's going in your mouth whether you like it or not.”

You shuddered with anticipation. Of course, you wanted his dick in your mouth. Bucky smirked, noticing the shiver that ran through your body. He could see the desire in your eyes, the way your tongue darted out to moisten your lips, betraying your own need for him.

"I see that got your attention," he murmured. "You want me to use that pretty mouth of yours, don't you?”

You struggled slightly under his weight. Bucky laughed at your attempts to move under him, the sound deep and throaty. He knew he had you right where he wanted you, trapped beneath him. 

"Struggle all you want, but you're not going anywhere until you're dripping with my cum.”

Bucky chuckled at the pout on your lips, but he allowed you to prop yourself up on the lounger, his knees still trapping your hips on either side. The position he had you in was intimate, his cock was almost pressed against your face, his eyes locked on yours, his hands resting on either side of your shoulders, caging you in.

Bucky loved having you like this, so vulnerable beneath him but his body completely at your mercy.

Bucky's eyes darkened as he watched you lick your lips, the gesture driving him wild. He could see the need in your eyes.

"You want it, don't you?" he asked, his voice heavy with desire.

"Only because you want it so bad," you smirked, your eyes roving over his throbbing length. He had pulled it out of his swim trunks, the veins full and pulsating readily. "Look at you, can't wait, can you? Need my lips around your pretty cock?”

Bucky nearly lost his breath at your words, his body shuddering with need. You knew just how to play him, how to push all his buttons.

"Damn doll," he groaned, his voice ragged with desire, momentarily forgetting his character. "You talk like that, and you're gonna make me lose control. But yes, I need your lips. I need your mouth on me. I need you, doll.”

You softened a little, wanting to give in without a fight, to give him what he craved. But a tiny voice in your mind reminded you that this would be so much more fun.

A slow smirk formed on your lips. "Make me," you said with as much defiance as you could muster.

Bucky's eyes darkened with annoyance and desire at your disobedience once again. He loved the challenge. The way you tested him pushed him to the edge, but it was hard to hold back when you were so goddamn sexy.

"Oh doll, are you really gonna push me like that?" he gritted out, his voice strained as his hands clenched into fists at his sides. Slowly, he reached out and made a fist in your hair and moved your face right up to his with his firm grip. "Head back, mouth open, tongue out... now.”

Slowly but petulantly, you complied, letting him slide his head onto your tongue. Sensually, you rolled it around the edge before kissing the tip. You loved seeing the way his muscles contracted with pleasure.

Bucky's head fell back slightly, his eyes fluttering shut momentarily, a moment of ecstacy coursing through him.

"That's it, that's my good girl. Now you remember what to do if it's too much?”

You nodded, tapping his thigh three times, making him praise you again. You took him into your mouth again, lips forming an O. Narrowing your eyes, you looked up at him with a hint of rebelliousness and daring.

Bucky's eyes darkened at your gaze, his breath hitching in his chest. He wasn't used to anyone giving him this level of sass, and it was driving him crazy. 

"I see you're still feeling mouthy. Looks like I'll have to find a way to keep that pretty little mouth of yours occupied.”

You decided to show him how mouthy you could be, letting him slip further into your mouth.

Bucky's head slumped back, his breath coming in short bursts as you teased him. Damn, you were so damn good at this, and it was driving him wild.

"That's it, doll. Just like that, that's my girl. You know just what I like.”

You tried to answer him, but you couldn't form any coherent words with the way he filled your mouth.

"What's that, doll?" he chuckled despite his ragged breath, a hint of pride in his voice. He loved making you speechless, especially with your mouth full of him.

"Can't talk now, can you? You look so pretty with your mouth all full.”

You moaned, sending vibrations straight up his aching cock. The way he tasted always turned you on and your pussy was begging for attention. You squeezed your legs together to offer yourself some relief from the throbbing between your thighs.

Bucky groaned, your moans resonating through him, shooting straight through his body. It was like a jolt of electricity to his nerves, and he had to grit his teeth to keep control. 

"Ah darlin’, you know how that mouth of yours is affecting me," he breathed out, his eyes darting down to your squirming form. "Damn doll, you look like you're aching for something.”

Finally, you sank down all the way, your nose brushing the short strands of hair on his skin for a moment before pulling off with a gasp, a long string of spit connecting your lips to the tip of his cock.

Bucky could hardly think straight with the way you were working him over. It was a good thing he was sitting down because he wasn't sure if he'd be able to stand right now. 

"Damn doll," he breathed. "That mouth of yours is something else. But did I tell you you could stop?”

"It's my turn, Sarge.”

Bucky's eyes darkened, his breath hitching in his chest at the title. Something about you calling him by his rank made him a little weak.

"I don't think so, doll," he warned. "You know who's in charge here, and I haven't given you permission to take it your turn yet. You gotta earn it. You're gonna follow my orders.”

You whimpered softly, so turned on now that you couldn't think for yourself.

Bucky's eyes scanned over you, taking in your flushed and panting form. He could see the way you were responding to him, how your need was taking over and making it hard for you to think.

“There’s my good girl,” he murmured, his voice silky smooth. "Now open that pretty mouth and stick that tongue out so Sarge can fuck your face.”

You followed his orders without question, tilting your head back and sticking your tongue out as far as it would go. Seconds later Bucky was shoving his fat cock between your lips, thrusting his hips until the head of his dick was hitting the back of your throat. You did your best to suck around him, hollowing your cheeks while your tongue lapped up every drop of precum leaking from his tip. One of your hands braced on his hip while the other came up to play with his balls as he grunted softly with your ministrations.

Bucky was losing it a little more with each passing second. You were so damn gifted with that tongue of yours, and he wanted to come inside you.

“You’re gonna make Sarge come,” he moaned. So did you, right around his cock. “Bet you'd like that, huh?” His hips thrusted deeper into your throat and you felt tears pricking in the corners of your eyes. “You wanna taste me?”

You gazed up at him with desperate, pleading eyes, and he responded with a dark, mocking laugh.

“Too fucking bad.” He grunted, pulling himself from your mouth as his eyes fluttered shut while you were left panting and speechless.

“Ruined that chance,” he continued. “Show me those gorgeous tits. You want me to make sure they're protected from the sun? I can cover them in cum and you won't have to worry about that any more. How does that sound?” 

Bucky's hands moved to rest on your shoulders, firmly pushing you down onto your back, his body hovering over you, trapping your wrists above your head in his hands. His cock resting between your breasts.

“Is that a nod, doll? You gonna let me come on your tits?

"No,” you answered, rather weakly.

He chuckled, but there was an edge to it, a hint of a warning.

"Oh go on now, get me off, darlin'.”

You struggled slightly in a weak attempt to free yourself from his grip, to take what you wanted.

"Struggle all you want, doll. But you're not going anywhere 'til you're dripping with my cum," he muttered darkly from above you.

This man and his filthy mouth. The way it had you squirming, panting. You could feel the heat pooling between your thighs. The need for him to take you was overwhelming. Your body writhed beneath his, your aching pussy silently begging to be filled.

"Aww look at you all stuck," he laughed. "You're dripping wet, aren't you? You might as well tell the truth because I'm going to fucking check anyway.”

"Go on then.”

Bucky smirked, his eyes darkening with a familiar look. He loved this game, the push and pull, testing your limits and seeing how far he could go.

"You sure?" he asked, his tone taunting. "You want me to touch you, make you squirm even more than you already are?”

"Please..." the word slipped from your lips before you realized what you were saying.

Bucky's eyes darkened at your whimper. He could always tell when you were starting to let your guard down, when you were giving up the fight. It made him want you even more.

"Please? Look at that, you're begging now, doll. You need me, don't you?” He asked, gently thrusting between your breasts.

You whimpered softly. There was no denying it, you wanted to be touched, you wanted him to fill you up, you didn't want to wait. 

Bucky could see the look in your eyes, the desire that had taken over and left you a needy, begging mess. He loved seeing you like this, completely under his control, waiting for his touch.

"You're starting to be a good girl now, huh? I knew you would give in eventually. You just need a little push, don't you?”

"The only thing you should be pushing right now is little Sarge inside me.”

Bucky chuckled deeply. Damn, your filthy mouth was going to be the death of him.

"You're getting cheeky, doll. You won't be getting that anytime soon until you learn some manners.”

"You gonna teach me?" you smirked.

Bucky's laugh was dark and dangerous. "You're just asking for it, aren't you? But I'm gonna have to teach you a lesson, doll.”

You just gave him a long, silent look, slowly wetting your lips.

Bucky's eyes tracked the movement of your tongue, the way it glided over your full lips. You knew exactly what you were doing to him, and he was loving every second of it.

"You're playing with fire, doll. I don't think you realize just how much you're testing my control right now.”

"Show me.”

Bucky's breath hitched at your words. The challenge in your voice, the slight attitude behind your words. He loved it.

"You really want me to show you?" he asked, his voice low and dangerous. "You want me to lose control? You think you can handle that?”

"You think you've been in control all this time?”

Bucky actually laughed at that. You were trying so hard to regain a little bit of power, to knock him off balance and turn the tables. But he could see through it all.

"Don't act like you haven't been the one begging for it this whole time, doll," he smirked. "You've been desperate for my touch, my attention, my control. And you know it.”

"Then do it.”

"Oh, doll, you're so impatient," he taunted. "Don't worry, I'll take care of you, just the way you need. You'll get your fill, but on my terms.”

He moved down to kneel between your legs.

Bucky knelt between your legs, his body towering over you as he settled in. He could see the way your breath hitched, the way his presence alone was affecting you.

"You good, doll?" he asked, his voice low and sultry, "You ready for this?”

You smiled at your boyfriend, something had suddenly shifted between you, teasing put aside, your closeness and intimacy taking over as he hovered against your entrance.

Bucky froze for a moment, his eyes softening as he saw the change in you. He knew that feeling all too well, that moment when playfulness gives way to something more tender and true. He met your gaze, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

"You look so beautiful, doll," he murmured, his voice gentle. "I love you so goddamn much.”

"Love you too, Buck," you whispered.

Bucky's heart filled with warmth every time he heard you say those words. It was a moment of vulnerability, a reminder of the love and trust that existed between them.

He leaned down a little more, his body pressing against yours, the tip of his hard length resting against your entrance. He could see the love and longing in your eyes, and he wanted to make you feel good.

"Are you ready for me, doll?" he asked.

"Always ready for you, Sarge." You spread your legs, inviting him in. 

Bucky darkened eyes sparkling with affection. He loved that nickname, the way it sounded when it left your lips.

"There's my good girl," he praised, his fingers caressing your skin as he positioned himself at your entrance. "I'll take care of you, doll. Just relax and let me make you feel good.”

You panted softly as his thick cock filled you, the glorious stretch of your walls as he pushed into you making your eyes roll backwards. The first movement was slow, cautious, and almost gentle, giving you the chance to accept him. He kept going until he was fully seated inside you, his nose not even an inch away from yours. 

Bucky was in ecstasy, there was nothing quite like the feeling of your body wrapped around him. It was like coming home, a moment where he was yours completely, where he felt safe and accepted.

Bucky could feel your body twitching beneath him, begging for more. He knew he couldn't hold back any longer, the need was too strong.

The moment of stillness was just long enough to let the realization sink in that they were truly connected, body and soul. Bucky was fully lost in the moment, the heat and the sensations that were coursing through him. He needed more, needed to feel those highs, those peaks. He needed you.

"I need you, doll," he managed to gasp out, his voice gruff and raw, "Can I move?”

You nodded fervently.

Bucky could sense the pleading in your eyes, the unspoken plea for him to take you, make you his. His hands moved to your hips, holding you firm while he pulled out and then slammed back into you hard, a groan leaving his lips.

"Damn doll," he grunted. "You feel so good.”

"Ohhh, Buck." You moaned, no other words were left in your vocabulary as he pounded in and out of you, the sound of your skin slapping together almost drowning out the waves crashing on the beach.

The sound of your voice, the way you said his name, it drove him wild. He knew he couldn't last much longer, not when you were looking so damn beautiful, lying under him, taking every inch of what he had to offer. 

"That's it, doll. M'close.”

You weren't too far off either, not with the way that his tip brushed your A-spot before he pulled out, dragging over your sensitive G-spot. You moaned salaciously as he pushed up your thighs, burying himself deep inside you with each thrust.

Bucky was barely holding it together anymore, the need to make you fall apart first was the only thing keeping him from letting go.

You reached down to touch your clit, to speed things along so you could keep up with Bucky. Bucky's hand shot out, stopping you quickly.

"No, doll," he said, his voice firm. "You don't touch yourself unless I give you permission. That's my job. Understand?”

You whined softly, in the midst of your pleasure, you'd forgotten to keep up your act.

Bucky saw the look of frustration on your face and knew you had slipped. He couldn't help but chuckle softly, even as he was on the edge himself. 

"That's right, doll," he teased. "You forgot who was in charge here, didn't you? But don't worry, I'll remind you.”

He thrust into you harder, pounding into you so hard that you weren't forming any coherent thoughts. The familiar feeling was building rapidly inside you. "Buck," you moaned, as if the sound of his name would communicate what you were feeling.

Bucky recognized that sound, the way you were begging him, calling his name. He knew you were close, right on the edge of falling apart. He didn't let up, keeping that hard and steady pace. 

"Yeah, doll," he grunted, "You're gonna come for me, aren't you?”

Your fingers tightened around the towel that was still hanging on the side of the lounger as you whimpered.

Bucky could see the way your body was tensing, the way your grip was holding onto the towel for dear life. He knew he was pushing you to the limit. He wanted to see you come undone. 

"That's it, doll. Let go for me, I want to feel you squeezing me, come on, be a good girl for me and come.”

"Oh fuck!" The words tumbled from your lips as waves of pleasure crashed over you.

Bucky felt your body convulse around him as you came, and it was all he needed to tip him over the edge. The way your walls squeezed around him, milking his throbbing cock, sending fireworks shooting through every nerve in his body.

"Buck-uhhhh," you panted as your body relaxed, coming down from your climax.

Bucky collapsed onto the lounger next to you. He was panting, his breath coming out in gasps. He wrapped his arms around you, pulling you closer to his chest, tucking your head under his chin.

"Damn, doll," he whispered, his voice hoarse. "That was something else.”

"Aww baby, did I make you all weak?" you smirked into his chest.

Bucky chuckled deeply, shaking his head slightly. "Don't get cocky, doll. I still got plenty of stamina left." He nipped playfully at your ear, his hand trailing down your side.

“I'm still waiting on that suncream, Sarge.” You gathered some of his cum that had trickled down your thigh onto your fingertip and held it up. “Not sure this is gonna cut it.”

Bucky growled, his eyes narrowing. Suddenly he scooped you up in his arms and carried you to the end of the pool.

“Bucky!” you shrieked. “Don't you dare.”

“I think you need to cool off.” The grin on Bucky's face was positively smug.

You wrapped your arms tightly around his neck and gave him a warning look as he threatened to throw you into the pool.

“Don't,” you said warningly.

Bucky chuckled, turning around and held you closer. You were about to sigh with relief but the glint in his eyes betrayed his intent. You gasped as he took a step backwards sending you both tumbling into the pool with a huge splash!

[bi-writes]

the lamb experiment

a body is given. and it cannot be taken back.

pairing: ghost (+ tf141) x curvy!fem!reader word count: 6.3k summary: the 141 are not known for their pliancy. in an effort to take back control, they send a lamb to slaughter.

cw: (18+) mature language and content, suggestive language and content, dark!tf141, military criticism, unhealthy power dynamics, graphic descriptions of violence + gore + torture + murder, themes of dubcon (but reader is consenting), piv, cumplay, fear play, size kink, praise kink, curvy!reader with hair long enough to hold

You don't think you've ever been the object of anyone's affections, not really. Although you are blessed with many gifts, even physically, you do not see yourself that way when you look in the mirror. How you feel inside betrays you when you look in one, and instead of staring too long, you always turn away.

This time, you stare. Because her ass looks nice, and her skin looks soft, and her face isn't disagreeable.

This reflection almost terrifies you. In front of you lies a woman you do not know.

She looks good. Your clothes are a size too snug, and it squeezes all the parts of you that normally you attempt to hide. Your thighs, the cinch of your waist, every curve you cover up with your uniform normally is on display, and instead of your hair in a standard bun, it lays free. You are anything but the soldier you always see, and just when you think about running, there is a knock at the bathroom door.

You open it, straightening out your outfit, and you look down shyly when you see the face on the other side of the door.

"It's...a little tight," you say, tugging at the waistband of your pants, but the woman tuts, crossing her arms over her chest as she steps back to look you up and down.

"It's as it should be," she responds, very matter-of-fact. "Now follow me. Need to debrief before your flight."

Her name is Laswell. You have not been graced with any other name, and you suspect it is because she wants you to call her Laswell and nothing else. She is blunt and intelligent, and there is no room for anything but the truth with her. If you answer her with a lie, she waits until she hears what she knows is expected.

When you sit, she spreads a few files out in front of you. Four manila folders, three packed with documents and pictures, one with documents only. You reach for one, eyeing the labeled name.

MacTavish.

You open it, and you're overwhelmed with the information. You see a man with pretty blue eyes and a military history that would put your old squadron to shame. Flicking through the pages, there are numerous confirmed kills, no small list of disarmed explosives, reports written by others and himself that even at a quick glance exude something impressive, utmost intelligence and extensive knowledge. You take note of his unique hairstyle; shaved sides of his head and tuffs of dark waves that run down the middle. You acknowledge how much you like when it gets a little long, falling in curls over his forehead.

The next file is equally as large. You flip it over, and you tilt your head to the side when you see a picture of him. He isn't posing, but his stature is one of confidence, and he's gorgeous. A strong facial structure, dark eyes. He keeps his hair short, and his skin is dark, and as your eyes roam lower, you notice the strong muscles of his forearms as he grips a rifle. His skill sheet is no less impressive than his sergeant counterpart. He has been in so many dangerous situations, and he comes out with nothing but scratches; and he seems to be deadlier with nothing but his hands than any small firearm could be.

Kyle. It's fitting.

You look away from his pretty face to their commanding officer. There is a picture of him with the other two sergeants, and you notice how he stands taller than them, but just as broad, and you think military fatigues suit him well. He wears his sleeves rolled up to his elbows, and you can see the expanse of his strong arms and his large hands, and you take note of his carefully sculpted beard and the hat he wears. When you flip through the history, you are overwhelmed with the amount of ops he carries under his belt. This man is a war machine. You suspect there is a number on his head somewhere, in some distant country, and it makes you shift in your seat when you realize this isn't someone easy to kill.

He does the killing. And that's all that matters to the Crown.

John. That is the one that has to matter most.

"He's the one who calls the shots." Laswell's voice cuts through your heavy thoughts. She takes the last folder and opens it for you, and immediately you notice the lack of photos here. "But this is the glue."

Ghost. That is the name that sits on the official documents, but there is a dirty sticky note pasted next to it with Laswell's chicken scratch.

Simon Riley.

"His name is redacted," she says simply. "And so is his face."

"He has no face?" You ask, and when you realize how you worded it, you think it a stupid sentence, but Laswell only stares.

"Not one that matters," she responds. You look back down at the documents. He is tall, and you observe that he's most skilled with a sniper rifle, although he doesn't lack confidence or efficacy in any other form of combat. Hand-to-hand, smaller firearms, rifles, he uses them all with a terrifying accuracy, and you pull the papers closer to you as you read more.

"The glue," you murmur, not quite understanding. "And what am I supposed to be?"

"The solvent. The hammer. Whatever the fuck I need you to be."

The thing that breaks it apart. The thing that tears. The thing that makes them bleed.

And so you lie. It is what you do, what you are taught. Laswell is good at it, and you are a fish to water with it. You lie until it comes as easy as breathing, you learn to pretend until it is all you know, and when you create your second life, it is easy because it is the only one Laswell tells you to know.

You are a soldier, and you do as you're told. When your orders are to forget who you were and become something else, you do it, because that is how it works. And you know what you are in Laswell's eyes--you are a weapon, and you gave your body to the state, and she can do what she pleases with it.

And you know, really, what she expects you to do.

It isn't spoken of. She never says it out loud. But when you study the files she gives you, you notice there are more details that what is necessary. You learn more about them, in ways that feel intimate, that feel secret.

That John's favorite color is red. That MacTavish likes a traditional meal. That Kyle has a sweet tooth and likes jazz. That Ghost downs two fingers of Kentucky bourbon to unwind.

They are things to help make them agreeable, you think, but agreeable in what way is up to you.

But red looks good in lace. You've been told the stomach is the way to the heart. Chocolate is supposed to be an aphrodisiac. And alcohol is the perfect enabler--and armed with this information, you will divide and conquer.

Break and tear apart. Separate. Sever the bond. That is your mission, that is what you've been told to do, and you will do it because that is what a good soldier does, and this is all you are.

Laswell's pet. Her pretty little soldier. The hammer to her nail, the bone for her dogs, the string that will mend the ones snapped by her own puppets.

She wants control, and she isn't stupid, and neither are you. When you look in the mirror again, you understand why she picked you. No matter how far her men stray, they cannot change what they are at their core.

Men.

And men are fickle.

You suspect, you hope, even these ones are. They are not gentle, and Laswell makes sure that you learn well why it is they need supervision. She shows you pictures, videos, eyewitness statements of their spiral into violence.

It's not that they weren't war criminals before, but they were her war criminals. Unsanctioned ops, sure, but they toed a line that was drawn for them. But then the red tape became too much, even if there wasn't very much of it for them.

They began to ignore orders. When they were told to stay put, a sergeant would slip off, and under the guise of protecting them, all four would end up in a firefight. And when this became a frequent excuse, they stopped coming up with them. They simply showed up in manila folders like the ones you held, enemy casualties sometimes in the hundreds, and they did not appear even when required.

Debriefing? Their connection was bad. A hearing in front of their superiors? They're on a mark, and they cannot move. And then it was just silence. The occasional response to real crisis, and then back underground, until all Laswell could get from them were limbs taken off the enemies they weren't allowed to kill just yet.

They knew how to disappear. They knew how to hide. They knew how to stay put, come back up overground, and then scurry back underneath where no one would find them.

But that wouldn't do. Not for the CIA, not for SAS, not for either of their governments who soon realized they had let loose a group of soldiers-turned-mercenaries who hold valuable secrets that could put their politicians at the forefront of Congressional hearings, NATO violations, and then in the right mess of breaking off relations with a numerous amount of countries they already held fragile relationships with.

The 141 is a liability. They need to be the ones pulling the reigns again, no matter the cost--and they tell Laswell to do it, and to spare no expense and to pull back the curtain on what she believes might be crossing even the lines she has drawn before, to go beyond it.

She draws this line around you. A circle, a fence, wrapping around you as she molds you into what she needs you to be. She is honest. Not always kind, but honest, and because she is, you want to succeed.

Finally, you can be of use. Finally, there is something that will give you purpose. Even if it hurts, even if it kills you, you want to give her what she needs, because it isn't fair.

You have already given them everything, and you have nothing to show for it. So you paint your face, and you zip up the tight pants, you lie and you learn and you listen, and when she tells you that they will not be gentle, all you reply is, "I won't be either."

Men are fickle. And they fucking deserve this.

You are wearing red when John sees you for the first time. It is in your hair, a bright red scarf that keeps it out of your face, and you know he looks right at you and not through you when your eyes meet.

When he eyes the open door of your room later that evening, you pretend not to notice his gaze when he drinks in the sight of you in red lingerie.

It is the first morning you are with them that Johnny wakes to the smell of something in the rec room. You stand there, at the stove, stirring a wooden spoon in a warm pot, and when he steps in, you turn to see him, and you smile. You exchange no words, but when you hold a tasting spoon out to him with a soft potato and a spoonful of wonderful broth, he can't help the way he closes his eyes. There's a beautiful woman cooking stovies in the rec room, and when he opens his eyes, you are looking right back at him.

And then it's the music that plays in the evening that catches Kyle's attention. They are trailing back to their rooms after drills, and he catches sight of you in your room, and he can hear Ella Fitzgerald, and when you look over your shoulder, he is there, and he doesn't shy away.

And then--fuck--it is so easy.

Wherever you go, they follow. Unconsciously, you suspect, but they do, and you live the lie, and it feels fucking euphoric. You know you've won when you run your knuckles down John's cheek for the first time, and he keens, nuzzling the side of his face into your hand and chasing after your touch.

They are animals. You watch them when you join them on ops, rifle in front of you as you follow them, and you keep a neutral face as you observe them wreak havoc. They kill and they maim, and they sleep like the dead at night, as if the heinous ways they kill do not bother them at all. John points, and Kyle pulls the trigger. John nods his head, and Johnny detonates, nothing but a dull reflection in those blue eyes. John clicks his teeth, and Ghost sweeps.

He sweeps, and he kills, and if it wasn't so fucking terrifying, you would have admired the way he did it. The elegance that he took on an entire room of moving targets, how he never let himself be pinned down in one spot. Whenever someone gets too close, he goes hand-to-hand, and it's fucking brutal the way he finishes them off. He keeps throwing knives in his boot, and they sink into eye sockets as if running through tender meat. He puts blades through their mouths and doesn't let them go until the light leaves their eyes.

You hate that it makes you warm. That there is something deep in your belly, that twists there, that tells you that you like it. When he turns around and meets your eyes, wringing the blade out of someone's neck and letting them drop on the floor at your feet, you don't flinch. You simply kick them to the side and step over them, and Ghost watches as you lick over your teeth as you pass by him.

Insatiable. Fucking hungry. He eyes the sway of your hips, and when he finds his next target, he uses his hands again just because he needs to feel flesh under his gloved hands, needs to tear it apart. And when he feels you watching him again, he grunts as he stands to his full height. He's a fucking bear, and you leave him with a hint of a smile before you turn the corner.

You are not sure if you are pretending that day.

They ravage, and then they go back to their beds, and they wash the blood from their clothes with ease--and the worst part of it all is that you do it, too. You come out of the same places that they do, and your face is splattered with their targets. Your jeans have flecks of brain matter, your hands are dirty with someone's singed flesh. When you finally stand in the light back at their base, all John does is sit you in front of the bathroom mirror and wipe at your face with a warm towel.

He tells you how good you've done. How special you are. How he has never seen a woman keep up with them so easily, fit into their pack like she was meant to be.

He says that you belong, but he doesn't say to who. You wonder, for a second, if he means that you belong to them all.

When you report back to Laswell, you tell her this. What you don't tell her is what you've had to do to gain this status. You don't tell her about the blood you spill. You don't tell her about the bodies you see or the men that lose their faces or how worked up the boys get after an op and how it takes them hours between your legs to lose the adrenaline.

You don't tell her this because this is for you. It's all for you.

They tell you things you aren't supposed to know. When you're in their beds, they talk, and you listen. Kyle tells you about the man they are keeping in the cellar. That he's been there for 29 days, and he hasn't said a word, but that Ghost will be next to speak to him, and he will talk then.

Kyle tells you that it is a mercy that Ghost hasn't visited him yet, but they are done playing nice. When he says this, you have the image of Ghost standing over a man who pulled a gun on you in your head, and you remember watching him with a sickening relief as he pressed his thumbs into the man's eye sockets and pushed they were nothing but squished matter. You squeeze your legs together; and this time, you don't feel bad about it.

Johnny begs for you, his bonnie lass, to keep close to him on the next op because you strayed too far today. He fucks you to make you say yes, his lips on your ear as he tells you to promise him that you'll do as he says, and that if you promise, he'll let you come. So you promise, and he fucks you boneless, and the next day, you are glued to his hip when you raid a foreign embassy for nothing but answers.

You know they know. They don't say it out loud, but you know that they all know where you go at night. One night, you are kneeling under John's desk, kissing the pearly tip of him before taking him down your throat for what feels like hours. The next, you are letting Kyle bend you over his desk, rattling it against the wall as he tells you how pretty you are. And in the morning, you are pressed against the shower wall, Johnny holding your wide hips in his hands as he fucks into you, begging you, bonnie, please--give it to me, tha's it, right there, ye can do it, good girl--

Good girl. That's what you are. You're a good girl, and you do as you're told. You smile, and you keen, and you give them big, soft eyes, and you let them have the illusion of control. Maybe they think they're pressuring you. Maybe they think they scare you. Maybe they think this is why you get on your knees for them or let them pool your pants at your ankles or allow them to have you whenever they want, but the reality is that you want it, and you need it, and this is working.

They don't even realize you've fucked them into submission because they're too busy showing off.

A domino effect. You expect them all to fall once you have the captain, but there is one chess piece that does not move willingly.

Ghost.

He is an unmovable object. He stands still and rigid, and he is a statue that refuses to be pushed or pulled in any direction but one he deems. Even in the middle of the nights, when you notice he is awake, he never joins you when you drink his favorite bourbon outside. He doesn't ask for a cigarette when you smoke one, even though you never actually take a puff of it. He passes by you, and he doesn't look at you, and you are invisible.

You want to be content with what you've accomplished, but it isn't enough.

This is the glue. He is the glue, and without him, everything falls apart, and you cannot fail. There isn't room for it. And maybe you feel bad for preying on the parts of Ghost that you think he prefers to keep hidden, but you need to catch him before he gets too far away.

A kitchen accident. A knife that plunges too deep, that draws blood and makes you cry. You are in the bathroom, tears coming down your face, blood in the sink, and your hands are shaking as you try and patch yourself up. You are loud enough to draw the attention of the lieutenant whose door is only just across the hall, and when he sees you there, he doesn't leave you.

One moment there is nothing, and the next, he is behind you, a pervasive warmth at your back, and you whimper when a gloved hand wraps around your injured hand. Wordlessly, he turns the faucet on, running your hand under the water, and you hiccup, looking away and breathing deeply.

He wraps your hand in his room. You sit on his bed, and he works to cover the wound, and you know he has done this before. Soothed another's tears, quieted soft cries, covered up cuts and bruises and things that will scar.

He kneels in front of you, and when he stands to his full height, you tip your head back to look up at him. You think you will meet a soft gaze, but he glares, and he seems angry. When you open your mouth to speak, he tsks, and your tip trembles as you close it.

"Y'can fool the others," he says lowly, finally. "But not me."

You frown, confused. When you sniffle, he snarls.

"I know why y'r here," he murmurs. "Isn't the first time Laswell has sent one of her little...toys."

You clench your jaw. For a moment, something envious rattles you. You aren't like anyone else. You are certain no one has accomplished what you have, that no one has gotten this close to rock the fucking boat or pet the beast. He doesn't get to demean the progress you've made like this, even if he's figured you out, because you aren't going anywhere.

Not until you get everything you need.

"Excuse me?"

"Y'r a spy. You're CIA's whore, and I don't like y'here, puttin' y'r bloody nose where it don't belong," he kneels, his voice low and gruff, and he reaches over and grips your chin hard. "Y'may have fooled them. In their fuckin' beds...in their heads--" He draws you closer, and you swallow. "But y'r not in mine."

You meet his eyes. They are dark, and they are meant to scare you, but the feeling that runs through you isn't one that terrifies you. He is a magnet--and you can feel the field of his presence, and it has you. This is supposed to be your show. They are men, and they are stupid, and you hate them, and Ghost should be eating out of the palm of your fucking manicured hand, but there he is, spitting against his mask, and it is you that aches to see what is underneath the cotton.

"So, little lamb..." Ghost rumbles, and it is with his entire chest that he speaks. "Wot is it you're here to do, eh?"

You shake your head, "N-Nothing. She...all she told me was that this was a joint operation...CIA and SAS--"

"Y'r on the piss, I know that," he hisses, clicking his teeth. "Joint operation," he laughs, but it is without humor. "Is that we're calling this now? Being barracks bunny for the 141?"

"Fuck you," you snap, shoving his hand off. "You're a fucking bastard, and if you think--"

"If I think wot, eh?" He stands, and you choke as he grips you by your throat, lifting you off of his bed and forcing you against the wall. You grip his wrist, but it is useless, because he's a brute, and you are nothing to him. He holds you there on your toes, and you grip him tighter, but he doesn't budge. Even digging your nails into him doesn't make him flinch. If anything, he seems amused. "Wot kind of trainin' she make y'do, eh? Did ya have to practice? Who'd y'shag to get y'r stripes?"

"Eat shit," you spit, and he snickers. There is fire in your eyes, venom on your tongue, you are a fighter, and when the world is so quiet, fighting feels good, and he knows this feeling well. He understands what it means to be nothing and then something, what it means to worthless and then useful in the eyes of government and government alone.

Because you are useful, but only to Laswell, and only as this, whatever this is. Whatever you are. Pet, prize, toy--it doesn't matter what the name is today, but it will stick tomorrow, and you wonder, sickeningly, if that is your destiny.

To be unknown. To be used. To be the property of what you do not know. To be given, to be taken, to not know and to be content with not knowing.

To accept it because it is still better than whatever you were before.

He sees this. He looks into your eyes, he breathes in, and he hums, and when his grip loosens just enough, you put your toes on the ground, and you lean in, and there you are.

One and the same. Bitten, chewed, spit out, two people who are products of their suffering and the culmination of their sheer fucking will to live, even if the living is miserable.

Maybe that is what it is. Maybe it's what's broken that will put you together. Ghost is the glue, you are the solvent, and you will make it so.

Because I can't fail, I can't do it, I won't go back, I can't go back--

"I'm here for me," you whisper. "I'm here for me, and no one else--" You gasp, and it isn't a lie, not really. You are here for you, this is for you, even if it is at the downfall of someone else. If you need to step on necks to get ahead, you will.

Ghost is the last piece. The last one you need to move. He is stuck, but now you know what it is you need to do, you know how to set the game into motion.

"Ghost," you breathe, and it's soft, it's quiet. You meet his eyes, and you lean close, and he feels your breath on the front of his mask. "It's not what you think."

"You're a lamb."

"I don't wanna be a lamb."

"It doesn't matter what y'want, y'are a lamb," he growls, and you whine, and he hums, and you can see the crinkle of his eyes, and you know he must be smiling. "Tha's wot y'are, and y'can't run away from tha'."

You blink, and he stares, and there is understanding. You are prey, and you belong, but you don't know where. But then you remember you are a soldier, and it isn't your job to know. Your job is to lie still and let them have you.

And to not tell my handler how much I like it.

"It's what they made me," you whisper, and when there are tears in the corner of your eyes, he is gentle. He smooths his hand down your throat, rubbing a thumb over your trembling lip, and you know that he understands you. "It's not what I wanted."

"It's never what we want," he murmurs. "Never."

You hold your breath when he cups your face with a big gloved hand. Dark eyes on soft ones, and you wonder what it would be like to have him. He doesn't keen the way John does, doesn't kneel the way Johnny kneels, doesn't follow and listen without objection the way that Kyle does. No, he's a brick wall, and you need to be what knocks him over. You need to shake the foundation, split it in two.

You need to sever the fucking bond and do your fucking job.

"So when can I have what I want?" You ask him softly. "When...when is it my turn?"

He tilts his head to the side, curious, and you slide your hands up his forearms, over the muscle of his biceps. He is everything you cannot have.

And he is everything that you suddenly realize you want.

Forbidden. Unrelenting. The oxygen to a raging fire. He isn't the glue, he's the catalyst to whatever the fuck you bring to the experiment, and even though you know this will be disaster, you want it. You want it so badly.

Destruction tastes so good. Control is victory. Sex is power, and you want him, you want this, you want him to have you, to own you, to make you see what he sees, because it will be familiar because you are the same.

"Y'r a soldier," he says lowly. "Not about what we want. 's about what they want."

"Fuck what they want," you groan, looking away, and then a few tears slip down your face. "Fuck what they do with us. If I die for them, they only tick some fucking statistic. It means nothing. So why can't I do what I want with the time I get before...before I'm just...before I'm nothing again?"

And there it is. The mirror you hold up. The common ground. The level playing field. The two paths that cross, this is it, I have it, I have it, I fucking have it, I have him, he's mine--

He kisses you. You don't get to see his face, but his lips are there, a precious amount of skin that you're blessed with seeing until your eyes are closing.

His bed is warm. He fills it well, the breadth of him almost too much for its size, but it doesn't matter because he fucks so well. He eats your cunt because he's hungry, your thighs on his shoulders shaking as he laps at your wet folds.

He does this different. John is soft and slow, Kyle takes his time, and Johnny is always eager and sloppy. But Ghost watches. He slides his tongue in soft motions, watching, and when your thighs twitch and shake, he does the motion again. He flattens his tongue and drags it, and when you whine and arch your back, he revels in the way you move. He drinks what you spill, he fucks you with his tongue, and this is different because this isn't just attraction.

There is something about him. Something underneath the layers he covers himself with, under the mask, something that you can see that others cannot even though he doesn't take those layers off.

You know this is true when he's inside of you. His mask hasn't come off, but his mouth is on your ear, and he groans, and he talks, and you feel like he spoils you this way. Ghost never talks. You wonder often if maybe he has a limited amount of words, and he never says more than he has to lest he runs out of them. His eyes speak, and it's more than enough, but now, he talks, and it is a gift, and now you know.

He cradles your head as he fucks you, and he kisses you until you can't breathe, and then when he talks, it takes everything in you not to beg for more.

"Such a nice cunt...'s so nice..."

"Fuck--y'feel me, luv? Right there--" And he presses his palm down on your stomach, and you cry when he grabs your face and forces you to look at him, because he's cruel and he's mean, but his cock feels so good--

And you think it can't get better, and you think he can't go any deeper, and then your thighs are wrapped around his waist, and he's leaning over you, and you think you're forgetting your name.

You forget yourself. You forget the reason you're here. It's so hard to think when you're not yourself, when your mind is in the stars, when everything feels far away and so close all at the same time. There is a place for him inside of you now, and you know that even though he will ruin you, even though he already has, you will never be rid of him.

You've severed the bond. You've made your own.

When he kisses you again, and when he grinds his hips down so nice that your clit aches, you know suddenly what it feels like to have real control. The feeling that Laswell chases, the feeling she wants so fucking badly that she's made your body a weapon, your cunt a tool, your brain the hivemind that will make her every wish come true, you understand now.

You will make the sky blue, the birds sing, but you did not realize the power you held until you had Simon "Ghost" Riley buried so deep in you, that you aren't sure you're even really here anymore.

You gnaw on his arm, your tongue tracing the tattoos there. You taste sweat, and you swallow it, and you go numb thinking about having more of him inside of you. You want to bite and eat and take as much of him that he will let you--no.

You will bite and eat and take as much of him that you want, because he's yours, and you get whatever you want.

Your fingers grasp the cotton of his mask, and your grip is enough to pull his lips off of you, and when your eyes meet, the gaze is different. He's desperate. For once, there is something disorderly there, and he pants, and he wants something from you, and finally you have something to give him.

You fuck it out of him. You lay him on his back and let him look at you, and you fuck him because it feels good, because you want it, too, because it's all that matters. You cry into his mouth, sob, "please--! please, please, please--"

And he tugs on your hair in response, guiding your hips as he loses his composure, "'ve got you...y'r mine...'s olright, yeah--nggghhh, fuck, luv, th's it..."

You do want it. You do need it. You need them, but you want Ghost the most, because he is the piece that does not move. He is not willing to do anything except for the sake of his pack. Ghost is impenetrable, even your pretty cunt isn't enough to change his mind, but that isn't what this is.

This is mercy. Ghost, he is the product of all of his misery. You, you are the result of every man to ever betray you, the outcome of your unwavering desire for revenge. You are the same, somehow, and he knows this, and that is why can't help himself. That is why Ghost is underneath you, that is why he bares his mouth to you and lets you lick into it and allows you to taste the forbidden fruit.

Because he thinks you are him, and he thinks you think so, too, and all he's ever wanted in his life is just for someone to see him the way he saw himself.

When he comes, he paints your cunt and fills you, and you collapse, your body on fire as you come down from a high that takes your breath away. His big hands cradle you against his chest, and you don't move, too afraid to let go, and he kisses your face when you whimper. You can taste yourself on his tongue, and when he pulls out, you gather it up on your fingers and suck. He groans, and he kisses you, and then he sinks back to his knees because he doesn't hear the ringing in his ears when his mouth is on your pretty pussy.

You're just a lamb, it's all you are. Handpicked by Laswell to head into the lion's den, a scarred animal that has no one to protect her, straight to slaughter.

He knows what it feels like. He knows what it feels like to be used and forgotten, to have nowhere to go, to be backed into a corner with no way out, and he pities you.

Ghost pities you because there is nothing behind your eyes except fear. But it's a lie. You're so good at it now. It's a lie, and you tell it so well, and you're warm inside. Not from taking the last moving piece, but from the satisfaction of knowing you have done what others cannot. What others never could.

It's late when you finally settle beside him. He leaves you when you ask for something to eat. You watch him slip clothes on haphazardly and leave, the door swinging shut behind him as he shuffles to get what you need.

To provide. To protect. To shield. Ghost is good at those things, you knew he would be. A man does not nurse a brother back to health without it, does not protect his mother and defy his father without being good at being a dog.

He's a good guard dog. And when he goes, and the door is closed, you smile because the dog is mine, all fucking mine--

You reach for your phone, and you pull up the only contact in it. You type a simple message, and then you send it, and for good measure, you shut the device off, tossing it into the pile of your discarded clothes.

>> we have joy.

You are good at pretending. You can tell a lie without blinking. You have been taught to be this thing, and you do it well, because you are a soldier, and this is your mission, and you cannot fail, and you didn't fail.

When you see Laswell again, many weeks later, she is not surprised to see you covering up with long sleeves and keeping your hair down. One tug on the collar of your shirt, and she gets glimpses of the love bites that have marked bruises all across your skin. She lets you go, tells you to sit, and she smirks.

You smile back this time.

Men are fickle. And they fucking deserve this.

"Good girl," she takes out another manila folder, but it's different this time. When you open it, you have schedules of upcoming ops, intel the boys are working, evidence of their reckless abandonment of order in favor of the chaotic success of getting the job done. You have seen this first hand, you know what they do and how they do it. But now there is another factor, another subject, right in the middle of it all. It is you.

Laswell takes a seat, spreading out the papers, and you meet her eyes. This time it's different. This is the truth, and you want to feel bad for your betrayal, but you don't. The fact of the matter is that you and Laswell, together in this room, have more power at your feet than you know what to do with.

A lamb to slaughter, and yet you sleep with the wolves.

"Alright," she says. "Now let's get to fucking work."

[faebled-stories]

"We Met Online"

Kinkvember Day 1: Virtual Reality

LOONA/ARTMS Jeon Heejin x Male reader

(Happy Belated Halloween)

8.6k words

Heejin was exhausted after another grueling day packed with rehearsals, interviews, and photoshoots. The bright lights and relentless schedules of her life as an idol often overshadowed the excitement and passion she once felt for her craft. While the glitz and glamor brought rewards, they also came with the suffocating weight of expectation—the never-ending demand for perfection. After yet another long day navigating the pressures of fame, she craved an escape, something to take her mind off the incessant hustle for just a moment.

As she entered the shared apartment she called home with her fellow ARTMS members, she was greeted by the unexpected sight of Jinsoul lounging on the couch. A mischievous smile danced across her face, instantly piquing Heejin's interest.

“Hey, Heejin!” Jinsoul called out, her eyes sparkling with excitement. “Got something for you.”

Heejin raised an inquisitive eyebrow, her fatigue momentarily forgotten. Jinsoul reached behind the couch and produced a sleek black box prominently displaying a logo that sent a thrill of recognition through Heejin—Infinity. This was the VR game that had taken the gaming world by storm, promising an immersive realm where players could interact and experience life in a way that felt startlingly real.

"Before you say anything, check this out!" Jinsoul exclaimed, as she effortlessly revealed a second item—a thin, skin-tight suit that looked like it belonged in a futuristic sci-fi film. The suit shimmered slightly under the apartment's fluorescent lights, its smooth, almost weightless fabric captivating Heejin's attention.

“What... is that?” Heejin asked, hesitantly taking the suit from Jinsoul’s hands. The fabric felt cool against her fingertips, almost alive with potential.

“This,” Jinsoul said, her smile widening, “is what makes the experience really immersive. It’s a haptic feedback suit. You wear this while playing, and it makes you feel everything from touches to sensations—like you’re actually there. Trust me, you’re going to love it.”

Heejin eyed the suit with a mix of intrigue and apprehension. The thought of feeling things in a game was both thrilling and slightly unnerving. Yet, given the chaotic demands of her life, the idea of escaping reality, even for just a little while, was immensely tempting.

“Alright,” Heejin finally said, a small smile breaking through her exhaustion. “I’ll give it a try.”

After quickly changing into the snug suit—its fabric wrapping around her like a second skin—Heejin donned the Infinity VR headset. As she activated it, the familiar world of her daily routine melted away, replaced by a kaleidoscope of vibrant colors and enchanting scenery in the expansive landscape of the game.

Heejin found herself standing in the midst of a bustling virtual marketplace, where avatars of all shapes and sizes interacted with one another amid floating islands, glowing rivers, and a mesmerizing starry sky. The air felt cool and invigorating, a crispness that felt astoundingly real, and the sensation of her feet grounding her on the cobblestone path added to the illusion of reality.

As she moved about, Heejin looked down at her customized avatar: Noxelia. She had spent hours meticulously designing her digital persona, pouring all her aspirations and hidden desires into this character. Noxelia was tall and graceful, exuding an air of power with every gesture. Her long silver-black hair flowed behind her like silk, cascading elegantly down her back, while her armor shimmered with a radiant violet hue, reflecting the light of the ethereal marketplace. Noxelia embodied everything Heejin wanted to be—strong, confident, and untouchable.

With each step, Heejin felt a sense of liberation. In this virtual world, the constraints and expectations tied to her real-life identity faded away. No longer did she have to strive for perfection or balance the weight of public scrutiny; in this realm, she could be anyone she wished to be. Breathing in the imaginary scents of street food and experiencing the chatter of NPCs and other players brought her an unfamiliar sense of joy.

As Heejin wandered the vibrant marketplace, the colors and sounds pulsed with life, pulling her deeper into this virtual world. Stalls adorned with shimmering goods and bustling avatars created an electric atmosphere. But it wasn’t long before her keen eye was caught by the figure of another player standing nearby—a default knight clad in simple silver armor, with a basic sword slung at his side. What made him stand out were the tiny sparkles that glimmered across his chest plate, giving him an unexpectedly charming, magical quality amidst the melee of customizations.

Heejin felt a playful smile spread across her face as she looked at her meticulously designed avatar, Noxelia, which was a beacon of creativity and power. The contrast was amusing, and she felt a spark of mischief surge within her. With a lighthearted stride, she approached the knight.

“Nice knight outfit!” Heejin teases, her voice playful as she leans casually against a nearby stall. “Going for the ‘chivalry isn’t dead’ look?”

The default knight, turn with a grin. “What can I say? I’m a classic.” Your tone is lighthearted, your eyes dancing with humor.

“Classic, huh? While that’s admirable, wouldn’t it be more fun to have something original like mine?” She gestures to her intricately designed armor, the brilliant colors and detailed patterns shimmering in the marketplace light.

You chuckle, raising your hands in mock surrender. “You’re not wrong. I didn’t spend nearly as much time as some people on the customization screen.” There’s a hint of self-deprecation in your voice, your friendly expression encouraging her boldness.

With a flick of her hair, Heejin takes pride in her work. “I customized it all myself. Took hours, but every second was worth it. It feels so much more... me. But hey, at least you have those shiny sparkles.” She flashes you an encouraging smile, appreciating the effort you put in, however minimal it may seem.

You glance down at your armor, a hint of embarrassment creeping onto your face but quickly replaced with admiration for her dedication. “It’s impressive,” you admit. “But the sparkles? Blame my sister for those. She thought the default knight was too boring and convinced me to give it a touch of flair.”

Heejin’s grin widens at your candidness. “Your sister’s got good taste! At least someone in your family does.” She chuckles, the playful banter putting you both at ease.

And just like that, an easy connection forms between you two, filled with laughter and light-hearted teasing. Amidst the bustling marketplace, your camaraderie begins to bloom, reminding Heejin that sometimes, it’s not just the detailed armor or flashy weapons that make a game more enjoyable, but the spontaneous conversations with fellow players that create memories worth cherishing.

Over the next few weeks, you and Heejin forge a routine of playing together regularly. You become a familiar duo, exploring the vastness of Infinity, navigating through intricate puzzles, unveiling hidden treasures in new zones, and playfully competing in exhilarating mini-games. Amidst the thrill and occasional heated competition, Heejin finds herself drawn to your relaxed demeanor. Your ability to elicit laughter, even in the most intense gaming moments, creates a warmth that infuses your bond with joy and light-heartedness.

One serene evening, you and Heejin find yourselves perched on Cloud Summit—a breathtaking floating isle that seems to reach for the heavens. The ambiance is nothing short of magical; the sky is painted in soft pastels, with delicate hues merging into one another, while the clouds below shimmer as if kissed by a gentle light. For Heejin, Cloud Summit quickly becomes her retreat, a serene hideaway to escape the weight of reality pressing down.

“You’re really good at this,” you say, joining her on a pixelated bench overlooking the horizon. Your avatar exudes a relaxed charm as you rest beside her, your gaze sweeping over the breathtaking scenery. “You always seem… focused.”

A gentle smile graces Heejin’s face as she takes in the view, the colors swirling like cotton candy in the vast canvas above. “That’s why I like it here,” she replies thoughtfully, her voice barely a whisper against the tranquility of the surroundings. “It’s the only place I can relax, you know?”

Curiosity flickers in your eyes as you turn to face her. “What do you mean?” you ask, genuinely interested.

Heejin takes a deep breath, letting the virtual winds carry away some of the weight she feels. “In real life,” she starts, her voice softening amidst the cloud-dappled sky, “I have this job. People expect a lot from me, and it’s exhausting. But here, in this world, I can just… be.”

Your expression shifts as the gravity of her words sinks in. You stay quiet, contemplating her vulnerability. “I get that,” you finally say. “I have my own responsibilities too. My sister... she looks up to me like I’m her knight in shining armor, but some days, it’s hard to live up to that. I feel like I’m letting her down”

It’s in that shared silence that something profound transpires. Heejin feels a deep, abiding sense of understanding passing between you, a connection that feels both immediate and enduring. Despite having never met in the physical realm, there’s an unspoken acknowledgment that pierces through the boundaries of your virtual existence.

As you linger in your conversation, Heejin finds comfort in the proximity of your avatar. Without even realizing it, you subtly shift closer, your digital shoulders brushing against each other. The feedback from her suit sends a gentle pulse through her body, etching your presence into her consciousness. It’s a simple gesture, but it feels like the quiet embrace of understanding she has longed for.

She hesitates, then feels a pull to lean into you, the act an instinctual response to the warmth radiating from your connection. “Thanks,” she murmurs, her voice barely rising above the gentle breeze. "For being here."

“For what?” you ask, your tone infused with warmth and sincerity.

“For just being here, talking to me,” she repeats, her heart swelling with gratitude.

Then, as if drawn by an unseen force, your avatars move closer together. In a spontaneous moment of bravery, you share your first virtual hug. At first, it feels a little awkward—two armored figures caught in a pixelated embrace—but through your haptic suits, warmth envelops you both, it’s a soft pressure that feels surprisingly intimate. Heejin could almost forget you could be separated by miles of reality.

Time seems to suspend as you hold onto each other. The virtual hug is simple, yet it’s charged with an energy that resonates in both your avatars and hearts. It transcends the playful banter of your previous interactions, hinting at a deeper connection emerging from the pixels.

-----

Though you never shared your real names, you and Heejin delved deeper into the recesses of each other’s lives, sharing small anecdotes and secrets that painted a vivid picture of the individuals behind your avatars. For Heejin, this was a sanctuary—a realm where she could shed the polished facade of stardom and embrace her authentic self, even under the veil of anonymity.

Your connection strengthened, and the game that once served as a mere pastime began to morph into something more profound. The boundaries of your virtual world started to blur, leading you both to a secluded enclave known as the Starlight Grove. Here, the luminescent trees and the soothing whispers of the river created an ambiance of tranquility and intimacy.

It was in this digital haven that you and Heejin experienced a shift in your relationship. As you stood beside the virtual waters, your avatars close enough to touch, a palpable tension filled the air. The haptic feedback suits you wore, designed to enhance the gaming experience, became conduits for a new kind of interaction—one that felt undeniably more real.

When you reached out and touched Heejin’s avatar, the suit sprang to life, simulating the warmth and pressure of a real human touch. The sensation was so convincing that it took her breath away. “I'll never get use to how real it feels.” she murmured, her voice tinged with surprise and delight.

Your touch was exploratory, your hand gliding down Heejin’s arm as if mapping out uncharted territory. Each pulse of sensation resonated like a soft echo, sending shivers through her body, igniting her senses. The technology bridging your virtual and physical realities had transcended mere gadgetry; it had become an extension of your very beings, allowing you to experience each other in ways you had never imagined possible within a game. Every pulse was a whisper, every sensation a promise, as you navigated this new realm of connection.

As your hand ventured lower, tracing the curve of her waist, the feedback became more intense. Heejin found herself succumbing to the illusion, her body arching toward your avatar, seeking more of the electric sensation that coursed through her with each simulated caress.

The intimacy of the moment escalated as your fingers moved with deliberate gentleness, crossing into more private territories. Heejin’s gasp echoed through the serene grove as her body responded to the suit’s accurate mapping of your touch. “Keep going, I can feel you... everywhere,” she confessed, her voice quivering with the weight of her vulnerability.

Your response was silent but spoke volumes through your actions. Your other hand found its way to her side, resting just beneath her chest. The new technology made the warmth of your touch tangible, each slow, intimate movement leaving Heejin breathless and yearning for more.

As the intensity of your virtual encounter grew, Heejin’s breaths became short and ragged. The sensors were so precise that every touch from you felt like a real caress, igniting a fire within her that threatened to consume her completely. Her body trembled, succumbing to the waves of pleasure that radiated from your every touch.

“Noxelia…” you murmured, your voice a low whisper that wrapped around her like a warm embrace.

“More... I want more.” she whimpered, her voice a mere whisper carried away by the digital wind.

Your fingers pressed into her with more insistence, the suit amplifying each sensation until Heejin felt as though she were floating, her body alight with an intensity that was almost too much to bear. The suit, once just a piece of gaming equipment, had become an instrument of unparalleled pleasure, each pulse and vibration resonating with her escalating desire.

Her breath caught as your virtual hands discovered a particularly sensitive spot between her legs. She hadn’t even realized that there were sensors in every nook of her pants, but the discovery heightened her awareness, causing her to arch against the unseen touch. Whimpers escaped her lips, growing more insistent, each sound a vibrato of desire.

Heejin’s cries began as a soft whimper, a prelude to the crescendo building within her. As the sensations intensified, her voice rose in pitch, becoming a series of breathy gasps punctuating the air. Each exhale carried a piece of her surrender, a testament to the pleasure that coursed through her veins.

“Please…” she breathed, the words becoming a mantra on her lips, a central thread amidst the chaos of her swirling thoughts.

As the tension built to its peak, Heejin’s cries intensified, creating a symphony of raw ecstasy. Each sound she made was a testament to the unbridled passion that enveloped her, growing louder and more urgent as the waves of pleasure coursed through her body. The air between them was charged, vibrating with the intensity of shared desire.

Her voice broke into a series of staccato moans, each one echoing the rhythm of her escalating heartbeat. Each sound was a note, weaving a melody that seemed to pulse in harmony with the flickering light of the Starlight Grove.

“Yes! Right there, don’t stop…” she panted, each syllable a fervent plea that resonated deep within the heart of their shared moment. Her body trembled, taut as a bowstring, as she teetered on the edge of rapture.

“I wouldn’t dream of it…” you replied, your tone carrying a seductive promise that pushed her further. The tension built, a fusion of will and sensation, until it snapped with breathtaking force.

The climax surged through her, a tidal wave that left her breathless and shattered, yet whole in a way only this moment could achieve. The cries that burst from her were pure and unrestrained, blending seamlessly with the ambient hum of the grove around them. Every muscle in her body seemed to pulse with the rhythm of her release, and for a moment, the world contracted to just the two of them and the echo of her bliss.

As the aftershocks rippled through her, her cries softened, subsiding into a contented hum that mirrored the tranquil ambiance of the Starlight Grove. Her breath evened out, and the only sounds left were the gentle rustle of the virtual foliage and the soft, satisfied sighs that escaped her swollen lips.

In the aftermath, as your avatars stood together in the soft glow of the luminescent garden, your heart raced, and a lingering warmth hummed through your body, a reminder of the intimacy you’d just shared. The suit, now a silent witness to the moment, lay against your skin—a gentle yet tangible link between your digital and physical worlds.

Slowly, Heejin’s body retreated, though the ghost of her touch lingered, a phantom presence you could still feel. As you looked around, the reality of what had just transpired settled in. Together, you had crossed a threshold, exploring depths of human connection in a place where the physical and the virtual felt inseparable.

The Starlight Grove, once just a scenic spot in the game, had transformed into a testament to your bond—a place where you and Heejin discovered that the heart’s capacity for connection knows no bounds, and that even within the confines of a digital world, human experiences can reach new heights of emotion and sensation.

"That was..." your voice broke the silence, filled with wonder and uncertainty. "More than I expected." The virtual space, typically a playground for fantasy and escapism, had transformed into a stage for a deeply human connection.

Heejin nodded, her breath still shaky. "Yeah... me too." The weight of what had just happened lingered, a tangible presence heavy with the knowledge that you had crossed a line neither of you anticipated.

The sensations, the connection—it had felt more real than either of you imagined possible. A game designed to simulate the thrill of adventure and camaraderie had instead become a conduit for an emotional exchange that left you both reeling. The digital environment, with its vivid landscapes and immersive experiences, had facilitated a bond that transcended pixels and code.

You laughed awkwardly, feeling uncertain of what to say next. "Uh, Noxelia, maybe I should... log off… I have a few things to take care of." The conversation, though taking place in a space where avatars are meant to be invincible, had touched something raw and vulnerable. Heejin gave a small, nervous smile, acknowledging the unspoken agreement. "Yeah... I think that’s a good idea. Same here."

With one final look, a gaze that felt as though it could pierce through the screen, you both logged off, letting the virtual world fade away. But as your screen went dark, the sound of Heejin's cries and pleas lingered, hanging in the silence long after the game had ended. The digital echo of your interaction replayed in your mind, a reminder of the depth and intensity that even online worlds could harbor.

You sat in your own apartment, the VR headset resting heavily on your lap. Like a film on replay, each moment shared between you two replayed in your mind. It felt all too tangible—too vivid. You could still feel the nuances of your presence, the harmony of your connection. This wasn’t just a game anymore; it was an experience, intimate and unforgettable. The events of the night lingered, leaving you to question what might come next.

Meanwhile, across the city, Heejin sat in the quiet of her room, yanking the VR headset off and sinking into silence as she stared blankly at the dormant screen. A light layer of sweat covered her body, her heart still pounding in her chest, the residual sensations from the immersive experience holding on like a delicate trace. Tentatively, she placed a hand between her legs, feeling the warmth and dampness that confirmed the intensity of her climax. The touch grounded her, pulling her back from the edge of the surreal and into the present.

The suit, now just fabric against her skin, had moments before been a bridge merging the virtual with the visceral. It had allowed her to feel emotions and sensations she hadn’t anticipated, leaving her both disoriented and exhilarated.

Running a hand through her hair, she struggled to process the whirlwind of emotions swirling within. Heejin, once just another player in the game, was now someone who had reached beyond the pixels, tethered by a connection that had transcended the screen.

Yet, as you sat in the stillness, you grappled with the implications of what had unfolded. Together, you’d crossed a boundary separating virtual interaction from emotional reality. What did this mean for your relationship? The urge to reach out lingered, but so did uncertainty. How could you transition from screen to reality, from alias to name, from a fantasy world to a genuine connection?

In the quiet contemplation, both you and Heejin found yourselves at a crossroads, reflecting on the connection fostered in a realm where sensations collided with emotions. The lines between the virtual and the real had blurred, leaving you both wondering if this bond could grow beyond the confines of the digital universe.

-----

For the past two weeks, the digital landscape of Infinity remained devoid of activity from its two most notable players: you and Heejin. The electric encounter had left an indelible mark on both of you, each hesitant to return to the game. Every time Heejin considered logging back in, memories flooded her mind—the warmth of your touch, the realism of your interactions, enhanced by the haptic suits. It was an experience both exhilarating and unsettling, one that made her heart race and left her feeling unsure.

You, too, were haunted by that night. The human mind intermingles confusion with excitement, embarrassment with desire. Each attempt to push the memory aside only amplified the awkwardness you felt at the thought of seeing her avatar again. What could you say? How could you interact as you had before?

One evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon, casting warm hues across your apartment, you sat at the kitchen table, exhaustion settling after a long day at work. During this quiet moment, your younger sister, Nari, burst into the room like a whirlwind, her princess costume twirling around her as she moved. You couldn’t help but smile; she’d been preparing her Halloween outfit for weeks.

“Oppa, did you get the tickets?” she asked eagerly, bouncing into the chair beside you.

Your heart sank. “Nari… I don’t know if I can get the tickets. They’re really expensive,” you admitted, running a hand through your hair as the familiar weight of financial stress settled over you.

Nari’s bright expression faltered, confusion replacing her excitement. “But you promised we’d go to the ARTMS Halloween Event! I want to see all the girls—they’re so cool! I’ve been practicing their dances for months!” Her wide eyes sparkled with innocent hope, and the ache in your heart grew.

“I know, Nari,” you said softly, trying to ease the blow. “But things are a little tough right now. We might not be able to go.”

Her face fell, and the corners of her mouth drooped in disappointment. She didn’t understand why her oppa couldn’t make this happen—he always made things happen. “Please, oppa?” she pleaded, her eyes glistening. “I really want to go! It’s going to be the best thing ever! Please? I’ll be so good, and I won’t ask for anything else! Just this, I promise!”

You looked into her hopeful eyes, feeling a tight knot form in your chest. Nari didn’t know the sacrifices you made daily to ensure she had what she needed, and those little joys that brightened her world. The thought of disappointing her was unbearable. In that moment, she was your entire world, her happiness was everything.

You felt the crushing weight of financial strain as it collided with your overwhelming love for your sister. “Alright,” you whispered, relenting, though you weren’t sure how you’d make it work. “I’ll see what I can do.”

Nari’s face lit up instantly. She leapt forward, wrapping her arms around you in a tight hug. “Thank you, oppa! You’re the best! I can’t wait! We can match our costumes, and it’ll be perfect!”

Despite the worry gnawing at you, her joy was infectious, a reminder that despite life’s hardships, moments like these made everything worthwhile. “Yeah,” you murmured, softening under her embrace. “I’ll make sure we go.”

As you held Nari close, a spark of determination ignited. No matter the obstacles ahead, you would find a way to make this happen. Her happiness was worth everything, and you’d do whatever it took to make her dreams a reality.

-----

On a balmy evening, you and your sister, Nari, stepped into the buzz of excitement that enveloped the venue. The air was thick with anticipation as fans clad in vibrant costumes filled the space, their laughter and chatter mingling with the distant sound of music. You took a deep breath, adjusting the metallic sheen of your knight costume that you had donned to match Nari's enchanting princess outfit. However, beneath the gleaming armor, a sense of unease stirred within you. Your thoughts spiraled back to Noxelia, the girl who had ignited your heart during your late-night gaming sessions. Did she think of you the way you thought of her?

The crowd erupted into cheers as ARTMS finally took the stage, the deafening roar sweeping through the venue like a wave. Your heart nearly stopped, your breath catching in your throat the moment your eyes locked onto one of the performers. It was her—dressed in a costume that was an exact replica of Noxelia, the avatar that your companion had meticulously created. She stood front and center, illuminated by the spotlight, her presence magnetic, drawing every gaze toward her. The vibrant colors of her outfit were vivid, each intricate detail expertly crafted, a perfect mirror of everything you adored about the design and the mysterious girl who played it.

A knot formed in your chest as a startling realization hit you like a tidal wave: the girl who had been your cherished companion in the virtual world, your confidante and battle partner, was standing before you, not just as Noxelia, but as a famous idol beloved by thousands. The revelation sent your thoughts spiraling. How could the two worlds—your quiet, private connection with Noxelia and the glitzy, public persona of this star—exist in harmony? What could you, an ordinary guy, possibly offer her when she was surrounded by adoration, fame, and people who hung on her every word? The divide between you felt impossibly vast.

Moments after the electrifying performance, Nari grabbed your hand, her excitement contagious as you hurried toward the fan meet. Her eyes sparkled, her face glowing with joy as she practically bounced with each step, brimming with anticipation to meet her idols. But your mind was a storm of anxious thoughts, the weight of the revelation sinking in. You could hardly hear Nari’s enthusiastic chatter over the sound of your racing heartbeat. Each step toward the meet-and-greet felt heavier, the distance between you shrinking yet your internal turmoil growing. You were walking toward the girl who had been the source of so much of your happiness, but also the cause of your most nagging insecurities. What would she think of you when you finally stood face-to-face? Would she even piece the puzzle together? The reality of your encounter loomed, and your thoughts buzzed in a relentless loop as you approached her, the line shortening with every breath.

“Heejin-unnie! Don’t tell the others, but you’re my favorite!” Nari exclaimed as you reached the front of the line, her eyes sparkling with pure admiration. “I’ve been practicing your dances!”

Heejin’s smile widened, warmth radiating from her as she leaned forward to respond. “Thank you so much for coming! I’m honored to be in the presence of royalty, my princess.” The moment felt surreal, watching your sister bask in the glow of her idol’s attention.

With excitement bubbling over, Nari gestured to herself and then pointed proudly at you. “I’m Nari, and this is Y/N oppa! He’s my favorite person in the whole world.” She leaned in closer to Heejin, whispering conspiratorially but loud enough for you to hear. “You take that spot when he ignores me to play that game with the goggles and tights.”

Your stomach twisted, a knot forming as heat flushed your cheeks. You glanced nervously at Heejin, silently praying she wouldn’t pick up on the meaning behind Nari’s innocent words. For a brief moment, Heejin’s smile faltered, and her brows knitted as she exchanged glances between you and your sister, a hint of confusion in her expressive eyes.

“Goggles and tights?” Heejin echoed, her voice playful yet laced with curiosity.

Nari nodded enthusiastically, completely unaware of the storm brewing inside you. “Yeah! He plays it all the time. I even helped him make his character. Sometimes I sneak into his room because he looks so funny wearing all the gear.” She giggled, eyes bright with mischief.

Your face turned beet red; the spotlight of embarrassment was nearly unbearable. Heejin's expression shifted slightly, her skepticism apparent, but she quickly masked it with her trademark smile. Just as you thought you might escape unscathed, Nari tugged on your arm, her excitement palpable.

“Oppa! Show Heejin-unnie the thing!” Nari insisted, her words bubbling over with excitement.

You hesitated for a moment, knowing that revealing this secret could invite scrutiny you weren’t prepared to face. Still, your sister’s eager eyes left you little choice. With a reluctant sigh, you parted the front of your cape, revealing the array of sparkles that Nari had enthusiastically added to your knight costume. The shimmering details mirrored the intricate designs of your avatar’s armor in the game that had brought you and Heejin together.

Heejin’s eyes widened, flickering down to the sparkles as surprise shifted to realization. Her expression changed subtly—her lips parted slightly, and her brow arched as though a light had just switched on. The puzzle pieces clicked into place, and you felt the weight of her understanding settle over you.

No words were exchanged in that charged moment, yet the unspoken acknowledgment hung between you like a fragile thread. Heejin kept her composure, a soft smile curving her lips as Nari continued to chatter happily about her favorite dances. But the atmosphere had changed, carrying a subtle current that both excited and unsettled you.

As Nari giddily thanked Heejin, you felt a shift in your dynamic with the idol. You caught Heejin’s gaze lingering as she finished signing a poster for your sister, a silent echo of the connection you had shared in the game. That bond was now tangled with the reality of her stardom and your ordinary life. Would you remain just another player in her world, or had you crossed into something more significant? With a quiet sigh of relief and uncertainty, you stepped aside, wondering how this new chapter would unfold.

Unbeknownst to you, Heejin’s mind was a storm of thoughts, she began formulating a plan in her head while connecting the dots between your shared moments in the virtual world and the reality before her. The quiet understanding that had passed between you left her intrigued and curious about the path ahead.

-----

As you and Nari were about to leave the venue, one of the staff members approached you with a smile.

“Excuse me, sir? Heejin-ssi wanted to know if you and your sister would like to come backstage for a private meet-and-greet,” the staff member said politely.

Nari’s eyes lit up with pure joy, her excitement overflowing. “Really?! Oppa! We get to meet them again!”

Caught off guard, you glanced at the staff member, then at Nari, who was practically jumping with excitement. “Uh... sure,” you said hesitantly, feeling your nerves spike. You weren’t sure why Heejin wanted to see you both again, but Nari’s happiness was impossible to deny.

As you and Nari followed the staff member backstage, her excitement was palpable. She couldn’t stop bouncing on her feet, her little princess crown slightly askew as she held your hand tightly. You were led into a private room where the rest of the ARTMS members were hanging out after the event, casually chatting and relaxing in their costumes.

When you entered, the girls looked up, clearly surprised to see two new faces.

“Who’s this?” Jinsoul asked, her brow raised in curiosity as she eyed you and Nari.

Kim Lip, lounging on a couch, tilted her head. “Did we invite guests?” she asked, glancing at Heejin, who stood just behind you and Nari.

Nari, oblivious to the confusion, immediately ran up to the group, her eyes sparkling with excitement. “Unnie, we met earlier today, and Heejin unnie brought us back” she announced.

The girls exchanged amused glances at Nari’s enthusiasm, though they were clearly still puzzled by the situation.

Heejin smiled warmly at Nari, then looked at her members. “Sorry for the surprise, but... I need to talk to my friend about something privately. Could you all keep an eye on Nari for a few minutes?”

At first, the girls seemed a bit unsure, but the moment they looked at Nari—who was grinning up at them with wide, eager eyes—they couldn’t resist.

“Oh, of course” Choerry said, kneeling down to Nari’s level. “We’ll have so much fun, won’t we, Nari?”

Nari clapped her hands excitedly. “Yay! I get to hang out with all the pretty unnies!”

Heejin smiled gratefully, her heart warmed by how quickly the girls took to Nari. But as she turned to you, her expression shifted. There was a quiet intensity in her eyes, an unspoken tension simmering just beneath the surface.

“Let’s go,” Heejin said softly, her voice steady yet charged with something more.

Sensing the shift in the air, you nodded and opened the door for her. You followed her into a quieter, smaller room down the hallway. As you closed the door behind you, a thick silence settled over the space. Neither of you spoke for a moment, the weight of everything unsaid pressing down on you.

Turning back to face her, you asked, “So, Noxelia, your real name is Heejin?”

Before you could finish your sentence, Heejin moved. In an instant, she crossed the small distance between you and threw herself into your arms, cutting you off with a fierce, passionate kiss. Her lips met yours with a hunger that had been building for weeks, a need restrained by the boundaries of the game but now unleashed without limits. The sensation of her body pressed against yours was overwhelming, and for a moment, your mind went blank as you lost yourself in the kiss.

Your arms instinctively wrapped around her, pulling her closer as you deepened the kiss, matching her intensity. The kiss was raw, filled with all the pent-up emotions you hadn’t been able to express in Infinity. The passion, the longing—it all came crashing down in this moment, unrestrained and real in a way the game could never allow.

Heejin’s hands slid up your chest, trying to hold on to your costume as if anchoring herself to you. It was so different from the touches you had shared in the virtual world—this was real, tangible, electric. You could feel her heartbeat through her body, her breath warm against your skin as you kissed like you were making up for all the time you had held back.

When you finally pulled apart, breathless, your forehead rested against hers, your breathing heavy in the quiet room.

“That’s... what we couldn’t do in the game,” Heejin whispered, her voice barely above a breathless laugh.

You chuckled softly, still holding her close, your heart pounding in your chest. “Yeah. We couldn’t.”

For a moment, neither of you moved, your bodies still pressed together, savoring the closeness. Everything you hadn’t been able to express in the game—the connection you had built, the tension that had grown between you—was finally being released.

As Heejin’s eyes fluttered open, meeting your gaze, there was something in them now that wasn’t just desire—it was understanding, a shared recognition of what you had both been feeling all along. The virtual world had been a safe space for you to explore your emotions, but this... this was real, raw, and far beyond anything you could have experienced in Infinity.

Heejin’s fingers slid from your chest to the collar of your costume, gently tugging at it. Her eyes remained locked on yours, but there was a new determination in them. Slowly, she began unfastening your knight’s armor, peeling it away as if removing the final barrier separating you from reality. The metaphor wasn’t lost on either of you—it was as though you were stripping away the layers of your avatars, your game personas, to reveal the people you truly were underneath.

You felt your breath catch as her fingers worked their way down, exposing more of your costume piece by piece. The air around you seemed to thicken, charged with the tension that had been building for so long. Every piece of armor that came undone felt like peeling back another layer of the virtual world you had once hidden behind.

Heejin’s hands moved deliberately, her touch light but charged with anticipation as she pushed the rest of your costume off, letting it fall to the floor. Your skin tingled where her hands had been, and for a moment, you just stood there, drinking each other in. Without the game between you, every movement felt more intense, more intimate.

Your hands moved instinctively, reaching for the violet armor. Your fingers brushed against the painted foam as you began lifting it, and she raised her arms to help you remove it. As the material slipped over her head and joined your costume on the floor, your eyes met again, and the reality of the moment hit you both. This wasn’t a fantasy anymore—it was real.

The tension between you crackled as your hands began to explore one another’s bodies, mapping out the skin that was previously an avatar. Each touch was deliberate, each caress more intimate than anything you had shared in Infinity. It was as if you were finally free to feel everything you had only imagined in the game.

Heejin’s breath hitched as your hands slid around her waist, pulling her closer. She could feel the heat of your skin against hers, the rhythm of your heartbeat matching her own. It was different from the game—the sensations were more raw, more intense. Every inch of her body was alive with anticipation.

Slowly, your hands moved to her back, unclasping the layer of fabric that separated you. As her undergarments fell away, Heejin leaned into you, her lips finding you again. The kiss was slower this time, more deliberate, as you savored the feeling of being together without the virtual barrier.

“This...” Heejin whispered between kisses, her voice soft but filled with meaning. “This is what we were missing.”

Your hands roamed her body, your touch sending shivers down her spine. “Yeah,” you murmured, your voice low and breathless. “We don’t have to hold back anymore.”

The world outside faded away, leaving only you and Heejin, wrapped in a warmth that felt both profound and familiar. Every touch, every kiss held an unspoken promise, slowly dismantling the barriers of your virtual past and grounding you in the undeniable reality of this moment.

You pulled her close, sinking gently onto the soft floor, her breaths mingling with yours as the heat between you intensified. Here, in this quiet sanctuary, there was no pretense—just two people, stripped of all facades, exposed and vulnerable in the most beautiful way. This was a release of everything you’d been holding back, a connection neither of you could deny any longer.

Your lips brushed over her neck, coaxing a soft gasp from Heejin as her hands tightened around you, as if to steady herself in the vivid reality of the moment. Every kiss was a new discovery, an exploration of the person you had known deeply but were now feeling in a way you’d only dreamed of. Your hands drifted slowly down her body, savoring the warmth and softness of her skin. Heejin’s breath grew heavier, her body arching into you with each touch.

Heejin’s fingers wove into your hair, pulling you into a kiss that was both tender and charged with a deep, unspoken need. Her lips moved over yours with a mix of softness and intensity, as if savoring every moment of closeness. When her kisses traveled to your neck, you felt a warmth bloom between you, a gentle urgency in every touch that deepened the connection you both shared.

As a response, you let your lips trail down her body, leaving soft kisses along her chest and midriff. Her skin was warm and inviting beneath your lips, each kiss a way of conveying everything you felt. You continued slowly, savoring each inch, feeling her body respond to your touch.

When you reached her folds, you lingered, savoring the warmth of her body as you moved closer, your breath warm against her skin. Her taste was subtle and intoxicating, a hint of sweetness that seemed to draw you further into the intimacy, deepening your own arousal. The soft, responsive way her body moved beneath your touch only heightened your senses, each gentle shiver urging you onward as you let your kisses and touch communicate everything words couldn’t express.

A soft moan escaped Heejin’s lips, her fingers tightening in your hair as her breath quickened. Her sounds were quiet at first, then grew as she arched into you, each moan revealing her pleasure, her body attuned to every movement. Her voice, soft yet unmistakably filled with longing, filled the room, wrapping around you, encouraging you, drawing you closer.

Every movement was careful, deliberate, as you lost yourself in the closeness, the way her body responded to your touch. Her taste lingered on your lips, her scent surrounding you, blending with the warmth that continued to build between you, heightening the intensity with each passing second. Heejin’s soft moans became a melody, matching the rhythm of your shared connection, pulling you deeper into the moment.

In this timeless moment, there were no avatars, no screens—just the two of you, fully present, experiencing the depth of your bond in a way that was breathtaking and real. The intensity of your shared desire blended seamlessly with the vulnerability you both offered, crafting a connection that was as unforgettable as it was profound.

Heejin's eyes fluttered open, locking with yours as you positioned yourself between her parted thighs. Her pulse quickened, her body trembling with anticipation. "I want you," she breathed, her voice barely above a whisper. "I need you."

Your gaze softened, your thumb gently brushing away the tear that had escaped down her cheek. "I'm here," you murmured, your lips ghosting over hers. "I'll always be here for you, Heejin."

With a gentle thrust of your hips, you entered her, your eyes never leaving hers as you began to move. Heejin's fingers dug into your shoulders, her nails leaving faint crescent-shaped marks on your skin. A soft moan slipped past her lips as you filled her completely, the sensation unlike anything she had ever known.

You moved together, your bodies rocking in a slow, sensual rhythm. Your lips found the sensitive spot beneath her ear, your teeth grazing the delicate skin as you kissed and nipped along her neck. Heejin's hips lifted to meet yours, her body arching into your touch like a bow drawn taut.

The coil of pleasure within her tightened with each thrust, each caress of your hands on her skin. Your breath grew ragged against her ear, your movements becoming more urgent as you chased your shared release. Heejin could feel her own climax building, the heat within her threatening to consume her entire being.

"I'm close," you rasped, your voice strained with the effort to hold back. "Heejin, tell me when you're ready. I want to feel you come undone beneath me."

Heejin's nails raked down your back, urging you on as she teetered on the brink of ecstasy. "Dont stop" she gasped, her head falling back against the pillow. "I'm so close. Please, don't stop."

Your hips snapped forward, your thrusts becoming harder, faster as you felt Heejin's body begin to tighten around you. You covered her lips with yours, swallowing her cries of pleasure as her orgasm crashed over her like a tidal wave.

Heejin's body trembled and shook with pleasure as she reached her peak, her fingers digging into your back as she held onto you for dear life. Her breath hitched as she cried out, her pussy clenching and spasming around your length as she came undone beneath you.

The sensation of Heejin's climax enveloped you, utterly overwhelming as you found yourself beyond the point of restraint. With a final, profound plunge, you reached the pinnacle of your own pleasure. As you withdrew, your essence flowed forth, cascading across her folds, trailing up her torso to her stomach, and finally gracing her breasts with a warm, intimate embrace.

Your body shuddered as you caught your breath, your hips still jerking slightly as the aftershocks of your orgasm rippled through you. You pressed your forehead against hers, your heavy breathing syncing up as you both rode out the waves of pleasure together.

The room was filled with the sounds of your heavy breaths and the lingering scent of your lovemaking. Your heart raced in your chest as you looked into Heejin's eyes, seeing the same intensity and passion reflected back at you.

You leaned down, pressing a gentle kiss to her lips as you both came down from your high. Pulling her close, you held her tightly against you as you lay there, basking in the afterglow of your shared climax. It was a moment you knew you would never forget.

You remained intertwined, your bodies still joined, hearts beating in sync as you slowly drifted back down to earth. Your hand sought out Heejin’s, fingers intertwining as you brushed a sweat-dampened strand of hair from her face.

Heejin rested her head against your chest, tracing gentle circles on your skin with her fingers as you both caught your breath. There was a sense of calm between you now, a peaceful silence that spoke volumes about what you had just shared.

You stroked her hair softly, your heart still pounding in your chest, but there was a new sense of ease in how you held each other. You had peeled away all the layers of your virtual world and stepped fully into reality, facing the rawness of your feelings without hesitation.

“This,” Heejin whispered, her voice soft yet filled with meaning. “This is more than I ever imagined.”

You smiled, pressing a gentle kiss to the top of her head. “Yeah,” you agreed, your voice low and tender. “This is what we’ve been waiting for.”

As the soft light of the room dimmed around you, the weight of your shared reality settled in, more tangible than any moment you had experienced in the game. There were no barriers left—no pixels, no layers of code, just your hearts and bodies, fully exposed to one another.

You pressed another soft kiss to Heejin’s forehead, the warmth between you undeniable. As you lay there, content in each other's presence, reality began to creep back in. You had crossed the boundary from virtual to real, and now, there was no turning back.

Heejin looked up at you, her eyes still bright with affection. "What happens now?" she asked, her voice quiet but filled with hope.

You smiled, brushing a thumb over her cheek. "I think," you began, your tone steady, "we make sure this becomes part of our real lives. Not just some moment, but something we build on. You and me."

Heejin’s heart swelled at your words, her hand gently squeezing yours. "I want that, too," she whispered, her smile reflecting yours.

After a moment of comfortable silence, you sat up, your body still warm and glistening from the closeness you’d shared. "We should probably get back," you murmured, glancing over at Heejin with a soft smile. "The girls are still with my sister."

Heejin chuckled, sitting up beside you and brushing her hair back. "Yeah, I’m sure they’ve been spoiling her."

You rose to your feet and offered her a hand, helping her up. "She’s pretty cute," you said with a grin, "so I can’t really blame them."

You both laughed, and for a moment, you held onto each other’s gaze. The quiet understanding between you felt like the beginning of something real—something you both wanted to explore.

You helped clean her up before gathering your costumes, and together, you slipped into your outfits. The air was filled with a relaxed ease as you each adjusted your armor, side by side, occasionally stealing glances that held all the warmth of the moment you’d just shared. Heejin adjusted the last piece of her costume with a final, satisfied pat, flashing you a smile that seemed to mirror your own.

Once ready, you exchanged a look that needed no words. This was a new chapter for you both, and you felt the unspoken excitement of stepping into it together.

Hand in hand, you made your way back to the dressing room. The moment you stepped inside, Nari’s delighted voice filled the air as she spotted you. She was sitting on the floor, surrounded by Heejin's fellow members, who were all laughing and doting on her, filling the room with lighthearted chatter.

As soon as Nari wrapped herself around your leg, her face lit up with excitement. "Oppa! Unnie! There you guys are!" she chirped, her eyes bright with joy. "We are having so much fun, I learned how to do the splits" She looked up at you, clearly not ready for the day to end.

Heejin grinned at the sight, her heart warming at how easily Nari had fit in with her members. You smiled down at your sister, and though you hated to interrupt her fun, you knew it was time to leave.

"Thats amazing, Nari, but we have to say goodbye to the girl now," you said gently but firmly.

Immediately, Nari’s face fell. "Nooo, I don’t wanna go!" she whined, her hold on your leg tightening. "Can’t we stay longer?"

You glanced at Heejin, who gave you an understanding look, her eyes soft with affection. You smiled, then knelt down to meet Nari’s eyes. "I’m sure we’ll see them again soon," you said, your tone reassuring. "Promise."

Nari pouted but eventually relented, giving all the members a quick hug goodbye before holding your hand.

As Heejin walked both of you towards the door, the members exchanged curious glances. The second the door clicked shut behind you, the room exploded with excited whispers. Haseul leaned forward, eyes gleaming with curiosity. "Okay, spill. Who was that?"

The other girls eagerly chimed in, all buzzing with questions.

Heejin, still feeling the lingering warmth of your hand in hers, blushed slightly but couldn’t stop the smile spreading across her face. She glanced at the door, already missing you, then looked back at her members, trying to play it cool.

"That was a friend," she said, laughing softly as she shrugged. "We met online."

[dollfacefantasy]

kinktober day 10 - hybrids (again) leon kennedy! x fem!black-cat-hybrid!reader cw: nsfw (18+), smut, p in v, hybrids, heat cycles, daddy kink

Sweet and silent. That's how you moved about Leon's home ever since the day he brought you in. His precious little black cat.

He hadn't really been looking for a companion of any kind when it happened. His most recent string of hookups had all amounted to nothing as usual. He didn't even know if he was capable of anything long term anymore. Living life in service of the D.S.O. kept him away from home often enough that any woman with aspirations of a family would pack her bags before she ever got the invitation to move in.

Though with you, he never really extended that offer in the first place. You sort of just fell into his lap after being discarded by your unit in the BSAA. You'd been the lone feline in a unit of canines. After realizing what should have been obvious, that it was a horrible idea, they cut you loose. With nowhere to go, Chris brought you to Leon's attention, knowing the other man had been going through a hard time and could use a companion of some sort.

While he was reluctant at first, those cute curious eyes of yours were hard to resist. And now that almost a year had gone by, he couldn't have been happier about saying yes.

During the days you napped on the couch right where the sun cast through the window. He'd come home from work and find your soft form glowing, radiant under the orangey yellow rays. Your eyes would flutter open as soon as you sensed his presence, and you'd lazily rise to greet him, dragging your cheek across the expanse of his chest and nuzzling into his muscles.

At night, you drifted through the halls curious about what you could get up to without his supervision. It was never anything too troublesome, just the natural urge to explore more than anything else. He didn't mind. You'd gone from being trained for stealth missions to being allowed to laze about for however long you pleased. A little restlessness was to be expected.

Plus, that wasn't the most jarring form of restlessness he saw from you.

When you'd come into his life, Chris had warned him about 'heat cycles.' He told him what it meant and how he could deal with it, but honestly, Leon hadn't been too concerned with the idea. He figured it would be like normal ovulation, if not slightly more intense.

He didn't expect the power with which it affected you. The way you clung to him as if the smallest bit of separation would kill you. Your face stayed in the crook of his neck, taking deep huffs of his scent every few seconds. And your hips, they never seemed to stop moving. You were constantly squirming, trying to grind up against him and get some friction on the aching bundle of nerves between your legs.

Finally, he gave in and fucked you out of pure necessity. He was worried you'd throw yourself into pure exhaustion from how desperate you seemed.

But like the initial choice to take you in, he didn't regret this one either.

The change in your relationship didn't make things awkward. It didn't feel weird or uncomfortable now. The two of you were closer than ever. He could see how much you loved the affection. It was obvious now that your craving for it was a big part of what had you so restless in the first place.

And now the two of you could have days like today. Time where the hours passed with you tangled in each other's arms, him nice and snug inside of you.

“I understand why you like laying in the sun so much, sweetheart. Makes you all warm,” he murmurs into the back of your head.

He nuzzles you gently as his hips pump against your ass in a lazy rhythm. The two of you were laid up on the couch. It was your favorite time of day to sprawl out for a nap. The sun cast through the window at the perfect angle to bathe the sofa in its radiance.

You nod languidly in response to him. “Mhm,” you purr, pushing hips back against his body.

“Such a good girl for me,” he whispers.

He grabs your waist tighter and keeps thrusting. Even with the increased pressure, the pace remains soothing. His nose drags up the back of your neck as he takes in your scent.

He'd never known bliss like this before you. Prior to your arrival, life seemed so bleak. It was job after job, and the space between them was as bleak as the missions themselves. He never imagined himself experiencing peace like this. So calming it melted into genuine happiness.

"My sweet girl. So perfect for me. Don't know what I'd do without you," he mutters.

"Don't know either. Always need you," you mumble, the tone in your voice breaking into a whine.

His free hand glides up to massage at one of the obsidian ears atop your head. The move brings a deep rumble of pleasure from your chest, causing his dick to throb within you.

"That's my baby," he grunts, "You know just what daddy likes, don't you?"

The title makes your clit pulse, and your ass automatically writhes backwards. He knows the effect that word has on you. Ever since you'd accidentally let it slip once, he'd never allowed you to live it down.

"Mhm," you hum in response. Further words weren't needed. Both of you knew it was the truth. That everything you did in moments like these was for the other.

He now takes his hand off your head and brings it down and around to the front of your body. His fingers wrap around your palm, clasping your hand in his own. You can feel the tiny tremble in his limb. The shiver of impending release.

"You gonna make daddy cum, baby? Gonna let him get you all warm and full?" he rasps.

You nod eagerly. That was a question you would never say no to.

His pelvis keeps connecting with the swell of your ass as he thrusts deep inside. His tip kisses all the little internal sweet spots inside you. It's only a few more pumps before he spills himself inside you. His fingers drop your hand to swirl around your clit and get you there too. It feels like heaven, riding out the high with him, bathed in warm sunlight.

When the both of you have started to come down, you feel kisses being laid upon the back of your neck. He rubs your belly at the same time, long soothing swipes of his hand stroking back and forth. It brings you back to earth, but you still feel a little hazy since he hadn't pulled out.

"What do you think about taking a nap now?" he asks softly.

You nod, already drowsy yourself. Now you just had the added bonus of him staying with you.

[chenlesfavorite]

MATCH OUR HEARTS! huang renjun

being a love consultant is definitely a one of a kind job, but hey, all that matters is that you like it! even if that means hearing all sorts of stuff from your clients…

renjun, on the other hand, is a peaceful bakery owner… well, he was peaceful until he fell in love with this girl that visits the bakery almost every day! he’s liked her for a while but he can’t bring himself to confess and he doesn’t have the slightest clue about love… so his friends come up with the genius idea that he should go to a love consultant.

but falling for the love consultant was not on his list when he requested your help.

────────────

— pairing: bakery owner!renjun x fem!reader

— genres: social media au (smau), written, friends to lovers, brother’s best friend, fluff, a lil bit of angst

— extra: renjun falls first, haechan is protective over y/n, renjun has no idea what he’s doing when it comes to flirting or love, renjun does embarrassing shit by accident, y/n and haechan r freaky asl (personality wise), renjun kinda hates y/n at the start

— warnings: death jokes, sex jokes, profanity, suggestive?

— playlist: Love Theory - TAEYONG, Wonstein | Bambi - BAEKHYUN | Psychic - LAY | New Ride - WayV | Perfect - One Direction | By My Side - JUNNY | Polaroid Love - ENHYPEN

— author's note: my 3rd smau wowowow guys… 😭 i don’t have many words to share but this will be a very cute smau… also i got inspired by the sims 4 love struck expansion pack + love theory by taeyong for this smau LMAO

— status: ongoing

— taglist: open!

────────────

profiles 1 | profiles 2 | profiles 3

1. 5 pleasurable specimens and the edging club

2. haechan public execution when

3. woman repellent

4. imma follow u home

5. the hallucinations at 11:07pm

6. picture or it didn’t happen

7. keep urself safe!

8. freak mode on

— to be continued…

[emmylksblog]

LOVE IS PATIENCE // H.FORT

summary: hector gets distracted by his girlfriend's charms before date night

content: fluff, slice of life

warnings: a little bit suggestive

words: 1606

a/n: i can’t help but think that he would be the big simp in a relationship 🤭

Hector had been overwhelmed with football training and matches lately, and you had been just as busy with college. Your schedules were packed, leaving little time for the two of you to spend time together.

Most nights, you both would fall into bed, too tired for much more than a few words.

But Hector had been planning a surprise for you. He knew how much you loved going to that little restaurant in town, and he had managed to secure a reservation.

When he proposed the idea of a nightdate, your eyes lit up, and his heart swelled with pride for proposing that idea to you.

Your boyfriend had been patiently waiting on the bed, scrolling through his phone as he was well aware that you always took a significant amount of time to perfect your look.

However, he didn't mind the wait, knowing that the result would be worth it when you finally finished, looking absolutely stunning in your carefully curated outfit.

He heard you mumbling something about a damn zipper, when he saw you struggling with your dress, he immediately understood that you needed assistance.

With a swift movement, he got up from the bed, responding to your call with a smile.

He approached you from behind, his warm presence felt comforting as he stood close.

His eyes focused on the small, metal zipper that seemed to be causing you trouble. He gently moved your hair to the side, revealing the smooth skin of your back, and placed a soft, affectionate kiss on the base of your neck. "Let me help you with that," he murmured, his voice a comforting low rumble.

Hector's hands moved, his fingers nimble as he began to slowly pull it up, each tooth clicking into place.

As the zipper traveled upwards, he couldn't help but marvel at the way the fabric of the dress hugged your curves.

He paused for a moment, his fingertips lightly tracing the exposed skin where the zipper had just been. "You look beautiful," he said quietly, his voice filled with admiration and desire.

The zipper finally reached the top, securing the dress in place. Hector's gaze lingered on the smooth, flawless expanse of your back, his mind unable to resist the way the fabric clung to your body.

He took a small step closing the gap between you, and wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you against him.

With his chin resting on your shoulder, he whispered into your ear, his breath warm against your neck. "You always take my breath away, you know that?"

You turned in Hector's arms, looking up at him with a grateful smile. "Thank you baby," you said, your voice dripping with affection.

You reached up to touch his face, your fingers tracing the contour of his jawline tenderly.

You placed a gentle kiss on his cheek, a small but heartfelt gesture. However, you almost chuckled at the realization that your makeup still needed to be applied. "Almost done," you reassured him, your eyes sparkling with amusement.

Hector chuckled softly, his eyes dancing with affection as he watched you move away to finish your makeup.

He took a step back, giving you some space to work your magic. While you tended to your makeup, he settled back onto the edge of the bed, his gaze still fixed on you.

He couldn't help but admire the way you carefully applied each product, the precision in your every move. He knew that you were almost done, but he still couldn't wait to see the final result - he knew you would look absolutely stunning.

You couldn't help but marvel at how unusually patient Hector was being that day.

He was typically quite impatient, but today, he was almost eerily calm.

As you continued to apply your makeup, you couldn't resist asking him about it. "You're being so patient today," you remarked, a hint of awe in your voice. "How did I get so lucky to have you this relaxed?"

Hector chuckled softly at your question, shifting his weight on the bed so that he could see you better. "I suppose I've been saving up my patience just for you," he teased, flashing you a charming smile. "Or maybe I’m too smitten for you that I can’t afford being impatient"

You turned away from the mirror, satisfied with your makeup. Your gaze softened as you looked at your boy on the bed.

A playful smile tugged at the corners of your lips. "You've been such a good boy, you know that?" you teased, slowly sauntering towards him. "Being so patient and not pressuring me."

You stopped in front of him, tilting his chin up with your fingers. "I think you deserve a little reward," you said, leaning down to press a soft, lingering kiss to his lips.

Hector's eyes darkened with desire at your words, a small shiver running through him as you called him a good boy.

He let out a low moan of pleasure as you gently lifted his chin, his breath catching in his throat. And then you kissed him, your lips soft and warm against his.

He closed his eyes, losing himself in the sensation, his hands coming to rest on your hips to pull you closer.

The kiss deepened, and Hector's grip on your hips tightened as he pulled you even closer. He shifted his position on the bed, bringing you to straddle his lap, his body seeking the closeness.

His hands roamed over your back, tracing the curves of your body, as his mouth moved against yours with growing hunger.

He nibbled at your bottom lip, his tongue darting out to teasingly trace the contour of your mouth.

With you now straddling him, Hector groaned, the feeling of your body close to his igniting a burning desire within him. His hands continued to roam over your back, his touch growing more urgent as his hunger for you grew.

He broke the kiss briefly, his breath coming in ragged pants, before he trailed soft kisses along your jawline, down to your neck, nibbling and sucking at your sensitive skin.

You couldn't help but laugh a little at his actions. The sensation was a mix of pleasure and tickling, and you knew he was likely leaving marks on your skin. "Baby stop it," you gasped out, pushing him away playfully. "You're going to leave marks, and we have a reservation, remember?"

Hector reluctantly pulled back from your neck, a pout on his lips. "But I was doing a beautiful job amor," he protested, his hands still roaming over your body.

He looked up at you with a mixture of desire and mock innocence. "It lets everyone know that you're mine."

You brushed a strand of hair from his forehead, your fingers lightly tracing the contour of his face. "Trust me, there will be plenty of time for marking me later," you added with a playful smirk.

As you finished applying your lipgloss, you glanced over at Hector, who was waiting for you by the front door.

You couldn't help but burst out laughing when you saw the red gloss smudged all over his face, a result of his earlier attempts.

You approached him, still chuckling. "You've got a little something all over your face," you said, gesturing towards the vibrant stains on his face.

Hector looked at you, a mixture of surprise and embarrassment on his face. He hadn't realized how much of the lipgloss he had transferred onto his skin.

He rubbed his cheek, trying to wipe off the smudges, but only managing to spread it further.

"Oh, great," he muttered, a wry smile on his face. "I look like a clown now, don't I?"

You couldn't help but find Hector utterly adorable in that moment. Seeing him trying to wipe off the red lipgloss only made the stains worse, and his frustrated expression was too cute to resist. You approached him, trying to hold back your giggles, and gently took his face in your hands.

With a soft cotton pad, you began to carefully wipe away the excess lipgloss, revealing his smooth, unblemished skin beneath.

He stood still, his gaze fixed on you as you gently cleaned his face. The feeling of your fingers on his skin was soothing and intimate, and he couldn't help but marvel at how tender you were with him.

"Thank you amor," he said quietly, his voice laced with gratitude. He reached up, catching your hand as you finished wiping away the last bit of lipgloss. He brought it to his lips, pressing a soft kiss to your palm.

The gesture was simple, but it sent a wave of emotions coursing through you. Hector could be rough and impatient at times, but moments like these, when he showed his soft, affectionate side, made your heart flutter.

You smiled at him, feeling a warm, fuzzy feeling in your chest. "You're welcome handsome," you murmured. "Now we're both ready to go."

Together, you both left the house, stepping out into the cool evening air. The restaurant was just a short walk away, and the two of you walked side by side, your fingers intertwined with Hector's.

As you strolled along, he couldn't help but steal glances at you, admiring the way the streetlights danced across your features. He was acutely aware of the warmth of your hand in his, and he felt a flutter of excitement at the thought of the night ahead.

[l0v3tast3]

i need pervy older bf konig :(

good god. bro you and i are both so lucky i had today off. this was some good shit to write thank you very much for requesting this ( ◡‿◡ *) also ngl i really think i just don't know how to write characters not being possessive. it's just in my dna

✎ tags: mdni!, smut, female reader, age gap (reader is 18/19, könig is mid-40's), mentioned loss of virginity, corruption/innocence kink, size difference, size kink, pet names, free use, posssessive!könig, exhibitionism, mention of violence (reader gets turned on by it dw), edging, dacryphilia, bondage, praise kink, reader calls könig "sir"

✎ word count: 1.4k words (not proofread)

✎ translations: "hase" = bunny , "liebling" = darling "mein schatz" = my darling/sweetheart , "mein herz" = my heart "mein kleiner hase" = my little bunny (please correct me if anything is wrong, i'll edit it whenever i get the chance!)

masterlist | requests

✧ ˖ ° pervy older boyfriend!könig who is just obsessed with his darling little girlfriend. he loves everything about you, how small you are against him, how easy you are to manhandle and twist around, so happy to just have him touch you however he wants. how you always crane your neck up to look at him with such adoration in your pretty eyes, even when he makes you do the nastiest things for him.

✧ ˖ ° ever since the first time he sunk into you, your first time where you couldn't even take his whole dick (it took you a few rounds to fit it all in), he just can't get enough of you. the whimper when he pops his fat head through your tiny hole, how you dig your nails in and gasp for breath the further he pushes in, it's straight up addicting to him. könig's favorite thing is seeing you fall deeper and deeper into the pleasure he gives you, seeing you become more and more corrupted by his huge hands and cock.

✧ ˖ ° he's got such a kink for your innocence and naivety; his heart skips a beat every time you think it can't get any better, and then it does and your little body doesn't even know how to handle it. könig will try every position, every kink his expansive mind can come up with with you.

✧ ˖ ° it always starts with him pulling you over one of his thighs (it strains your legs too much to try and sit over both of them without his help) and him dragging your hips back and forth across it. his hands cover the entire expanse of your thighs and the globes of your ass, fingertips digging in until it's just on the edge of bruising. always soaking up your little whimpers, how you dig your nails into his shoulders and hide your face in his chest. "hase, my little bunny, does that feel good? look at me, liebling, answer me. always so shy when i have you like this. it feels good, yes? are you going to cum for me? heh, what is it, you need more, liebling? ask me nicely for more, then."

✧ ˖ ° pervy older boyfriend!könig who steals your underwear and most of the clothes you pack when you come over and pretends to have no idea where it all went. oh well, guess you'll just have to wear his clothes! it's such a shame that you don't have any underwear left until he does the laundry that he keeps "forgetting" about. it's so sad that you have nothing clean left to wear except his t-shirts that almost reach your knees.

✧ ˖ ° he just loves being able to come up to you in the kitchen, lift you up onto the island counter and run his hands up your thighs until his thumb covers your clit. you always get so squirmy when he does that, bucking your hips into his hand and clawing at his arm. könig chuckles and teases you about how needy you are for him, how you're such a dirty little girl for walking around with no underwear. "don't you know how men are, mein schatz? they'll snatch you up every chance they get," he mutters in your ear, the hand that wasn't shoving two fingers into you gripping your hip to keep you still.

✧ ˖ ° when you start stuttering out little pleas and fumbling with his belt he relents. he pushes you flat against the counter and kneels to lick a sloppy stripe up your pussy, never forgetting his dedication to not hurting you (not in a way you didn't like, at least). and when he's finally lifting your hips up to line up your sopping hole with his dick, he tells you how much of a good girl you are for letting him use you like this, whenever he wants.

✧ ˖ ° pervy older boyfriend!könig who gets off on having you sit on his lap in public; in front of anyone, really. könig knows that his overwhelming size and heavy stare makes him live up to his name of "king", and having a pretty little thing like you in his lap just completes the picture. he doesn't admit it, but you know it's an ego boost for him every time.

✧ ˖ ° it just makes him so happy to have you so close! he tells you it helps him with his social anxiety, having you there to calm him down. especially when he invites over his friends, other colonels and military men. könig knows you always feel out of place, feeling like you're going to hear something you shouldn't. he just coos reassurances in your ears and rubs his hands up and down your thighs, fingertips grazing just below the hem of the pretty dress he had asked you to put on. "relax, hase, it's okay for you to be here. mein schatz, mein herz, you know i would never let anyone harm you. i would break their neck before they even came close."

✧ ˖ ° you somehow always end up trying to discreetly white-knuckle his wrist that's buried between your legs. könig plays poker with the rest of the men, pretending very well that three of his fingers aren't knuckle deep inside you. everyone knows, they grow to expect it at this point. you're just so obvious, squirming and glancing up at him anxiously and trying desperately to cover up the tiny moans you let out. then he'll finally lean down and whisper in your ear, telling you to be good and cum; you can't possibly hide the way you shake and arch your back or the choked whimpers. but the men carry on with their game, barely sparing a second glance at you (they still shift in their seats, sneak a hand down to readjust), talking amongst themselves.

✧ ˖ ° "you see, mein kleiner hase, they know to not even look at you too long. they know you're mine, just well as you do, right?" könig says lowly while he wipes his fingers off on your thighs. he's pulling you closer to him so you can feel the outline of his hardon pressed against your ass. you nod and mumble a little "yes, sir" and he pats your stomach where he's holding you against him. "good girl. don't worry, liebling, we are almost done here. i'll stuff you full soon enough, just be patient a little longer."

✧ ˖ ° pervy older boyfriend!könig who always has nothing but praise for you except for when you act up. he wasn't the kind of man to take insubordination lightly usually; you couldn't be if you wanted to be a colonel. instead of his usual punishments (making subordinates run suicides until they dropped) he likes tying you down and edging you until you're sobbing for him to let you cum, to untie you, anything.

✧ ˖ ° it's not that he enjoys seeing you cry (he loves it in this context), he just needs to teach you a lesson, to make sure you know your bratty actions have consequences. it just brings könig so much joy to reduce you to a brainless, overstimulated mess, whining pleas between hiccups and gasps for air. hearing you cry out, "no- nono please könig, please sir m'sorry, m'so sorry! ha-a- please, please let me cum, m'sorry, please-", is like an angel's choir to his ears. he knows you think he's being cruel and unfair, but könig is always going easy on you. you still are his sweet little girl, after all, he could never hurt you too much!

✧ ˖ ° he won't let up though until he's making you say whatever nasty things he wants, until you're so desperate that you completely forget about being shy. "have i taught you your lesson, hase? hm, i don't know if you have yet. tell me what you want- i know you want to cum, liebling, what do you want me to do about that? you want me to fuck you? ask properly, tell me you want my thick cock in your tiny pussy. you need it, don't you? tell me you need it, you need to feel me deep inside you. hah, alright mein kleiner hase, i believe you. it's alright, shh, mein herz, you did so well for me, let me reward you now."

[goatskickin]

On the third day of GOATmas, my true love sent to me...

...desks! Wood recolors of desks!

I've recolored every desk that EA has created in a pack or expansion that:

1) already had wood recolors

2) didn't have wood recolors, but I felt that wood recolors suited them

For the colors: I am using Dynamite, Depth Charge, Shrapnel, Safety Fuse and Time Bomb by @pooklet, and Nesert and Honey by Io aka @serabiet.

Please check out the Add-On's I've recommended! They are meshes made by community members that will use these textures too. Or, they are bits of CC that go along with these nicely!

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

Andromeda Desk - deskatomicagekids

notes: did not have a wood texture but it does now! The lines of the desk were too good to pass up. Wood texture nabbed from Seasons, I think.

Bakonmi Sprok Desk - desktechep8

notes: some of the original texture and some new stuff too

Recommended Add-On: #1

Broken In Desk - deskbohemian

Notes: much of the existing texture but edited a lot.

Recommended Add-On: #1

Counter Productive Work Surface - deskclub

notes: the SHINIEST desk that ever did live. Basically the original texture though

Fine Finish Desk - deskfantasy

notes: the texture of this was mostly quite good! Did remove the curly bits. I sure do wish that the knobs and the deco had a recolorable subset.

Recommended Add-On: #1

Home Office Desk - deskquaint

notes: the 2nd shiniest base game desk. Almost all is the original texture

Recommended Add-on: #1, #2

Patchwork Desk - deskgoth

notes: brand new texture! Now you can actually use this desk! The shape is quite nice

Retratech Office Pal Economy Desk - deskvalue

notes: it's your very fave desk! The one you likely have lots of fun recolors of already. Original texture - no white recolor though, as the desk comes with one

Recommended Add-ons: #1 #2

Swervy Curvy Desk - desksurfer

notes: I saw the vision on this one! Previously no wood recolor, but now it has one. Wish that little bendy metal leg had a recolorable subset

The Rollin Secretary - deskcountry

notes: this is one of my favorite desks and it is so cute!

TibetanDesk_deskcentralasian

notes: mac and cheese yellow handles (no recolorable subset) but at least the wood looks alright. The mapping on this one suuuuuucks

Recommended add-ons: #1

Download - Sims 2 Desks - Wood Recolors

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

Recommended downloads:

[iliketarotcards]

"Ostbrück is a city full of history. Rich History. A total gorgeous lake, beautiful old buildings, some even leading back to medieval times. And let's not forget the mighty castle "Schloss Eisenhut" which is the citys' superstar. Ostbrück has been exisiting for a long time now and it's still shining bright to this day with many young and ambitious sims coming to this town to fullfill their lives. Oh yeah almost forgot! It's not the cheapest city!"

ITS HEREEE! After months of hard work I finally managed to create my own European world called "Ostbrück am Schwansee"! Dive into a beautiful, semi-realistic European world with dozens of historical buildings, a castle, a lake and lots of pedestrian areas. All built by me!

It's a small world with 53 lots, housing 62 Sims and features most of the rabbitholes + an university. I invested a lot of time in fixing issues, routing and so on so the world runs even with a lot of CC totally fantastic! Please please please tag me if you post screenshots when playing it! I would love to see!

I used all expansion packs. And you can find every base game spawner.

How to install, populated save file and required CC is all included in the download. A huge thank you to all the amazing CC creators out here, without your creations this world wouldn't have been possible. Please make sure to check them out and support them. There is a creditlist and links in the download!!!

I will keep all my creations for Sims 3 for obvious reasons for free, however creating worlds is a time consuming and sometimes harsh process with the buggyness of the game sometimes, so it would mean the world for me for some extra support :)!

Download Link:

If something doesnt work, please tell me and I will try to help you. Otherwise Enjoy <3

[carmillascrusade]

I’ve come home again: Prologue | Emily Prentiss x F!Reader

Series summary: You and Emily had an unfortunate split; separating you from the team after the divorce had been finalised. Your found family was no more and the people you once knew became nothing but strangers. A new threat has rose, with a network of serial killers surfacing, resulting in Rossi calling you back to the BAU. Will old feelings come back?

A/N: This sets up the main story. I have the next chapter almost finished, so it should be out soon. This is planned to be around twenty chapters long so I wouldn’t read if you’re not a fan of slow burn :)

Word count: 980

The air was still as you entered your bedroom. Despair clouded the room, the stench of it prominent as you traversed further into the darkness. Your bed was illuminated a fracture by the light leaking in from the open doorway, threatening to rid the room of its sinisterity yet, ultimately, losing the fight as the door shut upon itself; the hinges crying in protest as it did so. Emily lay in the centre of your bed. In the same position she was in this morning. And the morning before that. And the one before that.

Your heart ached for her and your inability to provide any help was frustrating you to no end. But, Emily didn’t want your help. No matter how many times you had offered, or tried to comfort her, she pushed you away. Every. Single. Time.

You ran your hand through her hair regardless of the grease and grime that coated each strand. Regardless of said grease and grime transferring onto your fingers. No, you did not care. Because you love Emily and you are willing to do whatever it takes to make her happy.

“Emily?” You whispered gently, coaxing her to look at you.

You weren’t expecting a response. You could barely get a sound out of her these days, but you were overjoyed when she turned to face you. A joy short lived, but you smiled nonetheless, since the eyes that looked at you merely saw through you as if you were a ghost made of smoke and vapour. But, press on you did.

“You haven’t eaten in a while, my love.” You murmured, fingers still combing through her hair. “I’ve brought you something to drink. I know that you don’t want to eat right now, so this way you can get the nutrients you need without eating, okay?”

You were aware that your words were falling on deaf ears. You knew that she wasn’t really present. Couldn’t really hear what you were saying. The silence had became too loud, your house unsettlingly quiet without the constant conversation and laughter flowing through it, you couldn’t help but try fill it.

The following weeks were much of the same. You helped her bathe, eat and take care of herself then slept beside her every night.

And she got better. Your house was no longer deathly silent, shared laughter and giggles filling every expanse of your house. Things were slowly getting back to normal and you were happy. Truly happy.

Until you weren’t.

When you said that you would do anything to make Emily happy, you didn’t think that would involve you packing your bags and leaving. You didn’t think she would cast you aside; send you walking through the threshold of your,  no her home, never to return. She hadn’t explained why or even gave you a reason. A simple “I don’t need you anymore.” was all she had stated before sending you packing.

But you said it yourself: you would do anything to make her happy.

—0—

You hadn’t spoken to Emily nor anybody else on the team for over a year. Was it a year? Longer perhaps. It’s easy to lose track of time when your days are monotonous and bleak. A heavy cloud hovered ominously above you, following you everywhere you went, always watching.

You had signed the divorce papers as soon as you could, sending them away immediately so that she could sign them. Fine, you had thought, if she doesn’t want me then I don’t want her.  Yet after all this time, you were still waiting for them back.

When your sister had died you had been inconsolable. What more did the universe, with its cruel hands and unrelenting grip, wish to snatch away from you? Your wife and now your sister. You couldn’t give in to your grief, no not this time; not when you had gained custody of a baby that needs to be taken care of.

Yes, the baby comes first. The baby and then you. Your sister had named her Tally, heavens dew she had told you it meant, a blessing from god.

However, Tally was not the sole reason that you survived. Alex Blake, the woman that she is, helped you through your grief. She helped you learn how to be a mother and how to take care of a such a small human, incapable of doing anything but existing, solely dependent on you.

Tally was coming up four now and had affectionately claimed Alex as her grandma. You weren’t sure how Alex would take it, having lost her son at such a young age, but you were ecstatic when she accepted your daughter with open arms, and by extension you too.

Your little family was complete and you were content with the life you had. The death of your sister or the separation from your wife had been pushed into the endless caverns right at the back of your mind, forgotten about in the inky depths.

Television shows and movies always seemed to be over exaggerating when the main characters' world came to a stop. Perhaps they weren’t exaggerating at all. A formal request for you to enlist your services within the FBI once more sat in your hand. According to the letter, a huge web of serial killers had been discovered and they needed all hands on deck to solve the case.

All hands on deck included you.

You were torn on what to do. On one hand, you could potentially keep millions safe from despicable people. Nevertheless, you had a daughter now, a daughter that needs her mother and it wasn’t guaranteed that you would catch said people.

You emailed Rossi back, stating that you accepted the job position. After all, you needed to catch and shut down this network for good. Especially when you had a daughter to keep safe.

What happened to your sister would never happen again.

[simpjaes]

Have you done a size ranking for Enha’s dick sizes yet ?•_•

not on my blog but boiiiii have i discussed this at length with oomf. let's go ahead and change that tho.

note: i was gonna include pics but tbh i don't rly wanna do that now lmfao sorry. im gatekeeping!!!! you don't have to agree with the sizes im giving them btw, some dude's just have monster cock energy sorry.

★ heeseung:

long and thick. almost too big, sometimes actually too big. takes both hands to jerk him off, and the entire expanse of your throat to swallow him up. honestly, it's so big that you have no choice but to feel each pulse and twitch of it when he's inside of you. the stretch is painful regardless of the position he takes with you, and you're not sure if you could ever get wet enough to ease the sear of it. you don't understand, really, heeseung literally makes you feel like you're being split in half but goddamn does he make it feel amazing at the same time. there are some men out there who have huge cocks and assume that's all they need to pleasure a woman. but oh, oh no no no, heeseung is well aware that you gotta know how to use it too. and boy does he.

☆ jay:

maybe not the longest cock of the bunch but definitely the thickest. for every deep part of you he can't reach, he makes up for it with the way he slams his hips into you, forcing you to feel every thick inch of him. unlike heeseung, you may be able to jerk him off with one hand but it doesn't change the fact that you can't fully wrap your fingers around him, and fitting it into your mouth can be a bit difficult as well. thankfully, jay isn't too worried about teeth when he gets to see you attempt to swallow him up. in fact, the little drag of them scraping the top-side of his cock is something that makes him shiver. he thinks it's cute to see you try and take all of it, actually. never feeling insecure over the fact that while he's definitely not packing anything over 5 to 6 inches, the girth alone is enough to leave a pretty girl calling out his name, begging him to go harder, telling him how good it feels in them.

★sunghoon:

long long long, but not as thick. the reach he can manage is insane, to the point that he'd probably have an obsession with snapping pics of his cock laying between your legs and measuring how far inside of you he's about to put it. visual stimulation, n all that. you can feel him deeper than any one else could probably reach, slamming into your cervix to the point it actually hurts, to the point he could probably have you pregnant in one fuck if you guys wanted to go that route. like that cum wouldn't have to go far at all to reach its goal lmfao jerking him off is easier than anything else, but giving him head can be a bit of a conundrum for you. you can lick and suck all you want with your hand jerking the bottom half of his cock but he's always gonna prefer the feeling of your throat gagging around him instead. he's gonna fuck the whole thing down your throat and adore the way you sound struggling with it.

☆ jake:

a perfect, average, nice cock, for a perfect, not so average, nice man. fits like a puzzle piece and fills you up the perfect amount. enough for it to hurt if he wants it to, enough for him to offer nothing but pure pleasure otherwise. the good thing about jake and his cock is the fact that just about anything can and will get him off, not only because the ease of which it'll fit into you, but because you love every inch of it when he does it. and sure, he can make it feel longer, he can make it feel thicker, all with just a shift of his hips. fr, and he's always shifting them too, trying to reach parts of you he knows he can't. every blowjob is met with gags, of course, because he definitely can't control his hips. every hand job met with the perfect weight in your hand, and every fuck met with a feeling of fullness that renders you capable enough to feel every second of his love rather than having to wince through it and lose your train of thought during certain positions.

[tacticaldiary]

I love your fics so much 😍😍😍 could you please write a ghost x wife reader where he has a nightmare about losing them

Solace For The Rough Nights

Pairing: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x Reader

Genre: Hurt/Comfort

"I killed you." It's a harsh whisper, almost involuntary, as if his body couldn't bear to keep the poisonous thought in a second longer. "Shot you straight through the head. I didn't-"

"I'm alive. Here. With you. It was just a nightmare, love."

Masterlist

Ghost was running.

Footsteps crunching on dried leaves, he weaves through the trees, shaking off the sounds of harshly barked orders, as crisp and as hold as the cold air around him.

The trees around him are densely packed together, a mixing pot of leaves, roots, and coarsely misplaced footsteps.

He can't remember how he got here, or what op he was on and it sends his normally razor-focused mind into a slight frenzy.

Ghost is a man of action. A plan and a way to execute it was all he needed to bring back a victory in tow, but right now he has neither of those things, hasn't even a bare recollection of ever having those things in the first place.

What was a Ghost without a purpose to haunt?

He stumbles.

It's already an odd situation. Ghost doesn't stumble or hesitate. He's a well-oiled machine, self-sufficient and cut-throat. Missteps are simply not viable with him, especially not something as simple as tripping.

Catching himself on his arm, he swings around, gun already aimed towards the ground, sees a vest-clad figure sprawled over the ground under him.

He fires without thinking. A bullet straight to the head, brain matter splattering the trees and forest, the expanse of his arms. The impact of the bullet jolts the body onto its back and-

Every part of him freezes in pure, undiluted horror.

Because his wife stares up at the sky, eyes unseeing, eerily still. Her hair bloodstained, splayed out onto the ground caught in twigs and branches, face filthy with dirt and crimson that he drew from her.

He's not sure when the trembling starts, only that it begins with his hands and travels up his spine, singeing his soul with a terror that would marr him forever. Circumstances completely forgotten, he drops to his knees in front of her, hands shaking as he calls out her name, pressing his fingers to her neck to find a pulse as if he hadn't just blown her brain out and-and fuck it was still on his arms, his hands, the blood was everywhere and there was no way Ghost had just taken the one thing he wanted to keep in his life-

A strangled sound leaves his lips, not a laugh and not quite a cry. He wants to laugh at the irony.

He's always been so afraid that someone would hurt her at his expense, that someone would take her away, tear her apart from him.

He never thought it'd be him who carried out the deed.

Nothing comes out of his mouth, because nothing can fix this. He gathers her into his arms, shaking silently. He deserves this, deserves to suffer in silence with what he's done.

The release of crying was not one he deserved.

"Fuck, I-...you're okay." His voice breaks, rough and gritty, and desperate. "I didn't-I swear I-..."

Someone's voice sounds behind him but he refuses to look back, letting the screaming in his head, the crescendo of grief consume him. His hands never let up from touching her, pressing her against himself as if his own heartbeat may bring her to life.

How could someone like her face the end when someone as disgustingly tainted and bloodstained as him continued on living?

It wasn't right, but then again, the world never was fair.

He registers he's panicking, knows that he can't quite get a full breath in and that the noise of talking is getting louder but death itself would be the only thing to take him away from her.

"..i..on."

He squeezes his eye shut, rasping out suffocating breaths.

"Simon...Simon!"

His eyes snap open, a strangled gasp tearing out of his throat. It's blindingly dark, and he's...there's hands on him. Steeling himself he sits up hazy and confused, lingering panic making his throat close up.

A click and the room fills with light.

Room. He's in...he's in his room. He's in their room.

"You okay?"

Her voice makes him shiver violently, ignites his frayed nerves. He's almost afraid to look over lest he find her bloody and mangled, because she was, wasn't she? He'd seen it, held her, felt guilt choke him and...

But there weren't any leaves here. No trees, and no blood on his hand (that was the first thing his eyes had snapped down to confirm.)

With a shaky breath, he finally turns his head towards her voice.

Some of the hastily built scaffolding inside him collapses at the sight of her. Alive. Well. Clean.

Worried.

Patient as always, she's waiting for him to get his bearing, not wanting to swarm and overwhelm him.

"Simon?" Her voice is a crack of softness a man like him doesn't deserve. The sheets rustle as she shifts closer. "You were tossing around, mumbling something." She furrows her brows, coming to sit in front of him. "You're all sweaty. Do you feel ill?" The back of her hand presses against his forehead, and the touch snaps something in him.

Breaks apart the harrowing gates of relief, but also smashes the wave of diluted panic he'd been too disorientated to feel.

His hand snaps to her wrist, a gentle and firm hold. Her eyes widen but she doesn't interrupt, lets him press his lips against her pulse point with trembling fingers. "You're all right." He breathes out, half to himself.

"I'm right here." She reassures him immediately. It loosens up his shoulders a little, but he still reaches out to her, pulls her close into a hug so crushingly tight it knocks the breath out of her.

She hugs him tighter, still.

Simon wasn't a hugger, so something must really have shaken him up.

"Hey..." She mumbles against his shoulder.

Simon pulls back, hands travelling up her arms, her shoulders, her neck, to press against her temples. His gaze flickers down to his own arms, then back to her head.

"Talk to me, baby." She says quietly, letting him ground himself. His hands tangle in her loose hair, weaving the strands between his fingers as if he might pick out phantom leaves and twigs. "Why so worked up?"

"I killed you." It's a harsh whisper, almost involuntary, as if his body couldn't bear to keep the poisonous thought in a second longer. "Shot you straight through the head. I didn't-"

"You didn't."

The sharp interrupting startles him enough to still his hands from where they've been mapping out her skin to ensure it was still unmarred.

"You didn't." She repeats. Gently untangling his hand from her hair, she brings it to press against her chest, right over where her heart is. "I'm alive. Here. With you. It was just a nightmare, love." She smiles and Simon feels his heart twist. The way she leans forward to press her lips to his is a kind of gentle he's still getting used to. "You're not getting rid of me any time soon." She whispers against his lips, a warmth that's a welcome reprieve from the shivers that wracked his body moments prior.

They sit there taking in each other's presence until Simon's thoughts slow from a sprint to a run to a walk, until the taste of copper, and the tang of iron fade from his senses.

Until it's just her, just them. In their bed, in their home. Off duty and safe.

When she slides her hands up to his shoulders, pushing him down he goes willingly, lets her straddle him. Never once do his hands leave her, they wrap around her hips to keep her steady.

"Tell me about it?" She asks, hands on his chest. After a moment of thought, Simon shakes his heavy with a long, heavy exhale.

"I'd rather not think about it." He rasps.

"It might help." The gentle shapes she traces on his chest give him something to latch onto. "I don't want you to deal with these nightmares alone." She snakes a hand up to his head, gently tapping his temple. "Don't want you to get stuck here without me. We're a team, right?"

"I suppose we are." He hums. Simon considers changing the subject, letting it go and falling back to sleep, but the need to get these vile thoughts out of him...

So he talks.

For once, he talks.

Simon tells her in halting phrases and clenched fists about what he remembers, how he held the gun, how there was no hesitation pulling the trigger.

His tension is met with hums and soothing circles rubbed onto his skin, keeping him with her even when he unravels the threads of his worst nightmare.

"I remember thinking how I was the one who took your life." He swallows harshly. "How I lost someone else...how it'd have been my fault." She doesn't comment on the fact that his grip on her hips has tightened considerably as he spoke.

"Well you haven't shot me yet, so I think we're safe for now."

Her attempt at a joke is met with a blank glare, but she snickers anyway. "Look Simon, if it'd be anybody I'd have liked it to be you-"

"No."

Her smile falters at the way he pushes up onto his elbows. "No?"

"I wouldn't..." He gathers his thoughts, clenches his jaw briefly. "I'd rather cut my own hands off, love."

"That's a bold claim, but-"

"It's a promise."

The conviction he says it with renders her speechless. His eyes so firm and determined and honest in the meagre light of their nightlamp sparks a warm heat through her, a reminder of how much she loves the man under her, of why she adores him.

He means what he says. It should scare her, someone so willing to go that far, but instead it's a fierce reassurance that her passion is returned. Maybe not in hugs or dopey smiles, but instead in moments like these, with promises that carve their way into their very bones, etching the proof of devotion into permanence.

She tips her head forward until their foreheads are pressed together. "I love you, Simon." She whispers. "So fucking much. I'm not going anywhere, alright. Not without you."

A hand wraps around the back of her neck, tugs her down to crash their lips together, the only affirmation she needs. He pulls her down until they're a tangle of limbs and breaths.

He doesn't need to say it back. Not when his hands burn sparks into her skin, when his arms around her guarantee safety and protection like nobody else can provide.

"You're here." He breathes, like he needs to.

"I'm here." A kiss pressed to the underside of his jaw. "I'm here."

And he finally believes it.

Requests Are Open! Reblog, Like and Comment!

(16/08/2023)

[plumbogs]

Making Sims 2 University Fun: my personal guide

I've noticed that while it's probably one of the most utilized of the expansions, TS2's university is generally seen as a slog. Which makes sense. It has a completely different gameplay loop than the rest of the game. But it's very handy to send your sims to college, especially if you use any of the various mods that limit careers based on education. So here's my big guide to making university an actual fun experience to play through (to me, at least).

The university expansion is, uh, very tailored to the 2000s college party time animal-house tropes. the pack becomes more fun when you treat it that way and let your sims be stupid young adults who streak and fool around on campus and throw parties. which, by default, is tricky because of the gameplay that requires so much skill building and assignments. which the rest of this guide will also deal with.

Note: I make some pretty big changes to normal university gameplay, to the point that it does require a bit of modding and at least one instance of fooling with simpe. there's probably also easier ways to do it, and of course everything is optional. maybe you do like keeping sims in dorms for the entire time and just three-speeding trough it all.

*mods: there are a few absolute must-have mods to me.:

TwoJeff's College Adjuster. It's basically an all-in-one controller to adjust semester timing, change semesters, plus a bunch of other features. The semester timing is the most important to me.

Active Classes is still in testing, but it almost completely changes how I play college sims. Once again, I'll detail gameplay later, but actually sending your sims to class makes for a much more fun campus experience.

No College Time Progression On Community Lots: this goes hand-in-hand with the previous mod.

Community Time: IIRC you have to do a little editing in SimPE to make it work right with University - this post explains what to edit. I don't know if I'm allowed to share the exact edit I made as a download. This might seem redundant after the last mod, but there's a reason for the madness: while one group of sims are in their active classes, the other students can do things on the home lot.

Instant Pledge for Greek Houses: This one is important for greek house gameplay, which is later.

SimBlender: There's like, 500 different edits of the SimBlender, and I think all of them have the main function needed for my college gameplay, which is teleportation. You can use a comparable teleporter if you fancy.

Simlogical's University Break is another important one for me, but it's not really necessary if you don't want it. I usually give the sims one break day per season - more on that later.

Autonomous Casual Romance is not required, but it sure adds a lot of fun to your college experience. You can also do any number of professor-limiting, custom degrees, etc mods and fixes you want.

*mods i do not use: there are mods to change the number of/length of semesters, but I seem to run into issues with them so I use the college adjuster to do the same things. I also don't really use any major overhauls, or mods that make term papers faster. I did have the tuition mod for a bit but grew tired of using it.

*general timing changes: I do seven-day seasons with longer lifespans for all sims and play rotations each day. These are the things I do specifically for university:

Four semesters: I only do semesters 2, 4, 6, and 8. Every time a new semester starts, I just use the College Adjuster to set the correct semester for each sim. I use the default length of 72 hours.

Synchronized finals: I use the College adjuster to reset the timer so the finals are all around 6-8am, and synchronized for each sim on a lot. This makes it easier to keep track of timing and skills. Also, all sims in university run on the same 3-day semester. Finals are the same day for the entire college each round. Once again, that just makes it easier for me to keep track of college-wide events for gameplay reasons.

Because this means there's 3 days per school year, and two school years per season week, it syncs better if they get a day off every Sunday using the University break mod.

Teens are sent to college on the same schedule. I send teens to school when they have 14 days or so left, with maybe an extra day or two if the college is currently in the middle of the semester.

*Gameplay: living situations: Here's where the meat begins. Now all your sims are on the same college schedule, they're all being sent to school, and now they need to actually move into college. I follow a real rule a number of colleges use: Every student spends a year in the dorms. Just their freshman year, then they have to move somewhere else. I find that this gives them a chance to meet dormies, adapt to being on college, and sorta figure out what kind of young adults they are. Plus, this gives them time for joining greek houses, which will be talked about later.

I do this because I like seeing sims as their own little characters with arcs and whatever and it forces me to think about what exactly they would be doing in college. Some sims get so frustrated with the constant mess of a dorm, some sims thrive by making friends with every dormie. Sometimes they start new drama with the others they came from high school with. Nothing quite like losing your high school sweetheart to some stinky dormie, after all.

After freshmen year, the students are kicked out of the dorms. They can get an apartment, they can rent a house, they can move into a greek house if they join one. Either way, they need to live somewhere. You can let them stay in the dorms, but I prefer somewhat smaller college households and divide them accordingly. Which gets into that whole greek house situation:

*Gameplay: greek houses. I gamify the Greek houses. I play SSU in my megahood, which comes with a fraternity and sorority, and you can do whatever setup you like there if you dislike gendered houses. Or abandon them all together and ignore this section. There are a few important elements:

Freshmen cannot live in Greek houses. They can, however, pledge while living in the dorms and move in right after their finals end. This includes dormies. There are benefits to the dorm, such as free housing, more social opportunities, usually more money per household since I cheat to make the greek houses actually nice to live in with things like pools and comfortable furniture, etc.

The Greeks have to be recruiting consistently. To keep the house going, they need to constantly be bringing in new members, either playable OR dormies.

Any recruited dormies are required to move in. You can townify them after graduation if you don't really get attached to them, but every member of the house is moved in. I use the instant pledge mod to get rid of that annoying requirement where they have to hang out on the lot so long before moving in. That, and they also move in after finals. You can teleport or invite them on and just ask them to move in. Whatever you want. Then, you must set them to be sophomores. Beyond that you can do whatever. They're playable now. Have fun.

You gotta let the Greeks party. Throw toga parties all the time and use a teleporter to maximize guests. Generally, ALL members of ALL greek houses are teleported to a party by default. Add more dormies, any friends, anybody in the dorms - the kids need to recruit and the easiest way is by forcing everyone on one lot. If you have autonomy mods or realistic alcohol, sit back and watch the madness unfold.

I don't really play wants-based, so playables that join greek houses is more based on vibes or friendship with existing greek members than wants.

*Gameplay: what do you mean we have to study??? Yeah. I made it this far before even bringing up the whole point of college. This is also where it gets a little more complicated and changed up, so bear with me.

I don't do wants-based, again, so I generally just try to make sure sims are at least passing by default. Whether they go beyond a C is up to whatever. I usually try to get knowledge sims to their 4.0s or sims that just seem like they'd take it seriously to max GPA.

ACTIVE CLASSES ARE SUCH A LIFESAVER. You can use the pre-made lecture hall or make your own. Put some skill-building objects in there, and if you like flavor theme the lecture halls around majors. I have a business/gen ed building, a science lot, and an arts lot, each with two classrooms (plus the library contains a classroom). I do believe I made an edit to the mod to make the class performance go higher with active classes, as well, so attending class every day is the bare minimum to get a passing grade.

The active class lots also contain career reward skill-building objects. These are nice because your sims can request to be taught by other sims on the lot. If you have a mod that allows non-students to visit uni lots, this helps even more with faster skill-building.

Every day, I send groups of sims with similar majors to their class. If there's a mixed-major group, each sim group gets one day in active class per semester. (So if there's an economics major, a bio major, and an art major, each one attends class on a separate rotation and the others do the normal autonomous go-to-class where they leave the lot and disappear). They attend one or both of the lectures and otherwise exist on the college lot to skill-build, socialize, eat, etc.

Outside of class, sims will usually research if they're not doing great. I honestly barely bother with assignments or term papers unless the sim actually wants to do them or are aiming for a high GPA. Maybe they go hang out at the lounge or downtown to fool around. Maybe they just fester at home. Whatever they want.

*other gameplay/storytelling things: I usually will take advantage of the aspiration change after their sophomore year if I realize that their aspiration just doesn't really jive with how they act. It's realistic to me. They had many years since being like, 13 when they first had their aspiration selected. I'd like to implement more in the way of holidays/events, personally, but that's not really relevant either. I usually give them an outfit change as well, and I like to go hard with the idea that they're going through a bunch of weird fashion phases. You know you want to give them a mohawk, just for a few days, don't you? Dye their hair red? Shave it all off? Have fun with it.

All of these things combine for me, at least, to make the college years a lot more engaging/interesting and less of a slow "move to a dorm -> study -> read books -> meet needs -> graduate" loop. There's a lot more storyline development that comes from sims being able to enjoy their time as young adults, too, such as the regular polycule jealousy explosions and party fights. It serves to break up anything they had going on as teens and give them a little direction to enter adulthood with. This concludes my little mini-guide, feel free to steal all my gameplay style or just take inspiration if you please. Or ignore it all and shake your head and call me an idiot. do whatever you want forever.

[orchidsangel]

I need to kiss the small of Jason's back so goddamn bad

just let a very long sigh over this. i see you, i hear you, i am you.

he's laying on his stomach, arms crossed under his cheek, hair mussed from tossing and turning in his sleep. the sun is starting to set and you just got home, moving around your apartment quietly and settling down before joining him in bed. it's familiar in a sense; it happens almost every day in the wee hours of the morning, except it's you fast asleep and jason trying not to disrupt your dreams. feet shuffle across the floor, and layers of clothing that reflect a different side of you get tossed in the hamper. the floor creaks under your weight, and you stop in place, worried you might wake him, but you turn to see jason still fast asleep. the clink of your jewelry dropping into a ceramic bowl rings through the room, and you know it's only because of how quiet it is. he shifts a little, the blanket that's supposed to be covering him now sitting at his mid-thigh from his restlessness. he lets out a deep, chest rumbling snore and you have to hold in a laugh. maybe not that restless. tiptoeing over to him quietly in an attempt to not wake him and gently climbling over long limbs splayed out across the bed. if sleep wasn't such a rare thing for him, you'd shake him awake and kiss him till he's cross-eyed, but it is, so you'll settle on another spot other than his lips. maybe the top of his head, letting your kiss get lost amongst his jet-black locks. or maybe between his shoulder blades, something light and full of love to contrast the deep-set tension that's made a home there. you spend more time than you'd care to admit thinking this over, running your eyes over the expanse of his body until you notice a deep purple mark peeking out from the edge of his shirt. reaching your arm out and tugging ever so gently, you pull up the shirt enough to expose the bruise in it's entirety. right, he did mention getting his ass kicked in a fight the other day, and you had asked, "are you okay?" concern evident in your furrowed eyebrows. he'd laughed an "i'm fine, nothing too bad. nothing i can't handle." before distracting you with a kiss. stupid you, shouldn't have let it go so easily. oh, but jason. how could you not fall victim to those lips, the ones that had kissed your mouth so many times, so eagerly, and often with a smile. the ones that had kissed your tears away when you were at your lowest, sobbing on the floor and barely breathing when too many little things piled up. oh, jason. you'd have to make it up to him later with an ice pack, maybe a home-cooked meal, and, of course, a kiss. until then, you'd have to make do with what was in front of you. leaning over slightly, dips in the bed where your knees sit, you place a kiss on the small of his back. a promise, an apology, and an i love you.