#and it’s hard to feel Good about being moved out

[mattybsgroupie]

— PEGGING CHRIS FOR THE FIRST TIME

you run your thumb across chris’s cheeks, wiping the droplets of tears that insist to fall from the corners of his eyes. “shhh” you soothe him, a gentle smile on your face. “we don’t have to do it baby, we can stop whenever you want hm?” you coo before ruffling his hair, your hands traveling to his shoulders, giving it a light squeeze.

chris whines in frustration, his fists pressed against the mattress. “no! i want it!” he says, but there’s something stopping him tonight. you had fingered chris a couple of times before — and he came untouched in all of them. it was obvious, at least for him, that the strap would be the next step. “‘m just… scared” he admits, turning his face away from you.

you gently grab his chin, tilting his gaze back to you. “look at you” you say, admiring his ethereal beauty. the rosy cheeks, his pouty, swollen lips, the puffy eyes filled with tears. “so handsome, being such a big, good boy” chris blushes even more at the compliment.

“mama” he mumbles, “not that handsome” chris holds back a smile, obviously waiting for more praises. you chuckle at his adorable reaction, ruffling his hair and sealing your lips. “i think you are the most handsome” you say, pressing kisses across his jaw and going downwards his neck.

chris was melting at your words. he whines, squirming on the mattress, trying to get closer to you somehow. his cock is pathetically hard, pre-cum oozing from his slit and dripping on his tummy as you lazily drag the pink dildo across his thighs.

“look at me” you call, wrapping your knuckles around his leaking dick, pumping him at a tortuous pace. “mama promises you’re gonna feel so good, hm? do you think i wanna hurt my baby boy?” you ask in a warm, gentle tone, trying to give him the reassurance he needed. “nuh uh” chris says. “i want it please” bucks his hips upwards, silently begging for some more friction.

you chuckle at his eagerness, softening your grip on his shaft. chris whines in protest, a smile appears as you give two light taps on his thighs. like the good boy he is, chris spreads his legs apart, allowing you to go further.

you place the tip of dildo on his rim, slowly rubbing the plastic toy against it. “i’ve got you hm? just relax baby” you coo, and chris immediately obeys. “there you go, my good boy”. his jaw opens slack as the dildo gradually enters him, his fingers gripping on the sheets, trying to get used to the unfamiliar feeling.

halfway through it, chris lets out a loud moan, his chest rising and falling quickly. you immediately stop, receiving a frustrated whine in response. “k-keep going please!” chris begs, wrapping his legs around your waist, forcing you to enter him completely. “feels so— nhng! good!”

chris cockwarms you for a while, the sensation of something bigger than your fingers reaching his prostate causing him to curl his toes. “mama please— fuck!” he can barely form a proper sentence, drool dripping from the corners of his lips.

“i barely moved and you’re already a making mess, prince” you say, chris only nods. “i need your words, baby. use your words like a big boy hm?” you speak, a firmer, stricter tone in your voice.

chris pouts again “please mama” he says, but he knows this isn’t enough. “fuck me, please” he squeeze his eyes shut, worried about your reaction. words aren’t necessary — you move your hips, gradually pulling out before sliding all the way in, hitting his prostate again.

“fuck fuck fuck” chris repeats like a mantra, the sounds of skin slapping and his moans taking over the quiet room. “mama i’m gon— gonna cum!” he cries, completely overwhelmed.

“already? awww” you smile, knowing exactly how to get him there. untouched. “is that so? my good boy cumming so fast just from my cock?” you tease. tears are falling once again, his cheeks completely dampened. “go on baby, wanna cum with it inside?”

“mama!” chris says before his orgasm crashes over him, his walls contracting around the pink dildo. thick ropes of cum spurt from his slit, his release hitting his own chest. he has leaked everywhere, a small puddle of cum — and maybe something else — resting above his belly button. he’s completely fucked out, his hair glued onto his forehead, sweat and drool adding to the mess on his chest.

you shower chris with praises, wiping his tears with your lips. as you begin to pull out, chris whines again. “no!” he says, pouting. “can i sleep with it in, please?”

DAY 5!! sorry for not posting last night (and for being late tn) i was really tired and the lovely anons i received in the morning didn’t help my mood lol anyways!!! hope you like this one 🤍! and thank you @luvs4matt once again for helping me <3 if you wanna be added to the special taglist please comment on this post!

[luna-azzurra]

Ways I Show a Character Who Believes They’re the Villain in Everyone Else’s Story

╰ Behavioral Red Flags

They assume the worst intentions in themselves, even when they act out of love. They brought you coffee? Probably just guilt. They helped you move? Must be manipulating you so you "owe" them later. (They just care. But they can't believe that's true.)

They over-apologize for existing. You bump into them and somehow they’re the ones apologizing, looking like they've personally inconvenienced your entire bloodline.

They self-monitor everything. Every joke they make. Every word they say. Every look they give. Constant little glances at people's faces, desperate for signs that they’ve messed up again.

They let people treat them badly because they think they deserve it. Rudeness? Sure. Being overlooked? Of course. Public humiliation? Absolutely par for the course. Standing up for themselves feels wrong, like a thief demanding a refund.

They preemptively distance themselves when things get good. Got a close friendship brewing? Time to pull away before they find out I'm terrible. New romance? Better end it now before they hate me.

They assume jokes about "bad people" are secretly about them. "You know those selfish jerks who never change?" someone says. Their inner monologue: That’s me. They mean me.

They play up their flaws. Self-deprecating humor, but not cute self-roasting, deep, almost aggressive, like they’re trying to hand you the knife before you even think about stabbing.

They struggle to accept forgiveness. Apologizing feels natural. Being forgiven feels alien. Like wearing shoes on the wrong feet.

╰ Thought Patterns That Wreck Them

"Even when I try to do the right thing, I mess it up." Trying doesn't absolve them. Trying just delays the inevitable hurt they’ll cause someone else."People are nice to me because they don't know who I really am." Kindness isn't acceptance to them — it's a ticking time bomb, waiting to explode when the "truth" comes out.

"If someone is angry at me, they must be right." They don't even question it. Anger directed at them must be justified. They deserve it.

"If I succeed, it's by accident. If I fail, it's because I suck." Zero credit for wins. Full credit for losses. The math of their self-esteem is so rigged it should be illegal.

"If I ask for help, I'm manipulating people." Needing something feels like emotional blackmail in their mind. Better to suffer in silence than risk "forcing" someone to care.

╰ The Tiny Physical Tells

Laughing after their own serious statements, as if to soften the blow of speaking honestly.

Keeping their hands visible when talking (subconscious "I'm not a threat" behavior).

Flinching when someone raises their voice, even if it’s not directed at them.

Making themselves physically smaller—shoulders hunched, arms crossed, shrinking into themselves like they can disappear if they just try hard enough.

Dropping eye contact when complimented.

Holding their breath without realizing it when waiting for someone's reaction.

╰The Relationships They Gravitate Toward (And Why):

Fixer-Upper Friendships: They think they have to earn affection by being useful, by helping, by being "the strong one."

Unbalanced Dynamics: They let people use them because "at least I'm being helpful, even if they don't actually care about me."

Romantic Partners Who Validate Their Worst Fears: They often fall for people who treat them like they’re a burden—because it matches the script in their head.

Or... Relationships That Terrify Them: Because if someone genuinely loves them, they’re always waiting for the moment that person "wakes up" and sees the "monster" they believe themselves to be.

╰ How They Might Heal (If They’re Lucky)

(And if the author isn’t an emotional sadist. 👀)

A relationship where mistakes are allowed, not punished.

Someone calling them out, not for being bad, but for being unkind to themselves.

Tiny acts of trust that stick over time, slowly poisoning the idea that they’re inherently toxic.

Learning that being flawed and being villainous are not the same damn thing.

Being told, over and over, "You don't have to earn love by being perfect."

[skzophreniic]

⍣ ೋ cw: soft pregnancy mention, implied smut, post-sex intimacy, emotional vulnerability, chris being extremely down bad, light humor, and overwhelming tenderness.

notes: in which you finally tell chan about your unexpected pregnancy.

The nausea comes in waves. Not sudden, but rising — quiet and cruel.

You slip out of bed on instinct, careful not to stir him. The room is dim, still painted in that pre-dawn blue where shadows blur soft against the walls. The floor’s cold under your feet, the silence heavier than usual.

You close the bathroom door behind you, but not fast enough to hide the sound.

You barely make it to the toilet.

Your body folds in on itself as you retch, one hand clutching the edge of the counter, the other pressed to your mouth. Your throat burns. Your eyes sting. You’re trembling again, just like yesterday. Just like every morning this week.

And you know exactly why.

But you haven’t told him.

Not yet.

The door clicks gently, and before you can even call out, he's there.

“Baby?” Chris’s voice is thick with sleep, curls still mussed, but his worry is immediate. 

He steps into the bathroom, barefoot and blinking against the light. You don’t turn around, can’t—your cheek is pressed to the cool porcelain, eyes shut tight, trying to keep the tears at bay.

You hear him crouch beside you. Feel the warmth of his palm, tentative but steady, on your back.

“Hey, hey…” he whispers, thumb rubbing soft, slow circles between your shoulder blades. “It’s okay. I’m here.”

You hate how kind he is. How easily he forgives the way you’ve been pulling away lately—your silence, the distance you keep curling between your bodies each night. You hate it because he still looks at you like you haven’t broken his heart in quiet, accidental pieces.

Like you haven’t been lying by omission.

“I’ll get you some water,” he says, already standing. But you reach back blindly, fingers clutching at his wrist.

His movement stills the second you touch him.

Your fingers curl weakly around his wrist, barely more than a brush, but he stays rooted like you’ve anchored him. He sinks back down beside you without hesitation, knees to the cold tile, one hand steadying you while the other moves to tuck a stray strand of hair behind your ear.

“Okay,” he murmurs. “I won’t go.”

Your fingers slip from his wrist to his forearm, anchoring there. Not tight, not pleading. Just... needing something solid. He shifts closer, gently tucking you against him, and you let him—half-curled over the toilet, cheek pressed now to the curve of his shoulder instead of cold porcelain.

It’s shameful how good it feels.

How much you missed him.

How much he still makes space for you, without question.

You breathe him in. Warm skin, sleep-soft cotton, the scent of dreams not yet dissolved. His hand returns to your back, tracing the same slow circles, patient and gentle. He doesn't rush you. Doesn’t push. Just stays.

A lump rises in your throat. You swallow it back down.

“You’ve been sick a lot lately,” he says quietly. “And I—I didn’t want to push, but… I was starting to worry.”

You close your eyes.

Tighter.

Like you can hold the truth inside your chest if you just try hard enough.

“I didn’t want you to worry,” you manage, voice paper-thin.

Chris lets out a small, broken exhale—half a laugh, half a sigh. His thumb is still tracing that same small circle on your back, over and over like a ritual.

“Too late, baby,” he says. “You know me. I worry when you don’t text back for ten minutes.”

You breathe out a tremble of a laugh. It barely escapes you.

He pulls you in a little more, his shoulder now against your cheek, his arm curling around your waist, like he could take this ache from you if you just let him.

“Come on,” he whispers. “Let’s get off this floor, yeah?”

You don’t protest. You let him help you up, let him walk you slowly back to bed. He moves around you like instinct — pulling the blankets over your legs, smoothing your hair back, propping a pillow behind your back like he knows how this all goes. Like you’ve always been this breakable.

He disappears into the kitchen, and you hear the kettle click on. The cupboard door. The soft clink of ceramic. It’s the kind of intimacy you never thought would undo you.

When he returns, he’s carrying a steaming mug. He sets the tea down, crawls in beside you, and tugs you gently against his chest. You go without hesitation this time. Your cheek finds his collarbone. His heartbeat is steady.

“Try to sip,” he murmurs, guiding your fingers to the mug. “Ginger and honey. Helps settle the stomach.”

You take a shaky breath. Sip once. Then again.

He strokes your arm, still not asking what’s wrong. Still just being.

“I don’t deserve you,” you whisper, the words too fragile to carry.

Chris doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t argue. Just presses his lips to your forehead, eyes closed.

“You’ve got me anyway.”

You hold the tea with both hands, and before you can stop yourself, before you can weigh the moment, it falls out—

“I’m pregnant.”

A beat.

Then two.

His breath catches just slightly. You feel it in the way his chest stills beneath your cheek.

“Yeah?” he says, quiet.

He doesn’t sound shocked.

Not really.

You feel his hand pause where it rests on your arm. Not jerked away, not pulled back—just still. Still like he’s been waiting for this. Still like he already knew.

You pull back just enough to look at him.

His face is soft in the low light. No widening of the eyes, no sharp intake of breath, no panic. Just a quiet kind of calm. Like he’s been holding this truth behind his teeth for days.

You blink. “You’re… not surprised.”

Chris gives you a small, lopsided smile, and there’s something tired in it. Something knowing.

“I kind of figured.”

You freeze.

Chris shifts slightly, just enough to press his lips to your temple. 

Your fingers tighten around the mug. “You… what?”

“I’ve known for a little while,” he says, and there’s no accusation in it. Just fact. “Not for sure, but… yeah. I knew.”

You pull back slowly, just enough to look up at him. His eyes meet yours, gentle and tired and a little sad around the edges.

“Then why didn’t you say anything?”

Chris exhales through his nose, brushing a thumb along your jaw. “Because I wanted you to tell me when you were ready. And if you never were—” he swallows, voice thickening, “—I figured I’d wait anyway.”

You stare at him. Your chest aches. He’s holding you like you haven’t broken his heart a hundred times over by keeping this to yourself.

“You should’ve been mad,” you whisper. “I pulled away. I lied. I let you think something was wrong with us.”

He shakes his head, thumb still moving, like he’s trying to wipe the guilt from your skin. “You didn’t lie,” he says softly. “You were scared. That’s not the same thing.”

“But—”

“Baby.”

The word silences you.

He shifts closer, rests his forehead to yours. The kind of closeness that feels like home, like breath shared between ribs.

“You’re pregnant,” he says quietly, like he’s still wrapping his heart around the truth. “That’s huge. That’s life-changing. You didn’t owe me a perfect response to that.”

Your eyes fill again. The tears this time are different—no longer the kind that come from fear, but from the ache of being known, and loved anyway.

“I didn’t want you to be disappointed,” you breathe.

Chris huffs a sound that’s half a laugh, half a sigh. “Disappointed?” He leans back, just enough to look at you fully. “Sweetheart, I’ve been walking around for the last two weeks trying not to hope too hard. Every time you flinched at the smell of eggs, I thought I was going to lose it.”

You blink.

He smiles, slow and tender. “I started carrying extra granola bars in my bag like some kind of dad training simulation.”

A laugh breaks from you, wet and surprised and a little wild. He kisses the sound off your cheek.

You want to believe him. God, you do.

But it still claws at you — the weight of it. The impossibility. The quiet voice that’s been whispering the same thing over and over since the first test turned positive.

Your laughter fades as quickly as it came, and you drop your gaze, fingers twisting in the hem of your shirt.

“But your career…”

The words are quiet. Almost too quiet. Like you’re afraid of waking something up by saying them aloud.

Chris stills.

You press on, slowly. “You have enough on your plate already. The tours. The schedules. The pressure. I didn’t want to be the reason everything got harder. I didn’t want you to feel… trapped.”

His face folds in on itself, soft and stunned, like your words physically knock the wind from him.

“Trapped?” he echoes. “Is that what you thought I’d feel?”

You swallow hard, shrugging helplessly. “You’ve worked your whole life for this. And I know what it looks like from the outside — you, me, suddenly pregnant in the middle of everything. Headlines. Rumors. People blaming me for pulling focus. I just… I didn’t want to be a detour.”

Chris is quiet for a moment. Not the kind of silence that stretches with tension, but the kind that holds something. Thoughtfulness. Heartbreak. The ache of someone hearing what wasn’t said aloud.

Then, softly:

“You think I care about headlines?”

You open your mouth, but he doesn’t give you the chance.

“You think I’d let any of that matter more than you?” His voice breaks—just enough to make your eyes sting again. “I don’t care what the outside looks like. I care about you. About the way you’ve been hurting and hiding it. About how you’ve been carrying all of this alone.”

He sits up a little straighter beside you, pulling your hands into his lap, like he needs to anchor both of you to the moment. His thumbs rub over your knuckles, steady and warm.

“I didn’t spend all this time building something just to let it become a cage,” he says. “I built it so I could choose what matters.”

Your lip trembles. You want to crawl into his words and never leave.

“I want this baby,” he says simply. “And I want you. And if that makes everything harder, then so be it. I’ve never been afraid of hard things. Just losing you.”

You press a shaky hand to your mouth, trying to bite back the sob threatening to rise.

Chris leans in, gently tugging your hands away to cup your cheeks.

“I love what I do,” he whispers. “But I love you more.”

And then, softer still—

“Let them talk. Let the whole world think what they want. I’ll hold your hand through every bit of it. I’ll shout it from the rooftops if that’s what you need.”

You break.

You fall forward into him and he catches you instantly, wrapping you up in the kind of hold that feels less like comfort and more like coming home. He rocks you slowly, like you’re something precious, and murmurs nothing but love into your hair until the shaking stops.

Neither of you speak for a while. Not in words. Just the rhythm of breath shared, the way his thumb never stops moving across your spine, the quiet tremble of your body as it starts to finally release the weight it's been holding for too long.

Eventually, you shift just enough to look up at him, eyes red and swollen.

“You’re really not scared?” you whisper.

Chris smiles. It’s tired, but steady. Steady in the way he’s always been.

“Oh, I’m terrified,” he says with a soft laugh. “But I’m not scared of us.”

His words settle into the quiet like a promise, like a hand pressed to a wound. Not to hide it—but to hold it. To keep it warm. To let it heal.

“I’m scared of screwing it up,” he admits. “Of not knowing what I’m doing. Of forgetting diapers at three in the morning and dropping the car seat manual in a puddle.”

You huff out a shaky laugh.

“But I’m not scared of loving you through this. Of being here. I want to mess it up with you. I want the sleepless nights and the ugly furniture and the weird little onesies your mom’s definitely going to send.”

You let your eyes close for a moment, breathing in the space between you. The safety of it. The calm after the unraveling.

Chris shifts behind you, easing both of you down beneath the covers again. His arms wrap around your waist from behind, palm splaying gently over your stomach—hesitant at first, then firmer, like he’s grounding himself to what’s real.

To what’s already begun.

“I don’t know how to do this,” you murmur, voice muffled against the pillow.

“Neither do I,” he says. “But I think we’ll figure it out. Together.”

His thumb draws soft, mindless circles against your skin. You can feel his breath on your shoulder, warm and even.

“We’re gonna be so bad at swaddling,” you whisper after a moment.

Chris snorts into your hair. “Horrible. Absolute disaster.”

“They’ll probably pee on us within the first ten minutes.”

He laughs again, and it rumbles through you like something holy.

“You mean they won’t wait twenty?” he teases. “Already disappointed in our future child’s manners.”

You smile. Not because the fear is gone. Not because it’s easy now. But because he’s still here. Still him. And somehow, even in the dark—especially in the dark—he’s made space for all of it.

You roll slightly, enough to face him, and he meets your gaze instantly. His eyes are red at the corners too, but soft. So soft.

You reach for his hand again. 

He gives it without hesitation.

______________________________________________________________

The sheets are still warm.

They’re tangled around your legs, half-forgotten, pulled low from where Chris tugged them back earlier in careful haste—like he couldn’t wait another second to feel you again. To love you the way he’d been aching to for weeks.

But it had been gentle. So slow. So careful it almost hurt.

He’d kissed you like he was scared you’d break beneath him. Like every part of you needed to be cherished differently now—worshipped not just because he loved you, but because you were carrying something he already did.

Now, the room is quiet again.

Not the sharp quiet from earlier—the kind lined with secrets and held breath. This silence is sweeter. Fuller. The kind that lingers in the air after closeness, after truth, after love has been made and remade and made again.

You lie curled in the sheets, his hoodie pooled beneath your head like a pillow, your body still humming from the weight of him—on you, in you, with you.

Chris is beside you. Propped on one elbow, hair a mess, eyes soft in the gold light pouring through the window.

He hasn’t stopped touching you.

His fingertips skim the slope of your stomach—slow, aimless strokes over skin still too tender. He traces the curve like it’s already changed. Like he can already see the future stretching beneath your navel.

“You sure you’re okay?” he murmurs, for the third—maybe fourth—time.

You smile, eyes fluttering closed. “I’m okay.”

“Did I hurt you at all?”

You open your eyes again, shifting to face him more. He looks almost pained asking it—like he’s still afraid he was too much, even though every touch had been measured, every motion guided by whispered I love yous and soft gasps.

You reach up, fingers brushing through his hair—so soft, still sleep-mussed, still clinging to last night’s weight. His eyes flutter at the contact.

“You didn’t hurt me, Chris,” you say gently, your thumb sweeping across his temple. “You couldn’t have. You were…” You pause, cheeks warming. “You were so good to me.”

He leans into your touch like it’s instinct, nose nudging your palm, lips brushing the edge of your wrist. “I just didn’t want to rush anything,” he mumbles. “I didn’t want to take from you.”

“You gave to me,” you correct quietly. “More than you know.”

His gaze finds yours again. And it’s so open—so filled with something fragile and gleaming that it nearly knocks the breath from your lungs.

“I don’t think I’ve ever wanted to be careful with someone the way I want to be with you,” he murmurs, hand still slow on your stomach. “Like every piece of you deserves a softer kind of love.”

Your throat tightens, eyes stinging with the tears you thought you’d already run out of. You don’t speak. You just lean forward and kiss him—soft and close and wordless. A promise.

When you pull back, Chris smiles, all crooked and boyish, like it still surprises him he gets to kiss you whenever he wants.

“Do you think…” he starts, then hesitates, biting down on his lower lip in that familiar way he does when he’s about to say something that scares him. “Do you think they can hear me yet?”

You blink. “Hear you?”

He shrugs, flushing a little. “I don’t know. Maybe not hear, but like—feel me.”

You smile, hand still resting over his where it sprawls protectively across your belly.

“I think,” you say, voice soft with wonder, “if they feel anything at all, it’s love.”

Chris lets out a slow breath, almost like a laugh, almost like a prayer. “Good,” he murmurs. “That’s all I want them to feel.”

And then he lowers himself again—carefully, reverently—so his face is level with your stomach, his curls brushing your skin. You feel his breath before his lips, warm and tender, and then—

“Hi,” he whispers. “It’s me again.”

You bite back a watery smile, brushing his hair back from his face. He doesn't look up. He’s focused, eyes closed, words blooming straight from his heart.

“You’re still tiny,” he says. “Probably the size of… I don’t know. A peanut? A lentil?”

You laugh softly. “A blueberry, I think.”

Chris grins against your skin. “Okay. Hi, blueberry.”

The tears return, but this time they don’t sting. They soothe. You let them fall.

Chris presses another kiss, slower this time. “Your mom is amazing. She’s strong, and patient, and really stubborn when she wants to be—don’t get any ideas—but she’s also the kindest person I’ve ever met. And she loves you already. So much.”

You can’t breathe. Or maybe you just don’t want to—don’t want to disturb the moment, the hush in the room, the way it feels like the world has paused just to let him say this.

“And I love you, too,” he adds, softer now. “Even if you’re already making her throw up every morning.”

You snort.

Chris finally looks up at you, face glowing with something boyish and stunned. Like he’s still adjusting to the weight of the word dad and how it might belong to him now.

“Do you think it’s okay to be happy yet?” he whispers. “Or is it too early?”

You blink, startled by the softness of the question. It’s not a doubt in you. It’s a doubt in himself—the way he was used to waiting for the world to collapse anytime something good entered the picture.

You tilt his face fully toward you, one hand on his cheek, the other still resting over his on your belly.

“It’s okay,” you whisper back. “We’re allowed to be happy.”

Chris leans into your palm, lashes kissing your skin. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you nod. “Even if it’s early. Even if it’s messy. We’re allowed.”

A long breath leaves his chest. When he exhales, it sounds like something unknots inside him.

“Okay,” he says. And then again, firmer: “Okay.”

He kisses your belly once more—then your ribs, then your shoulder, and finally your lips, slow and sure and lingering like he’s learning the shape of this new beginning through you.

Your breath catches.

Because there’s something different in this kiss—less cautious than before, less tentative. Still tender, still full of awe, but threaded now with a kind of ache. A hunger not for your body, but for closeness. For reassurance. For the promise of you and him and this tiny, impossible future you’re building together.

You kiss him back. Let your hands curl into the soft cotton at his shoulders, let your mouth part beneath his. He deepens it without a word, like your response is all the permission he’s ever needed.

Chris exhales against your lips, the sound low, almost relieved. His hand slides from your belly to your waist, guiding you gently onto your back, careful not to press too hard, like he’s still remembering how much softer the world has become.

You pull him with you, fingers in his hair now, breath mingling as he settles between your legs, his weight familiar, comforting. Not heavy—never heavy. He’s holding himself up even now, even in this, like you’re precious. Like he can’t risk the smallest part of you going untouched, unnoticed, unloved.

His kiss grows slower. Deeper. Tongue brushing yours, mouth warm and open and wanting, but not hurried. Nothing about him is hurried. He maps you like he’s memorizing—not rediscovering your body, but learning what it means now, with the quiet miracle curled inside you.

His palm returns to your belly halfway through the kiss.

It lingers there.

Anchoring.

You feel his hips roll, subtle and restrained, like he can’t help it—but even that is tempered by reverence. He groans softly against your lips and pulls back just enough to rest his forehead to yours.

“I want you again,” he murmurs, breath catching. “So bad.”

You smile, brushing your nose against his. “We just had sex, Chris.”

“I know,” he groans, dragging his lips down to your jaw, your neck, your shoulder—soft little kisses like he’s trying to keep himself distracted. “It’s not my fault. You’re literally glowing. Like… it’s actually not fair.”

You laugh, tilting your head to give him more space. “I think that’s just the sweat from me throwing up three times this morning.”

“Nope,” he says, grinning against your collarbone. “Sorry. Pregnancy glow. Hormones. Boobs. All of it. My brain’s broken. I’m ruined.”

You snort. “Are you seriously saying I got hotter now that I’m pregnant?”

Chris lifts his head to look at you, eyebrows raised, completely unapologetic. “Yes. Have you seen yourself? You’re radiant. Divine. A walking goddess with a baby growing inside her—my baby, by the way. Do you have any idea what that does to me?”

You blink at him, stunned and absolutely flustered. “Chris—”

He groans dramatically and drops his head to your chest. “You don’t get it. I’m suffering.”

You wheeze a laugh, your fingers threading through his hair again.

He looks up at you, eyes wide, completely serious now. “Every time you move I want to pounce. But I can’t. Because I am a gentleman. A respectful, self-restrained—” he kisses the top of your belly, “—incredibly patient father-to-be.”

You grin. “Uh-huh.”

His hand slides up your thigh, just high enough to make your breath hitch. “But if you even so much as breathe wrong, I’m folding.”

“Chris—”

“I mean it. One little sound. A sigh. A whimper. I’m gone.”

Your laughter breaks loose then, full and warm and aching at the edges. He kisses you hard, almost like he’s trying to prove his point—like he's sealing the moment in his mouth before it gets the better of him.

His hands are definitely not innocent anymore.

“Okay—okay,” he says, breathless, forehead against yours again. “I have to get up. I have to. You need food. I need distance.”

You wrap your arms around his neck, not letting him go. “You sure?”

He groans into your shoulder. “I’m going. I'm going. But I’m leaving in emotional pain.”

You release him with a teasing little kiss. “Breakfast, dad.”

Chris smirks as he finally sits up, eyes sweeping over you one last time before he swings his legs off the bed. “Fine. But you better be decent when I come back or I’m canceling breakfast and blaming the baby.”

“You wouldn’t.”

“Try me.”

And with that, he trudges toward the kitchen in his boxers, muttering something about toast and torture under his breath.

You melt back into the sheets, laughing, heart pounding, belly warm—and for once, everything feels exactly, impossibly, beautifully right.

[willyoubemycherryy]

Minor Pains (Bo Chow x r)

Summary: Just a lil something to take the edge off…

Contains: Flirting, petnames, kinda smut, kissing, Bo has a dirty mouth and it’s canon, he’s also the head chief leading professor in eatemdownnomics, cursing, established relationships, they close shop early for this, refers to himself ONCE as daddy deal with it, he’s fine as hell good lord

A/N: He’s my man😐.

⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢ ﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉୨♡୧﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉୨♡୧﹉﹉﹉﹉

Well, you’re miserable.

Standing behind the counter, you watch the few customers get their last minute shopping in since y’all closed in less than an hour. It honestly hadn’t been your day. The weather was shit, your bra was too tight on top of being annoyed and your lower body was screaming at you to go sit your ass down.

Irritation radiated off you in waves and the people who came by to buy could tell; avoiding even looking at you. Instead, they’d go find Bo and give their payment directly to him rather than face your glare and painfully sharp tongue.

You don’t blame them.

So, you pout, watch and stalk behind the counter- sighing heavily. You lean on your elbows as you search the area for your husband except you can’t see him anywhere. Heaving out another incredibly inconvenienced sounding sigh, you get ready to go find him when big, warm familiar hands wind around your waist- settling on your lower stomach as Bo buries his face into the crook of your neck, body flush against yours when he inhales.

Goosebumps break across your skin as you shiver and you instinctively tilt your head to accept his affections. For a second, you forget how irritated you’ve been.

“What’s wrong, baby? Y’been lookin’ like that all day”. He mumbles into your ear, voice thick with concern and his southern drawl, his words have that honeyed effect and you feel somewhat softer.

“My ass hurts.” You answer back sweetly but the barely hidden ire along with the unexpectedness of your answer makes laughter bubble from his chest. You were always pissy when something annoyed you but he never minded it and truth be told, he was too sweet on you to care. But still, you were unhappy and as your man it was his job to rectify that.

Your face feels warmer when Bo leans down, placing a heavy kiss against your cheek, trailing them down your jawline to your throat. Unlike the kiss to your cheek, the ones being burned into your skin have you getting hotter all over. Bo’s kisses grow wetter with every kiss he sucks into your skin and it feels so feverish it’s like he’s on fire and you’re so close that you catch fire too. He trails his lips back to your ear real slow and your heart pounds in time with your clenching thighs.

“Want me to kiss it better?”

You scrunch your eyes shut at the slot of heat that bolts through you. He doesn’t let up, moving his hands up until they’re just below your breasts before moving them back down again. There’s nobody around and you’re truly grateful for that because when he presses himself against you hard enough for you to feel exactly what a couple minutes of loving on you does to him, you gasp.

It’s so desperate, so needy- that the sound goes straight to his head instantly and before he or you thinks to much about it, he goes to turn the sign from opened to closed then back around the counter to you, hands hot and heavy with promise and intent.

His lips kiss, lick, and suck everywhere on your throat they can reach and it’s so good that you can’t even feel embarrassed at how quick you’re ready for him, panties damp with your slick. Bo grips your hips real tight and starts to lift you up on the counter when you rush out,

“W-wait…the counters too hard for me to sit on right now..”, Bo stills for a bit, thinking then hums,

“ ‘S alright baby..”, a slow grin tilts the corner of his mouth as he drops to his knees instead, flipping your dress up. He hasn’t even done anything but you’re already breathing heavy, lip stuck between your teeth. You feel your panties being slid down your legs and the coolness has you suddenly aware of how wet you really are when Bo coos lowly at the mess you’ve made.

“Daddy’ll just kiss it better from here.”

You don’t know it yet, but you’re in for a long night.

[rafesbabygirlx]

Deep Tissue, Deep Desire

𝙲𝙴𝙾!𝚁𝚊𝚏𝚎 𝚡 𝙼𝚊𝚜𝚜𝚎𝚞𝚜𝚎!𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛

Masterlist

Summary- Rafe has been feeling the weight of Cameron Development on his shoulders. His assistant had booked him a massage assuming that it would be good for him. Much to his dismay, it turned out to be the greatest appointment he had ever had.

Warnings- MDNI, smut (rub and tug, hand job, doggy style)

“The massage is booked tonight at 7, boss. I think it’ll be good for you. Y’know loosen up the muscles, relieve a bit of tension. No offense, but you been a bit of an ass lately.” Damian, Kelce’s younger brother, now Rafe’s assistant said to him.

Rafe threw him a stern look. “I remember what time the damn appointment is. I’ll be there.” Damian nodded and began to walk out of Rafe’s office. “Oh and Damian? Don’t think that just because you’re Kelce’s brother you can talk to me like that. I’ll have you by your neck next time.” ∘

Rafe entered the salon, checking in and grabbing the towels and robe provided to him. He was directed to the locker room and instructed to undress completely leaving him in only the towel wrapped tightly around his waist.

He made his way over to the room. Once he entered he removed his robe and got on the table faced down. He waited for about 10 min before hearing the door open and close again. He naturally moved to get up to greet you but you spoke before her could.

"Hi Mr. Cameron, I'll be taking care of you today. Don't worry about getting up, I'm used to being greeted by the backs of peoples heads."

Rafe slowly moved back to his original position. His brows furrowing at the sound of your voice. It was sweet and soft. Young, nothing like what he pictured would step into the room.

"Full body right?" you asked just to confirm.

"Uh, yeah if that's what my assistant booked." he answered trying to seem nonchalant.

"You're just gonna feel some warmth on your back from the oil, then I'll get started."

You dripped the oil along Rafe's back. The suddenness of it made him twitch, but when he felt your hands on him he melted into the feeling. God, were you skilled. You massaged every part of him, kneading out all the knots he probably had for years. He was lost in the feeling. There was no sound but the generic spa music playing in the background.

After a while, your voice broke that silence. "I'm gonna lift the towel to keep you covered and I want you to roll over onto your back."

Rafe did as he said, rolling over then leaning on his elbows to steady himself. When he looked over and locked eyes on you, his eyes widened slightly and a soft "oh" slipped from his lips. You were stunning. The person that had be practically feeling him up was stunning and now he was shy all the sudden.

You looked back at him smitten. He was a gorgeous man, chiseled jaw, abs carved by the Gods themselves, bright blue eyes. You were taken back by his beauty. There was an understanding in the stare you held on one another but neither of you said anything.

Rafe laid back down as you moved to the foot of the bed. You lifted up his towel slightly as you applied more oil to him and began working on his lower legs slowly moving your way up.

You began to knead the flesh of his thigh. Running your hands up with pressure as your knuckles graze the length of his cock. He lifted his at you and a smirked flashed across his face. After meeting his eyes, you look back down pretending to focus on your work, hiding the flush of red that grew on your cheeks.

“That ok, Mr. Cameron?” You ask teasingly.

“More than ok, sweetheart.”

With his confirmation, you continue to softly touch him. Your fingers on him in a way he couldn’t see coming. He was in big trouble once your hands went to each of his thighs and worked from the bottom up to his pelvic bone. He fought it. He really tried. Tried so hard until he couldn’t control it anymore.

In between his legs, right in your face, his cock got hard underneath the towel. You didn’t mind it, especially with how far it lifted the towel from his body.

“Enjoying yourself?”

Rafe was at a loss for words. He didn’t know what he felt. Ashamed? Embarrassed? What he did know what that you made him so fucking horny. “Abso-fuckin-lutely.”

That made you smile. Your hands slipped back under the towel. This time grabbing the shaft with 2 hands and slowly stroking him. Rafe’s jaw dropped open a moan escaping his throat. He rips the towel off himself, propping up on both elbows so that he can watch you work him.

You continue to touch him and when you start to feel him twitch against the palm of your hands, he grips your wrist forcing you to stop. “I need you.” Rafe mutter’s breathlessly.

He hops off the table and stalks over to you completely bare. You can’t keep your eyes off of him. All of him. When he reaches you on the other side of the table he grabs your waist and flips you around. You instinctively bend over it as he rubs a hand over your ass.

“This ok?”

You nod desperately. Desperate to feel him you can’t wait any longer. You reach back pulling your scrub pants down. “Eager, are we?” He chuckles behind you.

You feel the tip of his head rub against your folds before he swirls it around your clit. Your heads drops to the table as you bite your lips stifling a moan from escaping. Rafe slams his entire length into you not giving you anytime to react before he pulls out and slams into you again.

Rafe pushed up your shirt and took your bottle of oil and dripped it onto your lower back, watching the way it fell between the crack of your ass and how he pushed it into your soaked hole.

He was relentless in his thrusts and you’re pretty sure you drew blood from how hard you were biting down on your lip. You felt yourself tighten in the lower part of your stomach. Tightening around the length of his cock, before relief washes over you and your legs shook hard as you came. Rafe followed right after you.

He collapsed onto your back before regaining his composure and putting his robe back on as you pulled up your pants. “You take standing appointments?”

You smiled up at him. “Every Thursday 7:00 reserved for you, Mr. Cameron.”

Tags- @rafestoothbrush @weluvwbb @itsforeverandalwayz @butterfly-ibuki @megiiite @siredbtches @bigenergy777 @aupernatural-teenwolflover @rafegf-real @skywalker0809 @snowtargaryen @kieeslove @leather-n-velvet @avada-kedavra-bitch-187 @diasnohibng @slurpdew @alphabetically-deranged @whydoesthemirrorhateme @currentresidentinhell @slut-4-rafey @akobx @rafesheaven @laniirackssss @jjmaybankmylovee @slut4you @nemesyaaa @inthelibrarybtw @littlelamy

[wordsofwhimsy]

𝑺𝒉𝒚 𝑮𝒊𝒓𝒍 𝑺𝒖𝒑𝒓𝒆𝒎𝒂𝒄𝒚 🍒 ⋅ ˚✮

Pairing: No Goggles/Lensless!Mark Grayson x Reader

Warnings: SMUTTTTT, so good, so dirty, Mark’s losing his MIND

Tags: Praise kink, dom!reader (kinda, you try, bless your heart), sub!Mark (again, kinda, he’s encouraging tf out of you), Mark is literally the best hype man to ever exist, reader is shy as hell typically so she’s coming WAY out of her shell, porn with no plot (but will one develop? 🧐 we shall see)

Word Count: 1,312

Synopsis: You & Mark have been going steady for awhile. You’re the personal assistant to Cecil – handling all the jobs that are too low for Donald (think coffee runs, taking calls, etc.). You’re shy, reserved, and quiet. So the night you come crawling out of your shell and take the reigns in bed? Mark becomes your biggest fan, your personal hype man, and a man on the edge of religious experience.

a/n: this is so absurdly self-indulgent and i won’t even apologize. i’m not even gonna lie to y’all no goggles/lensless (i like lensless better but seems like the fandom’s collectively sided with no goggles *sigh*) is my new fav. he is just so uugghhhh – like, the perfect balance of psycho with room for being OBSESSED and just, yeah, he’s that man. this was also so cathartic to write after an otherwise traumatic day.

gonna focus on my inbox after this & rebuilding what was lost in the southern belle series 😭

The room was a mess. The bed creaked under the frantic rhythm you were setting, your hips moving with reckless abandon. You’d never felt more alive—this wasn’t like you; not fitting into the quiet, reserved version of yourself he’d come to know. This was something else.

And Mark was eating it up, his eyes burning with dark, primal excitement as he lay back with his hands behind his head, fully relaxed but completely obsessed with the sight of you.

“Yeah, babe, fuck yeah!” he shouted, his voice thick with lust, practically buzzing with excitement. “That’s it! That’s how you do it! You look so fucking good like this. Go harder, don’t hold back, babe, I wanna see you lose it.”

Mark wasn’t just into this. He was thriving, watching you like the goddamn Super Bowl — except the MVP was you, on top, riding him like you owned him.

“OH my god—yes, yes, that’s what I’m TALKING ABOUT!” he yelled, voice echoing off the walls, like you were hitting home runs instead of grinding down on him so hard his abs twitched. “Shy little thing, huh? Where?! I don’t see her anymore—this version? She’s my favorite.”

Your thighs shook, pace relentless even as your breath hitched, lips parted, face glowing with sweat and something far more dangerous — confidence. You didn’t look at him much, still half-embarrassed to meet his eyes even now.

But Mark couldn’t stop staring.

“You feel that?” he groaned, lifting his hips just enough to meet you halfway. “That’s you wrecking me. This is insane. I’m literally being blessed right now.”

You bit your lip, eyes fluttering shut, trying to stay focused as your rhythm wavered under the weight of his praise.

“Ohhh, don’t get quiet on me now, baby—nah, nah, nah—talk to me, moan for me, let me hear that pretty mouth, c’mon—GOD, you’re so fucking hot right now, are you kidding me?!”

He was so hyped it was almost absurd — panting, ranting, eyes wide with disbelief like he couldn’t believe this was real. His arms were still behind his head but twitching now, dying to grab you, help you, worship you. But no. He was loving being your seat, your toy, your audience.

“You’re slamming down like you’re mad at me—are you mad at me, babe? ‘Cause you’re gonna make me fucking cry,” he gasped out, then broke into manic laughter. “Shit! Wait—do it again! That grind? That little twist right at the end? HOLY—yes! YESSSS.”

You whimpered, breath catching as your pace faltered again—but he wasn’t about to let you stop.

“Oh no, don’t you dare stop now—look at me, c’mon—ride it out, ride it all the way down, you’ve got this, you’re doing so good, I swear to god I’m gonna blow just watching you.”

You finally looked down at him, eyes glassy and cheeks flushed, and Mark just about lost his damn mind.

“There she is! YESSS, there’s my girl, look at you—on top of the fucking world. Queen shit. Certified. I should be PAYING you right now.”

Your body stuttered—overstimulated, trembling—but you kept going. And he felt it.

His grin snapped into something wicked. His arms finally dropped to grab your hips, not guiding you—just feeling the way you moved, grounding himself while you used him.

“Fuck, fuck, yes, you’re gonna cum, I can feel it—so tight, so wet, baby you are milking me, are you trying to kill me? Is that what this is?” he babbled, delirious now. “Oh my god I love you. Wait—marry me. I’m serious. I’ll give you the moon.”

And when you finally shattered—silently, jaw slack, body stiffening as you came hard around him—Mark practically screamed.

“THAT’S IT! THAT’S MY GIRL! TAKE IT, BABY, FUCKING TAKE IT—”

His hands snapped to your hips, slamming you down as he buried himself deep, coming with a violent groan, his entire body locking under yours. His head fell back, chest rising like he couldn’t breathe, muscles twitching as he emptied into you.

He held you there—still, trembling, connected—until the last pulse faded.

You collapsed against him, shaking and spent, and he caught you immediately, wrapping you up tight, still grinning like a man who just won every lottery ever invented.

“...That was... beyond,” he muttered against your hair, catching his breath. “You just blew my entire fucking mind. I think I blacked out for a second.”

You made a tiny, worn-out noise.

He smiled wider.

—

It was a normal debrief. Supposed to be, anyway.

Cecil was droning on about some black ops mission Mark had technically been assigned to but never showed up for, and a few other heroes were milling around the room. You stayed close to the wall, sipping your coffee quietly, trying very hard to pretend you weren’t being stared at like a snack.

Mark was across the room. Or, more accurately, posing across the room. Back against the wall, arms folded, smirk in full effect, eyes locked on you like you were the only person there.

He hadn't stopped looking at you like that all day.

Your cheeks were already pink, but it got so much worse when he suddenly spoke—loudly.

“You know what’s crazy?”

Everyone turned.

Cecil’s eye twitched. “What now.”

Mark pushed off the wall, casually strolling into the middle of the conversation like he hadn’t just derailed the entire room.

“I just think it’s wild,” he said, grinning, “how someone can be all sweet and quiet in public, but the second they’re on top of you—” You choked on your coffee. Actually, physically choked. “—they go absolutely feral,” Mark finished proudly.

Your soul left your body.

Every head turned to you. Even the intern looked scandalized. Cecil let out the slowest, longest sigh you’d ever heard.

“Oh my god,” you whispered into your hand.

Mark kept going. “Like, I knew she had it in her. I knew. But the dedication? The power? The whole—” he mimed someone slamming down onto a seat, complete with sound effects, “—Boom boom pow, I mean—chef’s kiss. 10/10. Academy Award performance. And the STAMINA? Un-fucking-real. Her thighs were shaking like—”

“MARK!” you hissed, face flaming.

“What?” he said, half-laughing. “I’m complimenting you!”

You were about to melt into the floor.

And that’s when Rexleaned in from two chairs down, elbow propped on the table, face lit up like fireworks.

“Wait, hold up,” he said, pointing at you with his half-eaten protein bar. “You mean quiet girl over here? She was on top?”

Mark beamed. “Oh, on top, in charge, out of body—I was literally just lying there like ‘is this how I die?’ Would’ve been a good way to go out too.”

Rex whistled low. “Shiiiit. Okay. I see you.” He turned to you, eyes dragging way too slow. “Damn, quiet ones really are the freakiest, huh? I knew it.”

You felt your stomach drop. “Rex.”

He didn’t stop. “No no, this is important. For science. So like… did you do the thing where you—”

And then Mark moved.

Slow, calm, still smiling. But the air in the room dropped ten degrees as he crossed the space between them in half a heartbeat and leaned down to Rex’s ear with that same shit-eating grin still plastered on his face.

“If your eyes so much as blink in her direction again, I’ll pop your head like a grape,” he whispered casually.

Rex blinked.

“Like—pshhht. Just… juice,” Mark added with a cheerful hand gesture.

Then he clapped Rex on the shoulder, straightened up, and turned back toward you like nothing happened.

You were bright red, half-horrified and half trying very hard not to laugh. “Mark—”

He winked. “Still thinking about last night, baby.”

“Please stop talking forever.”

[ayeforscotland]

hey this is not like anti-scottish separatist but just a genuine question I have about it, what would the plan be re:passports, citizenship, etc if Scotland became independent? I imagine it would be something something UK citizen + resident of Scotland but I feel that's an imperfect definition and might leave some people who don't live in Scotland but have ties there ending up with a nationality + citizenship they don't want/being unable to move back to wherever they've got ties to in Scotland. I'm probably phrasing this weird lmk if it's incoherent.

You’ll probably get different answers depending on who you ask. The issue with campaigning for Scottish independence is that the UK Government can act in bad faith when any of these questions are proposed.

Good example is borders - It’s easy for the UK Government to say that independence would result in a manned hard border. But the reality is that that wouldn’t be to the benefit of anyone.

In 2014, the plan was that everyone permanently resident in Scotland on day one of independence would be eligible for citizenship.

There would most likely be a grace period where people can opt into the new citizenship early, or operate with dual nationalities until it’s phased out.

[twdfemmefetal]

Daryl Dixon Headcanon

How Daryl acts when he has a crush on you ⭒

Can’t look you in the eyes for shit

Daryl keeps his eyes far away from your line of sight. As if you couldn’t already tell he was more nervous around you than with anybody else, he fears catching your gaze because the mere thought of you being able to read what’s behind them and discovering his secret infactuation for you is mortifying. "Hey, Dar, can you show me where this part of the map leads?" You said as you approached a busy Daryl working on his bike. The archer pulled a rag from his back pocket to wipe off the grease from his hands and kept his distance from you as much as possible. "Ye, which area ya talk'm bout?" You turned to face him and connected your gaze with his. His eyes were blue, ocean blue. You didn't realize how beautiful the Georgia light made them stand out, but what you couldn't help but shake was the slight twinkle in his eyes. Daryl dropped the map he held and quickly shifted his eyes from you. "Fuck m'sorry ." Daryl shook his head and couldn't help but feel embarrassed at his clumsiness. His face turned tomato red as he watched you bend to pick it up with a soft chuckle. "It's okay!" With trembling hands, Daryl took the map from you again and hurried up with an answer.

Always brings you something extra

Daryl can’t help but think of you on his runs or hunting trips. When he passes a clothing rack, he always thinks of what colors or types of clothing would look good on you. He brings the clothes back in the guise of expanding the wardrobe for the people in the prison, knowing you’d always get first grabs at the clothes since you help take inventory. Daryl's lip quirks up when he sees you flaunting the shirt he picked for you, knowing how beautiful you would look in it. "Nice shirt." Daryl would comment, eyeing you just enough to savor the sight but not enough to show you how telling his gaze was.

Defends you, anytime, anywhere, whether you're present or not

As Daryl's crush on you grew stronger, his need to protect you grew exponentially. Daryl felt a desire to defend your honor, name, and what you stood for. In this world, you were becoming his light in a dark place. Having a short temper didn't help, especially when people had your name in their mouths. "We need volunteers to go look for supplies." Rick piped up. Daryl's eyes shifted to those who raised their hands, Glenn, Dale, T Dog, and you. His eyes widen slightly, shifting anxiously. The thought of you out there put him on edge. "Why don't ya just sit back and look pretty sweetheart, let the men handle this." Shane chuckled at your enthusiasm. "Dont talk to er' like that unless ya want an arrow up yer ass." Daryl practically growled at Shane, defending you from his misogynistic comments. You heard the other guys snort and flashed Daryl a soft smile, a silent 'thank you' as a mutual understanding between you two. Daryl nodded back at you in response, knowing he always has your back. Eventually, the group would understand that Daryl didn't play about you, and would start to assume something was going on between the both of you.

Lingering hands....can't help but find any excuse to touch you

Daryl is pretty good at staying restrained. He's not like other men; when he crushed on you, he crushed hard. He tried everything to not let his perversions of you unravel. How much he thought about loving you, touching you, and feeling you. At some point, he couldn't hold back. He couldn't help but let his fingers linger on you, whether it was to move you out of his way softly, or just to make sure to grab you while the group had separated after the fall of the prison. He always needed you near. You were bored, beyond belief, as Rick was explaining a new strategy of where to look for supplies near Alexandria. "Does anyone wanna volunteer to go? We need two people." You were the first to raise your hand, and quickly after, Daryl did as well. You glanced up at him with a soft smirk, he nodded at you in response, and Rick dismissed the meeting, causing everyone to leave the room as Rick was now to give you both the rundown. As you and Daryl started to head out of the house, you couldn't help but feel your legs turn to jelly when Daryl placed his hand on the small of your back to guide you out of the house. You looked up at him and shot him a soft smile. He didn't dare to see the look on your face when he did that. He didn't know why it felt like second nature, but god did he love it.

Jealous when anyone else makes you laugh or smile

Daryl didn't make it easy when it came to showing that he had feelings for you; in fact, you didn't believe it at first, no matter how many times Carol tried to tell you. It also didn't help that he would practically act like you're invisible anytime he was around you, not giving you the time of day to try to interact with you, let alone get to know you better. But deep down, it was the complete opposite of that, Daryl was so down bad for you, that when he saw Spencer making you laugh just a few feet away from his and Carol's porch, he felt his blood boil. The way you were flashing Spencer a cheeky smile, with a small twinkle in your eyes, and how you would softly nudge Spencer's shoulder when he made a “joke”. He couldn't control his anger anymore. He couldn’t help it; his feet were on the concrete before he could even process. He was up and walking towards you guys when he saw Spencer tuck a piece of your hair behind your ear. “Aye, girl, ya mind helpin' me out with sum?” Daryl would ask you while shooting daggers in Spencer’s direction. “Of course, Daryl! Anything for you.” You were beyond grateful for Daryl showing up in the middle of Spencer’s unwanted flirting. As you made your way towards Daryl, he placed a hand on the small of your lower back, guiding you along with him. You couldn’t help but blush as you felt his thumb softly rub against your exposed skin. Daryl couldn’t help but glare one last time behind his shoulder, making sure Spencer understood you were his.

Showing you how to hunt, survive, finding more excuses to get you alone with him

Daryl, as we all know, isn't the type to tell you he willingly wants to spend alone time with you. He would have to find excuses to get you to come on runs, hunts, and rides with him. He wouldn't allow you to see what he truly felt for you by showing you that it was just a guise for something more meaningful for him. “Girl, do ya wanna learn how to survive or not?” Daryl would scoff out as you looked up at him from your seat. “Daryl it’s just so damn early, why do we have to do this at the ass crack of dawn?” You couldn’t help but whine as you tried to wake up, softly rubbing the sleep from your eyes. Daryl just shook his head in response and grabbed onto your forearm, jostling you up and along with him down into the covers of the Georgia forest. Some time later, you and Daryl would be emerging from the tree line. You would be smiling from ear to ear when you had finally managed to crack Daryl and made him laugh at one of your jokes. But the pleading question returned to your mind once more. And you couldn't wait to hold it in anymore. "Daryl, why do you only take me with you?" He shot you a questioning glance and tensed up at your intrusive question. "C-cause yer' the only one with a god damn brain around here tha's why." His hesitation caught your ears, and it was impossible to miss the crimson hue that had quickly crept up to his cheeks and ears.

Angry outbursts at himself after he says something that could possibly hurt your feelings

It wouldn't take much to get on Daryl's nerves, but when he is crushing on someone, he would make the extra effort to sensor his words around you. Make sure to let out his anger on others and other objects before he would ever let it out on you, but Daryl isn't perfect, he would slip up sometimes and incidently hurt your feeling without meaning to. "God dammit woman, its like ya got shit for brains sum' times ya know that?!!" You flinched at the tone of his voice. You were used to his moods, his outbursts on others, but not on you, not like this. As much as you wanted to yell at him, cry, fight back in some sort of way, instead you chose to walk away. Daryl knew it was wrong, knew he shouldn't have said what he said to you that night; he was just so angry with how you almost went out of your way and almost got hurt on the run with him. He felt terrible, and wanted to hurt himself for how bad he hurt you. That same night, as you walked towards your cell to sleep for the night, you saw a single white rose laid out on your pillow. You couldn't help but let out a soft smile when realized that this was the archers way of apologizing. Daryl was never the type to verbally express himself, but for you, you understood just what he meant.

Big ol' softie to you once he gets comfortable with you

It would be no easy task to break Daryl out of his shell. But with trust, determination, and patience, you were soon rewarded by a very cuddly, protective Daryl. Once he gets comfortable enough and has expressed his feelings to you, Daryl acts like a big ol' teddy bear whenever he comes to bed at night's end. NO ONE can see him this way but you. He simply wouldn't allow people to see his soft side unless it was his lover. After a three-day run with Glenn, Daryl's return to the prison was finally the reassurance you needed to be able to relax once more. You knew that longer runs were typically riskier, and if they are prolonged any longer than they need to be, you always fear that something bad will happen. But once Carl had opened those gates and you heard his motorcycle's revving, you were ecstatic to see his face. You couldn't wait any longer as you latched your arms around his neck. Daryl wrapped his arm around your waist while he held the crossbow in the other hand, burying his neck in the crook of your neck. "Im so happy you're home, I missed you, D." His warm chuckle made you let him go as you softly looked up at him. "I missed ya, too, bunny."

[possesseddesiress]

Skinfit

CONTENT WARNING: This story includes themes of transformation and body control with a suggestive approach. If this type of narrative is not to your liking or you do not meet the recommended age, we suggest you do not continue. All images used (if any) belong to their respective owners. I claim no authorship over them and they are only used for illustrative purposes.

If you decide to go ahead, welcome to Possessed Desires, where mind and body are never completely under your control.

Skinfit

My name is Tristan, I study economics in college. My dream since I was a teenager was to be part of a fraternity, to live with other guys, to form lifelong friendships, and even to be popular.

And of course, to see a lot of muscular guys, but those are other details that I discovered later. But my "average" looks and my almost null sports skills, left me completely out of the fraternities. So I could only hope for a shared room.

I was lucky to find Zachary, a very nice guy. I thought having a jock as a roommate would be chaotic, smelly and even dirty, but Zach wasn't like that.

He was pretty organized and clean, sometimes he would come in stinking of sweat and leave his clothes all over the room, but it was only when he came in tired from his workout, took a shower, picked everything up and it was like nothing had happened.

Besides, I don't complain about his scent at all... Intoxicating, penetrating, extremely masculine, and completely out of my league.

He was straight, never brought girls to the house but it was well known around campus how successful he was with girls. He was a good friend, but geez... how many times hadn't I had vivid dreams about him (that would never come true).

- Lately the light has been failing, a false contact in the bathroom light - I whispered as I took a sip from my coffee cup.

- Really? - he asked, wearing his purple compression shirt - I've hardly been home, sorry mate - he gave a sigh, though then seemed to have an idea - I know! You remember I took an electrical course, don't you? I could try to fix it, I don't think it would be that hard would it?

- Dude, really?

- Sure! I must have my tools forgotten somewhere in my room, but anything for you, buddy - he patted me on the back before going to get something from his room.

He returned shortly after. To which we both went into the bathroom.

- Are you sure you know what you're doing?

- Yes, I sometimes skipped classes in the course but I think I know the basics.

He set up a chair so he could repair the ceiling light, removed the bulb and began to move the electrical inlet carefully.

- Don't you want us to call a technician?

- Dude! Trust me, besides, we can save several dollars, trust me, look, I think I found the problem.

He placed the tip of his tool on the metal, moved it a little and at first nothing happened. Until it sparked.

The sound of electricity chilled my skin as Zach let out a choked scream, his body trembled violently without being able to break free. I swallowed nervously. I didn't know what to do, so I did the best thing I could think of: push him.

As soon as I touched it, electricity ran through my nerves as well, it was an intense pain from head to toe, but thanks to the momentum, I ended up knocking it down and cutting off the power.

Everything went dark for a second, and then I lost myself.

Soon after I opened my eyes, I felt my head hurting, my body numb and heavy. Things were blurry all around me, and everything was dark.

- Shit...

I mumbled, touching the floor, getting up with difficulty though staggering in the process. I placed my hands against the tile, feeling a strange force in my hands.

I stood up, moving darkly around the room.

- Zach? Are you...?

Before I finished the sentence, I realized something wasn't right.

My voice felt different, deep, more... masculine? My original voice wasn't high-pitched, but it wasn't this deep, I almost felt it echoed loudly every time I opened my lips.

I touched my throat, feeling a thick adam's apple. What was going on? For a moment I stopped thinking about Zach, staggered out of the room until I advanced to my own, then I saw the reflection.

- What... what the hell?

The reflection that greeted me was Zach's, mimicking my every move. For a moment I felt fear, almost panic, but then I looked at those fat pecs.

They were mine now.

I was full of muscle! I stroked my new muscles, how good my biceps felt wrapped in the tight purple fabric.

I flexed my muscles, widening my arms and enjoying how my pecs felt, even how the reliefs stuck against my T-shirt, making me let out a gasp.

Was Zach so sensitive to such an area?

It was like letting go of my senses all at once, I kneaded and squeezed my pecs hard, letting out a loud gasp. I went crazy for a while, stroking everywhere, every mound of muscle.

I reached down to my pants. Pulling the elastic to observe what was hiding inside.

- Not bad... - I smiled - I can see why you're such a hit with the ladies, dude. Just look at the size of this thing.

I sniffed with some force, which caused a wide, loud gasp that I'm sure was heard throughout the building.

I lifted my armpit to smell it, I loved the scent... And now it was mine! How many times had I dreamed of smelling it, and now it was within my complete reach! I stuck my nose again and again, filling my whole nose with sweat.

I gasped awkwardly, like a teenager with raging hormones.

I stopped touching myself for a moment to run out to Zach's room, I loved feeling my strong legs, how each footstep echoed with weight and force across the floor.

I opened the closet to start pulling out different clothes. Although there was a larger amount of t-shirts, lycra and other sportswear, so I decided to take off what was intruding between my eager hands and my dreamy body.

I weighed my fat pectorals, changed my shirt and put on a white one that was even tighter, and flexed my arms.

It was like feeling in the glory...

It had been at least five months after the change. And I couldn't be happier about it.

At first Zach, or now I should say Tristan, had a hard time getting used to the change, always complaining that he didn't want to be in that body, that he wanted to change back.

He tried again and again to recreate the accident to return us to our original bodies. But I wasn't at all interested in going back to who I was before.

I loved the way I looked now. How others were interested in me, the fact that getting anywhere, got everyone's attention. How good my body looked in tight sportswear.

And best of all: How I attracted the attention of the fraternities.

I don't understand why Zachary didn't join any of them as soon as he entered college, he was the perfect himbo to be a brother! Within mere weeks in his body, I ended up joining one of the most important and exclusive fraternities on campus.

And I loved it.

Almost every weekend there were parties, sweaty smells, and guys walking shirtless through the halls every day. It was like heaven. And best of all, no one knew that the new Zach was actually me.

Everyone was surprised for a while at how self-centered I turn out to be, how obsessed I was with my scent, or even the change from straight to gay.

Because what I loved most about this body was how guys drooled over me, I could have anyone in the palm of my hand even.

Barely five months in and I had already been with almost every guy in the frat (some "curious", some with their sexuality under wraps and some who just wanted to have a good time), I was living what as Tristan wouldn't have happened even on my best day.

Now it was Zach, full of muscles, tight clothes that left nothing to the imagination and with such an intoxicating aroma...

Anyway. I'd have a costume party in less than an hour, the good thing about being Zach now was that whatever I wore, it would look good on me.

And I could let my nerdy tastes out. All in all, I looked hot.

----

I hope you enjoyed this story as much as I enjoyed writing it. If you liked it, don't forget to follow it and share it so more people can discover it.

I'm always open to suggestions and ideas, so if you have any fantasy or scenario in mind, let me know in the comments or in messages. See you in the next story... Who knows what body you will occupy this time?

---

[maskedbyghost]

possessive reader but somehow johnny gets involved 👀👀 take that how Ever you will

cw: smut, jealousy, possessive!reader, bondage? Well, there was only one way this could play out—because let's be real, the reader’s not sharing Simon with anyone. Hope you enjoyed the madness. Let me know what you think!

It was a normal night. You went out with Simon and his team for drinks, nothing crazy. Johnny was being his usual loud, flirty self, the way he was with everyone, but something about the way his eyes lingered a little too long on Simon’s smile, the way he leaned in when he talked to him, that smug little grin—yeah, it got under your skin fast.

And sure, maybe Simon didn’t notice, or maybe he did and didn’t care, but you were watching the whole time, sipping your drink and fuming quietly, feeling that tight little burn coil up in your chest every time Johnny laughed at something Simon said like it was the funniest shit he’d ever heard.

And Simon just smiled, just sat there looking so fucking good it made your stomach flip, leaning back in his seat with that relaxed, warm look on his face that made everyone want a piece of him. But he was yours. Yours. And you weren’t in the mood to play it cool.

Then, like salt in the wound, on the way out, Simon had the audacity to say, “Johnny should crash with us—it's closer than base, and he's had a few.”

You just nodded, didn’t say much, but your jaw was clenched so tight your teeth hurt. Johnny, of course, was all, “Cheers, mate,” like he didn’t just spend the last three hours flirting with your man.

Oblivious. Fucking oblivious. You were already planning your next move. Because no one—not even one of Simon’s closest friends—was gonna walk into your home, into your space, and forget who the hell Simon belonged to.

You didn’t say much when you got home. Just followed them inside, waited until Johnny was in the shower, and then grabbed Simon by the arm and pulled him aside.

“You okay?” he asked, looking down at you with concern that almost made you forget you were pissed.

You nodded. “Fine. Just wondering if your friend has a habit of flirting with guys in relationships or if that was just a special show for tonight.”

He blinked. “Johnny? Babe, he’s not—”

“Don’t,” you said. “I know what I saw. I know what he wants.”

Simon raised his hands. “Alright. Then what do you wanna do about it?”

And maybe you smiled too fast. Maybe your eyes were a little too bright when you said, “Make it real clear who you belong to.”

Which is how you all ended up in the bedroom—Johnny on a chair in the corner, his hands loosely tied behind his back with one of Simon’s shirts, looking half-confused and half-curious, and you on the bed with Simon already under you, flushed and breathless and looking like he’d never say no to you even if he wanted to.

You slid your hands down Simon’s chest, straddling him, eyes flicking back to Johnny just long enough to make sure he was watching.

“You see this?” you said, voice low, possessive in a way that made Simon’s jaw tighten and his breath hitch. “This is mine. Every inch. Every sound. Every fucking part of him.”

Simon groaned as your hands dipped lower, as you leaned in and bit at his neck, leaving a mark that you knew would last. He didn’t even try to stop you—just held your hips tighter, let you move however you wanted, completely content to be owned by you.

You kissed him hard, full of teeth and tongue, not pulling back until he was dizzy, until his hands were gripping you like he couldn’t handle being away for even a second.

“You’re gonna sit there and watch,” you said to Johnny, not looking at him this time, too busy tugging Simon’s clothes off. “And you’re gonna see exactly what you’ll never have.”

“You’re mine, yeah?” You asked Simon when the last piece of your clothes hit the floor. “Say it.”

Simon nodded, voice low and strained. “Yours.”

“You come home to me.”

“Always.”

“No one else gets you.” You looked right at Johnny as your fingers wrapped around Simon’s cock, stroking him slowly. “Not your friends, not your teammates, not anyone.”

Johnny was quiet, stiff in the chair, trying to figure out what the hell was happening while you climbed onto Simon’s lap and sank down on him with a low groan that made Simon’s eyes roll back. “Fuck,” he hissed, hands gripping your hips.

You started riding him slow, dragging it out, keeping your eyes on Johnny as you moaned and rocked your hips. “This is mine,” you said, fingers digging into Simon’s chest. “Only I get his cock. Only I get to make him cum.”

Simon’s hands slid up your back, holding you like he was holding on for dear life, trying not to lose it already because the way you were moving, the way your voice dropped into that husky, dark tone—it had him dizzy. “Jesus,” he muttered, breath shaky.

You leaned in, kissed his jaw, biting just a little, grinding down harder. “Tell him who owns you, baby.”

Simon groaned, his head falling back against the mattress. “You do. All yours.”

You turned to Johnny, who was shifting in the chair now, not even hiding the flush creeping up his neck. “You hear that? All mine. You don’t get his hands, or his mouth, or his fucking moans. He fucks me. He fills me. He begs for me.”

Simon was panting, one hand tangled in your hair, the other gripping your thigh, hips jerking up into you, and you grinned down at him, dragging your nails down his chest. “Gonna cum for me?”

He nodded, eyes glassy. “Can’t hold it—fuck, you feel too good—”

You came first—hard, loud, and proud, nails digging into his chest like you were staking your claim. And the second your high started to come down, you grabbed Simon’s face, forced him to look you dead in the eyes as you breathed, “Do it,” you whispered, bouncing harder. “Give it to me. Right in front of him, baby.”

He came with a rough, broken sound, face pressed against your neck, breath catching hard in his chest as his whole body tightened up. His hands gripped whatever they could find, his fingers digging in as he needed to hold onto something, and his hips jerked deep a few more times, and he couldn’t stop even if he tried.

He was swearing under his breath, his voice low and wrecked; the pleasure hit him all at once, and he didn’t know what to do with it, just riding it out with little shudders as it all poured out of him.

You didn’t even look at Johnny as you slumped against Simon’s chest, both of you a mess of sweat and heaving breaths. “You alright there?” you said lazily over your shoulder.

And Johnny? The poor guy had gone quiet halfway through, jaw slack, eyes wide, and by the end of it, he was shifting uncomfortably in his seat, obviously trying to hide the fact that he’d gotten way too into it.

You turned your head and gave him a smirk. “Still think he’s up for grabs?”

He didn’t say anything right away. He just blinked, cheeks flushed, hands still tied, and when he finally opened his mouth, it wasn’t what you expected.

“I need to find someone that crazy about me.”

“Good luck,” Simon laughed, dragging you down for another kiss. “There’s only one of her.”

------------------------------------------------

@daydreamerwoah @kylies-love-letter @ghostslollipop @kittygonap @alfiestreacle @identity2212 @farylfordaryl @rafaelacallinybbay @akkahelenaa @lovelovelovelovelove987654321 @wraith-bravo6 @tessakate @xocandyy @nightfwn @xiisblogs

[pagesfromthevoid]

saw your bob post and decided to say my thoughts🙏

he’s definitely submissive (or at the very least, not dominant). i love the thought of him reaching out to hold readers hand when he’s getting overwhelmed, pretty whimpers leaving his mouth as they play w his dick🤤 also imagining him desperate to suck on ur tongue as he dry humps ur thigh—

okay i’ll chill out now but gahdayum he is FINE😛

These can combined I think 👀

But listen. I think for the first like, six months? Maybe the first year —he’s definitely not confident enough to be the one that makes any kind of move. I don’t want to give him a label as dominate or submissive because they just…don’t work for him. He’s a broken guy —he’s healing, he’s being helped —but it’s hard. Smut below the cut:

He would, however, crave physical touch. Especially because he’s so scared that if he touches anyone, they’ll be trapped a shame room and he doesn’t wish that on anyone.

He especially doesn’t want that to happen to you.

But you’re patient, and kind. And you don’t seem to mind that he’s always as close as he can be without actually touching you (he has no sense of personal space, which annoys everyone except you, Yelena and Alexei. The others will politely remind him to step away just a bit, and he’s totally okay with that).

Bob likes his little book nook, but he also likes your room. It’s warmly lit, and smells good, and it just feels like a welcoming place. So if he’s not in his corner, he’s usually sitting on the floor of your room, reading, while you lay in bed and scroll through your phone.

His back aches, but he doesn’t say anything. He’s fine where he’s at, and he doesn’t want to get up and leave. Or disrupt the serene quiet of your room. But he shifts, and his back cracks and he lets out a groan.

You roll over onto your stomach and look down at him, brow raised. “You good?”

He nods frantically, apologizing for being loud. But you wave it off. “You don’t have to sit on the floor, you know. You can come sit on the bed. I won’t bite unless you ask.”

He flushes at the comment, looking down for a moment. He’d be lying if he said he hadn’t fantasized about you putting your lips on him —but he knew better than to act on anything. It just…it wasn’t safe.

You pat the bed, drawing his attention again, and he stands up with his book. You scoot over, closer to the wall, and smile up at him patiently. Bob swallows hard and slips into your bed, brushing against you just barely. Even that touch —barely there, barely anything —sends a shiver through him. It had been so long since he was close to someone.

Yeah, the team had hugged him when they stopped Void. But that was a safety kind of thing. And it was nice, but he was scared of dying at that point. There was a difference between safety touching and intimacy and he…he really wanted that. With you.

The comfortable silence takes over again, and after a while you both end up engrossed in your own activities. Bob is focused on his book —sort of. Every time you move or adjusted your position, you got slightly closer. Touched him a little more. And he was distracted by thoughts of how you would feel on top of him. Not even in a sexual way; just…your weight, pressed against him, safe and close.

He freezes when your head falls to his shoulder. Nothing bad happens —no shame spirals, no nightmares. But you’re asleep, phone loosely sitting in your hand, and he considers if he should wake you up. But the selfish part of him —the touch starved part —decides to let you lay against him.

Though you adjust again, and push yourself further down into your pillows. Bob doesn’t want you to move but lets you do whatever you want to be comfortable. Except your cheek presses against his thigh, your head finding itself in his lap.

He panics. You’re so close. So warm. And he doesn’t know what to do with his book because it was in his lap but now you are. So he sets it down, folding his hands over his chest because he doesn’t know what to do. You’re actually asleep —breathing soft and even —and he really doesn’t want to wake you up.

So cautiously, he rests a hand on your back. When you don’t stir, he draws circles into your T-shirt in a way he hopes is soothing. His other hand plays with a strand of your hair, trying to keep himself from panicking. He worries you can hear how hard his heart is beating, because he’s pretty sure it’s going to explode out of his chest at any moment. But you don’t wake, and you both lay there for a long time.

He loses track of time; enough so that he’s starting to doze off himself. But you adjust again, just barely, and your hand rests under your cheek on his thigh and he almost jolts up from the touch.

You’re asleep. You’re not…you’re not purposely trying to touch him like this, he knows that, but he can’t help it. You’re so close, and so warm, and nothing bad has happened since you fell asleep. His head falls back into your pillows, trying to think of anything besides how close your hand and mouth are to his cock, but even trying to think about other things leads back to that thought, and there’s nothing he can do but try to adjust away the hard on he’s sporting.

Maybe he can slip a pillow into his lap. Then you have something to lay on and something to hide in case you wake up. But when he moves to take a pillow from behind him, you stir snd yawn. And then he really panics because he knows you’re awake —hyperaware of your eyelashes brushing against his leg as you blink away sleep.

“Oh,” you yawn, though you don’t move away from him. Actually, he swears to god, you move your hand even closer. “I’m sorry —I didn’t mean to fall asleep on you.”

“It’s uh, it’s totally fine,” he practically whimpers, swallowing hard. Shaking his head. “Not your fault.”

“I think this is though,” you murmur, brushing your hand just barely over the bulge in his sweats. Bob buckles, his fingers tangling into your shirt as you glance up at him. “Do you…can I help you out?”

“God, please,” he begs, nodding frantically as you slowly run your hand over his clothed cock. He’s breathing hard, and he probably sounds like an idiot. But he can’t help it. Even through his clothes, your touch is soft and enticing and he just. He wants more. But he can’t bring himself to ask. “Anything. Please, you can —anything.”

“Don’t say that,” you laugh softly, sitting up some to look up at him. Your hand dances along the edge of his waist band. “‘Anything’ is a lot of power.”

“Anything,” he insists, lower stomach contracting some as your fingers slip under and against his skin.

But your touch is gone too soon, and he whines as he opens his eyes. You haven’t gone far —actually, on the contrary. You’re sitting up on your knees and straddling his lap. Just like he’d imagined before —your weight pressed against his body was wonderful. He’s hesitant to touch you, afraid he’ll do something wrong, but you take hands and hold them against your hips.

“You’re allowed to touch me, Bob,” you promise, letting go of his hands. He cautiously squeezes your hips as you reach up to take his face in your hands. “Can I kiss you?”

“God, yes. Please,” he pleads, and without thinking about it, he’s pulling you in by your hips as you close the distance between you both.

He doesn’t care if he’s coming off as desperate or pathetic. Your mouth on his is even better than he could have imagined. Your hands in his hair could have been heaven. But when you press yourself down into his clothed cock, he whimpers. He feels your smile against his mouth, and you press down harder and grind yourself against him. He opens his mouth and pushes his hips up to meet yours, and you take full advantage of his open mouth to slide your tongue against his.

Bob wants to melt into your touch. Your hands tugging at his hair, your teeth nipping at his lips, and your body pressing against his —he’s not even sure when it happens, because he’s too focused on every little touch. But he groans, holding you tight by your hips against him as he cums in his pants.

“Oh god,” he sighs, pressing his forehead into your shoulder. He’s shaking and he doesn’t know if it’s from all of this or embarrassment. “I’m —shit, I’m sorry —I didn’t —,”

But you’re grinning at him, pressed against him still, but your hand is running through his hair. “It’s okay. That’s what I wanted.”

He pulls back, looking up at you and the teasing grin on your face.

Yeah. You could do whatever you wanted to him and he’d thank you for it, he decides in that moment.

[iloveaustinelvisandmannymore]

Don't save me.

Pairing: Geum Seongje x reader.

Summary: People told you that he was dangerous. A wild card. Not to be trusted. The redist red flag but didn't they know you're colorblind for him?

Warning: Toxic relationship, Bullying, Violence, Cheating?Arguing, Verbal abuse, Choking, Cream pie, P in v, Dirty talk, Plot with Smut?

You can't recall the last time you felt truly and undeniably happy. It has been so long since you laughed so hard that your stomach ached or smiled so broadly that your cheeks hurt. It's been a while since you experienced that exhilarating feeling of euphoria.

Middle school, you think.

Faint memories of laughter and jokes circulating, untouched lunches, and that once warm sensation. High school. Little you thought how cool and wonderful it would be.

What a load of bullshit.

A pained grunt escaped your clenched teeth as a strong kick to your stomach sent your body crashing against the steel gray lockers. Your head struck hard against the metal, and your body crumpled to the floor.

"Are you going to open that smart-ass mouth again, or should I just keep going?" Ha-yoon's makeup-caked face sneered. You didn't know why you snorted back a chuckle nor why a small, sarcastic smile had crept onto your lips.

"You think this is funny?" she screeched, her hand rearing back.

"Ha-yoon, cut it out," Eun-kyung's angelic voice said as her dark eyes finally glanced up from her manicured nails. She pushed off the wall, and Ha-yoon backed away immediately.

'Just like a loyal puppy. Obeying her Mistress's order'

Eun-Kyung sighed through her nose like she was tired of wasting her time. She squatted down, allowing her silky raven hair, which was pulled into a ponytail, to fall over her shoulder. With her elbows resting against her thighs and her cheek resting on the ball of her fist, she gazed at you with a look of boredom and disinterest.

"You're fucking pathetic when you run that mouth. It almost seems you like pissing me off." Rage flicked through her irises as she quickly grabbed your hair and slammed your head against the lockers. "Unless cunt!" She yelled and slammed your head again, harder.

Your vision blurred and your ears rang. Black surrounded the edge of your vision before you passed out. Cruel laughter and fading footsteps were the last thing you heard.

When you came too and began to walk to your small apartment, your head ached and throbbed. Despite that, it was manageable if you took some pain medicine.

You were going out with Seongje, your long-time boyfriend, at a new club with some guys from the Union and you won't let a headache and a few stupid bruises stop you from seeing him. Being with him made you feel so alive; with him, you were respected by the gang. You were Seongje's girl. And nobody was foolish enough to mess with you unless they wanted to be beaten to half to death.

Dating him wasn’t always a smooth ride. Arguments were common, and so were screaming matches. Things were thrown, and surfaces were punched, but he never hit you, nor did he aim at you. You understood he wasn’t a good person, yet he loved you in his own flawed way.

The dark club pulsed with music, and you could feel the rhythm with every step you took as Seongje led you, his arm draped casually over your shoulders. Flashing lights danced wildly around the room. Bodies moved, jumping and grinding against each other.

The group chose a round table to sit at, and soon it was cluttered with cigarette ash and empty bottles.

Sang-Ook, Dae-Ho, and Du-Ho were boys who attended the same school as Seongje and played together at Internet cafes. The twins were already drunk, laughing to themselves, and talking to Sang-Ook about which woman he was going to try to fuck and making crude jokes. Normal gross boy talk.

Seongje didn't say much; instead, he stared blankly while listening to the other boys, his arm wrapped around your waist, holding you close. You weren't interested in their conversation, so you simply snuggled into his side. You didn't know why he wanted to be there, but you followed him wherever he went unless it was related to gang activities.

Your eyebrows furrowed; the sudden pressure on your bladder was becoming too strong to ignore.

"Seongje," you whispered in his ear. He responded with a low hum of curiosity, his Adam's apple bobbing slightly with the sound. After a moment of hesitation, you shyly admitted that you needed to use the bathroom. Seongje chuckled, pulled out his favorite pack of cigs from his tiger-printed windbreaker, and lifted one to his lips, "Go," he ordered, nodding toward the direction of the bathroom.

"I'll be right back." You quickly got out of the booth. "Better. I don't like waiting." He lit the end of the cigarette and inhaled the gray smoke into his lungs.

You sighed in relief as you exited the stall and turned on the sink water. As you washed your hands, you remained unfazed by the sounds of the bathroom door opening and the clicking of two pairs of heels on the tiled floor. The two women giggled among themselves, and you could feel their intense stares directed at the side of your face. While drying your hands, you glanced at the wide mirrors above the sink.

A sickening dread dropped into the pit of your stomach as you caught sight of the familiar coral dye and blue highlights. Ha-yoon and Seo-Yeon.

'How were they here? Did they know you were going to be here? If they were here, doesn't that mean..'

You dared to meet Ha-yoon's gaze in the mirror. A mischievous cruelty sparkled back; she knew something, and if you didn't feel dread before, you certainly did now. Your breath quicked as you rushed out of the woman's bathroom.

You need to grab Seongje and go.

You stopped a few feet from the booth. This had to be a dream, a messed-up nightmare, but the painful shattering of your heart told you this was all happening.

Eun-kyung's honeyed giggles cut through the roaring music. Her black hair flowed over her shoulders like a river, her skimmy pastel dress fit her like a second skin and her soft pink lips curled into a flirty smile that beamed brighter than the lights that painted her and Seongje in rosy red as she idly played with his sliver chain—the chain you got him.

He simply sat there, his arm resting on the top of the booth above Eun-Kyung, his eyes intensely focused on her. His expression was unreadable, and when her beautiful eyes met his, you couldn't bear it any longer. You choked back tears as you pushed and squeezed past the people having the time of their lives.

You sniffed, your legs aching from the many rounds of walking you did in the nearby park for almost an hour. You didn't want to go home immediately; too much of him was there, from the many nights he stayed over.

You wiped the fading tears from your cheeks as you bent slightly to take off your shoes, throwing them down carelessly. Dragging your feet toward the couch, you paused and squinted your eyes. A figure was sitting there, a small red dote appeared from the darkness and the following smoke floated out in the illumination of the kitchen light. You inhale sharply and switch the living room light on.

Seongje stared at the blank TV screen for what felt like several seconds before adjusting his glasses. Slowly, he turned his head toward you, and his eyes fixed on your face. To anyone else, he appeared cool and unbothered, but you knew him better than that.

He was enraged.

"Where were you?" He leaned forward to put out his cigarette. "Why does it matter? You clearly were very busy when I came back from the bathroom." you shot back, your words sharp. He paused at your pointed response before finally extinguishing his cigarette in the wolf-shaped ashtray. "You let her..you let her touch you..and you didn't tell her to back off. Did you enjoy her company that much?" you asked, your voice breaking at the thought of the two of them together.

"You think I'd cheat on you? I may be a lot of things but a fucking cheater Isn't one of them." He spoke in a faux calm tone as he backed you into the hallway and into your bedroom.

"S-Seongje.." You warned.

"I thought My girl wasn't a dumbass." He ridiculed, a cruel smile stretching on his lips as he backed you more and more towards your bed

"Don't call me dumb! I'm not stupid! You jackass!" you snapped before letting out a surprised noise as you fell onto your bed, trying to escape from him. "Oh no, baby," he cooed mockingly. "I work with incompetent, useless punks. You're stupid if you think I would cheat on you with some one-and-million whore. Don't worry, though. I'll show you who I really belong to." Seongje shrugged off his windbreaker, letting it fall to the floor, and crept onto the bed after kicking off his pants and underwear.

You should be mad, pissed at him, shouldn't feel your treacherous cunt heat up, and gush slick but watching as he took off his shirt and threw it to the side, bare except his glasses and his chain. He was lean, and muscular in ways that counted, and his cock. His dick twitched as if sensing your admiring gaze.

He was above average length, so thick it struggled to stand up completely, and veiny. The glans was a darker shade than the rest of his skin; the slit oozed a pearl of pre-cum. And a trimmed bush around the base of his dick. His member was just as fine as him.

You happily helped him take off your clothes until you were both as naked as the day you were born. Seongje smirked smugly, the bedroom look you gave him made him want to take you right there but the urge to tease you won over. Seongje wrapped his arms around your spread legs and pulled your ass on top of his thighs. His dick slid between your folds, coating himself in your wetness, and the tip rested on your bud; he drew back and snapped forward, giving himself a pussy job.

"Just fuck me!" You cried as he continued to fuck your lips and clitoris. "I don't know. Should I?" He questioned. You cried, frustrated, and bucked your hips to try and fail to trick him inside, "I'm sorry! I'm sorry I accused you of cheating. Now fuck my brains out!" You screamed; Seongje simply hummed a 'good enough,' drew back until his cock head caught on your entrance, and he rolled his hips.

You both let a groan as he pushed into your tight, wet, gummy depths. The action alone was close enough to make you cum. His cock, lay heavy on your walls, and his veins brushed against those spots until he bottomed out. You grabbed his hands that gripped your hips and threw your head back, moaning loudly as he pulled out and slammed into you, "Can't believe, you think I'd give up this pussy," He grunted, thrusting harshly, the bed banging against the back wall "this is my fucking pussy. Mine." He growled pushing his hair away from his face before grabbing your neck, his fingers squeezing the side of your throat.

You gasped and moaned as you held his wrist, your eyes rolled back, "Sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry-" you blabbed, drooling. Seongje laughed meanly, his eyes shined amused "Look at this. Did I already fucked my girl cockdrunk?" He released your throat and lifted your hips up more, making him reach deeper; the loud clapping of skin, the moans, groans, and cures along the embarrassing squelching of your cunted filled the room. Seongje's glasses slid down the bridge of his nose and his chain smacked against his sweat, glistening chest. Frustrated, he tore the glasses off his face, tossed them beside your head, and leaned down, his body covering yours. His large groped and knead your ass as he kissed you passionately. You wailed into the kiss, wrapping your arms around his neck as you cummed.

Seongje pulled back, grunted as his eyes flutter shut, his hips slamming into your hips, his fast pace because sloppy as his dick twitched. He grunted one more time as his hot cum spilled into your pulsing pussy, painting you white from the inside.

"You were meant to be mine.." Seongje spoke up after you both cleaned up and laid together. Your head on his chest, listening to his heartbeat lull you to sleep, "We were meant to be" he whispered into your ear, your eyes finally closing. If this was a dream from your otherwise miserable life you didn't want to wake up.

[thirteenheavens]

Hi molliee, How about Mingyu being obsessed with readers boobs so much that he can't sleep without his hand on it, and he wakes her up by sucking on it. Arigathanks gosaimuch mollieeee

On you all night||Kim Mingyu x Reader

Notes: I can’t stop listening to love language it’s too good

Mingyu's morning wood was something you were already used to, but this time, his hands were cupping your breasts while he slept. You could feel his warm breath against your skin as he dreamed, his large hands unconsciously kneading your soft flesh. His mouth was parted slightly, and every now and then, his tongue would dart out to lick your sensitive nipples.

As you tried to gently pull away from his grip, he unconsciously tightened his hold on you, groaning in his sleep. "Mmm... mine..." he mumbled, nuzzling his face deeper into your chest. His body was pressed tightly against yours, the heat of his morning arousal making you feel even more flustered. It was going to be difficult to wake him up without causing a bigger mess than the one already forming in his boxers.

Mingyu's hands continued their possessive hold on your breasts, his mouth occasionally sucking and nibbling on your nipples. His hips were now grinding against you, seeking friction as his dream became more intense. You tried to wiggle free again, but he only moaned louder, his grip becoming even tighter. His morning wood was now pressing insistently against your thigh, and you could feel it twitching with each movement.

"Baby... please..." he muttered in his sleep, his voice deep and rough with desire. It was clear he was having a very vivid dream about you. Mingyu's dream seemed to intensify, his hips bucking against you more forcefully. His mouth latched onto your nipple, sucking and biting harder than before.

"Oh god... so good..." he groaned, still lost in his sleep. His hands squeezed your breasts rhythmically, his body moving in a steady rhythm. You could feel his cock leaking pre-cum through his boxers, the wetness spreading onto your thigh. His breathing was ragged and uneven, his face flushed with pleasure.

He suddenly let out a deep moan, his body shuddering against yours as he came in his sleep. The warmth of his release seeped through the fabric, creating a damp spot where he was pressed against you. As you gently shake his shoulder, Mingyu's eyes flutter open. He looks confused for a moment before realizing where his hands and mouth are.

"Baby...?" he asks groggily, slowly removing his hands from your chest. His cheeks turn a deep shade of red as he becomes aware of the mess in his boxers.

"I... I didn't mean to..." he starts to apologize, but you silence him with a kiss. His morning wood is still hard against you, evidence of how intense his dream was. Mingyu melts into the kiss, his hands moving to your waist instead of your breasts. "That was... embarrassing," he admits sheepishly when you break apart. His morning voice is deep and raspy, sending shivers down your spine. He shifts uncomfortably, trying to discreetly adjust his boxers without you noticing.

"But damn... that was a good dream," he adds with a smirk, his eyes darkening as he looks at your flushed face. "I wish I could have stayed asleep and finished." Mingyu follows your gaze and notices his hands still resting on your chest. He chuckles and gives your breasts a gentle squeeze, making you gasp.

"They're just so perfect," he says with a grin, his fingers tracing lazy circles around your nipples. "I can't help but touch them." He leans down to kiss the valley between your breasts, his morning stubble tickling your skin. "Maybe I should give you a proper good morning instead," he suggests huskily. Mingyu's morning arousal is still prominent as he grinds against your thigh, seeking friction once more. "Feel what you do to me?" he whispers, his breath hot against your skin.

His hands grip your waist tighter, pulling you closer as he continues to rut against you. "I need you so badly right now," he confesses, his hips moving faster. You can feel his cock throbbing against your thigh, leaving a wet trail as he moves. Mingyu's eyes are dark with desire, his morning haze completely gone.

"I want to be inside you," he growls, his fingers digging into your skin. "Need to feel your tight pussy around me." He reaches down to push his boxers off, freeing his hard length. The head is flushed red and leaking, showing how desperate he is for release.

Mingyu pulls your panties aside and positions himself at your entrance, his breathing heavy with need. "I'm already so close from that dream," he admits, rubbing the tip against your wetness. He slides into you with one smooth thrust, groaning at how ready you are for him. "You're so wet," he pants, starting to move at a fast pace.

"I won't last long," he warns again, his fingers finding your clit as he drives into you deeper. "Just need to feel you cum on my cock first."

"Cum with me, baby," you moan, tightening around him as he hits your sweet spot. The stimulation of his fingers on your clit and his cock deep inside you is driving you closer to the edge. Mingyu's thrusts become erratic, his hips snapping against yours as he chases his release. "I'm right there," he grits out, his muscles tensing. "Cum for me, Y-N. Let me feel it." Mingyu groans loudly as you grip him tighter, his fingers squeezing your breasts roughly. "Fuck, you feel so good," he growls, his pace becoming more desperate.

He leans down to suck and bite at your neck, leaving marks as he continues to play with your sensitive nipples. "Cum for me, baby girl," he commands again, his voice strained. "Let me fill you up." The combination of his words, rough touches, and skilled thrusts push you over the edge. Your walls clench around him tightly as you cry out his name, your nails digging into his back.

"I'm cumming, Mingyu!" you cry out, your body shaking with pleasure. The feeling of your walls pulsing around him sends him over the edge as well. Mingyu buries himself deep inside you, his hot cum spilling into your womb as he roars your name. "Fuck, yes!" he shouts, his body trembling against yours.

He collapses on top of you, both of you panting heavily as you come down from your highs. "That was... intense," he breathes out, still twitching inside you. Mingyu nuzzles his face between your breasts, pressing soft kisses all over them. "You're so beautiful," he murmurs, his hands still gently massaging your sensitive flesh.

He moves to suckle on one nipple, his tongue swirling around the sensitive bud as he enjoys the afterglow. "I could stay like this forever," he sighs contentedly, looking up at you with a satisfied smile. His cock is slowly softening inside you, but he makes no move to pull out yet, too comfortable and content with your body against his.

Mingyu continues to shower your chest with attention, his lips trailing kisses up to your collarbone and neck. "I love you so much," he whispers between each kiss. His hands roam your body possessively, caressing your curves and hips. "My perfect girl," he says softly, pressing his forehead against yours. "Always making me feel so good."

The intimacy of the moment is tender and warm, the morning sunlight streaming through the window highlighting your intertwined bodies. He finally pulls out of you slowly, but keeps you close in his arms. Mingyu gently rolls you onto your side, spooning you from behind. His hands rest on your stomach, tracing lazy patterns against your skin.

"Let's stay in bed all day," he suggests with a playful nibble on your ear. "I want to keep you all to myself." He reaches over to grab his phone, quickly setting an alarm for later. "I'll make sure we're not disturbed," he promises, pulling the covers over both of you.

[heartyluv]

Note: I was so sure I was gonna take a break today, but the thought of Caleb fucking you in another room with your parents in the house has been on my mind and it won’t LEAVE. So, I have to share it with my luvlys.

Creds to @/anitalenia & @/omi-resources for the dividers. ♡︎

Rating: Explicit - !!Minors DO NOT Interact!!

Warning: Smut

Word Count: 1,306

Horny!Caleb/Reader Headcanons

𝜗𝜚 Caleb had absolutely no problem with your parents coming over to stay for a week to visit you two. They don’t get to see you much now, seeing as you’re a married woman who’s moved to a different state.

𝜗𝜚 But you warned him: No sex. You liked being able to be as loud and carefree as you wanted when Caleb was dicking you down, and you couldn’t do that with your mother and father in the house. Absolutely not.

𝜗𝜚 So of course, he respects this. He likes to hear you scream too, so he wouldn’t want to make you have to hold back. And he just knew that when you finally did have sex, it was going to feel so fucking good.

𝜗𝜚 Unfortunately, the idea was thrown out the window when your parents asked if they could stay for another week. It felt like he was slapped across the face when you so sweetly said, “of course!”

𝜗𝜚 Now, Caleb respects your parents. He thanks them for creating such a precious thing like you. But he wants to fuck his wife, and he can’t do that unless they leave.

𝜗𝜚 Honestly, he could, but it was you who couldn’t deal with the idea of your husband fucking you with your parents in the house. So, he tried to get them to leave without you two. Giving them money to go to a diner, directions to some nice walkable parks, and even locations to local flea markets that were set up not too far from your home, just wasn’t working. They refused to go without you, saying they were here to spend time with family.

𝜗𝜚 At that point, his cock was getting just as frustrated as he was.

𝜗𝜚 You weren’t going to lie, you wanted to have sex too, but you firmly believed you and your husband could stick it out. You were completely wrong.

𝜗𝜚 I feel like Caleb comes up with the idea to have your parents start watching a movie while you work on the laundry downstairs.

𝜗𝜚 “I have to get something in the basement and she wants to get the laundry done before we head out for dinner tonight. You guys can just watch whatever you want and once I find what I’m looking for, I’ll come back up to finish the movie with you until she’s done.”

𝜗𝜚 He felt like he hit the jackpot when they agreed and plopped down on the couch and searched for something to look at. What made it even better? Your parents loved to watch the TV with the volume obnoxiously loud.

𝜗𝜚 Yeah, he was about to fuck the shit out of you.

𝜗𝜚 You were really folding laundry when he came downstairs, but after he closed the basement door behind him, he couldn’t give two shits about the clean clothes in your hands.

𝜗𝜚 He was on you so fast that it took you a second to catch up with his hard and rough kisses. You reciprocated though, just for a moment before you pushed him back, looking at him like a deer in headlights because you swore you told him. No. Sex.

𝜗𝜚 “They’re distracted and we have maybe five minutes tops before your mother comes down here, wondering what’s taking so long. Get on the table pretty, before I bend you over it.”

𝜗𝜚 Caleb is terribly gifted in making your pussy wet just by telling you what he was going to do to you, and it was no different now. The clean clothes were long forgotten when he lifted you on top of the table and quickly tugged your shorts down once he brought you to the edge to get that good angle to get where he’s been needing to be.

𝜗𝜚 You don’t need to be told twice to make this quick, and you’re grabbing all on him. I’m talking you’re so needy you can’t even think straight. Pussy is throbbing, your head is spinning, and you need to feel that dick inside of you before you start crying because fuck it, a week and a half without him is too damn long.

𝜗𝜚 When he pulls that cock out, it’s no teasing, rubbing your slit with his tip or toying with your clit. No, he’s going inside, full throttle. He damn near comes before he can get a proper thrust in and you’re actually on the verge of tears because you still don’t want to be too loud, but you want to be, so bad.

𝜗𝜚 He’s fucking you fast. Like oh my gosh, you can barely catch your breath. You start to moan, but you cover your mouth and he kisses down your neck while his hips snap into you at an unforgiving pace.

𝜗𝜚 Table is rocking and hitting the wallll omg LOLLL. Like you two are like rabbits right now and even with him inside of you, it’s not enough. He wants you naked, skin to skin, but he’s gotta take what he can get. That whole nice son-in-law act was about to disappear if he had to go another day without you.

𝜗𝜚 “I’m never going this long without your pussy again. Fucking kidding me?”

𝜗𝜚 The way he grinds against your clit makes you have to kiss him so that you don’t start sounding like someone’s killing you. The sensation of him sliding against your walls and the wet noises your pussy and his cock are creating? Erotic art.

𝜗𝜚 “You gotta come now, pretty baby. I feel you, you’re almost there.”

𝜗𝜚 Your high pitched moans are cut off when he places his large hand over your mouth as he presses his forehead against yours, cursing under his breath when the both of you finally come. His hips are rocking slowly as his load spills deep inside of you. It’s so much that it’s literally going down your thigh.

𝜗𝜚 Your eyes roll back, your chest is heaving, and your pussy is soaking his cock at the same time that his cum floods your cunt.

𝜗𝜚 Just like he thought, he could hear footsteps upstairs. Somebody was coming to the door. He’s still inside you when you two hear the door open and your mother yells down, “Does she need any help with the laundry?! Or do you need help finding what you’re looking for because we can come down!”

𝜗𝜚 Caleb licks his lips and smiles at you, trying to get his voice together. The way you clench around his cock that was honestly prepared to fuck you one more time, makes him hiss before he can finally speak.

𝜗𝜚 “She’s good ma’am! And I found what I needed. On my way up now!”

𝜗𝜚 You relax when she shuts the door and Caleb removes his hand from your mouth, gently kissing them before he slides out of your slick hole. His cock is semi hard again, but he can wait. For now.

𝜗𝜚 “I felt how you squeezed me. You like the idea of getting caught with my cock inside that pussy, don’t you?”

𝜗𝜚 You just his chest because even though you’re almost certain no one but you heard him, he still should’ve whispered it or something. And fuck him for being right.

𝜗𝜚 After he uses a clean cloth to wipe you down, he tucks himself back into his pants and slides your shorts and panties back up.

𝜗𝜚 “Take your time and feel how slick it is in between your legs. Maybe I’ll get the chance to dirty you more before we go out for dinner tonight.”

𝜗𝜚 He grabs something random to bring upstairs so your parents don’t ask any questions. Like he takes a single roll of toilet paper or something LOLL.

𝜗𝜚 He smacks your ass before he heads back upstairs and you stand there with the biggest smile on your face, feeling his sticky cum inside of you mixing with your own.

𝜗𝜚 You really do hope he gets to fuck you one more time before you leave tonight because that quickie ruined you. So now, waiting until your parents actually leave before it happens again feels impossible.

[wandanatsgf]

Inappropriate Feelings

Pairing: WandaNat x Reader

Word Count: 2.4k

Summary: you have feelings for two married women. When it gets in the way of your work they confront you

Warning this contains: praise kink, mommy kink, daddy kink, bondage, face riding, strap usage, fingering, orgasm control, name calling (just one time)

Part 2

You shouldn’t feel this way about one married woman, let alone two. You know it’s wrong. The way you feel when their hands ghost over yours. When they brush past you in the hallway or when they talk to you.

You get butterflies in your stomach. Your breathing gets short and it gets hard to think. Being around them is hard, your feelings always get in the way. They cloud your judgement until all you can think about is them kissing you, loving you, touching you.

Your feelings didn’t get in the way of your job, at least it didn’t until a few weeks ago.

You were on a mission with the two women, confined in the small space of the quinjet for hours. You struggled to remain calm around them. Your senses were in overdrive as they walked around the jet, talked to you. If you were naive you would even think they were flirting with you. But they’re married and you know better.

You struggle with your feelings, something you normally never do on a mission, until you finally landed at the job site. There you try to stuff your feelings down, trying to compartmentalize in order to complete the mission.

The three of you walked out of the hanger doors and run into the Hydra base you are meant to infiltrate.

It was supposed to be an easy mission. A simple mission. But nothing is ever easy when you’re an avenger.

You got ambushed, it was all a set up. And because you got distracted by how good Natasha looked while she was fighting a bad guy, you got shot.

It was just a bullet to the leg. Everyone gets shot at some point in your line of work. So to you, it was no big deal. But to Wanda and Natasha it was everything.

You had never seen them so upset and pissed off. You’re not sure if they were pissed with you or with the agent who shot you. You didn’t ask, too scared of the answer.

They spent the next couple of weeks taking care of you. Helping you get around the tower, h getting you anything you need, and eventually helping you with physical therapy.

You appreciated their help but all it did was remind you how they’re not yours. No matter how good being helped and babied by them feels, it’s not going to last.

So when you’re better, you push them away. Which is what you’re doing now. It's been weeks since you were healed and you're now able to do things on your own. The only thing left from the injury is a scar that is here to stay.

It's also been two weeks since you have seen them, touched them, interacted with them. But it's for the best this way, at least until you can get your feelings for them under control.

You're about to go train when Natasha puts herself in your path. You move to turn around, but she reaches out a hand to stop you.

“Come on. We need to talk,” Natasha says. Her tone is serious, her words short and to the point. Her words leave no room for arguments so you follow behind her as she walks the two of you to her room and shuts the door.

Wanda is already in there, sitting on the bed.

"You know what I think I'm needed elsewhere," you say, suddenly nervous about what's about to happen.

"No you don't baby," Wanda says. A red glow encases the door before it fades. You try the door and it's locked.

"Wanda," you whine. "Let me out." Your fists bang on the door and you attempt to pull the handle but you have no luck.

"Not until you tell us what's wrong." Concern is written all over her face. You can see it in her eyes. In the way she furrows her eyebrows.

"I can't," is all you say.

"Then I guess we'll be in here for a while." It's Natasha who speaks this time. Her eyes watch you, moving up and down. She's watching you like she's stalking prey, like she's just waiting to attack. And then finally recognition dawns on her face. She says nothing, just looks at Wanda. You think the two are having some sort of telepathic conversation, but you're not really sure.

"If you don't want to tell us we can always guess," Natasha suggests, breaking her eye contact with Wanda to look at you.

Wanda moves in front of you and situates herself so that her front is pressed against your front. You can feel her nipples through her thin t-shirt. You can smell her vanilla perfume and her strawberry shampoo.

You move to back up but Natasha stops you. She stands behind you, one hand on your waist, pinning you in place. You're trapped between the two women. It's like your wet dream come to life, if only they weren't interrogating you about your pesky little feelings for them.

"Now are you going to be a good girl and tell us the problem?" Natasha asks. Her words send a thrill down your spine and a sticky straight to your core.

You nod your head no, too scared that your voice would betray you.

"It's okay baby. We know what the problem is," Wanda says, her tone sickly sweet. Her lips get close to yours. So close that you can feel her breath ghosting over you. If you wanted to you could count the flecks of brown in her eyes.

“We see how you look at us baby,” Natasha says, her lips ghosting over your exposed neck.

"I can hear your dirty little thoughts about us, thoughts you think no one can hear," Wanda whispers. Her words are like a bucket of ice water that has been dumped on you. They're sobering.

"I-um," you stumble out. Even though you're an avenger, you're stumped on what to say. You can't think of a lie that could save your ass right now.

"It's okay baby. You wanna know a secret? We like you too," Wanda says. Once the words leave her mouth her lips capture yours in a heated kiss. You kiss her back, reciprocating her affection.

Natasha, who is still behind you, peppers kisses up your neck. "You have no idea how much we like you detka."

"I think I'm starting to understand," you say against Wanda's lips.

The two woman move you over to their bed and lay you down.

"Is it okay if we tie you up," the red haired woman asks.

"Please," is all you say.

"I told you she'd like it," Wanda quips.

"Mind reader," you say, rolling your eyes.

"What was that baby?" Wanda pins you to the bed with her hand around your throat.

"Nothing mommy I'm sorry."

"There's my good girl. You're catching on quick, huh?" You nod yes and Wanda removes the hand from your throat and steps back to let's Natasha take over.

Natasha reappears in your line of sight with rope in hand, although you never actually noticed her leaving. She makes quick work of tying your hands to the bedpost, leaving you completely at their mercy.

"How's that feel?" Natasha softly asks you.

"Good."

"If it's too much say red and everything stops okay?"

"Okay daddy."

"Good girl." The praise leaves your core aching, but you're sure the two women will fix that soon.

Natasha is on one side of you while Wanda is on the other. The two women are standing over the bed, just admiring you.

"You're so pretty like this, all spread out for us," Wanda says.

"We just need to get these pesky clothes out of the way," Natasha says, looking at Wanda. Wanda nods in understanding because the next thing you know you're naked, bare and exposed before them. Wanda also removes their own clothes, so you can see all of them. It's the most beautiful sight you've ever seen. And based on the looks on their faces they are feeling the same about you.

As if it is a practiced dance Wanda moves to your head while Natasha moves between your legs, sucking and biting your thighs. She's teasing you, ignoring the place you want her most.

While Nat does that Wanda straddles your face, her legs on either side of you, caging you in.

"Come on baby, stick your tongue out. Let mommy ride your face," Wanda encourages. You stick your tongue out and Wanda lowers herself onto your face, grinding back and forth. Her clit bumps into your nose with each thrust, causing her to moan loudly.

"You making mommy feel good baby?" Natasha asks, still pressing teasing kisses to your thighs. You groan in response, which makes Wanda tremble above you.

While Wanda continues to ride your face, Natasha finally stops her teasing. She spreads your legs and positions herself between them.

"Such a cute little wet pussy," Natasha murmurs before she slides a finger up your center, making you gasp.

"Please daddy," you try to say, but it comes out all garbled from Wanda being on your face.

"It's okay baby I'll give it to you." Natasha slides a finger into you, making you moan out. Wanda's movements stutter above you, you can tell she's getting close the longer she rides you.

"Fuck," Wanda moans out. "You look so pretty when I ride you baby." Wanda's movements speed up as she chases her orgasm while you're chasing your own. Natasha's finger pistons inside you and then she adds another. The pleasure intensifies and you can feel the coil in your stomach getting ready to snap.

"Please let me cum," you try to say, although it comes out mumbled. You're thankful that Natasha can understand you.

"Come on baby. Cum on Daddy's fingers." Her words are all it takes for you to let go. Your body spasms and shakes as your release hits you. Your moans vibrate through Wanda's pussy and also send her over the edge. You swallow everything she gives you, licking your lips when she gets off of you. She walks into their closet while Natasha climbs up your body and leaves a gentle kiss on your lips.

"You were such a good girl for us baby," Natasha says. "But we know you can give us more." The glint in her eyes is intoxicating, it makes you want to give her more orgasms until you're completely spent and putty in their arms.

Wanda walks back out with a strap on around her waist. The scarlet colored strap dangling between her legs. It's bigger than anything you've ever taken, and you say so.

"It's okay baby, I'll make it fit." Wanda's words have you getting wet all over again. Wanda positions herself in between your legs, and slowly pushes into you.

"Shh it's okay detka," Natasha says, comforting you. She kisses you softly, distracting you from the burning stretch of the dildo entering you. Natasha slowly pulls back and brings a hand to your clit, rubbing in circles.

Wanda sits there with the strap still for a few minutes, letting you adjust.

"You can move," you finally say.

Wanda fucks up into you. The strap hits places inside of you that you didn't even know exist. It feels amazing, but you're still not quite satisfied.

"Daddy," you moan out. "Wanna please you." You want, no need, to please Natasha. You want her to cum on your face, feel the same kind of pleasure you're experiencing right now.

"You want daddy to sit on your face sweetheart?" Wanda asks, continuing to fuck you.

"Please," you beg.

"Give our little slut what she wants Natalia." Wanda keeps fucking into you. The strap feels amazing inside of you and you can feel your orgasm building.

Natasha lowers herself on to your face, suffocating you with her pussy. If this is how you were to die you would die happy. You stick your tongue out and lap at her pussy, tasting her. She tastes sweet and you can already tell her pussy is a taste you'll be craving for the rest of your life.

"There you go baby," Natasha moans out when you slip her clit into your mouth and suck on it. "Keep on sucking me just like that."

Wanda continues to fuck into you and soon you're close. Your hips are bucking up to meet hers, your moans become more frequent. You're desperate for release.

"You can cum when Nat cums,"" Wanda tells you, invigorating our efforts to make the redhead cum as fast as possible. You suck on her clit harder and soon you have Natasha seeing stars. She smooshes your head between her thighs, her orgasm overtaking her body. She cums in your mouth and you swallow it all.

Once Natasha stops shaking and gets off of you, Wanda gives you permission to cum. Your pussy clenches around her strap and you scream out. The pleasure is too good, it overtakes your body and leaves you spent. Your body turns to jello as Wanda slowly slips out of you.

Wanda takes off the harness and throws it off to the side. The two women collapse beside you, one on either side. Wanda uses her magic to untie you and the ropes disappear. The only sign that they were ever there are the faint rope marks around your wrists, which Wanda notices.

"Give me your wrists." You give Wanda your wrists and she magics some ointment beside her. She opens the jar and rubs the cream on one wrist while Natasha does the other.

"Anywhere else hurt?" Natasha asks.

"No," you say.

"You sure honey?" Wanda's use of the nickname honey has you melting against her.

"mhm I'm sure."

"Good girl," Natasha says, proud of you for speaking up. Her words have the flame in your core reigniting. The praise goes right to your pussy.

"Daddy," you whine, wanting the two of them to use you again. Wanda notices your excitement and puts a stop to it.

"Natalia!" Wanda exclaims. "Stop teasing her. She needs to rest before we use her again."

"But she likes it when I tease her, don't you baby?"

"Yes daddy," you agree.

"Shhh baby your mommy's right. You need to rest so we can have some fun later okay?" Natasha says, like she wasn't just instigating and teasing you.

"Okay," you pout, not truly happy about this decision, but you know you need the rest. Your muscles ache, your body spent in ways it hasn't been in a while.

The two women choose to ignore your pouting, this time.

"Rest baby. Then we'll make you feel good later," Wanda says. You nod in agreement and situate yourself in between the two women. Natasha wraps an arm around you while Wanda tangles her legs with yours. The quiet, calm atmosphere lulls you to sleep. You fall asleep excited for what's to come, knowing round two will await you when you wake up.

[zenithsturniolo]

⇢ 𝐃𝐔𝐌𝐁𝐈𝐅𝐈𝐂𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍

dumbification, face slapping, degradation, cockwarming, crying, aftecare

chris has been testing you all day—whining, clinging, touching you when you didn’t ask him to, mouthing off like he wanted to get put in his place. and honestly? he did.

so now he's on the bed, naked, flushed, knees spread wide while you straddle his lap. your hand grips his jaw tight enough to bruise, fingers digging into the softness of his cheeks. his eyes are already glassy, lips pink and parted, like his brain started shutting down the second you pushed him down and told him to shut the fuck up.

“you don’t get to act like that and still expect to be treated sweet,” you say, voice low, steady. “not when you’re just a dumb little toy. isn’t that right, baby?”

he nods fast, too fast. the first slap comes sharp across his cheek and his whole body flinches—but he moans. loud. needy. like he’s proud of it.

“don’t nod like a fucking idiot. say it. say what you are.”

“i’m—i’m your toy,” he breathes, voice breaking. “jus’—jus’ your toy, fuck—”

you hum, satisfied. sink down onto him, slowly, painfully slow. he throws his head back and sobs because he’s been hard for too long, untouched and aching, and now you’re warm and tight around him without even moving.

you lean in, lips brushing his ear.

“this is the only time you get to feel good. when i let you inside. when i use you. not when you touch yourself, not when you think about me, not when you fucking beg. only. when. i. say.”

he nods again, tears spilling freely now, helpless little gasps leaving his lips.

“thank you,” he whimpers, over and over, like a prayer. “thank you—thank you—”

you grab his throat, lightly, just enough to make him freeze.

“stop talking. toys don’t speak unless spoken to.”

his cock twitches inside you and you can feel it—how badly he wants to move. but he doesn’t. he won’t. not without permission.

you sit there like that, cockwarming him, staring down at his wrecked face. he’s shaking. twitching. trying to be good.

you slap him again. “you like this, don’t you? being nothing but a cock for me to use.”

“mhmm—yesyes—‘m nothin’ without you,” he mumbles, drooling now, desperate, broken. “jus’ yours, all yours, mama—”

you start moving—slow, cruel rolls of your hips—and his mouth drops open in a silent scream. every sound that follows is incoherent, more animal than human. just moans and pleas and his name on your lips as you fuck him stupid.

his hands grip the sheets, knuckles white, like if he lets go he’ll fall apart completely.

“you wanna cum, pretty boy?” you coo.

he sobs, “please—please, i need—i need it so bad—”

you lean in, forehead to his.

“then say it again. what are you?”

he chokes, whimpers, eyes rolling back. “your dumb little toy—only good for you—please—use me—i’m yours—i’m yours—”

you give him permission, and his orgasm hits him like a tidal wave.

his whole body jerks, crying through it, lips trembling, gasping your name like it’s the only word he remembers. thick, hot ropes coat your gummy walls, his cock thrumming and pulsing inside your heat.

after, he’s boneless. soft. twitching and dazed with a fucked-out smile. you clean him up, wipe his face gently, kiss his cheeks where you slapped him. he’s still crying a little—residual, quiet, happy tears. you pull him into your lap, stroke his hair.

“you were so good,” you whisper, and he melts against you like butter.

like nothing else matters.

because he’s yours.

a/n: i need this holyyy

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