#and my knees and wrists are having their moments too

[gay-dorito-dust]

Zayne chasing after your hand after you brush your finger against his bottom lip, acting as though he’s a animal in heat or just extremely starved for your touch is enough for your knees to weaken.

At first it was a silly little joke, nothing serious as you’d first run your finger gently across his bottom lip, only to watch as his breath hitches and his eyes dilate as he’s acting in a way that made you wonder if you had taken the joke too far. You’re then forced watch as his followed after your hand as though it were a pesky fly, clasping your wrist in his hold as he brought your hand back to his face, rubbing his cheek against your palm as hot breathy whimpers leave his succulent lips.

It shouldn’t have drawn an reaction out of you but it did when you felt yourself heat up as Zayne peppered small kisses from the tips of your fingers, down to your palm to nibble on it, and then finally all the way down to your pulse point on your wrist as he made sure to give you copious amount of eye contact as he softly kissed it; leaving you with your heart in your throat and a little flustered to say the least.

The reactions you drew from him after a innocent touch was enough for you to always capitalise on the moments where you found yourself sitting in his lap, and trace his bottom lip with your finger ever so slightly, that it causes him to get desperate for more of your touch. A simple touch was enough to send this beautiful man beneath you into a hysterical state where he’s practically begging you to touch him again with his pleading eyes.

To have the power over a man like you did over Zayne was something many would kill to have, but you couldn’t hope but experiment with this and try touching his chest with the same amount of pressure you did to his bottom lip; featherlight and almost nonexistent.

Same result as it is revealed as Zayne’s breathing becomes laboured and he’s yearning after your touch once more as he chases your hand, holding it close to his chest so that you could feel his erratic heart rate and his breathing beneath your palm, showing you how unfair and cruel the state your leaving him in to deal with.

‘You like it don’t you?’ You asked one day as you found yourself once again sat upon his lap, fingers tracing his bottom lip and watching his eyes dilate. ‘Such a puppy.’ You murmured under your breath, thinking Zayne couldn’t hear you, but soon you found yourself on your back and looking up at the ceiling as Zayne hovered over you with a particular look within his beautiful eyes.

‘Such a puppy you say.’ Zayne began as he leaned in close, his hands restraining your wrists with effortless ease. ‘Maybe you shouldn’t have tempted me so much then we wouldn’t be in such a…compromising predicament, but since your attention towards the movie has wavered,’ Zayne then moves his head so that it was level with your ear, his hot breath fanning the side of your face and neck as you found yourself being the one with an elevated heart rate and laboured breathing. ‘ it is coincidental that my attention has wavered from the movie as well and onto something more captivating, I hope that me changing my mind is okay.’ He says with a voice as smooth as silk yet soft and tender but his eyes told a completely different story.

‘It’s more than okay.’ You replied with equal softness, already knowing how this night was going to end, but you had no regrets even when you awake the neck day covered in love bites of varying sizes.

[justmeinadaze]

Secret Underneath Part 10 (Steddie X Plus Size Y/N)

A/N: I bare you an angsty distraction for the day <3. I'm not going to add my Ko-Fi to this post because I want you to keep your money and use it today to do something that brings you peace.

This is your sign to go buy that venti cup of coffee, buy that book you've been wanting to read, or get that shirt you've been eyeing at the store. Go...be <3.

Warnings: Older (Mid thirties) Sugar Daddies Steve and Eddie/ Young (Early to mid 20s) Baby Fem Plus Size Reader, SMUT, of the rougher variety (they are letting off some steam), belt as handcuffs, after care always <3, FLUFF, they love her and she loves them

ANGST *does disco arms on a dance floor of angst*

Mediation begins so we get more insight on Gina, I don't go into detail of her claims (it doesn't matter anyway cause she be lyin!), the guys take her to an event where someone flirts with her (its someone they know and HATE), Y/N insists the guys use her since they've been keeping things in, near the end they talk about why they've been afraid to be rough with her when they are upset, go into a bit more of their relationship with her, cliffhanger ending (because I can :)) but I think you'll like this one.

Word Count: 5199

Series Here

This was a new experience for you when it came to the two men that you loved. 

Today was the day of their mediation to hopefully get things resolved without having to fully go to court. They were dressed from head to toe in their more formal attire with Eddie’s hair pulled back into a ponytail and Steve’s fluffy mane slicked back away from his face. 

Originally they didn’t want you to go but at the last minute the rockstar insisted stating that he didn’t want to hide any of this from you like they had tried to before.

“Like we said, sweetheart, we told you everything but she’s probably going to get a bit more specific about certain things… we never did the things she claimed but we also weren’t exactly good men.”

When Gina and her lawyers came in they both straightened up immediately. 

You couldn’t deny she was a beautiful woman with her long brown hair and fit physique that squeezed a bit too perfectly in her short pink dress that cut off just above her knee. For some reason you were under the impression that she was closer to your age but now that you were able to see her face to face you realized she was closer to theirs. Her piercing blue eyes scanned the room till they landed on you sitting quietly in the back closer to their side. 

As she grinned wide and rose to her feet so did Steve before both lawyers grabbed each person’s wrist and mumbled something while Gina smirked his way. Even after she took her seat again it took the mogul a few more moments before he finally did the same. 

Someone you assumed was a judge or at least in charge started to speak and read out instruction for this particular review. The entire time he spoke, their ex watched them like a lion waiting for prey. She was playing a game she intended to win even if it meant hurting them in the process. 

##############

A couple of days after the mediation, both men were barely in the apartment and when they were you didn’t want to push them. Occasionally, your hand would tenderly run along Steve’s shoulders as he worked and in response he would grab your palm to kiss the back before letting you go to focus again. When you noticed Eddie smoking on the balcony in his sweats but no jacket, you would bring one out to him but as you turned to go back inside, he would wrap his arms around you, bringing your back to his chest as he held you tightly. 

Tonight was an event they couldn’t ignore, hardly covering their distain as their stylist and her team came over to dress them and you up for the evening. 

Just as they had before when you stepped out of the bedroom, both men froze as their eyes took you in. Since this wasn’t exactly an elegant affair, Stephanie had you in a red dress that clung to your curves, showing off your arms and chest a bit more than you were used to. 

“What do you think?”, you ask as you smooth the material around your stomach. “I’ve never worn something that showed off my upper half like this.”

“You look absolutely gorgeous, sweetheart.”, Eddie exhaled breathlessly as he stepped forward to caress your cheek making your eyes flutter at the intoxicating cologne that surrounded him. “Are you comfortable?”

“Yeah, baby. I just…is there a sweater or jacket, Steph?”

The ever gentleman he was, Steve started to remove his own suit jacket before the stylist stepped forward to hand you a matching shawl to wrap around your shoulders. 

“Thank you.”

The mogul softly smiled your way as he tilted down to kiss your forehead. 

“You look beautiful, honey. We need to get you a necklace or something that you can wear. Not that it matters right now, I mean you look breathtaking as is. I was just—”

“Steve!”, you giggle as his friend lightly shoves his arm. “I knew what you meant.”

Eddie’s eyes suddenly light up as he abruptly runs towards the hallway and turns into what was once his old bedroom but was now being used as a place for him to play and record his music. Beaming widely, he saunters back down the hallway with his hands behind his back. 

“Close your eyes.” Biting your lip, you do as he says, smiling just as widely as he had when you felt something cool and flat touch your chest. “I wore this in high school but obviously my jewelry game has gotten WAY better.”, he chuckles and backs away from you. 

Glancing down, you fingers hold up the red guitar pick that was attached to the chain now clasped around your neck. 

“We’ll obviously buy you some more prettier things but—”

Your lips cut him off before you tilt back and wipe away the lipstick that remained. 

“This is perfect, Eddie, thank you.”

***

You weren’t sure what to expect this time around now that people knew you were with them but unless they said any different, you were going to do as you did before. This was their territory not yours and they knew how to navigate the sea of fame better then you ever could. 

“Did you want to take pictures or would you rather wait inside?”, Steve asked as they waited in line to enter the building. 

“You’d take pictures with me?”

His eyes blinked as if you asked one of the most complicated questions he had ever heard. 

“Of course, baby, but only if you’re comfortable.”

“I…I just…I don’t know what to do…”

“You just stand there and look beautiful, princess.”, Eddie grinned.

“I don’t want to embarrass you or anything.”

“What makes you think you would?” When you shrugged, the mogul saw the confidence they loved so much about you slowly receding from your eyes for fear of ruining something you perceived as important to them. His large palms cup your cheeks as he brings your lips to his and the sound of cameras clicking fill your ears. “All that matters to me is you.”

Photographers scream their names as cameras continue to go off but neither of them moves except for Eddie who leans down to kiss you as well. 

“We can just walk right passed and go inside. You hold all the power here, baby girl, but no matter what we aren’t doing this…”, he gestures towards the reporters. “…without you.”

Nodding, you take each boy’s hand and allow them to take over as they stand beside you to pose for photos. Occasionally the rockstar whispered something in your ear to make you laugh that helps to calm your nerves as your smile stretches wide across your face. 

“Mr. Munson, how are you feeling today? You look so happy!”, an interviewer asked enthusiastically. 

“Thank you. I am, I am. I’m here with my best friend and this beautiful angel, I mean…”, he chuckles as you blush. “…I’m an incredibly lucky man.”

“How are you tonight, Y/N? You do look exceptionally beautiful! Let’s get a double take here.”, she encourages as you step back and Steve spins you 360 to show off your dress. 

“Thank you so much. I’m good. I’m nervous. You’re my first ever interview so… you look gorgeous to. I love your earrings.”, you praise as she playfully shows them off for the camera behind her. 

‘Oh, you’re so sweet. I look forward to many more interactions in the future.”

While you three step closer to the door something catches the mogul’s eye that has him tugging at his friend’s sleeve before both men pull you inside. 

“Everything okay?”

“Yeah, baby, you did amazing.”, he whispers as he leans down to kiss your cheek. 

***

Something in their mood changed as soon as you guys were finally in the building and sitting at the table as drinks were being served. On the walk there, they didn’t let you drift too far, sticking by your side as they or you spoke to people around you. 

While you were eating, they seemed to always have some part of their body on yours and seemed to be knocking back the champagne a bit more than you were. 

“I’m going to run to the bathroom real fast.”, you whisper as you get to your feet. 

“I’ll walk you—”

“Eddie, baby.”, you say as you place your palm on his shoulder to keep him seated. “I don’t need an escort to pee, okay? I’ll be right back, I promise.”

He didn’t seem at all calmed especially when you felt both their eyes watch you as disappeared down the hallway. After finishing your needs and adjusting the rockstar’s necklace around you, you give yourself one final pep talk as you head back into the fray. 

“Ow!”

“Shit! Oh my god. I am so sorry! Are you alright?”, you ask frantically as you try to consol the young man you accidently hit with the bathroom door. “God, I’m such mess.”

“Ah, no, no worries. I’m alright. Got me pretty good there though.”, the boy chuckled as his palm rubbed his nose before taking note of your worried demeanor. “It’s ok. I’m seriously alright, see? I’d have lost my contract a long time ago if I couldn’t take a few hits. I’m Roman, Roman Hart.”, he grins as he extends his palm for you to shake. 

As you provide him with your name the man laughs a bit harder. 

“You have no idea who I am, do you?”

“No? Should I?”

“I’m a quarterback for the New York football team.”

“Ah! Ok, yeah, still have no idea who you are.”, you giggle. “I’m not really into sports and the few players I do recognize are from my hometown. Well, it was nice meeting you and again, I’m so sorry for hurting you.”

“No worries.”, he grins. “May I walk you back to your seat? Maybe, we can get to know each other a bit more and you can tell me your favorite guitarist.”

As he reaches out to delicately touch the guitar pick on your chest, something in his tone rubs you the wrong way as your smile falls.

“I’m ok, Mr. Hart, but I appreciate the offer.” 

Swiftly turning to leave him behind, you bump into a broad chest that’s heavy breathing with anger and glance up to see Steve’s furious features. 

“What are you doing, Roman?”

“Hey, Steve. How are—”

“WHAT are you doing!?”

“Jesus, old man. Take a breath.” At the man’s dismissive tone, the mogul started to step forward but you hastily put yourself between them as you place your palm on his chest. “This beautiful woman here hit me in the face with the door on accident and we were just talking.”

“Bullshit. Did she put you up to this?”

“Well, someone’s paranoid.”

“And someone’s a little bitch.”, Eddie growled the quarterback’s way as he came up behind his friend. “Didn’t think you were manipulatable enough to do Gina’s bidding.”

At his words, Roman’s eyes squint as he glares at the rockstar. 

“You’re the football player she cheated on them with.”, you breathe as your own eyes close in frustration. 

“Is it cheating when she’s already fucking two guys? I guess not since she said you two could barely get it up for her let alone satisfy her.”, he sassed, this time causing Eddie to step towards him. 

“No.”, you scolded in your teacher tone hoping that was stronger than your arms because you were struggling to hold both men in their place. “Go away. There’s nothing I want from her or you.”

“She’s been wanting to talk to you.”

“Then she needs to stop sending men to do her bidding and come talk to me but again there’s nothing I want or need from her.”

“Gina said she wanted to talk to you the other day but…”, he pauses as he glances at Steve. 

“Come on, guys, let’s go home.”, you murmur as try to push them back but they don’t budge. “Please… he’s trying to get a rise out of you. Don’t let him win.”

It takes a few seconds before the mogul finally turns around and begins to stomp down the hallway as the rockstar grips your hand. 

“If you come near her again, it won’t be a door that hits you in the face.”, Eddie threatened as Roman grinned and winked your way.

#################

“Can we talk?”, you ask as Eddie veers towards the kitchen to grab a beer and Steve starts to take off his suit jacket as he heads towards the bedroom. 

“We’ll talk about it later, Y/N.”

“I want to talk about it now, Steven.” At your words, he heavily exhales as he turns to face you. “I’ve given you two space these past few days but this was a big deal. She overstepped a boundary by doing this.”

“Ok, honey. Agreed. Now what?”, he responded sarcastically as he shrugged. 

You blinked as your gaze shifted between both men as Eddie came up to your side.

“You don’t have to hold it in. It’s ok to be angry. I told you if you needed to throw a tantrum or vent, you could. I know the word.”

“We’re not angry, Y/N.”, the rockstar sighs and your jaw clenches. 

“Really? You’re not angry at all that she sent the man she cheated on you with to come speak with me? The same man she was caught fucking in a car by paparazzi because she was so brazen about her infidelity yet hid her relationship with you both?” As you spoke, Eddie’s fist clenched tighter around the glass in his hand while Steve placed his hands on his hips as they glared your way.

“You aren’t angry that he said you two could never satisfy her even though you went out of your way to make her happy? Or the fact that at that hearing the other day, she had the audacity to giggle her way through her testimony while saying things like how she never imagined you, Eddie, could hurt her because of how you talked about your mom or, Steve, how you manipulated her the way your dad did by giving his side pieces better jewelry and things than you ever gave her.”

Slowly sauntering forward, you place yourself directly in front Eddie’s chest as his eyes blaze down into yours. 

“You aren’t angry that Roman touched my skin with his fingers; my body that belongs to you two and only you?”, you murmur as your palm rubs his chest through the opening in his button up shirt before backing away to find home in front of Steve. “It’s not only the fact that he touched me but that he wasn’t afraid to do it. He thought he’d get away with it no matter what because you’re ‘old men’ who can’t satisfy a woman…especially a young woman like me.

The tip of your nose caressed his as your words landed breathily against his lips. 

“Hm. Well, I guess you’re more mature than me because I’m furious I can’t make her stop hurting you the way she does.”

Flashing them a soft smile, you start to walk away but Steve’s fingers around your wrist give you pause as he pulls you back to crash his mouth to your own. There’s a fever behind it that has you moaning as Eddie comes up behind you to unzip your dress and tug it down your frame. 

You tear at the mogul’s shirt and he pants as you sloppily kiss down his chest. Tilting down to pick you up, he throws you over his shoulder and you watch as the rockstar removes pieces of his own suit as he trails behind, tossing them to the floor without a care.

After throwing you onto the bed, you watched as Steve unbuckled his belt and handed it to his friend who quickly bound your wrists above your head as the other man’s face fell in-between your legs. 

“Fuck, Daddy.”, you whined as you pulled on your restraints, desperate to run your fingers through his hair while his tongue and mouth devoured your pussy like a man possessed. Eddie leaned over your body to hand his friend something but it didn’t take you long to realize what it was as the sound of buzzing filled the room and vibration from the wand was pressed against your clit. “Oh…my…”

“Atta girl.”, the rockstar cooed as he took hold of your ankles to help keep your legs open and in the air. “We know how to take care of you, sweetheart.”

“Mhmm.”, you groaned as Steve’s tongue moved faster in and out of your entrance. 

“Do you think we’re too old, little girl?”

“No, Daddy. I’ve never—mmph—I’ve never thought that.”

“Do you think someone your own age can fuck you better than us?!”

“Never, Daddy. No one—fuck I’m gonna cum—no one fucks me like you two.”

Your legs tremble in Eddie’s grasp as the coil snaps and the mogul presses the wand harder against your clit to elongate your high. As your legs fall to the bed, Steve unbuttons his slacks and frees his cock, leaning down to spit directly into your hole before guiding himself inside you.

“Say that again.”, he rumbles.

“No one fucks me like you two, Daddy.”

“And who does this pussy belong to?”

“You two, Daddy.”

His large palm wraps around your throat, squeezing lightly as his hips roughly snap, punching a sharp grunt from your lips. 

“WHO does this pussy belong to?”

“Ah! Steve and Eddie!”

“That’s right. Say it again.”, Steve growls as his rhythm quickens.

“M-My pussy belongs to—fuck—Steve Harrington and E-Eddie Munson!”

The mogul fell fully on top of you as he pounded his cock deep inside you with a rough abandon that had you wincing a couple of times.

“You have no idea how much I wanted to fucking kill him when I saw his hands on you. If you—oh my god—if you hadn’t stopped me I’d have put him the fucking hospital. No one fucking touches you like that except us.”

“No…one…baby…Fuck me…harder, Steve. I can…handle it.”

Pushing up on his knees, he took hold of the wand again and pressed it to your puffy nub, smirking a bit to himself as he watched you squirm. 

Ringed fingers gripped your hair and as you turned your head you were met with Eddie’s cock. Opening wide, you allowed him entry between your parted lips and he was anything but gentle as he thrust his hips. 

You whimpered around him and they knew you were close to the edge proving them right when your pussy clenched around Steve’s dick like a vice especially when the rockstar held you still to choke around his length. 

You panted when he finally pulled away and the mogul grunted loudly as he slammed his release aggressively into your cunt till he was empty. 

They didn’t allow you a second to breathe as Eddie seamlessly flipped you over and placed his entire frame on top of your back before he shifted his waist a bit and you felt his cock effortlessly slid into your aching pussy. 

With one hand around your neck and the other underneath you gripping one of your breasts, he remained close to you, absorbing you with his weight as he roughly rolled his hips. 

“Fuck, baby, you feel so good. Y-You’d never hurt us like that would you? You’d never cheat on--”

“N-Never, Daddy. Mmm—I love you so much…both of you. H-H-Harder, Eddie. Use me.”

The man’s hold on you tightens as he honors your statement and pumps into you so hard the bed underneath you shakes. 

Your orgasm crashes like a rouge wave and you scream their title before you’re abruptly rolled onto your back as the rockstar grunts and climbs up your body to shove his cock down your throat. Your eyes squeeze shut as you allow him to use your mouth till you feel his release hit your tongue and you swallow every drop. 

As soon as he pulls himself back, Eddie lays on you again resting his head on your chest waiting patiently for you to play with his hair like you always do but the lightbulb doesn’t go off till he finally glances up to see if you’re ok. 

“Shit! Y/N, I’m so fucking sorry. Why didn’t you say anything?!”, he panics as he reaches up to quickly remove the belt from your wrists and carefully bring your arms down to your sides. 

“May I have some water, please?”

Hearing the hoarseness of your voice, Steve doesn’t hesitate as he powerwalks to their kitchen and comes back with a cold glass of water. Amber and chocolate eyes scan you over with concern as you chug back the liquid and flinch as it slides down your throat. 

“I’m going to make her bath.”, the mogul announces as he turns to head towards the bathroom. 

Eddie’s fingers brush some of your hair away from your face and in return you fall into his equally sweaty chest. 

“I love you, Eddie.”, you whisper.

“I love you to, princess. Come on. Let’s take a nice relaxing bath.”

Noticing you struggling to move, the man lifts you in his arms and carries you the rest of the way. While the rockstar climbs into the water with you, Steve sits on the edge face you both as he leans against the wall, studying you as his friend washes your skin. 

When Eddie starts to clean between your legs, you wince causing Steve’s face to twitch with worry. 

“I know, baby girl, I know. I’m almost done.”, the rockstar tries to comfort as you began to softly cry. 

When your eyes lock with the other boy’s, you gently smile and he does the same. 

“I love you, Steve.”

“I love you to, honey.”, he murmurs as he leans forward to grab your hand so he can kiss the back of it. “I, um, I hope you know we aren’t angry with you or anything. We know that…you weren’t…flirting or—”

“I know. As soon as he touched me…I knew something was off. I swear I didn’t recognize him—”

“We know.”, Eddie soothes as he kisses your cheek. “It did trigger something though. Memories of her being more than polite just to get a rise out of us. Add in what you mentioned…”

“That he had the audacity to touch you and talk to you because he thought we wouldn’t do anything.”, Steve clarified when your eyebrows furrowed. “Because, ya know, we’re grandpas and all that.”

A large grin stretches across both their faces at the sound of your laugh as it echoes through the bathroom. 

“He said that was the reason but you know that’s not why right? It’s not your age, its that she sees you as weak. That’s what this whole display is about. That’s why she wants to talk to me. She knows I don’t see you that way and she genuinely believes she can change my mind like she did with everyone else in her circle.”

“Listen to baby girl over here talking like a lawyer. Do you want to take over our case because you absolutely can.”, Eddie jokes as he pulls you back into a tight hug. 

Steve’s face slowly changes as his eyes flood with concern before his fingers extend to lightly trace the skin along your neck. 

“Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck.”, the mogul exhales as he rises to his feet. “Ed, go ahead, get her dressed, and when you’re done bring her to the kitchen.”

“Ay yi, Captain.”, the rockstar sasses as he climbs out of the water and grabs a towel. “Again, boy talking to me like he’s my Daddy.”

When his eyes linger where Steve’s had, you shifted your gaze towards the mirror to find growing bruises the size of fingerprints along your throat. 

“It’s ok, Eddie, I promise.”, you coo as you reach up to caress his cheek. “I would have used the safe word if you both were hurting me.”

With a tight smile, he nods, gently drying you before throwing some pajamas over your body and carrying you into the kitchen to place you on the counter. 

“Ok, honey, this is going to be cold.”, Steve announces as he rubs his hands together and rubs them along your skin. Your squeak at the cold gel makes him chuckle as he continues his task. “This stuff is pretty good. It should lessen’ that colorization before work on Monday.”

“Hey.”, you call softly as you grip his chin and tilt his eyes up to meet yours. “Not the first time your fingers have left bruises on my body. In a good way of course.”

His movements slow for just a moment before he sighs and continues. 

“This is different.”

“How?”

“It’s hard to explain.”

“Try.”

“We don’t actively want to hurt you, sweetheart.”, Eddie answers for him. “You said we could use you to…throw a tantrum as you call it but…”

“Remember last time, when you got scared that you triggered something by being a brat?” You nod at Steve’s question. “Same thing more or less. She…brings out the worst in us.”

“You keep saying that but I just don’t see it. I really don’t, Steve.”

The rockstar hopped up beside you and handed you a cup of warm tea eliciting a cute little sigh that makes them smile as the liquid slides down your throat. 

“You’ve never pushed.” Blinking at Eddie’s statement, he exhaled as he petted your head. “Kind of like what Roman did, she would dangle men in front of us till we snapped. We would scream, yell, shout but it never got physical until we were playing. We made sure she reiterated she knew the word but she never used it. She…fuck…we did drugs together once. She kept pushing and pushing until one bad night I agreed. It was the one and only time I did blow and she held it over my head forever.”

“She would call him names and imply he was angry for something SHE did because he was stoned which he wasn’t.”

“I…it reminded me of my dad and I knew if Wayne found out he would be so disappointed.” As the rockstars head hung, you moved his hair behind his ear and tenderly kissed his cheek.

“Sometimes, Y/N, I would be so wasted from a party the three of us went to that when we were intimate…there were times I felt like I wasn’t in control…She would egg me on talking about how pathetic I was and I would feel my grip tighten…” As he spoke, Steve’s eyes flicked to your throat. “There were times…I wanted to hurt her the way she hurt me…”

Extending your legs, you wrapped them around his waist bringing him to you so you could hug them both tightly.

“I know you’ve been through a lot with her and aren’t even close to being done but please don’t hold it in. Talk to me or hell if you can’t find the words then use me. I know I’m safe with you.”

“Pfft, you can’t just say shit like that and not expect us to swoon, princess.”, Eddie teases as he lays his head on your shoulder and blinks his eyes obnoxiously.

“What if we were done. With the case.”, Steve interjects.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean…what if we paid what she’s asking for?”

“Why the fuck would you do that?”, you growl a bit sharply making them both chuckle as the mogul cups your cheeks to bring your forehead to his lips. 

“Because, baby girl, if we did that then everything would end now and we can move on with our lives…be happy just the three of us.”

Sighing, you jump down from the counter, regretting your decision as your core throbs at the soreness. They watch you scoot to the sofa before following, Steve placing himself on his knees in front of you as Eddie sits beside you holding your tea and carefully putting an ice pack between your legs. 

“Thank you.”, you murmur as he lays his arm behind your head. “Steven, if you think this will stop her then you aren’t as smart as I thought you were. If you give in, she’ll just keep coming at you guys asking for more and more. It may not be now but it’s not the money she’s after. She likes toying with you and when she realizes she can’t change my mind she’ll probably do the same with me to.”

“Over my dead body.”, the mogul grumbles as you smirk. 

“You both have to be smart about this. Don’t let her win.”

“What do you think we should do, baby?”, Eddie asks as his fingers begin to play with your hair.

################

Gina saunters into Steve’s empty building with a giddy sense of pride. When the mogul emailed her that God awful formal statement asking her to meet them in his office she literally danced around her (Roman’s) massive bedroom as she began getting ready. 

She knew sending the quarterback would rattle their cage. Eddie was the easiest one to shake but Steve was the most fun to make jealous. Neither boy was the possessive type but the mogul held in his emotions more than his friend and watching him break was just…so much fun.

When he stood up to keep her from talking to you, she knew exactly what she needed to do. You meant nothing to her. Whether she could get you on her side or not didn’t matter to her one bit but if she could convince you in someway to leave them… 

The thought of them broken hearted as they crawled back to her drove her insane. One way or another she’d get the money she was owed but to watch them grumble after abandoning her? Well, that was just a bonus.

“You know, boys, we could have done this at my place.”

“Last we checked; you don’t have one.”

At the sound of your voice, her head shot up to take in the setting before her. 

Instead of Steve sitting at his desk, you were in his large office chair while both men were seated off to the side on his couch he kept by the wall. While they were dressed a bit more casually, you were in a red, long sleeve velvet dress that had a belt around your hips accentuating your curves. Your hair was pulled up and out of your face, displaying the guitar pick necklace Eddie had once told her was his favorite.

As you stood up and came around the desk, your red heels Steve bought you clacked across the floor. 

Her startled eyes scanned you over constantly before she took a step backward causing a smirk to flicker across your lips. 

“Well Gina, you wanted to talk to me so here I am. Let’s talk.”

###############

@aol19 @paradisepoisons  @paleidiot @dashingdeb16

@lilaclazer @joannamuns9n @thwippyparker @emotionaldreamer

@aactuaaltraash @alastorssimp @mygirlchaos @starksbabie @imagine-all-the-imagines @myherometalhead

AGAIN! Here's hoping the tags do what I want this time lol

[autocrats-in-love]

I NEED an overly dramatic villain losing to the hero, visibly humiliated by the outcome of their battle. Hero, being the sweetheart they are, comforts the villain, who is currently sobbing on the floor like a literal child

Who's There At the End

The hero’s shaking, gloves hands finally snapped the shears closed over the red wire. The red numbers on the timer  blinked, then switched off. The hero sighed in relief. Another day saved from the villain’s destruction. They stood up and dusted their clothes off, staring at the setting sun. They could finally go home. They had gotten up way too early this morning. They were yawning as they handed the plastic explosive that had been attached to city hall off to a wary police officer.

“It’s fine,” the hero said reassuringly. “They never install backups on their bombs. Just stick it in the evidence locker.”

The hero pushed past officers and approached the chief of police. They tapped him on the shoulder. The chief turned around, moustache twitching in frustration.

“Hey, you find them yet?” the hero asked.

The chief sighed in defeat. The villain had, once again, evaded capture. “No. But we’re close, I can feel it.”

The hero had heard that more than once. They laughed. “Sure. Good night, chief.”

The chief waved the hero away. The hero wasn’t going to look for the villain today. They were too tired. They were about to take off flying when they felt their super suit pockets.

“Crap. My keys.” 

The hero turned around, and walked back up the steps to  city hall. They must have dropped it sometimes when they and the villain were fighting. Or maybe when the villain locked them in that supply closet. The hero walked across the lousy-with-cops lobby and pushed the elevator button. They got in when the elevator dinged, and pushed the button for the sixth floor, where the hero and villain’s grand battle had taken place. The hero watched the number on the screen go up, anxious to get out of here and relax with a book. One, two, three, four, five- 

A weight crashed onto the top of the elevator box. The hero stumbled as the box shook. They rushed to push the emergency stop button. Then they looked up, listening to the patter above their head. Were those footsteps? Then one of the ceiling grates fell down, and the hero had to dive out of the way of it. They huddled under the handle bar, and watched as the figure jumped down into the elevator. The hero’s heart rate spiked. It was the villain. They were probably angry, vengeful. . .and crying? When the villain turned to look at the hero, it was clear there were tears streaming down their puffy face. The villain jumped up when they realised who they had intruded upon.

“Uh, hi,” the hero said with a wave.

The villain glared at them. For some reason, it made the hero sad. The hero was about to get to their feet to defend themselves--not that they were in any mood for a second round--when the villain sighed and collapsed on the ground. They brought their knees to their chest and buried their face in their lap. The hero could hear their enemy sobbing and sniffling. The hero was caught off guard by the apparent vulnerability they were being shown. The villain was usually very hard to read. The hero knew they shouldn’t let their guard down. But, after considering for a moment, they scooted over to the villain.

“Is everything okay?” the hero asked. 

The villain didn’t look up, or respond. They continued crying without restraint. The hero hesitated. Then they moved their hand to the villain’s back. The villain whipped their head up, snapping their fingers around the hero’s wrist.

“Don’t try anything,” the villain said raspily. 

They squeezed the hero’s wrist, making heat bloom from the area.

“Ow! I was trying to be nice,” the hero said.

The villain didn’t look convinced. Their glare was wet, their brown eyes shining under the fluorescents. The hero gulped. 

“Look, I know it’s hard to lose-”

More tears welled in the villain’s eyes. “No, you don’t! You always win. Not just against me, either. You have everything, and I’m just stuck taking the scraps you leave behind!”

The villain’s voice broke at the end. It made the hero soften.

“You tried to explode a building,” the hero said gently.

“Yeah, I couldn’t even do that,” the villain said, staring at the hero’s exposed wrist. “I’m such a disappointment.”

“A disappointment? To whom?” the hero said.

The villain sighed. “Just. . .the people who expect things from me.”

Ah. The hero was a public figure, too. They could relate. 

“I get it.”

The villain looked sceptical. “You don’t fail, though. You always win. You’re always ahead. Everyone loves you.”

The hero laughed. “Are you kidding? Have you seen the articles written about me? About how I’m too nonchalant, too slow, that I’ve never been able to arrest you.”

The villain blinked slowly, processing. “Really?”

The hero nodded. The villain loosened their grip on them. “Then- how does it all not get to you?”

The hero shrugged. “I mean, I am pretty nonchalant.”

The villain rolled their eyes.

“But, also, these reporters don’t know me. They don’t know that it is actually pretty hard to get the upper hand on you. They don’t even know my real name. So why would I trust their opinion?”

The villain wiped their eyes. When they looked back at the hero, they had a small smile on their face. Their hand dropped the hero’s wrist. 

“Did you say it’s hard to beat me?”

“Uh-” the hero felt themselves blushing.

The villain laughed, the colour returning to their cheeks. “Am I your arch nemesis? Does the thought of taking me down haunt you every waking hour?”

The hero pushed the villain’s face away from them. “Shut up.” 

The hero’s phone started ringing. They pulled it from their pocket. The chief of police. The hero picked it up.

“Hello?” came the chief’s panicked voice through the line.

“Hey, chief,” the hero responded.

The villain’s eyes widened in fear. They seemed to be genuinely scared of the chief.

“Officers are saying you’re stuck in an elevator. We’re still searching for them-” the hero smiled at the gruff voice the chief used when talking about the villain. “-but there’s no sign so far. Are they with you? Are you cornered in the elevator?”

The hero thought about it for a moment. Sure, the chief would be over the moon to finally have the villain. But, on the other hand. . .the villain was having a pretty crappy day.

“Nope. Haven’t seen anyone. A ceiling grate just fell and I was worried the whole roof would come crashing down. I’ll probably be out in a few minutes.”

“Okay, then. But be careful. They could still be lurking around.”

“Uh huh. Bye, chief.”

The hero hung up the phone. The villain stared at them. The hero shrugged in response.

“Why?” the villain asked.

“Because now you owe me one,” the hero said. “But you definitely need to get out of here. The chief is on a rampage to find you.” 

The villain sniffed one last time. Then they pulled the villain into a hug. It surprised the hero, and ignited a heat that they hadn’t felt in a long time. They hugged the villain back. When the two separated, the villain said, “Oh! I know how to pay you back.”

The hero raised an eyebrow. “How?” 

The villain tossed the hero something small. The hero caught it in between their hands.

“Oh, my keys!”

They looked up to thank the villain, but their enemy had disappeared.

[solar4seekstron]

Transformers One x Reader: Awakening Chapter Five

Chapter Five: I’m Done Saving You

Chapter One, Chapter Two, Chapter Three, Chapter Four,

Transformers One x Cybertronian!GN!reader

TW/Tags: non? Based on the title you already know what’s coming. Good luck nerds.

(Chapter 5 is finally here and I’m pretty excited for this one. Sadly there is much to add for Elita and reader so most likely in the next chapter. Sorry guys the movie isn’t making it any easier for me or just can’t think of any that doesn’t ruin the movie too much. I was dreading to type in the scene where D. Shoots Orion and it didn’t feel right to add in the expressions of Y/N, Elita and B because that moment is for D-16 and Orion in my opinion. Oh boy the next chapter is gonna hurt but I want to make y’all happy so here we go.)

(The next chapter will be the last one and then 5 bonus endings after)

*At Iacon City-

Y/N was about to sneak into the city the same way the gaurds were able to. Paying o mind if others see them as they fly in their alt mode. Landing in an alley between buildings. The view clear of sentinels tower. They would then look around and say. The bots they once saw to be taller then them was now around the Sam seize as them having a cog now. They would let out a sigh and then walk out making their eye to the tower. Knowing if they were in their alt mode. They would be questioned. But as they walked passing the road and walking on the side walk as they walked around. Seeing that there’s an alleyway that seems to lead to the tower sooner. They. Go down that path. As they walk someone then grabs their hand. Causing them to quickly turn around pin the person against the wall.

”Woah easy there friend I just wanted to tell- Y/N” It was Deadlock

”Lo- uh sorry you got me confused with someone else.”

They would then try to leave but deadlock would grab their wrist and pull them back and turns them around putting his had on their shoulder.

“Y/N it is you! But. But you have a cog!” Y/N was just 5 inches shorter then him now.

”Uh yeah I should really get going.” Deadlock would rests his hand on their hip as he looked at them. They would place their hands on his shoulders to try to create some distance

”Y/N where have you been and how do you have a cog. Come on lets catch up.”

”Deadlock I would love to but I must go. My friend is possibly in danger and I should go make sure they’re safe.” Deadlock looks almost disappointed. Then over the comm its heard his boss is calling for him. He then sighs

”Fine but seeing that you have a cog now. Come by the club and we can catch up.”

”Will do Deadlock now I must go. Good to see you friend.” They pat his shoulders as he finally out his hands off them. Watching as they leave before turning around to head to work

Y/N continues to walk to the tower then once seeing the security they come up with an idea remembering what sentinel said the day of the race. They would then go up to the two guards

”Heeeey guys name’s Y/N sentinel said he was expecting me?” The two gaurds look at eachother then at them. Nodding then letting them in after giving them directions to the personal quarter sentinel told them to tell you to go to

Y/N would then walk in able to go through a door to the others sneaking around trying to find the room while also being quiet. Soon they would peak through a door and see D-16, B-127, and the other guards on their knees and their hands tied behind their back as sentinel walks past them in a line speaking an d having his average smirk on his face

“I don’t understand. Why are we still alive?”

“Look at this rowdy bunch. The High Guard. You know you guys have been tough to find. Every trip to the surface I have been searching for you.”

“Tracking the bots in the cave led me right to them.”

“You captured Starscream.”

“It was too easy.”

“I’m going to rip you apart piece by piece and that your death is painful and you’ll regret the day you”

“You sound ridiculous. It’s weird. Oh D-16 what a tragic story you’ll be. Atop the leaderboard in your sector. Secretly a traitor.”

“I’m not the traitor. You’re the traitor.’

“Nuh-uh. You. All of you are traitors. You’ve been working with the Quintessons to sabotage atoge my expeditions You’re the reason I haven’t found the matrix of leadership yet.”

“None of that is true!”

“Oh trust me all of that will be very true when I am executing you in front of all of Iacon because down here the truth is what I make it.”

Sentinel would get into Bs face before D would take a step.

“Well well. What’s this about?”

“I’m not kneeling in front of you.”

“Feeling confident are we?”

“You dont scare me. You wanna know why?”

“Please.”

“Because I don't anything else left to lose. You took it all.”

“I sure did.”

Sentinel would then punch D.

“Ah megatronus prime. Of course you are a fan. Megatronus was the coolest prime! The biggest. The Baddest. The Toughest! That's why after I killed him. I took his cog for myself.”

“He was greater than you’ll ever be!”

“I don’t know I’m pretty great but I can understand why you would wanna wear his face over mine. Here, lets make sure it doesn’t come off.”

Sentinel would put the sticker back then starts engraving the deception insignia into his chest. The others only able to watch. Y/N knows that they have seen enough and without a second thought they open the door and as the others were about to notice in a moment Y/N was running pulled out their blade. Putting the blade against his neck catching him by surprise. The gaurds and airachnid pointing her guns at them

“Shoot me and he dies!”

“Ahh Y/N I see you have a cog as well-“

“Shut up! Sentinel prime is it true you did it all for power…Is it?!” Sentinel then scoffs

”Well of course. Any Prim-“

”You are no prime! And I swear in the memory and honor of my friends…to B and D I’ll-“ Then Y/N is shot on their side by one of the guard causing them to fall onto their knees as sentinel stands before them.

”Well isn’t this just a shame. You know I was pretty excited to work with you. Of course it not including the two miners you so cared for. Maybe there is use for you seeing that you’re all about honor. And you’re not labeled dead yet by the public.” Y/N still on the ground. The bullet almost through their waist almost to the center

”We’ll be sure the best doctor of Iacon will take care of that wound” He would then grab their chin making their face look up fullly facing him after he took a knee. he then snaps his fingers. Two guards walking and grabbing them by the arms picking them up.

”Make sure they’re well taken care of” Y/N was then dragged and taken towards the door they cam from.

*Orion-

“Ooookaaay. I-I can do this.”

*At the mines-

“You can’t be serious. We just worked 22 shifts without a break. These miners need rest and time to repair.”

“Sentinel Prime wants more energon. So get back into the mines! Before I make you go back in-“

“Is that-“

“Orion?”

“Jazz.”

“Is that really you?”

“Yeah I know I uh- look a little different.”

“Little? There’s nothing little about you.”

“How is this possible?”

“Sentinel told us you died from your race injuries.”

“Sentinel is a lair. Look, I know sounds coming from me. I was never the most focused. Miner but as you can see everything’s different now.”

“I went to the surface. And I learned the truth. My friends. We were all born with transformation cogs. And then sentinel. He stole them from us! He took away our ability to make our own decisions. He stole our freedom. But now I’m offering you your first real choice. You can work a twenty-third shift and mine yourself to death. Or fight back against sentinel with me. Right now.”

“How are we supposed to do that?”

“We can’t fight. We don’t have cogs.”

“What defines a transformer is not the cog in its chest but the spark that resides in their core. A spark that gives you the will to make your world better and that spark sentinel can never take from us.”

“There’s not enough of us. We need an army.”

“And we have one. Elita is bringing troops. We are not alone in this. If we want to be in control of our own destiny we will have to fight for it. Now is the time for us to stand up. For ourselves! Stand up for this injustice. I promise you this fight will be worth it. Follow me! Nothing can stop us when we stand together. Together as one.”

“Elita it’s time.”

“You got it. Buckle up blinky. We’re going in.”

Back to the others D heard everything sentinel and Y/N said. Hearing the guards take Y/N away as they groan in pain. He the tried to stand up again.

“Not a good idea.”

“D stay down.”

D would stand up once more

“Well that’s a shame. You really were a great miner.”

”D! Run!….”

Sentinel points his blaster at D as D watches. Waiting.

“We’ve got a breach! Protect Sentinel!” A guard would hit D to fall back again as another would join them to protecting sentinel. Y/N was still carried away. Now further from where the direction the train was heading as the guards noticed

“Ok they spotted us. It’s about to get bumpy.”

“High Guard. Eject.”

“There’s too many! We have to abort.”

“We’re not going to make it.”

From there many miners with jet packs fly up and start fighting sentinels guards. Helping the others

“Lets break some protocol.”

“That’s what I’m talking about Pax!”

Pax was then attacked against the front of the train by Airachnid

“Ooooh that’s intense.”

“You can’t win miner! I see everything!”

“That’s right you do! Except the tower we’re about to crash into.”

Orion would then kick Airachnid off him. Hitting the window with his elbow breaking it to get in and the train soon hits the tower. Hitting Sentinel

(HE DID THE POSE FHGFGJFGVUDKKYKUCFKUVU)

“Hey!”

“What has he done to you?!”

“This is nothing! Compared to what I’m going to do to sentinel.”

”Y/N!!” The guards have left leaving them on the floor. They would then stand up and put a sort fo tissue over their bullet hole. Something ratchet gave them before. They would make their way to the two limping a bit. Orion going up to them

”I’m fine. We need to stop sentinel.” They say as they look at Orion and D. D unable to take his eyes off the energon coming of them as Orion does the same

“Soundwave, free the prisoners.”

“I know how to stop him. Airachnid is the answer-“

“I’m doing this my way!”

“D!”

“Yes! Woah! I got a battle mask. Elita! Battle mask! It appeared when this guy tried to- Knife hands? I have knife hands! Haha! Baddassatron!”

“Where’s sentinel?!”

There was then an explosion causing D, Y/N and Orion to fall forward. They would then hide behind some rocks as they then hear sentinel

“You pathetic little twits. Did you really think you can knock down everything that I have built?!”

“It’s over sentinel! You can’t escape the truth!”

“What truth? That I pluck the cogs from your newborn chests. Forced you to mine so that I can pay off the Quintessons and live like a king. None of that matters! Because the truth is what I make it!”

“In coming!”

D and sentinel will then have their own fight as the three try to think of a plan

“He’s too strong!”

“I have a plan. We need Airachnid.”

“Airachnid?!”

”Are you crazy?!

“We need her memory.”

“Where is she?!”

Elita was tackled by Airachnid

“Found her!”

“Elita. Do not break her. Bring her to the broadcast station. We'll meet you there.”

“Easier said than done!”

“I said don't break her!”

“Relax I’m being. Very. Gentle!”

“Orion! Orion look! Knife hands!”

“I can see that!”

”Yeah Bee!!” They then show their sword blades they picked up earlier showing they glow as well. B then cheers excited

“I’m gonna cut these guys watch! Come here!”

“You can jab them later!”

“GO! I’ll stay here and help D!”

”All right b careful!”

“Yeah!”

The three make thier way to the other tower. D and sentinel continueing to fight eachother. Y/N staying behind and joining the fight with D

“Um. E-excuse me, you can’t be in here.”

B then starts destroying the place

“B. These are not the ad guys.”

“Why did you cut the door?”

“What? No I didn’t cu- I didn’t- uh that wasn’t- I didn’t- it was ready like that. Right?!”

“Yes that’s right It- it was already like- yeah-was already like that.”

Orion then got to work and Elita made sure Airachnid was on the table her hologram memory showing.

“Attention. Iacon city. Stand by for a live transmission from Sentinel Prime.”

During thre fight D and sentinel keep fighting all ove the room causing more damag. Y/N waits for the right moment and once sentinel was believing he has D. Y/N jumps and transformers their alt mode on its side and spins fast pushing him off D (Think like that scene Megatron does in TF Earthspark to skyward during that big battle scene.) Scratching his paint job as they land right next to D pulling out their blades protective over D.

”D are you alright?!” D stands up and shakes his head a bit trying to stay awake

”This is my fight. Go to-“

”Will you quiet that! You can finish him off after I get a good hi-“

Y/N was then tackled by sentinel being pinned to the ground as they were far enough from D. Y/N would fight him getting a couple good hits and sentinel getting a few more hits on them. After kicking him of them D then side body slams sentinel. Y/N struggling to stand up as D then starts fighting sentinel again. Y/N is badly injured and struggles to stand. When they look up at the two. D is back on the ground and sentinel on top pointing his blaster as him again

“What’s wrong D-16? Rise up!”

“That’s why after I killed him. That’s why after I killed him. I took his cog for myself. Cog for myself. What truth? That I pluck the cogs from your newborn chests. Forced you to mine so that I can pay off Quintessons and live like a king! What truth? That I pluck the cogs from your newborn chests. Forced you to mine so that I can pay off Quintessons and live like a king! I’m working my miners as hard as I can. I swear I’ll get you the rest! I’m working my miners as hard as I can. I swear I’ll get you the rest!”

“Lier!”

“We trusted you!”

“Traiter!”

“Pax, we did it!”

After sentinel was distracted Y/N was able to make their way to D. Helping them up while holding their waist where they bleed a bit at. D would stand back up with their help.

”Stay back you helped enough!” He yells at them. Knowing they helped make sentinel get weaker after hitting him with their blades.

��D NO!”

D then charges at him. Causing them both to fall off the tower.

“D!”

The two would fly across the city hitting towers until they eventually land. Y/N would transform as they gain more strength while swirling a bit they’re able to make it but pretty far from the two transforming and is still weak staying on the knees as they watch the two fight. Slowly standing up.

“D-16. We can lead Cybertron together! Don’t have to do this.”

D would walk up to sentinel pointing his canon until Orion runs and jumps D. Stopping him.

“What are you doing?!”

“It’s over D. Everyone in Iacon knows the truth”

“So do I! He took everything from us! I have to do this!”

“No you don’t! Rebuilding Iacon cannot begin with an execution.”

“He deserves to die! Can’t you see that?!”

“We’re better than this. Don’t be like sentinel.”

“Pax. You need to get out of my way before I move you myself.”

“D listen-“

D would punch Orion and kick him further for Orion to stay on the ground. Then walking back to sentinel as sentinel was still on the floor. But Orion soon gets in the way. Orion wa shot shocking D and the others. As Orion was about to fall off the cliff D was able to catch him in time by the wrist

“No. No no no no no. Why..Why did you do that! Why!?”

D would be breathing heavy as so many emotions went through his head.

“D….no”

“I’m done saving you!”

[nohoperadio]

I did a good job at explaining it all I think, and the therapist seemed smart and competent to the extent that it makes any sense for me to have an opinion on that. She did some movement tests and said she thinks there's "nothing structurally wrong" but that my knee is getting overly fatigued faster than it should because its not getting enough support from muscles in my hips, she's given me some exercises to do to strengthen those, we'll see. I have difficulty ever believing that any solution to any problem can possibly yield any improvement at all, but I'm trying to mute the pessimism and put trust in this process until I have actual evidence it's going poorly.

The other stuff I asked about: occasional wrist and elbow pain that comes up when I try to use my right hand in any kind of prolonged activity and regular intense pain near my right shoulder blade, I have some exercises to do for both of those too; and I also got a satisfyingly painful shoulder massage which was cool, never been any kind of massaged before.

A thing I was worried about was if she might tell me to either take time off work or try to change my duties to be less lifting-based, which would have stressed me out a lot I don't want to do either of those things, but although we discussed my work she didn't say or hint anything like that, so, nice?

Thanks to those who told me to wear shorts, you were right, shorts do make you less naked.

---

This is all stuff I should have sought help with aaages ago, especially the shoulder pain which has been an issue for years and years and years. Well I'm doing it now alright!!!

Got a couple of other practical self-development balls in the process of being gotten rolling at the moment... stuff is happening! Who the fuck knows if any of it'll do a darned bit of good but, it's undeniable that stuff is in fact happening. The theme for November 2024, apparently, is Let's Try Embarrassingly Straightforward Solutions To Long-Standing Problems. If you yourself have any Long-Standing Problems to which you can think of yet-untried Embarrassingly Straightforward Solutions, you are very welcome to join me in Trying them this month, and if you do I'd love to hear about it.

I have an initial physio appointment tomorrow. I'm kinda nervous because some of the issue is slightly complicated and I suck at explaining things. Hope I don't fuck it up! I will make some notes today so I have roughly a script.

Also I'm not sure if they're gonna wanna examine my knee in a way where I'll have to take my jeans off. I mean it's fine if they do, it would just be nice to be psychologically prepared for that. But like I'm not actually stressed about this part it's not a big deal, it's more the first thing I said that I'm worried about, I'm just like freestyle posting here you know. To be honest I would delete this whole second paragraph if I valued your time more.

I hope everyone's doing okay today. Love you all very much.

[raksh-writes]

Gosh, it really does suck the way an aching joint can derail your whole day and/or mood, oof...

[tomatoluvr69]

Sitting down to floss and brush my teeth has been lifechanging. On a completely unrelated note how the fuck am I supposed to have this skeleton for several more decades. It’s all over for me lads 😔

[silverskyeline]

'look at me' 18+

oneshot - logan can't fuck like he used to, but you don't care. you get on top, gladly taking care of him in return. (2k words) pairing - logan howlett (logan 2017) x gn!reader tags: pre-established relationship, doggy style, penetration, dom!logan, reader rides logan, filthy talking logan, he talks you through it, rough, praise kink, cursing, mutual orgasm, choking, 'use your words', unprotected sex, creampie, sweet ending

logan can't keep up like he used to, but he still fucks you like a man possessed when he's able, like a rabid animal - hips bucking, muscles flexing, baring his teeth as he takes you.

his rough, calloused and scarred hands grip your waist, contrasting against your soft skin. that veiny length makes quick work of your needy hole, just like you wanted.

moments before, you'd teased him for the tent in his blue jeans. logan had cocked a smirk, that same signature smirk that always renders you weak at the knees as he began unbuckling his belt, taking his sweet time. you would wait, he knew you'd wait, you were good for him like that. the distinct sound of the clinking metal and the unsheathing of leather caused a shiver to run down your spine, a throbbing in your core. you needed him just as much as he needed you.

.・。.・゜✭・. .・。.・゜✭・. .・。.・゜✭・.

it wasn't fair, how he could tell as soon as he entered a room just how much you wanted him. he could smell it, smell your arousal clear as day, he'd teased you about it so many times. the scent fills his mind every time, makes his cock twitch in his boxers, the need to have you almost overwhelming.

your soft wanting moans drift to his ears, one of his palms sliding up to the base of your spine as he keeps you firmly bent over on the bed, fucking into you with purpose. rough grunting spills from his lips, your head turning to catch his eye, watching as beads of sweat form on his forehead. chest rising and falling, logan grits his teeth.

"this what you wanted, huh?" he grunts, his sentence punctuated with a particularly harsh thrust that knocks the wind from both of you, "you wanted my cock? hm? just couldn't fuckin' help but tease and tease. . ."

you whine, gripping the sheets in front of you as the room fills with the lewd sound of skin on skin. he always liked it rough, plus - you'd known logan long enough to know how he liked to channel his anger into sex. and he was fucking good at it. you'd take it, again and again, as harsh as he wanted to give. because you knew that as soon as you were done, he'd be scrambling to pepper soft kisses along your neck, praising you for how good you'd been for him.

his thrusts falter, and you reach back to take his wrist in your hand in a comforting gesture. the harsh panting tells you all you need to know, his grip on you fading. but it's alright, you know how to take care of him, too. you tug at his wrist and after a brief moment of hesitation, he pulls out and lays beside you, looking almost defeated.

your hips find their home atop his and you nestle against him, slowly grinding back and forth on his length. his hands immediately search for your thighs, pawing at the flesh as he looks up at you. you drink in his expression, the way he's looking at you through his heavy eyelids, his scarred, sweaty bare chest rising and falling harshly.

"let me take care of you. . ." you whisper, your hands sliding up across the feverish skin on his chest, threading through the hair that grows there.

he licks his lips, attempting to protest "but i-"

"shhhh. . ." you shake your head, inching upwards to brush his leaking tip against your entrance and he hisses at the contact, "i said let me take care of you. . ."

you sink down on his cock, gasping as he fills you once more - at this point, you've memorised every vein on that thing. you love how he fills you so completely, how you almost, almost struggle to take him in all the way.

"fuck. . ." he huffs, his eyes fluttering shut as he grasps your thighs, sinking into the bed. he hates it, hates how fucking tired he gets nowadays. but damn if you don't look like the prettiest little thing bouncing on his cock like that.

and you want to comfort him, to let him know that it's okay. you'd ride him every night if he'd let you, but he always insists that he can do it, that he can still go as hard and as fast as he used to all those years ago. fast or slow, it didn't bother you, as long as you had logan, you'd be happy, content with even a passing glance from him in your direction.

"look so pretty up there. . ." he coos breathlessly, watching you bounce, his hand snaking up to rest on your stomach as he admires you.

you moan, tilting your head back - and he groans in response, dick twitching desperately, aching to fill you as his hips buck against your movements. he loves watching you ride him like this, watching as you take control, set the pace you want.

the rough hand on your stomach drifts upwards, finding its home around your neck, gently still. but even the soft grip has you reeling, gripping his wrist. you know he still wants to feel some control, that it wasn't because he was losing energy that he was on his back, no. . . it was a choice.

and you indulge him, working down over his cock with your tight hole, clamping around him as your hips meet his over and over. he's groaning, grumbling, eyes fluttering shut as he's lost in the way you take him.

"logan, look at me. . ." you whisper pleadingly, nails digging into his chest, fingertips tracing across the scars there.

immediately his eyes open to lock onto yours, and when he sees you? fuck, he needs more. he uses his grip on your throat to pull you down into a deep kiss, breathing heavily through his nose as his tongue delves into your mouth. you love how much more experienced he is than you, how he makes quick work of you every fucking time, has you a mess for him, opening up to him in every way you can.

"yeah. . . that's it. . ." he grumbles against your lips, kissing you with a fierce passion that borders on animalistic between words, "keep workin' that cock, keep bouncin', you're doin' so well."

you clench around him at those very words, unable to even think straight with his tongue shoved into your mouth and his cock stuffed deep inside you. he's taking you in every way you'll give yourself to him. even with him on his back and with half his energy he's still able to have you squirming.

and the praise, the fucking praise. logan knows just how to talk to you to make you melt. he'll fuck you roughly, desperately pumping his dick into you whilst whispering that you're the prettiest thing he's ever seen into your ear. he'll have you split in half with his thick arms hooked around your legs whilst telling you that you're so good for him, calling you sweet pet names that contrast his rough movements.

that voice of his, gravely, deep, rumbling. you can't think straight when he talks to you this way.

"such a sweet little thing," he groans, his hand on your thigh snaking around to give your ass a quick slap before grabbing a handful. light work for him considering the size of his hands - don't even get him started on what he likes to do with those. . .

you call his name, whimpering against his lips as you try to keep up with his kisses all while riding him. your mind is blank, slamming your hips down against him as he bucks up, meeting your thrusts - sending him deeper and deeper.

his hand on your neck traces along your skin to grip the back of your head, feeling as his digits spread across your scalp. "fuuuuuck," he groans, "can feel how tight you are, you're gonna cum, huh?" logan asks, though it's less of a question and more of a statement. he knows your body better than you do.

you nod, whimpering pathetically, inches from his lips.

eyes darting from your mouth, up into your gaze, he grins, "use your words, c'mon. i asked you a question."

"yes logan, yes, fuck- i'm gonna cum!" you cry out, tilting your hips as you chase that high he wants to give you.

with his mouth open, he pants, watching you above him with a keen fascination as your face contorts in pleasure. slowly, a smirk tugs at the corner of his lips. his favourite thing in the world is to watch you come undone around him, the way your eyes roll back, your pulse quickening under his fingertips.

"c'mon, c'mon, c'mon. . ." he growls, rutting into you from below, feeling as you spasm around his hard, girthy length, "if you cum, i'll cum nice and deep inside you, you'd like that, wouldn't you?"

"logan. . ." you whine, a clear yes. your head dips down to press against his shoulder, unable to keep yourself upright with the intensity of it all.

he chuckles and it's like music to your ears, loving those rare little noises of his - treasuring the sounds he makes while enjoying you.

both hands are back on your hips now, guiding you, slamming you down onto him as you gasp with each thrust, "c'mon. . . give me what i want, what we both want - make a mess for me."

his words hit you like a command, a call to arms - you will cum for him, make a mess of him and his sheets. you're calling his name into the skin of his neck as you cry out, feeling the orgasm beginning to tear through you.

and he can feel it, feel how you convulse and clamp down on his dick, causing him to gasp. he's moaning, groaning, words catching at the back of his throat as he tries to continue to talk you through it - but he can't. you're fucking him too good, he's gonna cum too.

ropes and ropes of white hot cum fill you, pushed deeper and deeper by his faltering thrusts as his dick twitches with each spray. you gasp, writhing against him as he holds you firmly in place, pulling you down one last time and holding you there as he empties into you completely.

you're whimpering, whining, body jerking as the intensity increases as you roll your hips, riding out the last of your orgasm until you're both left a panting, sweaty mess.

"holy fuck. . ." he whispers into the air, closing his eyes to centre himself, world spinning.

meanwhile, you can't even talk, can't even think about forming words, mind instead occupied with feeling his hot cum dripping out of you.

logan pets the back of your head, stroking your hair gently in an attempt to help you come back into the moment. he wants to thank you, but that's never been his strong suit. instead, he kisses the crown of your head, peppering kisses down along your forehead as he hooks his thumb and forefinger under your chin to bring your face closer to his.

he looks into your hazy, exhausted eyes, his own gaze full of love and appreciation. this is what he lives for - watching you bathe in the afterglow, being lucky enough to look into your eyes every day, being blessed enough to have you here like this.

you greet him with a sleepy, almost bashful smile.

he smiles too, and god, butterflies blossom deep within your stomach. you love him, you love him tired, you love him angry, you love him grumpy, you love him on his back, on top - whatever, you just love him.

"you're too good for me," he whispers as his lips find your forehead once more.

you know those words are his way of saying thanks, but you shake your head in protest, "stop that, not another word."

logan looks into your eyes, really looks at you, those soft hazel hues meeting your gaze. he simply smiles in silence as his hand drifts to your cheek.

the room falls into a comfortable silence, and you wonder how logan ever let you this close. but you don't care, all you care about is taking care of him.

and you will, for as long as he lets you.

[caileeflavoured]

and lead us not into temptation...

father charlie mayhew x fem!reader

© caileeflavoured 2024, do not repost, modify or translate!

synopsis: During Confirmation, God the Holy Spirit comes upon the person, accompanied by God the Father and God the Son. Father Mayhew, too.

a/n: ahhh, how good it feels so channel my religious trauma into absolute filth again. I was never Catholic so idk how accurate the stuff I said is but I did research and tried my best (really no one cares about Catholic accuracies why are you even stressing about this girl)

warnings: 18+, SMUT, dubcon, little bit of a corruption kink, innocence kink, clueless little church mouse!reader, blasphemous shit tbh, virginity loss, unprotected sex, a priest absolutely abusing his position,

wc: 3.2k

MAIN MASTERLIST | GROTESQUERIE MASTERLIST

They told you that the Sacrament of Confirmation was the most important event of a young girl growing closer to God. They told you it was an honour to attend this spiritual ceremony, that it was the culmination of forming a bond with Christ. They told you that it was high time you were finally sealed with the gift of the Holy Spirit.

Father Charlie Mayhew was adamant that you’d finally receive this great gift, having discussed the possibility of a personal Confirmation with your parents after Sunday Mass.

“She’s at an age where it should already have happened,” he told them. “I assume you wish her to get married soon. She ought to finally be strengthened for service to the Body of Christ.”

Your parents trusted Father Mayhew blindly, believing he was a gift sent to earth by the Lord Himself, and quickly agreed. They wouldn’t want their precious daughter to fall into disgrace should a proper suitor be found sooner rather than later.

The priest nodded, visibly satisfied with their consent. “I can arrange it for next week’s Mass, but I  would like for your daughter to come see me for a private confession. The Lord has spoken to me in my prayers, and has tasked me with properly preparing the confirmands. It’s a standard practice at my church.”

Only that it wasn’t.

Father Mayhew had spent many hours not praying, not studying the Scripture, not preparing new sermons since he first saw you in all your womanly glory at Mass. Instead, he often found himself in his office, his pants growing uncomfortably tight just at the thought of you attending Mass every Sunday like the faithful girl you are, hanging on his every word. 

And when you’d get on your knees during the Eucharistic prayer…

His hand would always find its way to his throbbing length during a quiet moment after Mass, the grip on his cock nearly painful as he worked himself towards the highest of highs. And more often than not he would later find white stains on his liturgical vestments, having to go through several clerical outfits in the span of only a few days.

“Tell her to come see me on Wednesday after general confession hour.”

So your parents sent you on your way, Bible in hand, rosary wrapped around your wrist. You entered the empty church, standing between the pews as you clutched your Bible to your chest.

“Father Mayhew?” A timid call for him echoed through the large building, and soon he appeared. 

His chest heaved as he appeared, his robe sitting weirdly on his shoulders as if he had pulled it over his head in a hurry. His hair messy, not slicked back like he usually wore it. 

The appearance caught you off guard, to say the least, and made your blood pressure rise.

“Ah, my new confirmand!” He greeted you with an open-arm gesture, then clasped his hands together. “Happy to see you. What an exciting time it must be for you.”

He closed the distance between you, turning to your side and placing his hand on your back as he led you towards the back of the church. “Let’s go talk in my office,” he said.

“I thought I came to confess?” You asked in bewilderment. “Oughtn’t we sit down in the confessional booth for that?”

But he was quick to shut down your confusion. “No. No, no, no. Let’s not stick to such ancient traditions. I’ve come to learn, in my time as a servant of the Lord, that private confessions are best made in the comfort of a priest’s office. Shall we?”

He opened the door to his office, letting you enter first before closing the door behind his back and quickly turning the lock before you would notice.

“Take a seat,” he motioned towards the armchair on the opposite side of his desk as he sat down in his own chair.

He leaned back and observed you with relaxed eyes. His stoic gaze was intimidating to you, your heart thumping against your ribcage the longer he stared.

“Father?”

The sound of your voice ripped him out of his dirty fantasy, his focus returning to the there and then, which, admittedly, didn’t help much when his hard cock ached from the torturing restraint of his pants.

“Right,” he cleared his throat, bending forward hoping it would cover the growing bulge. “Now, I have to admit I wasn’t quite honest with your parents,” he chuckled smugly.

The picture of you furrowing your brows as you slightly cocked your head to the side in a confused gesture made him lose a couple drops of cum into his boxers. How could a young girl be so cluelessly devoted to God. To him. It made him lose his mind, and throw his holy vows overboard.

To hell with abstinence. Some girls just asked for it. And he knew you were one of them. 

Gifted by the devil himself, a test of his faith and obedience — the bishop had warned him many years ago that the day would come when he would find himself face to face with temptation — and presented on a silver platter right there in his own church. To him, however, a young, ripe girl like you could only have found her way into his office so he could chase the feeling of his former life.

To remind himself how good it felt to lose himself in the warmth of a tight cunt.

“I understand your parents are hoping to find you a husband soon,” Father Mayhew began. “But Confirmation isn’t the only thing necessary in preparation for marriage. You know, there are certain… other things a young woman must be prepared for before she can fulfil her duties of a devout wife.”

“Father, I don’t—”

His hand shot up, immediately shutting down any doubts or concerns you might try to raise. “Tell me… Have you ever touched yourself? After all, this is some kind of confession here, right? God needs you to be completely honest with me.”

He could sense the warmth rush to your cheeks, the way your breath hitched in your throat as your gaze shifted to the floor.

“A simple yes or no will suffice, sweetheart,” he pressed. “This is crucial for your preparation as a confirmand.” His eyes searched for yours. “You can even nod or shake your head if that’s easier.”

Then, finally, he got a reaction out of you. A timid… shake from left to right. “It’s a sin, Father.”

The change in his demeanour evaded you. The way his eyes turned into slits resembling those of a snake, the way he ever so slightly shifted in his seat as his hand carefully moved to his crotch.

A moment of silence passed in Father Charlie’s office as he let your words sink in. You had been even more clueless than he’d imagined. An enticing temptation, one that he had no choice but to succumb to.

“That is very admirable,” he praised you. “However,” he got up, “as part of this… preparation I need you to be… how should I say this… open to… sexual activities.”

He walked around his desk in a few long strides until he stood in front of you and leaned against the edge of the table, folding in hands in front of his crotch as he crossed his legs. He could feel his cock press against his palms through the fabric of his pants, begging to be freed.

“Why should—” You tried to ask, but his hand was quick to shoot up in a silencing gesture. That’s when you first noticed the bulge in his pants.

With your eyes glued to his crotch, Charlie could barely hold himself back from dragging you across his desk and shoving his cock right into your tight little cunt, no matter if you were ready for him or not.

“Get on your knees,” he said in a plain voice. You obeyed instantly.

He took the Bible and rosary from your hands and placed them on his desk before standing up right in front of you, your mouth so perfectly aligned with his length. A few quick movements got him rid of his pants and boxers just enough to pull out aching cock, tip glistening with drops of precum.

He watched your eyes go wild in shock, although he silently wished they would have gone wide from excitement and lust. He’d get you there soon enough…

“From now on, I need you to listen to me, sweetheart,” he instructed. “No more questions, no ifs and buts, alright?”

His eyes stayed focused on yours until you nodded, and he pinched your chin with his thumb and index finger as a gesture of approvement. A pleased look on his face and a satisfied smirk on his lips, he then let his thumb graze along your lower lip before pushing it in.

“Open up.” His voice turned rough, strained even, as he pulled your jaw down and forced your mouth open. 

He could detect a sliver of fear glistening in your eyes as the tip of his cock met your lip, could sense your wanting to ask what he was doing, but was pleased to see you resist the urge to question his actions. 

So he pushed it in. “Yeah, that’s it,” he groaned, feeling your lips instinctively close around him. “Careful with those teeth.”

His hand found the back of your head, his fingers tangled in your hair to get a good grip and properly guide your movements. He pulled back and pushed back in, this time all the way until he heard and felt you gag around him. 

He stopped once he could feel the back of your throat, watching you struggle and start to panic, your hands moving up to the sides of his hips in an attempt to push him back. But, of course, he was too strong for you. 

“Shh, shh,” he cooed. “You’re doing so well.” 

He started to pick up a pace slow enough to relish the feeling of your mouth and not already waste his seed by shooting it into the back of your throat. After a few more thrusts, he pulled out, watching the string of spit connect his tip to your bottom lip with a grin.

“You see,” he started to explain, “in order to become a full-grown adult, which you will be after your Confirmation, you need to understand certain things. And, as the priest of your church, it is my duty to teach you the necessary lessons to let you go out into world with a clear conscience.”

He watched you intently, gauging your reaction to each and every word of his. You were still kneeling in front of him so he bent down, continuing to observe you at eye level. His breath came in slow, hot bursts as it repeatedly hit your face.

“You understand now why I have to do this, do you?” He asked.

You nodded, albeit hesitantly. 

“And you also understand that this is to stay between me and you, and me and you only, right?”

He waited for another nod, and when it wouldn’t come, he raised an eyebrow, his hand gripping your jaw tightly. 

“Do you understand?” He repeated with more force.

“Y-yes,” you mumbled. 

He let go of your jaw, clicking his tongue in approval. “Good. Now I need you to take your clothes off.”

His patience was starting to run thin, especially with the way he couldn’t find any release from this achingly throbbing tension. “Listen, we don’t have much time, and there’s nothing to be ashamed of. This body of yours…” 

This fucking body I need to desecrate. This body, this… tight virgin cunt.

“This body is a gift from God, wonderful and perfect like all His creations. And…” A mischievous smirk appeared on his face. “It’s not like I have never seen a woman’s body before.”

He watched your shy reaction, and your inhibitions crumble slowly. So he gave you one last push. “I’ll take my clothes off too,” he said, beginning to shed his clerical robes. “That way we’re even.”

Father Charlie watched you with satisfaction as you rid yourself of your clothes item by item. “Yeah, that’s a good girl.”

Once the last of his garments dropped on the ground, he told you to sit back down on the armchair, placing his hands on either side of you as he bent over you. His eyes travelled along your frame, wandering over the hills and valleys of your young, unsullied body.

“I need you to move your hand between your legs,” he said. “Touch yourself.”

This time you did what he said without hesitation. He could see your chest starting to heave, your breath visibly and audibly quickening as your hand slowly glided down your chest until it came into contact with your pure pussy for the first time.

“Fuck…” Charlie breathed, the grip on the armrest tightening as he fought the urge to fist his cock for at least some kind of relief. “Yes, just like that. Now push a finger in.”

You did.

“Does it feel wet? Does it slide in easily?” He asked as he observed how your lips parted at the initial sensation of pleasuring yourself.

You nodded.

“Try pushing in a second finger,” he commanded.

You did, your forehead creasing once it slipped all the way in.

“How does that feel? Tell me.”

“It feels…” You began, but couldn’t quite put it into words.

“Good?” He finished for you.

You nodded again.

“Try curling them upwards, like this,” he gestured a come hither movement with his own fingers for you to mimic.

And you did.

“But Father…” You gulped, “isn’t this… a sin?” You asked as you kept moving your hand.

He shook his head. “How can a natural urge be a sin? The Lord gave it to us.”

“I know, but—” His hand was back on your jaw, his digits pressing into the soft flesh of your cheeks.

“No ifs and buts, remember?” he reminded you, his gaze sharp. 

He quickly glanced at the clock. “You’ve been talking too much. Get up.”

You did as you were told while Charlie pushed the clutter off his desk, his movements rushed. He grabbed you by the back of your thighs, practically slamming you onto the desk and standing between your spread thighs.

So close to that heavenly cunt…

“The reason I’m doing this is because it is my duty as a priest,” he said leaning over you, his hand moving down your neck, over your collarbone, then closer and closer towards your chest.

“You need to know what it will be like to lay with your future husband,” he explained, his length pressing against your dripping core as his lips found your neck.

You reacted to his touches so organically, almost like second nature. Like this wasn’t your first time ever experiencing any kind of sexual activity.

Father Charlie knew he finally had you right where he wanted you. Where he needed you.

“It might hurt,” he mumbled against your neck as his hands cupped your tits, your nipples immediately trapped between his fingers as he pinched and pulled on them. “But that pain is gonna turn into something so much better. I promise.”

His lips travelled down your neck as he pushed you back onto the flat, cold surface of his desk, the temperature a stark contrast to your heated body. His tongue glided along your sternum, first to the left, around your now hardened nipple, then to the right, repeating the same process.

Charlie could hear your laboured breaths slowly but surely transform into hot gasps, soft moans falling from your lips whenever his tongue or fingers would graze the sensitive buds of your breasts. He knew he could take it further without much clueless confusion on your part.

He knew he could finally take you like he had wanted to for so long.

So he pushed into you in one rough motion, not stopping until he could feel the soft tissue of your hymen collapse under the pressure of his cock. 

You cried out, your hands instinctively gripping his strong arms, but he was quick to collect both your wrists in one hand and pin them above your head as he grabbed your thigh with the other. 

“Shh, shh,” he shut you up as he pulled your leg up and around his waist, allowing himself to fuck you from a different angle that would make it easier for him to fully thrust into your virgin cunt.

And, Lord, what a tight little cunt you had.  

His breaths escaped his lungs in ragged grunts as he pushed into you again and again, feeling your tight walls give in more and more to make him fit the longer he kept ramming his cock into you. The desk creaked under the pressure of his body colliding with yours, the wood bending with each new thrust that would allow him to slip further into your silky core. 

“Father—” You pleaded, arms unsuccessfully straining against his grip. “It… hurts.”

“Told you. But not much longer,” he said, his voice ragged as he ignored your attempts to make him stop. “Trust me.”

He could feel himself getting there, could feel how difficult it became to keep a steady rhythm. You were squeezing him in the best way possible, and he couldn’t even begin to think about how it would feel to have you milk his every last drop. 

His moans echoed off the walls of his small office when he felt you start to relax around him. “Yeah, that’s right,” he grunted, his voice nearly failing him. “Let me hear you.”

His thumb pulled your bottom lip down so your mouth would fall open, letting those sweet, clueless whines escape your throat freely. That was all he took as a confirmation of your starting to enjoy the way he was fucking you.

And that was all he needed to find his most earth shattering release so far. He pulled out quickly, finishing off with a couple more strokes before he shot hot spurts of his cum right onto your newly stretched and glistening cunt. 

“Look at me,” he groaned as he rode out his high, his eyes fixed on you, your heaving chest, your skin covered in a slight sheen of sweat, your cunt defiled and disgraced by your priest’s cum.

“Now you’re all set for Confirmation,” he said as he helped you up, then handed you a towel. “Make sure you’re clean before you come back for Sunday Mass. And remember, don’t tell your parents. If you can do that for me, I’ll show you much more if you want me to.”

They told you that during Confirmation, God the Holy Spirit comes upon the person, accompanied by God the Father and God the Son. They didn’t tell you Father Mayhew did, too.

[bbokicidal]

Hand Placement - [OT8]

quick summary : where the skz members like to lay their hands on your body during different scenarios.

warnings : suggestive content (18+, MDNI), sexual themes, casual (? ish, ig.) groping

notes : the order of the scenarios goes: casual -> intimate -> sensual so the pictures for each member will be placed in that order for visual reference!

if you like my content and want to see more, be sure to follow & reblog!

₊‧°𐐪♡𐑂°‧₊ bangchan

casual - he can't help it, if he's honest. he knows that actions speak louder than words, and when you're stubborn enough to deny the beauty he tells you he sees through his eyes - well, he hopes that the touch of his hand lingering over your jaw will guide you to see yourself the way he does.

intimate - always holding your hand, chan can't deny that he feels a protective nature over you. he can't let you get lost - can't fight the panic he finds filling his chest when his fingers aren't laced with yours. so do him a favor and just hold on tight, yeah?

sensual - having the need to constantly be using his hands, chan likes to knead that plush of your thighs any chance he gets - and the feeling of the warmth under his fingertips is all the more alluring when you're sitting above him rocking your hips down against his hardening cock.

₊‧°𐐪♡𐑂°‧₊ lee know

casual - never one to hurt you, his grip is always gentle when he grabs hold of your wrist. it's a subtle but sure way to make sure you drop the bratty, teasing nature that riles him up all too quickly - and it's a surefire way to get jisung giggling off to the side at your antics.

intimate - he isn't sure when his love for resting his hand on your lower back appeared, but minho adores getting to hold onto you in such a soft way. it's - again - subtle, but his gesture and guide is firm as he brings you to walk in front of him or lures you away from the counter so he can step forward and pay.

sensual - call him sappy - maybe even a bit romantic - but minho needs to feel your hand in his when he's making love to you. both so he knows you're present and with him in that moment, but also to keep you grounded when he's kissing your cervix with the tip of his cock. <3

₊‧°𐐪♡𐑂°‧₊ changbin

casual - bin loves the feeling of having you in his arms. he can't resist the urge to hug onto you most times - use to being the clingier one in the group and loving that you'll accept his affection with no questions asked.

intimate - and since we're on the topic, who doesn't want a hug with bin's big strong arms wrapped around them? better yet, who doesn't want a strong hug from behind while also getting to play with his fingers and rings? he'll chat away with the others, swaying carefully back and forth with you huddled nice and close, twisting his rings and pulling at his bracelets.

sensual - having a thing for - what do we call it, grabbing? we've seen him do it with seungmin multiple times and you'd be wrong if you think he won't do it to you as well. at first it's gentle caresses along the nape of your neck to guide you into a kiss - but once he's comfortable enough and knows what you like, he'll grab you by the throat, dragging you to him to steal a kiss before guiding you to your knees so you can take his awaiting cock in your pretty little mouth.

₊‧°𐐪♡𐑂°‧₊ hyunjin

casual - thinking it's more funny than anything, hyunjin developed a habit of pressing a hand over your mouth when you got snappy towards other members, namely being minho. because he knew for a fact that you would also get the airfryer-tissue treatment as soon as minho got out of his seat.

intimate - call him romantic, call him a sucker. hyunjin can't get enough of the warmth your body offers him, hands sliding under your shirt when you kiss him so he can squeeze at the softness of your sides and maybe, if he's feeling frisky, trail his fingertips up a bit higher.

sensual - call him a whore. if you're alone together, or you're in the group and everyone's been drinking a bit so he's what we'll call 'loose' in this situation - he's resting a hand right over your center. whether you're wearing pants, shorts, a dress, or nothing at all - he's always got his hand loitering there. maybe even rubbing small circles with his fingertips.

₊‧°𐐪♡𐑂°‧₊ han

casual - jisung is... a sweetheart when it comes to your body. his favorite thing to do no matter where you are, how many people are around, what time of day it is - is play with your hair. he loves the feeling of running his fingers through it and getting to twist it into fun hairstyles. he'll do his best not to rat it up, though.

intimate - his hand being in your back pocket is something he could put on his hobby - because that's a full-time job for him. you're standing beside him? hand in your pocket. you're sitting in his lap? hand under your ass in your pocket. you're standing in front of him in line? whoop - hand in your pocket. maybe squeezing here and there, too.

sensual - did you see this one coming? han jisung is an ass man and i will stand by my word. any time you're alone he's always, always, always touching the tooshie. he'll slide his hands over the soft skin and dig his fingertips in as much as he can while you're in his lap, his lips attached to your throat to muffle his groans. he gets more pleasure out of it than you do, i'd assume.~

₊‧°𐐪♡𐑂°‧₊ felix

casual - ever the sweetheart and gentleman, felix does his best to keep his hands to himself with you in public. but if you're more comfortable and don't mind him holding onto you or being affectionate, he'll often times find himself holding onto your hands or bringing you closer so that you can hold onto his arm.

intimate - it's common this appears at awards shows - felix enjoys showing you off. his hand is consistently resting on your hip, gentle but firm in nature and not necessarily guiding you but moreso just resting there so that people get the hint. you're taken, and he's proud to be your boyfriend. (all days of the week, but when you look this gorgeous? he's bound to adore you just a tad bit more, pride swelling in his veins.)

sensual - felix's hands commonly rest on your sides during moments together. partially because it gives you stability - and partially because he needs to hold onto you while he stares up at your bouncing form above him, his lips parted and eyes fogged like glass with adoration.

₊‧°𐐪♡𐑂°‧₊ seungmin

casual - seungmin's almost always touching you more than he is the others. he'll nudge you with his hip to get you out of his way (playfully, of course) or give you a shove when you're being bratty - even though he's the exact same way. nuisances, i swear. <3

intimate - it's subtle, and soft. but seungmin has a love for linking his pinky with yours, letting his thumb rub over the back of your hand while you sit beside each other. there's no looks or words exchanged - just brief, sweet, quiet moments filled with a dull hum of love.

sensual - contrary to everything i just said, he's a grabber. grabbing your thighs, your hands, your sides - your hair. he has a love for holding your hair back for you while you swallow around his cock, or pulling on it to make you look back at him when he drills into you from behind so hard it almost hurts.

₊‧°𐐪♡𐑂°‧₊ jeongin

casual - there's little to no casual contact with jeongin, simply because skinship isn't his thing. he'll hold your hand or arms here or there in passing, but it isn't often he'll be affectionate with you in public.

intimate - when he is feeling softer, feeling safer when he's alone with you and out of the teasing eyes of his hyungs - jeongin likes to cup your face in his hands. he mentally huffs out a laugh at the way his palms seem to envelope your cheeks completely, but on the outside he's just gazing at you, smitten and soft and falling apart just by the simplest touch.

sensual - his hands tend to wander. they'll caress over every curve of your body when you're splayed on the sheets for him, so willing and wanting and ready for what he has to offer - but they travel along your back most often. you think he just has a want to feel the way your back arches away from his touch, chasing the warmth of his body and writhing with pleasure all because of him.

[pseudowho]

Stoic

When Gojo assumes Nanami Kento's lack of PDA for the reader shows a lack of desire for her, a tipsy Kento is quick to correct him.

Warnings: 18+ drabble, Kento goes on a smutty rant

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'A quick drink' after work had soon turned into two, three, four. Shoko took full advantage of the rooftop bar's balcony, smoking and idly chatting; Higuruma and Atsuya gossipped and quipped, snorting into their drinks; Satoru observed Kento and you keenly behind his dark lens; you stood, excusing yourself to the bathroom as Kento gave you a gentle smile.

"I'm sorry," Satoru interrupted loudly when you were gone, his pot boiling over, "I just-- I just don't get it, Nanami." All eyes were on Satoru and Kento now-- Kento, with one thin eyebrow raised in quiet disdain at Satoru, and Satoru, with his elbows planted forward on his knees in challenge.

A few moments of silence. Kento huffed, "Should I be apologising for someth--"

"--you've been together for years," Satoru interrupted, "and I'm just not convinced. She could be-- she could be a coat rack for all the affection you show her, you're supposed to not be able to keep your hands off her--"

"--you want me to grope my fiancée in public, am I correct--"

"--well maybe, anything to show that you love her--"

Kento laughed out loud, deep and humourless, continuing to chuckle into his glass, scoffing to himself; "Love her," he rumbled, swirling his whiskey, amber eyes flickering and carnal in the firelight.

Shoko had turned, smirking, to watch the scene. Atsuya leaned back, scowling, chewing on a toothpick with crossed arms. Hiromi leaned, glimmer-eyed, into the drama, one hand cupping his jaw and the other clasping his wineglass. He picked up the bottle, slowly beginning to pour another glass.

"I don't love her," Kento spat, downing his glass of whiskey in one smooth swallow, hissing and slamming the glass down on the table, "I worship her. I'm obsessed with her."

Satoru was silent, mulish, as Kento continued.

"I would walk through rains of bullets for her," he mused aloud, "I would cut off fingers with blunt knives--"

"Nanami, alright, I'm sorry--"

"Any second I'm not with her," Kento continued, his voice quieter, darker, the group leaning into him, "is a second wasted. I don't know what point there was in the years I spent without her-- probably just there to build me into even a semblance of the man she deserves--"

"--why are we doing this--"

"-- and when I'm not thinking about talking to her, watching her, being near her, holding her, or-- fuck, just having her look at me goes bone-deep...I spend at least eighty-percent of my time thinking about different ways to make her cum--"

Satoru was blushing now, his face in his hands, while the others leaned into Kento's mild breakdown with awe, "--fucking hell Nanami, I didn't mean--"

"I almost died last week, at work," Kento mused, as a laughing Hiromi slid the glass of wine down the table to Kento, which he caught seamlessly, "because I was too busy thinking about how her mouth had felt around my cock the night before, because I was pondering the many applications for my tie, because I was thinking about how incredible she felt underneath me--"

Atsuya and Shoko whispered together, Hiromi now giggling to himself unashamedly; "Oh he's really going for it--" "I know I know, shhh, let him finish--"

"--and I've been sat here with her all evening, resisting the urge to strip her, tie her wrists together and have her ride me until I go fucking blind, all because of social-fucking-propriety, just for some long streak of jizz like you to say I clearly don't love her--"

Satoru had shrunk in on himself now, his soul quietly leaving his body, mortified and put to rights as Kento tsked, swirling his wine before downing that, too. He accepted the bottle Hiromi slid towards him in approval.

"...it really just is rather rude and presumptuous of you, isn't it, Gojo?"

The group sat in stunned silence as you returned, sitting beside Kento and laying a hand on his crossed knees. You felt the bizarre tension; Hiromi unable to conceal a blush as he looked at you, Shoko giving you a knowing smile around her cigarette, Atsuya unable to make eye contact. You smiled uncertainly.

"...what did I miss?"

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Still waters run deep 💀💀💀

[yuwuta]

CAN’T KEEP MY HANDS TO MYSELF (I MEAN I COULD, BUT WHY WOULD I WANT TO?) — JJK BOYS + TOO HOT

featuring. gojo, okkotsu, choso, itadori, fushiguro

content, warnings. playing too hot with the jjk boys—(too hot is a party game in which two people kiss while keeping their hands to themselves; the first person to touch their partner loses), making out, tongue sucking, uhhh slight predator/prey in yuuta’s oops, they’re a bunch of losers to be honest, there’s a word for the thing yuuji does but i don't know it lolol

word count. 1.6k

SATORU GOJO Satoru is prideful, but you also know that he is nothing if not handsy, borderline clingy on his worst days. The concept of personal space is foreign to him, he’s rarely not touching you when you’re in his proximity, and when you aren’t, he closes that gap—so you’re confident that he’ll lose this game. 

And he does. It takes ninety-two seconds for Satoru to put his hands on you; his palms cupping your cheeks, forcing your jaw open for him to lick at your tongue. You yelp in surprise, try to take in your victory, taunt that you’ve won, but Satoru’s playing an entirely different game now. “I know, I lost,” he pushes his thumbs at the corners of your mouth, parting your lips and staring at your open mouth. Briefly, his eyes flicker to yours, drinks in your pliant expression, the soft touch of your fingers around his wrists, the feel of your body sinking below him, and he smiles, “But I want something else right now. Indulge me?” 

You tap at his right wrist and he moves his thumbs away from your lips, stroking against the soft skin of your cheeks instead so you can speak, “You lost, you’re not supposed to make demands.” 

“Take pity on a rookie like me, won’t you?” Satoru hums, tilting his head to kiss your cheek, then closer, just below your bottom lip, “Please, sweets?” 

“Depends on what you want,” you pout, but your words are strained against Satoru’s kisses. He grins, guiding a thumb back to your lips, this time pressing past the barrier of your lips until they’re wrapped around his digit, smile turning cheshire when he feels you sucking, “I have a different game we can play instead.” 

YUUTA OKKOTSU “Ah, ah—” you pull away from Yuuta, much to his dismay, pulling the hem of your shirt from his grasp, “That counts as touching. You’re not supposed to touch, Yuuta.” 

He’s looking at you intensely, gaze bordering on predatory, slow blinking with blown-out pupils. He nods shallowly, moving his hand from where it was to your side, palm pressing into the couch next to your thigh; it lets him that much closer to you, the tip of his nose grazing yours, you can feel his laborious breaths tickle your lips. Yuuta tilts his head ever so slightly and pauses, blinks, waits—for you to make a sound, for you to tell him no again, for you to run. 

You don’t. He shifts his weight and positions his other hand to rest at your side, caging you between his arms, slotting you underneath his gaze. You curl underneath him, backing up until you’re pressed against the arm of the couch, until Yuuta’s crawled to slot his knee between your legs. You crane your neck away, but you’re still within his reach, and now you’ve presented the perfect canvas for him. He dips his head into your collarbone, leaves a deceptively soft kiss there before nosing up the expanse of your exposed skin and sinking his teeth into your neck. 

Yuuta feels you tense underneath him, body going rigid in a moment of surprise, and then slacking with an exhaled moan, like a bitten bunny. Reflexively, your hands find purchase in his hair, and Yuuta nips over the tender skin, and smiles, “Caught you.” 

CHOSO KAMO “You’re nervous,” you conclude, pulling away from the shallow kiss Choso gave you. 

Beside you, he’s flushed, a hand coming up to reach at the back of his neck as he replies, “I don’t know why,” he exhales, “It’s just... weird to not touch you. I have to think about not touching you, and that means I have to think, which tends to make me, you know... nervous.” 

You giggle, leaning in closer to him, careful not to touch; careful to keep your hips raised above his, even as you straddle him, keep your arms and hands at your sides even though the instinct is to wrap them around Choso’s neck. He doesn’t pull back, even though he should; you like that he doesn’t. “You don’t like to think about me?” 

“No—no! Not like that,” he’s too loud for the proximity, sighing in embarrassment shortly after; you’re too close, way too close, and he’s not supposed to touch, but he wants to—Choso doesn’t like this feeling of restraint, of constriction; it’s too close to when he had a hopeless crush on you, to when he was pining and praying you’d spare him the time of day. Isn’t the point of dating that he gets to have you? To touch you, to hold you—to not hold back? 

“Because I like to think about you,” you admit, leaning in even closer, pressing a kiss to the base of Choso’s neck—and he whines, “I think about you a lot, Choso.” 

The sound of his name from your lips is sweet torture, as is the way you trail your kisses up his neck, up his jaw, behind his ear. Choso’s certain he’s going to rip a hole in his jeans with how taut he’s pulling them between his fists. This isn’t fair—nothing about this is fair. “I don’t want to play anymore,” Choso whines, eyes screwing shut when you suck a hickey onto his collar.

“But we’ve only just started,” you giggle against his skin, “And nobody’s won yet.”

Choso bites his lips, his knuckles are sore, his resolve is weak, and you smell good, you feel good—and he can’t do this. Pathetic, maybe, but he doesn’t care; he didn’t make you yours to try and stay away from you. So, Choso gives in, unwinds his fists, places one hand on your waist, and the other against your back, pulling you flush against him, and burying his face in your neck. 

“There, I lose,” he grumbles, not caring for your laughter reverberating against his chest, “Now I can touch you as much as I want.” 

YUUJI ITADORI “Th—this isn’t fair,” you tremble, attempting to move away from his kisses, but you’re caged in between Yuuji and the wall. There’s nowhere for you to run, nothing for you to grab purchase onto but Yuuji—nothing to do but lose. 

“I didn’t hear any rules against this,” he feigns innocence, suckling at your skin, “Think it’s fair game.”

You close your eyes, trying to focus on something, anything else, but it’s hard when all you can see, all you can feel is Yuuji, Yuuji, Yuuji. Kissing up your neck, at your cheek, then your lips, and you find yourself sighing into his touch, balling your hands into fists to avoid the temptation of cupping his face. 

Yuuji moans when he feels your tongue against his, kisses you back fervently, swirling his tongue across yours and into the cavity of your mouth. He inhales all your breaths, makes it impossible for you to do anything but succumb to his kiss, to swallow his moans, to take everything he gives you. You didn’t expect Yuuji to have this much resolve—you’d anticipated a short, cute round of a silly party game, but you should have known better; Yuuji has never lost a challenge before, and you were naive, at best, to think otherwise.

Predictably, it’s you that lets go first, whining when Yuuji sucks on your tongue, hands trembling and reaching to hold him, to cling to him as some kind of recourse, unable to squirm or move anywhere else. That doesn’t stop him—Yuuji only sucks harder, only forces more moans out of you until you’re digging your nails into his shoulders and bending your knees, weak. 

Then he pulls back, leaving you breathless, tilting his head up to kiss your forehead and flashing you a grin that’s equal parts boyish and wicked with intent, “I win.” 

MEGUMI FUSHIGURO It’s the kind of thing he usually turns down; cliché, fruitless, and unnecessarily time-consuming; but it’s you, so he makes the exception. You’re too eager, positioning yourself to sit on your hands, your legs folded under your knees, peering up at him from where he’s sat slack against the couch, and he thinks you look awful cute on your knees for him.

“Okay, ready?” you smile, “Three, two—” but Megumi already knows his plan, already has his lips on yours before you can say “one,” drinking in your surprised yelp and greedily licking against your tongue when you part your lips to kiss him back. He turns his body towards you slightly, taking advantage of his height and position to bully you into chasing him upwards, to push his tongue into your mouth with ease. 

He indulges in the back and forth for a while, sighs into your kisses, groans when you nip at him. It’s when you pull away, that Megumi decides he’s played along long enough; when he can see your chest swell with heaving breaths, see your hands in your lap, neck craned and spit-slick lips that drive him to reach for you. He’s less than gentle, hands finding purchase on your hips, and forcefully pulling you into his lap, ignoring your yelping, choosing to turn them into moans when he sinks his teeth into your neck. Megumi licks, and bites, and bites, and bites, until he’s certain he’s left a mark, until he feels your hands tugging at his hair and giving him permission to splay his palms against your back and buck you forward.  

“I lose,” he hums, soothing over raw bitten skin with open-mouthed kisses, “So, how do you wanna punish me?”

[cleo-fox]

Surrender

Summary: Finding your soulmate is supposed to be a romantic, life changing experience.

No one tells you what to do when a). your soulmate is the homicidal maniac who led the successful takeover of your planet and made himself king and b). you kind of still want him anyway.

(Soulmate AU where Loki won)

Pairing: Loki x Female Reader

Warnings: Smut, 18+, Minors DNI, dirty talk, praise kink, oral sex, teasing, orgasm delay, sex, vaginal fingering.

A/N: look, I was intrigued by the idea of a Loki Wins AU and also a soulmate AU and this just sort of happened. I may write more of this concept because it gave me IDEAS. This is also available on AO3.

The mark on your wrist begins to burn the minute he walks into the room.

At first you think it’s a coincidence or a mistake—there are guards walking with him, perhaps it’s one of them. But then he flinches, his right hand going to his left wrist and your heart sinks to your knees. It could still be a coincidence, you tell yourself halfheartedly.

He scans the room and when his eyes land on you, it’s like the tumblers of a lock clicking into place and you know.

He’s much taller than you thought he was—that’s the only conscious and coherent thought you manage to have as he approaches you. Being the subject of his gaze is overwhelming in a way that you sort of expect, but it still makes you want to sit down and close your eyes. He looks you over, his gaze lingering briefly on your nametag from work.

“Show me your wrist,” he says.

You don’t think he’s using his powers, but you comply automatically, extending your arm toward him, wrist turned up. There’s a frisson of electricity that buzzes along the back of your hand when he touches it—if there were any remaining doubts about who he is and his relationship to you, that feeling surely puts them to rest. You know that he must have felt something too from the way he looks at you sharply, as though he thinks you’ve done something intentional to cause this. You can only hope that your wide eyed bewilderment convincingly conveys your innocence.

His expression betrays nothing as he examines the mark on your wrist, which is now glowing a bright gold that would be pretty if the circumstances were different.

It’s funny, you think. You’ve been waiting for this moment your entire life and all you can think is that you wish it wasn’t happening.

He releases your hand and looks at you in a calculating sort of way. “Come with me,” he says finally.

You do, of course. What other choice do you have?

*

The next several hours are a blur.

You are shuffled from place to place. Usually there is at least one guard—you’re not sure why. The idea of you being able to do any damage to him is laughable and escape doesn’t exactly seem like an option. Where could you go that he could not find you?

It’s a depressing thought; you try not to think much about it.

You know exactly when the news breaks because it coincides with your phone basically becoming unusable due to the flood of notifications, calls, and texts. You put it on airplane mode to compose a short message to your family and friends. Your reassurances feel a little trite given the circumstances: I’m fine, I’ll call when I can.

You can’t exactly type what you’re really thinking, which is more along the lines of I’ve just learned that my soulmate is the homicidal maniac who led the successful takeover of our planet. I’m doing about as well as you’d expect.

You turn airplane mode off long enough to send the email. Once it sends, you power down your phone. It doesn’t seem prudent to leave it on, at least not right now—right now, it only serves as a reminder of a life you know you’re going to have to leave behind and you’re not at all ready to confront that particular loss.

They eventually take you to what you assume are his rooms. You’re surprised by how traditional the decor is—you had expected a cold sort of minimalism, but there’s more wood and warm colors than you would have thought. You are informed that there are clothes for you in the closet; you nod and say nothing, though you wonder how they managed to pull an entire wardrobe together in the span of only a few hours. Magic, perhaps.

You are finally left alone, though you’re fairly certain that you would find guards stationed outside if you were to look.

You take one of the elegant velvet throws from the bed and wrap it tightly around yourself before settling on the couch next to the window. You’re not exactly cold, but it feels like a necessary armor between you and this unfamiliar place.

You stare out the window for a long time. You’re too high up to people watch and you’re not sure that you could handle that anyway—it would be yet another reminder of the fact that your life has changed in a massive, earth shaking way that you can’t even begin to understand. Instead, you stare at the tiny cars on the city streets below, snaking their way to destinations that feel so far out of your grasp that they might as well be on a different planet altogether.

*

It’s late when he finally shows up—so late that you’ve actually gotten ready for bed, donning one of the silk nightgowns that had been left for you. You can tell it’s more expensive than any sleepwear you’ve ever owned in your life. You’re just glad that it’s modest—you had half expected to find that all your pajamas were bustiers, thongs, and thigh highs in some sort of ill considered attempt to seduce you. But this is elegant and understated, with a matching robe that you cinch tightly around your waist.

You sit on the couch, the throw still wrapped snugly around you. He looks at you, the corner of his mouth curled up in a slight smirk.

“I hope you don’t intend to stay there the entire night,” he says.

“I hardly know you,” you say before you can even contemplate whether it’s wise.

He looks…amused isn’t quite the right word, but there’s a subtle tilt to the corner of his lips—not quite a smile, but maybe somewhere in the vicinity.

“Give it time,” he says, and something about that makes you shiver.

*

You intend to sleep on the couch, at least for these first few nights when everything still feels so raw and strange.

Or that was your plan, anyway.

Loki doesn’t say anything else as he prepares for bed and you stare resolutely at the window so as not to invite any more conversation or prompt any invitations to join him in bed. Eventually, the lights go out and you are left alone with your thoughts in the dark.

The room is much colder at night.

You’re not sure if it’s on purpose, though you wouldn’t be surprised if it was. Perhaps he likes it like this. Perhaps it’s to lure you to him, to tempt you into seeking out the warmth of his bed and body.

You pull the blanket more tightly around your shoulders. Eventually, you allow your eyes to drift shut.

You wake some time later in the middle of the night. The room feels even colder, the velvet of the throw and the silk of your nightgown and robe a scanty defense against the chill. You burrow against the couch cushions and it’s sort of bearable.

But you also have to pee.

You hold off for as long as you can, but you eventually summon the will to leave the couch and seek out the bathroom.

The bathroom is even colder—perhaps it’s all that glass and marble that makes the difference. You’re wearing your robe and you’ve still got the blanket wrapped around you, but your teeth are chattering by the time you wash your hands. You run the water as hot as you can stand, but it only does so much. If you were braver—if it wasn’t your first night here, you would run an extra hot shower and stay under the spray until your fingers and toes pruned and the chill was chased from your bones.

Instead, you hustle back to the couch, burrowing against the cushions, throw and robe wrapped tightly around you. But you still can’t seem to shake the cold. You huddle on the couch, shivering, trying to calm your body.

Time passes and you don’t grow any warmer. You wonder if you can steal another throw from the bed—surely he won’t miss one—when a voice speaks from the darkness.

“Come to bed,” Loki says.

You clear your throat. “What?”

“I can hear your teeth chattering from here. Come to bed and stop being absurd.”

You hesitate, staring into the dark. You consider the cold, the slight kink in your neck from the way you’ve been sleeping on the couch, the late hour, the way that sleep pulls at your eyes. A bed is appealing. Maybe more appealing than it should be.

You find yourself getting to your feet and slowly making your way across the room.

You pause on the other side of the bed—your side, you suppose, though calling it that still feels too intimate. You can just make him out in the dark.

“You’ll stay on your side,” you say, like making it a statement will make it so.

“Well, you hardly know me.” His voice is clipped, more bitter than you expect as he echoes your words from earlier.

You can’t help but scowl. “I’ve known you for less than twenty-four hours and it’s the middle of the night. I’m not doing this right now.”

He laughs. It’s sharp and brittle and unexpected, but it’s a laugh all the same, and something about that helps, if only a little.

You don’t say anything else as you climb into bed. You find that the blankets are warm—warmer than you expect—and heavy. There’s a part of you that expects yourself to be too nervous and on edge to fully relax, but the coziness of the blankets piled around you is oddly calming, even with Loki mere inches away. You hunker down underneath the blankets, situating yourself on the pillows.

He doesn’t say anything and it’s not long until his breathing becomes steady and even.

And after a while, yours does, too.

*

Consciousness creeps up on you slowly the next morning, a far cry from the jarring alarm on your phone that usually disrupts your slumber. You are warm and cozy, cocooned in the blankets, safe from all of the bullshit that had happened yesterday.

It’s such a peaceful, easy awakening that it takes you a moment to realize that you aren’t alone.

It takes another moment for you to realize that your cheek is pressed against Loki’s chest. And to make matters worse, not only are your arms wrapped around his him, your right leg is also flung across his waist, like you can’t bear to be parted from him for even a moment.

But before the panic sets in, there is a barely perceptible moment where your body just enjoys the feeling of being pressed against him. It’s quick and you’d deny it if asked, but the rush that you get from giving into the pull of your soulbond for even that brief moment is nothing short of incredible.

But it’s just a moment and your mind quickly turns to the matter of extracting yourself without drawing his notice. Ideally, he’ll just stay asleep and you won’t have to deal with any awkward fallout. If you move very slowly and carefully, perhaps he won’t notice.

You carefully start to move your leg from his waist.

“To be clear, you’re on my side of the bed,” he says.

God fucking dammit.

You abandon all subtlety and quickly peel yourself away from him.

“I must have rolled over in my sleep,” you say, incredibly conscious of how stupid that sounds.

He smirks, which is somehow worse than if he’d said anything.

“It won’t happen again,” you say.

It does.

This is your new routine: you start every evening on the couch, wrapped up in your robe and throw. You wake some time in the night, teeth chattering. Sometimes, Loki will tell you to come to bed. Other times, you quietly give up and slip under the covers on your side of the bed.

But every morning without fail, you wake tangled around him.

Sometimes, he’s spooned up behind you; more often, though, you’re the one clinging to him. It’s as though your body has a homing device that leads you over to his side of the bed in your sleep, dutifully ignoring all of your stern warnings about who stays where.

The worst part of it is that you’re fighting your own instincts. On a very basic, physical level, you yearn to be close to him. There’s a part of you that revels in these unintentional moments of closeness, that wants to allow yourself to enjoy the feeling of him, to allow him to put his hands on your body, for you to put your hands on him.

The fact that he wakes up noticeably hard most mornings does not make this any easier.

This is a problem that you’re not entirely sure how to solve and the second week in, your desire for information finally outweighs your desire to avoid social media and the deluge of emails and texts that you know are waiting for you on your phone.

You turn your phone back on and immediately delete all of your social media apps. You don’t know what they’re saying about you and you don’t care to. You turn off all of your notifications, even the little number icons that show you how many unread emails and texts that you have. You want absolutely no distractions.

You open a private browser window and pull up Google.

Newly connected soulbonds are the hormonal equivalent of pouring out a bunch of gasoline and striking a match. Soulbonds are intended to be consummated. You know this. There are people who wait it out for one reason or another, but that’s very much the exception—it’s a physical and emotional test of endurance. And you’re beginning to understand why.

The internet is not very helpful. You already know what happens when you don’t consummate a soulbond promptly—increased arousal, restlessness, vivid dreams, and so on as time goes on. You’re more interested in mitigation. You find a few blogs that have entirely irrelevant suggestions like cuddling on the couch or holding hands. “While you’re waiting for intercourse, why not try some outercourse?” one post muses with a level of earnestness that causes you to immediately turn off your phone and fling it across the room.

You’re going to have sex with him at some point. That’s inevitable. On a very basic level, you want him—it’s more or less coded into your DNA. But that is at odds with the reality of who he is and what he’s done. It might feel good to wake up tangled around him, but it only takes a minute to remember the battle of New York and it nearly extinguishes the desire burning within you.

But only nearly and only for now.

*

The third week is when things start getting increasingly difficult.

Loki seems content to wait things out. You can feel the burn of his gaze on you, but he doesn’t push, doesn’t prod.

You, on the other hand, find yourself slipping into a heightened state of arousal that is becoming impossible to ignore. Midway through the week, you finally give in and try touching yourself in the shower in the hope of some relief and you come so quickly and so hard that you have to clap a hand over your mouth to keep from crying out and your legs very nearly buckle from the force of it. A few twitches of your fingers has you sprawled on the shower floor and coming again, harder than before. You repeat this trick a few times but even as strong as it is, it doesn’t really help—you’re back to where you started within minutes.

Worse though, is the fact that it’s his face that you see when you come. Every. Single. Time. You imagine him over you, his gaze dark and intent as he watches you come; slack jawed and hissing in pleasure as he pushes into you; growling in approval and impatience as you take his cock into your mouth. The images come entirely unbidden and stick in the forefront of your thoughts like a burr clinging to wool.

When you see him later that afternoon, his gaze lands on you in such a way that it feels like he knows everything you’ve done and everything you’ve seen, from that moment in the shower to the shameful thoughts you had as you came.

The dreams start shortly after, and they are objectively worse.

The dreams are far more vivid than just images. In the dreams, he’s touching you, coaxing you to peaks you could never have imagined, pressing into you, taking you hard and fast and achingly slow and everything in between. The dreams leave you out of breath and shaky, aching for a touch that you know that you should not want, but do with every fiber of your being. By some miracle, they only seem to occur while you are on the couch and not when you’re in bed, but that luck won’t hold forever.

Perhaps more importantly, you know it’s only a matter of time before you give in. Deep down, you’ve known this from the moment the mark on your wrist started to burn. Your resistance is eroding like a sandcastle at high tide and it’s only a matter of time before you crumble.

But not yet. Not yet.

*

Five weeks after your arrival, you wake sweating and out of breath from another dream.

You take a few deep breaths. It was similar to the ones you’d had before. Thinking about the details makes your core ache and your clit throb so you try to keep them out of your mind.

You’re half surprised that you’re not tangled around Loki, given the content and subject of your dream, but that makes sense when you realize he’s not in bed. Instead, he sits on the couch, staring into the middle distance. Perhaps he is struggling with the same kinds of dreams.

The idea of you making Loki too hot and bothered to sleep is more appealing than you’d like to admit. You hastily dismiss the thought before it can bring any more heat to your already too warm skin or add more fuel to the flickering desire that seems to have settled permanently in the cradle of your hips.

You slip out of bed and go to the window, folding your arms across your stomach as you stare out at the sleeping city.

“You were calling out in your sleep.”

More heat prickles at your skin.

“Hm,” you say, trying your best to sound casual.

“What were you dreaming of?” he asks.

He’s only asking because he already knows the answer. You know this. But the lie still slips from your lips: “I don’t remember.”

He laughs, a quiet and dangerous sound that stokes the fire in your belly. “Have you forgotten, darling, that I am the god of lies?”

You can hear him walking toward you, but you keep your back turned. Has the room always been this warm?

He waits until he is directly behind you to speak again. “Will you lie again when I ask if you were dreaming of me?” His voice is so close, full of depth and a little husky. 

“You flatter yourself,” you say.

You can hear the smirk in his voice, feel the whisper of his breath on your neck. “You’d like to think that, wouldn’t you?” He pauses for a moment. “But you were calling out for me.”

Your lips are dry. You want to deny it, but it feels useless. Worst case scenario, he’s still mostly right: you were dreaming of him and you can’t even really deny crying out for him because you were asleep and you don’t know for sure.

“It’s nothing to be ashamed of,” he continues. His voice drops. “Every time I close my eyes, I see you writhing in pleasure beneath me.” He pauses. “Or I see myself between your legs, worshiping you with my mouth, bringing you to ecstasy over and over before I finally take you.”

Your heart is pounding and every nerve in your body feels as though it’s connected directly to your clit. You are warm—too warm—and you can feel your pulse pounding in your throat.

“What were you dreaming of?” he continues, his voice barely a murmur.

“Nothing,” you say.

He clicks his tongue. “Try again, darling.”

You say nothing and after a moment of silence, he seems to decide that it’s time to switch strategies.

“You must be so wet,” he murmurs, his tone low and soothing.

Your stomach and your cunt clench. If he starts talking dirty to you, it’s over.

“We’re not meant to go this long like this,” he says. “We both know that. It’s been five weeks. Your poor cunt is probably aching for me, just as I ache for you.”

Your breath is coming in shaky gasps. You need him. You can feel your resolve starting to slip.

“Yield to me.” His voice is rough with wanting, like this is just as hard for him as it is for you. “I know you feel it. I feel it, too. You yearn for me, you crave my touch. Let me make you feel good, darling, let me ease that ache. Yield and I will give you everything.”

You draw in a shaking breath and slowly turn to face him. He’s looking at you with an intensity that you expect, but it takes your breath away nonetheless.

The remnants of your resistance are lost to the wave of him and the only thing that’s left in its place is a raw need like you’ve never experienced before.

You don’t know what to say, so in the end, you settle for his name. Just his name, said quietly with all the desperation and longing that has been making your life hell these past few weeks.

You get a glimpse of the fire in his eyes before he’s on you.

There’s nothing gentle about this kiss. It’s the kiss of two people who have been deprived of each other for too long, your teeth bumping against each other, tongues twisting and tangling. You end up pressed against the wall next to the window, your leg wrapped around his waist, his hand supporting your thigh. He presses his hips against you and you moan into his mouth at the feeling of his hard cock dragging against your swollen, sensitive clit. He draws back slightly to look at your face as he slowly grinds his hips against yours, his free hand moving to palm your breast over the silk of your nightgown.

You moan again, your head dropping back against the wall. The soft, slippery friction of the silk of your nightgown against your nipple and the soaked lace of your underwear rubbing against your clit is enough to make you go cross eyed, a slow tease that only fans the burning embers within you. Your body is overheated and too tense, but Loki is blessedly cool in a way that somehow both soothes and inflames.

“You’re drenched. I can already feel that,” he says, his voice thick with desire as he moves against you. “I could make you come like this.”

You whimper, rocking your hips back against him. “Please.”

He shakes his head. “Another time. Tonight I want to feel you when you come.” He drops his hand from your breast, trailing down your stomach and moving in between your legs. His fingers slip beneath your underwear, and you let out a needy whine as he strokes the slick folds of your sex. “Is this all for me?” he asks, his voice slipping into a low growl.

You barely manage a breathy affirmative.

“Sweet thing.” His thumb rolls over your clit as he slides one finger into you, and your back arches automatically, your breasts jutting out. “We’re going to have to do something about this, aren’t we?”

“Please,” you breathe.

“How can I resist such a sweet plea?” he says, sliding another finger into you and curling it just so. “Or such a wet and needy cunt?”

“Don’t stop,” you say.

“I ought to make you beg me for it after everything you put me through.” His eyes darken as his thumb presses against your clit and you moan. “But perhaps I can be generous. I can feel how much you need to come on my fingers.”

You nod, slack jawed and panting.

“You’ve been waiting for this,” he murmurs. “You’ve tried to deny yourself, but you need me, you need my touch.”

You whimper, your hips rocking.

“Say it,” he says, stroking your clit.

“I need to come,” you moan.

“A good start,” he says, his voice a stern purr. “But not quite what I asked, my love. Try again.”

A twinge of irritation manages to work its way to the forefront of your mind. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I’m not exactly in a state to be playing twenty questions.”

His eyes light up with a predatory gleam that heralds the arrival of something that you know will end enjoyably for you.

“Oh, darling, that attitude won’t do at all.” His fingers are immediately and conspicuously absent and you very nearly cry out in frustration. But before you can, he is sweeping you into his arms and making the journey to the bed in several long strides. He sets you gently on the bed and looms over you, green eyes flashing as his hands stroke up your thighs. You lift your hips and he pulls your underwear off, tossing it to the side.

“Let’s try that again, shall we?” His voice is a growl. “Tell me what you need.”

“I need to come.” You know it’s the wrong answer, but this particular game of cat and mouse and the predatory gleam in Loki’s eyes are making you even wetter and god, you need him.

His eyes flash with a barely concealed delight. “Try again.”

You spread your legs rather conspicuously, hiking your nightgown up to your waist. “I need to come.”

He’s looking at you intently, lips slightly parted. “You’re trying to distract me with that pretty cunt, you wicked thing.”

“Is it working?” you ask.

He lowers his head to kiss the inside of your left knee. “It would work much better if you answered me properly and told me everything you need.”

You think you have an idea of what he wants to hear, but you’re not quite ready to give up the game yet. Instead, you pull your nightgown up and over your head and toss it to the side. His eyes are dark as he looks at you, his gaze lingering on your breasts and trailing down to the apex of your spread legs. You wonder what it would take to make him lose control, to take you in the way that you both need.The thought sends another flood of heat to your aching core. 

You lick your lips. “Will you make me come, Loki?”

Another wolfish grin. “Closer. But not quite. Try again.”

You let your hand slide down your stomach and between your legs and you part your sopping folds so he can see the full extent of what he’s done to you—every dripping inch. The look he’s giving you now only heightens the feeling.

“Should I make myself come?” you ask and you’re immediately rewarded with an almost feral look and a sharp smack to your ass.

“Don’t you dare,” he growls.

You put on your most innocent expression, even as his visible hunger makes you ache. “I thought you’d like seeing me touch myself.”

“Oh, there will be time for that later,” he says, his eyes still dark. “I’m particularly interested in seeing what prompted those intriguing little noises I kept hearing while you were in the shower. But every tremor of pleasure that wracks your body tonight will be from me alone. Now,” his eyes glitter and his hand replaces yours on your cunt, his long fingers spreading you open, but not touching you, his expression rapt with undisguised greed, “tell me what you need.”

Your capacity to tease and resist him was well and truly exceeded when he smacked your ass and was further obliterated by the monologue he just delivered. “I need you to make me come, Loki. I need you so bad.”

His smile is filled with dark promises and a hunger that you have every interest in sating several times over.

“Good girl,” he says.

And his fingers slide back into you as his mouth envelopes your aching clit.

You moan as your hips lift and your hands tangle in his hair. He mumbles something that sounds like “perfect” against your clit, first teasing you with the tip of his tongue and then pressing it flat against you and rubbing in slow circles. Meanwhile, his fingers have found that soft, aching spot inside of you and he presses against it in slow, firm thrusts that make you tremble.

You initially think that you’ll be quite quick to come because you’re already so wound up, but Loki seems determined to find the edge and keep you there for as long as possible—and he’s really, really good at it. He falls into a rhythm where his tongue strokes your clit once, twice, three times and withdraws; his fingers pick up the thread, stroking your walls once, twice, three times and withdrawing, only for his tongue to resume where he left off. In this way, he keeps you balanced on the edge in a perfect kind of torture. It feels so good, but it’s not quite enough to get you there just yet.

You make liberal use of his name—it’s a plea, a curse, a benediction, a moan, a sigh. Instinctively, you know that he likes this, but it’s not enough to distract him into letting you fall even a moment before he wants you to.

The ache that’s been building in your hips for the last couple weeks is growing, burning bright and warm. Your body feels electric in the best way, your nerves humming and buzzing and straining for release.

“Loki,” you moan, partly as encouragement and partly because you want him so badly.

You’re so close. Your entire body is tense and trembling; all you can think about is how badly you need to come, how much you are aching for your release.

So close.

“Loki, please,” you moan, truly desperate now. “Please let me come. Make me yours—”

You’re not sure if it’s what you said, the desperation in your voice, or pure coincidence, but in that moment, he shifts his rhythm so that his mouth and fingers are no longer alternating, but are instead moving in sync. And this is what you need to tip you over, to allow that wave to finally, finally crest and then break.

Your orgasm hits you hard, pulling a loud moan from deep within your chest and making your entire body quake. Sparklers are dancing along your veins, champagne bubbles fizzing along your muscles, stars bursting behind your eyes. You have never felt anything like this before—you are satisfied but also aching for more, falling apart and being remade over and over again.

It’s only when you’re decidedly in the blissful wave of the aftershocks that he dares to lift his head and he looks you over like you’re something wonderful. Before you can raise your hands to reach for him, he’s crawling up to you, claiming your mouth in a kiss that feels deeper than the ocean.

He slides his hand in between your legs and you whimper, shivering at the sensation of his thumb stroking your sensitive clit. But somehow, he finds that particular angle and pressure that’s just enough, but not too much. You moan and he slides a finger back into you, rolling in the same rhythm as his thumb on your clit.

“That’s it,” he murmurs. “Keep going for me, darling. I want to watch you come this time.” His voice is so firm and authoritative and it strikes sparks up and down your spine.

“Fuck,” you gasp, your hips rocking with his hand.

“You’re doing so well getting ready for me,” he purrs. He lowers his voice to a rough growl. “I can’t wait to fuck you until you’re trembling and coming all over my cock like the wicked, filthy girl that you are.”

It’s the combination of his words and his voice and his perfect hands that does it this time. A rolling, fluttering shudder fizzes through your body, building to a peak that has you letting out a guttural moan as you clench around his thrusting fingers.

“Yes, that’s it,” Loki says as he watches you through hooded eyes. “You are gorgeous when you come undone.”

He kisses you slowly, fingers moving steadily until the final shudder rolls through you.

Somehow, through all of this, he’s remained fully clothed. There’s an aspect to this that’s appealing—it makes everything feel particularly decadent and a little forbidden—but your palms are practically itching with your need to touch him. You need him inside you, but you also need him close, bare skin on bare skin.

Your hands sneak under his shirt and you suck in a sharp breath when you feel the heat of his skin underneath your palms. You tug his shirt off him and make quick work of his pants before drawing back to look at him.

He looks like art. It’s a silly thought, but there’s some truth to it—there’s an almost ethereal quality in the sharp angles of his face and the elegant symmetry of his musculature. 

Your gaze drifts down to his cock. He’s long, thick, and hard, the tip flushed and slick with pre-come. An ache courses through you—something about seeing the full evidence of his arousal makes everything seem more real, makes you want him with renewed ferocity.

You want to touch him and so you do, your fingers curling around his shaft.

“Can you feel how much I need you?” he asks as you stroke him slowly. He is remarkably composed, though you catch the slight hitch in his breath and it sends a thrill through you.

“Will you show me?” you ask.

“Every day,” he says.

It’s an answer you’re not expecting. You were speaking strictly in the immediate, physical sense. This feels deeper, more meaningful. You’re not quite sure what to say, so you kiss him and he kisses you back with an intensity and thoroughness that makes your toes curl.

He rolls over you, his body covering yours. It’s almost overwhelming how good his bare skin feels against yours. You take his cock in your hand again and stroke him, slowly rubbing the tip from your clit to your entrance, coating him in your slick.

You expect him to just push forward when you guide him to your entrance and you’re almost disappointed that he doesn’t—you’ve both waited so long for this and your need for him is burning inside you like an inferno.

But instead he pauses, his eyes locked with yours.

“Will you have me?” he asks. There’s vulnerability in the question, a softness in his green eyes that you don’t expect. It feels like a loaded question, though not necessarily in a bad way.

You don’t hesitate. “Yes,” you breathe.

Something like relief flashes briefly in his eyes before he leans in and kisses you. You tilt your hips up again and this time, you feel the blunt head of his cock slowly press into your waiting warmth.

You’d read people describing first times with their soulmates and it had always sounded so hyperbolic and silly. They’d throw around words like euphoric and transcendent and all you could do was try not to roll your eyes.

But the moment Loki is fully seated inside you, you finally get it. Every overwrought, overused cliché seems to occur to you all at once—puzzle pieces falling into place and locks and keys and halves made whole and all that bullshit—and it all makes sense in a way that it hadn’t before.

Loki’s eyes are stormy above you, to the point that you think you may have angered him, but then he kisses you with a ferocity and possessiveness that steals your breath and makes you tighten around him.

“Mine,” he growls against your lips. “Mine.”

There’s a lot of emotion in that word. There’s history in that word. It’s the sort of thing that the two of you will probably need to unpack later. For now, though, you wrap your legs around him and meet his demanding, hungry kisses with your own.

“I’m yours,” you murmur against his lips. “Take me.”

You expect him to respond to that plea with a frantic pace. But instead, his first thrusts are slow, like he’s savoring it. Your body yields to him instinctively, your muscles drawing him in and then tightening further as he withdraws. You are so slick, so ready for him that it almost feels a little obscene.

“You are exquisite,” he rasps as he sinks into you, his head bowing to kiss and nip at your neck. “I have been aching for you.”

“Yes,” you breathe. “Please.”

You’re not entirely sure what you’re asking for—more of this, more of him—but he seems to know anyway. He kisses you deeply as you wrap your legs around his waist, rolling your hips up to meet his.

In one fluid motion, he rolls you over so that you are on top. He looks up at you, an irrepressible smirk curling at the corners of his lips.

“Go on,” he says, his voice low. “I want to see you take your pleasure from me. Claim your throne, my love.”

A shiver works its way up your spine. This is a man who single-handedly conquered the entire planet and he’s telling you he wants you to ride his cock until you come. It is raw and sexy and undeniably hot and the way he’s looking up at you makes you feel beautiful and powerful.

You lean forward, bracing your hands on the mattress, tilting your pelvis until you find the right angle, the one that makes your stomach tighten and your breath stutter. 

A smile twitches at the corners of his mouth. “Right there?”

You let out a shaky breath and rock your hips. “Yeah.”

It takes a moment for you to find your rhythm, but you find that you want—or perhaps need—to go slow and steady. Loki watches you, his hips rocking with yours as he lets you set the pace, his hands sliding from your hips to your breasts and back again, like he can’t get enough. His gaze is intent and intense and you get the sense that he’s cataloging every movement, every gasp or sigh, furrowed brow or bitten lip.

The coil in your hips is starting to wind tighter and you know it won’t be long. 

As though he knows, Loki slides a hand down your body, palm gently pressing against your lower stomach. A fantastic pressure begins to blossom in your hips and you whimper.

“You’re doing so well,” he purrs. “So tight and wet. You’re perfect.”

“Getting close,” you breathe.

“I know, I can feel you,” he says.

You’re at a point somewhere beyond words, riding that wave, chasing bliss that you can almost feel. A choked whimper falls from your lips.

“That’s it,” rasps Loki. “Be a good girl and come on my cock.” He flicks his thumb against your clit and you completely unravel.

It was good the first two times, but having him inside you as you come sends you to another plane of existence entirely. Your orgasm seems extended, the feeling of his cock against the spasming muscles of your cunt creating more even rippling pleasure. And the noise that he makes, the filthy praise that falls from his lips, the way that his fingertips dig into your hips just makes it all better.

He rolls you over onto your back just as you’re starting to feel boneless, and pulls you into a deep kiss.  He thrusts into you, a little faster than the pace you had set, but still slow and steady.

“I want to feel you come again,” he breathes. “Do you have any idea how long I’ve waited for this, how good you feel?”

You shudder as his cock drags again against that spot inside you. He repeats the motion and you keen, tangling your fingers in his hair.

“That’s it,” he rasps, bringing your leg up over his hip to press even more deeply inside of you. “Come on, darling. Let me feel you.”

You wrap your arms around his neck, meeting his hungry, demanding kiss with your own. You roll your hips with his, chasing the flickers of bliss that he’s steadily stoking to an inferno once more.

“Please,” you mumble against his lips. “Need you. Please.”

He groans and increases his pace just enough to make you whimper. The desire inside of you is catching fire.

“I…fuck, I—” Your hands are gripping his shoulders, your body shaking as you approach your end.

Loki’s eyes are wild, his teeth bared. You can tell that he’s close, that he’s chasing the same incredible feeling that you are.

“I want you to come for me,” he grits out. “And the second I feel your tight cunt start to tremble around me, I’m going to come inside you.

You moan, fingernails digging into his shoulders. You are unbearably close.

“Do you want that, darling?” he says. “Do you want me to come inside you? Do you want your perfect cunt filled with my seed?”

You are almost beyond words, but not quite: “Yes. Please.”

Despite how close he is, he still gives the impression of being entirely in control. He lowers his head so that his lips graze yours and his eyes are all that you can see. “Then come for me,” he says.

Two more deadly smooth rolls of his hips and you do. A guttural, plaintive sound falls from your lips as your whole body trembles with the force of your orgasm, your cunt squeezing around the girth of his cock. He groans, mumbling something in a language you don’t recognize before he, too, starts to unravel.

His face is rapturous when he comes, his head tipping back and his mouth falling open, brow furrowing. If you weren’t so distracted with the rippling shocks of your own pleasure, you would try to commit it to memory. Instead, you simply try to enjoy the feeling of him emptying himself inside of you, the stuttering thrust of his hips, the soft groan that falls from his lips. Finally he stills, resting his head in the crook of your shoulder. You can feel his heart pounding against yours.

You feel…it’s not different, exactly, but there’s a kind of ease and connection that just feels right. The restless ache inside of you is finally quiet and you feel loose and languid and pleasantly sleepy.

Finding your soulmate isn’t necessarily the same as falling in love. Sometimes it all happens in the moment. Sometimes it’s years in between.

For you, though, you can pinpoint the exact moment that seed was planted: Loki raising his head to look at you, his hand curled against your cheek. His gaze is careful, reverent, like you are as warm and golden as the dawn just barely beginning to streak the morning sky.

[nanaslutt]

Body search gone wrong

ʚ ft: Officer Suguru Geto

ʚ cont: fem reader, public sex, fingering, handcuffs, inappropriate body search, implied alcohol consumption but reader is sober, dirty talk, degradation, praise, spanking, rough sex, dacraphillia, hair pulling

MINORS AND AGELESS BLOGS DNI

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ

Your vision shook when your body was slammed down against the hood of your car, your hands held tightly behind your back. "Fuck!" You yelled, wincing at the dull pain and the freezing metal your body was pressed against. "I told you not to resist didn't I?" A deep voice rang out behind you. The officer's body heat bled through your clothes, warming you up a bit, a nice contrast from the freezing air. His knee planted between your spread legs kept you apart as the officer reached for his cuffs, the metal clinking together.

"I wasn't even fucking doing anything." You shot back, wiggling against his hold. The man's body was pressed harder against yours, the metal cuffs squeezing around your wrists. "I told you to stop resisting." You rolled your eyes. You tried to look at his face from over your shoulder, but it was already pitch black, and the light from his car behind you blinded you.

"Now you gonna answer my question? Huh?" The officer's hot breath tickled the back of your neck. When had he gotten so close? You wriggled your shoulders against the car, silently telling him to back off. "I was at a fucking party dipshit, why do you think I'm dressed like this?" You said, your words coming out harshly. 

The officer clicked his tongue, his lip curling at your attitude. "Such a disobedient girl. I don't think you're in a position to fight with me right now." The officer abruptly yanked you up, your dress threatening to roll up even further than it already has. He kept a hand between the two of you, gripping your wrist harshly to make sure you couldn't run. 

His other hand grabbed the bottom half of your face, and before you knew it, your head was being turned to the side so he could have a better look at you. You instantly sobered up, all of the anger leaving your body when you came face to face with him. His eyes were sharp and slanted, dark. His face looked like it had been hand sculpted by gods, and his long hair flowing out from under his work hat looked so soft, you wanted to reach out and touch it.

"Such a pretty face. How unfortunate it would've been if you'd died while drunk driving." The officer spat, clicking his tongue again. He shook his head at you, looking at you disapprovingly as he scanned your face. "I'm not even drunk, 's just late it all, had a long night." You retorted, avoiding his face as you felt a warmth spread through your body. 

"Oh yeah, I can see that." He responded, looking at you smugly. You could only stand in astonishment as his thumb wiped down the side of your lip, collecting the smeared lipstick that was smudged on your face. When he pulled his hand away you could see the maroon color of your lipstick on his thumb, making your face burn at his words insinuation. "You can't fool me, girl, you reek of alcohol." He added, letting you turn your head away from him again.

You stayed quiet, looking out into the dark forest around you. The officer took a moment to lean back unnoticeably and scan his eyes over the backside of your body, his eyebrows raised at what he saw. "You got any weapons on you?" He suddenly said, making your face scrunch in confusion. The dress you were wearing barely covered your body, the fabric probably too thin, where on earth would you be hiding a weapon?

"Oh yeah forgot to mention I'm strapped because I have sooo many places to hide a weapon on me right now." You retorted, snorting at his suggestion. "Oh, so you got jokes now?" He responded, "What changed? You were acting like you wanted to knock me out a couple of minutes ago." 

The officer's banter and casual talk with you made your veins pop out in your head in annoyance. Pretty privilege really did exist, because although he was right, you still wanted to kick him in the balls, you also wanted him to have his way with you in ways you probably shouldn't. 

You stayed silent, pressing your lips together firmly so as to not say something you would regret. "You done jokin' around now? That was fast." the officer responded before walking you forward into the car. Your knees hit the rubber of your tire, the man's body follows right behind yours, pressing firmly against you. You could feel every bump and ridge of the weapons on his belt against your back.

"Legs." He said, a little too quiet to sound demanding. You obeyed, spreading your legs to make room for him. The throbbing between your legs was much more intense now, there was no way he didn't know what he was doing. His knee pressing firmly between your own, centimeters from your cunt, made you swallow hard, your breath picking up.

Your wrist was released from his harsh grip, your arm instantly throbbing hot as blood flowed back into that area. His hands started at your sides, just under your arms. You thought officers were supposed to use the back of their hands when they searched someone, but you must've been mistaken because officer whoever he was was groping your body with his palms.

His large palms slid under your tits before sliding down to your stomach, pressing firmly against you. "You body search everyone like this?" You asked, leaning your body back slightly against him. "Or just drunk girls?" He didn't seem to like your insinuation as you were slammed back down against the hood of your car, his hand on your lower back. "Thought you weren't drunk?" He responded, his hand slowly sliding down your back, almost teasingly.

You bit your lip, hoping he couldn't see your face from here in the darkness. His hands grabbed your hips before rubbing down your bare thighs. Your knees threatened to buckle, his touch was so warm. The officer got down on his knees and felt your legs, your legs only clan in a tight pair of thigh-high socks with small black heels resting against your feet. It was obvious you weren't hiding a weapon there. 

Geto circled your ankle with his hand before grabbing the bottom of your shoe with another hand, pulling your foot out as if he were checking your shoe. You pointed your foot at him before rolling it around dramatically. "Pervert." You whispered under your breath, a word you thought he wouldn't hear. Looking up, he had a perfect view of your panties from under your tiny party dress, the black lace panties barely covering anything.

Giving your foot one last rub, he placed your heel back on your foot before raising to his feet again, his hips connecting with your ass once more. "Did you find what you were looking for, officer?" You said, trying to look back at him, wiggling your hips against him as you spoke. "I haven't finished checking everywhere." He replied with a hint of mischievousness laced in his voice, making you raise your eyebrows in confusion.

Suddenly, your bare ass was exposed to the cold air around you, sending a wave of chills over your body. "Might be hiding something here. Can't take any chances." Geto spoke, a smile creeping on his face when your knees pressed together, your hips wiggling more impatiently back against him. "You're right, I could be dangerous." You teased, smiling as you pulled your lip between your teeth.

The cold you once felt against your skin was replaced by two large hands, grabbing and massaging the fat of your ass. You made a noise of surprise at his rough handling of your body. Your breathing picked up, his thumbs massaging so close to where you desperately needed to feel him. You would absolutely be telling this story to your girlfriends when you got outta this mess.

"Do I have your permission to search you down here?" The officer asked the sudden ask for your go-ahead catching you a little off guard after how much he's already done, not like you minded. "If I say no are you gonna let me go officer?" you teased, arching your back against him. Geto pressed his lips together and looked down at you rubbing yourself against his bulge. He wondered if you knew what you were feeling was his cock or if you thought it was some weapon on his holster.

Your back was enveloped with a sudden warmth, making you release a few aroused hums through your breathing as you felt Geto's breath tickle against your neck. "Yeah, I'll stop... but I don't think you want that, do you?" He asked, biting your earlobe between your teeth. You had forgotten how things got to this point, but you were far from complaining. 

"No sir..." You replied, voice all breathy and full of need. "I know." He replied, his hand reaching under your body to rub his fingers firmly against your clit. Your jaw opened against the car in a silent moan, an action Geto mimicked. "You're soaked." Geto groaned against your ear, his cock throbbing in his pants. You only moaned in reply, your eyes rolling back in your head as his thick fingers rubbed expertly against your little bud, your wetness seeping through the fabric and onto his fingers.

"Fuck... officer..." You whined, wiggling against him, your hands pulling against the cuffs. "Suguru." He replied, kissing right under your ear, "Call me Suguru sweet thing." You nodded before releasing a sweet moan of his name, a sound that was greatly appreciated and swiftly rewarded by him pulling your panties to the side. His hot fingers against your bare clit with nothing between made you press your thighs together. 

"You like that pretty?" He whispered, his deep voice sending pangs of arousal to your cunt. "Uh-huh." You nodded, trying to look at his face through your fuzzy eyes. "You want 'em inside you?" He asked, teasing you by rubbing his fingers down to your entrance, only rubbing circles around the hole there. You nodded quickly, tears nearly forming in your eyes. "P-please Suguru... please."

"Look at me." He responded, his voice calm but breathy. You did as he said as he brought his head to the side of your face, reducing the strain on your eyes. His gorgeous face came into view as a shadow blocked it from the light of his car. "That's it, keep looking at me." He nodded, licking his lips as he rubbed delicious circles against your tight hole. Your eyes fluttered as you fought them from rolling back in your head, not wanting to miss a single thing.

Suguru's jaw fell open ever so slightly as he started pressing a single finger against your wet opening. He groaned with you as your pussy greedily swallowed up his finger, your tight walls squeezing around him at the intrusion. "Oh fuck, it's so warm." He groaned, his eyebrows furrowing together. You finally let your eyes roll back in your head before they fluttered shut at the pleasure.

Geto slowly thrust his finger in and out of you a few times before he pulled it almost completely out and added a second finger. Your cunt welcomed the stretch, your wetness spilling out around them. Geto rutted his hips needily against your ass, trying to bring his dripping cock some relief as he dealt with how tight and hot you felt around his fingers.

"Move your hips, fuck that ass back against me baby. Take what you need." He groaned, standing back up and keeping a hand on your lower back. He pushed your dress higher up your body, exposing the mid of your back while he finger fucked you. Now that he was standing, the base of his fingers and palm were pressing against your clit, making you see starts as you did your best to move your hips against him.

You whined when he curled his fingers, matching your slow pace. "Please... please faster Suguru please-" You gasped, your legs shaking at such a small amount of pleasure already. He clicked his tongue against his teeth and smiled while shaking his head. "You can't even follow simple instructions, can you? Dumb girl." With those words Suguru's left a harsh smack against your bare ass, making you yelp before he places his hand next to your body on the car and started pistoning his fingers in and out of you.

"Yeah- yeah fuck- just like that-" You cried shamelessly, your hands clenching and unclenching in your restraints. "You like it rough? Huh?" Suguru groaned, feeling himself leak pre-cum against his boxers hearing the loud squelching emant from between your legs. "Yeahh- yeah I love it-" You cried, nodding while you whined through your teeth, your hips wiggling and bouncing back against him on their own.

"You're so filthy y'know that?" He groaned, curling his fingers against your g-spot each time he thrust his fingers inside, making your brain short-circuit. "S-says the cop fucking a g-girl he pulled over for drunk driving," You responded, giggling through your moans. Suguru returned a short laugh, his eyebrows raising at your words. "I'm not even fucking you." He replied. "You want me to? My fingers not enough for you?" Geto teased.

You bit your lip and sucked a breath in through your teeth, feeling your orgasm steadily approaching. "M-make me cum like this first, a-almost there." You begged, your eyebrows pinching together. Geto laughed, shaking his head at your shamelessness. "Only because I'm feeling nice." He replied, curling his fingers harder against you.

He did his best to rub his palm against your clit in a way that stimulated it just right, making your walls tighten as you got closer and closer to your high. "Fuck- right there oh- ohmygod right there-" You cried, your legs starting to shake, your body jerking and twitching against the car. "Yeah... cum all over my fingers so I can fuck you over the hood of this car." He groaned, pulling his lips between his teeth as he watched you shake and writhe for him.

Your moans got quiet and your jaw fell open in a silent scream as you came all over his fingers, your walls squeezing tightly against them, making it hard for him to move. "Good girllll, good fucking girl." He praised, rutting his hips against your ass as your body jerked and shook against him. Your legs threatened to give out from under you, but you knew even if they did, he would catch you.

Geto pulled his fingers out from your wetness, leaving you to catch your breath and recover from your orgasm. His warm hand patted softly against your ass before it retracted and you heard a clinking sound followed by a zipper.

You tried to turn your head enough to look at what he was doing but your head was shoved back against the cold metal of the car by his large hand. You could hear the squelches from behind you as Geto jerked himself off over your ass, his cock occasionally tapping your ass as he stroked himself. "Don't look, don't want you to get scared and run away now." He said, a smile on his face that you couldn't see. 

His words made you swallow hard, was he really that big? So big he was afraid you would tap out? "Just p-put it in already." You begged, pretending to be confident about taking his size as you wiggled your hips back agaisnt him. "You sure are eager huh? You must really not want a DUI on your record." He teased before running his hand down your shoulder blades, over your arms, and pressing against your lower back.

"It's not that." You said, your voice breathy and full of lust. "You're the hottest cop I've ever seen, wanted to fuck you from the moment I saw your face." You smiled, your eyes barely catching him from out of your peripherals. You gasped when you felt his blunt head press against your cunt. He rubbed his tip against you, getting ready to push it in. "Such a sweetheart," Geto replied before you felt the burn of his cock stretching you open.

Your hands balled into fists, your arms jerking against the cuffs as your walls were forced to make room for his cock. A tear immediately welled up in your eyes from the overwhelming feeling. It wasn't all painful, it was just so much, he was filling you up completely. "Good girl, just relax and take it... there you go..." Suguru soothed, his eyes raking up your body as he fully penetrated you with his cock, his hand staying against your lower back.

"Holy ffffuck-" You gasped, fighting to catch your breath as he stilled inside you, giving you a second to adjust to his length. It felt like he was in your stomach, you couldn't imagine how it was going to feel when he actually started fucking you. "It's big huh? You feel it all the way in there? Stretchin' you open?" Geto teased, his thumb wiping the tear from your face before he brought it up to his mouth and licked it off.

"S-suguru- I-its so much, s-so deep-" You cried, being able to do nothing but whine and cry while his heavy cock rested inside you. He smiled before leaning his chest over your body and kissing your cheek, his lips eagerly catching any stray tears that fell. "I know, but you're gonna take it aren't you? Gonna take it even when I cum isn't that right?" He groaned against the side of your face, his hot breath tickling you, making goosebumps arise down your spine.

Geto slowly pulled his hips out of you before thrusting them back inside, fighting the urge to whine like a bitch at how good your pussy felt. "I asked you a question," Geto repeated, biting your earlobe as he continued slowly thrusting in and out of you, pulling as much of his cock out of you as he could before thrusting it back inside, making sure you were feeling it nice and deep.

You cried out before nodding, your moans broken and whiney from just a few thrusts. "Cos you're a good girl, just a good little cockhungry slut." He whispered, picking up his thrusts, his own words riling him up. You nodded, hardly even registering his words as he spoke. His cock was rubbing agaisnt your g-spot so perfectly, it was making you dumb. Combined with his balls slapping against your sensitive clit after each thrust, you were slowly becoming cock drunk. 

"God this pussy is so tight... can barely move." Geto groaned, his eyes fluttering in their sockets before he fucked against you harshly, making his tip fuck right into your sweet spot. The moan you released made his balls throb, it was so desperate and feral.

He leaned up off of your back once more, staring down at the place the two of you were connected. The fat of your ass rippled each time he fucked his hips against yours, making a dopey grin spread across his face. Your juices were already getting all over his work pants. Anyone with half a brain would know what that was if they saw it in the light. "You're so sloppy, such a messy pussy." Suguru groaned, landing a mean slap across your ass that echoed into the woods before he pulled his hips back and fucked you harder, finding a quicker pace.

"O-oh fuck Suguru- It's so deep holy shit-" You cried, more tears spilling from your eyes. You felt a hand grab the back of your head and nails scratch at your scalp and before you knew it you were being forced to stand your full weight on the ground as your back arched meanly into him. Suguru released a long groan, his cock getting constricted even more in this new position.

Moan after moan was fucked from your lips each time he brought his hips against your ass. Loud and vulgar squelching noises cried from between your legs as more wetness drenched his cock and pants. Your scalp burned from where he was gripping you, but it felt good nonetheless. 

"Feels 's good Suguru, fucking me s' good-" you cried, hot tears seemingly neverending spilling down your cheeks. You were sure to have red, puffy eyes after this. "Yeah? You like my cock baby?" Geto groaned at the praise, his cock throbbing in tandem. You nodded before crying again. "L-love it s-so much, 's gonna make me cum, you're gonna make me cum~" You whined, your legs shaking violently now.

Geto wrapped his hand around your thigh, taking some of the weight off your legs, his other releasing your hair and wrapping firmly around your torso, keeping you firmly against him, your cuffed hands getting squished between your bodies. "Me too pretty, g-gonna make me cum too." He replied, his face flushed from your praise. His balls twitched and throbbed with the need to spill his seed, but he had to make you cum first.

Geto used the hand he was previously using to hold your thigh to rub small circles against your clit. Your body jolted forward and forced you and Geto against the car again, your bodies firmly together as he kept rubbing your clit, trying to work you through it. "Cum for me baby, cum for me so I can fill you up." His words made you feel hot all over. The promise of getting filled up by him made you squeeze his cock harder, your eyes fluttering shut as he pushed you over the edge.

Your body convulsed violently as you came. Geto buried his head in the crook of your neck, his jaw clenching together as you came on him, his cock getting constricted. He couldn't even speak enough to tell you he was cumming, or even praise you for doing so before his balls were throbbing and he was chasing after you, releasing his seed deep into your cunt.

You both groaned at the feeling. It was so warm, you felt so full. It must've been a long time since he came because his orgasm seemed to go on forever. His hand stilled on your clit as his body jerked against yours, his abs clenching under his shirt. He only relaxed when his cock stopped kicking and he was sure he had hummed each rope of his cum inside you, making sure you were stuffed full. 

Despite how deep he came inside you, when he pulled his cock out his cum still chased him, spilling out of your cunt. He quickly stopped any more from getting out by situating your now ruined panties back into place, keeping you full of him. Geto pressed a kiss to your nape before he leaned up and tucked his cock into his pants. Undoing his belt quickly, he retrieved the key to the cuffs and set you free.

"Easy." He whispered, helping you sit up and face him. You rubbed your wrists, now red and irritated from the hard metal. "You just looked so pretty all restrained, didn't wanna take them off." Geto half apologized before scooping you up in his arms and placing you down on the hood of the car, relieving the stress on your legs. You were still dazed and a bit fucked out, but his words made you smile.

"Plus I could'a been dangerous, right?" You teased, playing with his belt. He returned your smile, placing his hands on the side of the car next to you, his face inches from yours. "You coulda been dangerous." He responded, dipping his head in your neck for a kiss before he pulled away. "Let me take you home. I'll have someone bring your car to you in the morning, you're in no state to drive right now." He said, stepping back and holding his hands out for you, helping you off the car slowly.

You raised your eyebrows, catching yourself from stumbling as you stood on your incredibly shaky legs. "Wow, you're so nice officer." You teased, poking his chest before you started walking in front of him. Geto smirked before following you, keeping his hand wrapped on your lower back in case you fell as he walked you over to the passenger side of his car. "It's my duty to keep the public safe." He said with a wink before he lifted you into the passenger seat. 

[pathologicalreid]

with your hands tied | s.r.

in which you and Spencer try something new in bed, with a hands off approach (for you, at least)

margotober

who? spencer reid x fem!reader category: smut (18+ mdni) content warnings: super very much established relationship, explicit consent, bondage (w/ rope), sensory deprivation, softdom!spencer, sub!reader, there is a clear safe word, oral (f receiving), fingering, unprotected p in v sex, praise kink, lowkey voice kink, aftercare word count: 3.77k a/n: writing the content warnings for smut is always a humbling experience. anyways, welcome to kinktober.

“You’re too tense,” Spencer murmurs against your neck, continuing to leave wet, open-mouthed kisses along your bare skin.

You part your lips as he sucks gently just below your collarbone, not hard enough to leave a mark, but enough for your brain to go fuzzy. “Am not,” you counter, leaning your head to the side in an attempt to give him a broader surface area.

He hums against your skin, sending vibrations through the entirety of your body as he leaves one more kiss before pulling away to look at you. You were propped up in his lap as if you were on display—but only for him. “You know the rules,” he says, a light warning in his voice telling you that your plans might change.

Nodding, you hold your hand up to list off the big three, “Open communication, deep breathing, and trust in your partner.”

“Do you trust me?” He asks, reaching his hand up and sweeping some of your hair behind your shoulder, keeping his other hand stable on your waist.

Realistically, you wouldn’t have asked him to do this with you if you didn’t trust him. “Yes,” the answer comes easily to you as anticipation thrums through your body.

Spencer squeezes your waist reassuringly, using the pressure to garner more of your attention, “Your heart is racing. Take a deep breath for me, angel,” he instructs.

You’d approached him two weeks ago and asked if he would be willing to tie you up. You knew he liked to be the one in control, you knew he liked to show you new things, but you hadn’t anticipated him being so willing. Taking a deep breath, you seek his reassurance, “Will you walk me through it again?”

He hums in confirmation, gently sliding you off of his lap, he uses his hands to guide you to the mattress. There’s no force in his actions, barely touching you with his fingertips until your head hits the pillow. Tentatively, he takes both of your hands in his before crossing your wrists over one another and bringing them above your head, using one hand to secure your wrists while dragging the other down your side, “Once you’re ready, I’ll bring your hands up here, and I’ll tie your wrists together.”

Spencer previously explained that he wouldn’t use handcuffs on you, citing it as a personal boundary that he wouldn’t cross. He had given you a few binding options, and you chose a lavender rope. It was soft enough to avoid irritating your skin but had enough grip that a knot wouldn’t come undone the moment you tugged on the restraints. You take another deep breath.

“It won’t be too tight,” he continues, “but it’ll be enough to severely limit your range of motion.” Spencer releases his grip on your wrists but maintains his position hovering above you. “At its core, bondage is sensory deprivation. I’m taking away your sense of touch.”

You nod, confirming your understanding as you lift your hands, placing them on either one of his shoulders, “I’m giving it up to you.”

He smiles softly down at you, obviously pleased with the level of trust you’re displaying toward him. “Your heart is still racing,” he observes quietly, leaning down and kissing both of your cheeks.

Raising your eyebrows, your face warms at his observation, “I’m horny, of course my heart is racing.”

“C’mere,” he hums, dragging you back into his lap and holding your face in his hands, “What’s our safe word?”

Settling your knees on either side of his hips, you return your hands to their previous station, “Cactus.” The remarkably unoriginal word was inspired by the plant that was currently resting on your coffee table.

Spencer moves his hands, skimming his palms up and down your bare arms, “What happens if you use the safe word?”

“Full stop,” you answer dutifully, “You stop everything, and the rope gets cut.” Despite its pretty color, Spencer told you not to get attached to the binding – he’d hold no issue with grabbing the shears from your bedside table.

“What happens if I use the safe word?” His intent was for the question to be a challenge, but you know his boundaries as well as you know your own.

Shifting on his lap, you easily recall the discussion from last night, “Full stop. If you can’t release me, I can try to undo the knot on my own.”

He nods in silent confirmation before hooking his finger beneath your chin, getting you to make eye contact with him, “Are you going to try to undo the knot on your own otherwise?”

“No,” you breathe. It was for your own safety more than anything else—if you were to try to undo the knot on your own, you’d risk hurting yourself, but to Spencer, it was a trust thing. If you want him to untie you all you need to do is ask.

Dropping his hands, Spencer slips them beneath the cotton of your t-shirt, skimming his palms over your bare torso and leaving goosebumps in their wake, “Good girl.”

Your breathing hitches at his praise, unable to decide if you want to focus on his words or the way his hands are slowly making their way toward the band of your bra. Tentatively, you poke your head forward to kiss him, wanting to make sure you’re both moving at the same pace.

While you have a slight height advantage from your perch on his lap, he tips his head back so that your lips can connect, satisfying an itch that you were desperate to scratch. Spencer’s lips were always soft in a way that was unfair to the rest of the world population. You consider yourself lucky that you have them at your disposal, working against your own as he slips a hand beneath the fabric of your bra.

When your lips part at the sensation of him gently palming your breast, Spencer wastes no time in deepening the kiss, maintaining control even from his place beneath you. You whimper slightly as he pulls away, moving his hands to tug your t-shirt over your head before fiddling with the clasp of your bra.

You watch as a switch flips in his brain, pupils dilating with lust as he studies the vision of you in front of him. It didn’t matter that you’d been naked in front of him hundreds of times by now, Spencer always made you feel just as special as the first time.

Spencer reaches his hand to the side of your neck, letting his forearm rest on the slope of your breast as he takes you in, “You’re so pretty,” he coos, “My pretty girl.”

Sighing as a direct result of his words, you thumb the hem of his t-shirt, signaling to him that you want to level out the playing field before it becomes rigged in his favor. Silently, he complies, lifting his arms above his head so you can toss the fabric next to yours on the floor.

You lean forward, taking pleasure in the way your skin sits against his, the push of your breasts on his chest. Ignoring the slight tremble in your hands, you run your palms over his chest, admiring the dips and curves of his torso—taking in every part of him before he binds your arms over your head. “It’s alright to be a little nervous,” he assures you, dropping a soft kiss to your bare shoulder.

Swallowing thickly, a thought crosses your mind, “I can… Can I use my mouth on you?”

“No,” he answers almost instantly, “It’s not about me today. It’s about you.”

His response surprises you, “I just want to make sure you feel good too. If I can’t use my hands to touch you, then I want to make sure you find this uh…” you search for the right word, “Fulfilling?”

Spencer chuckles lightly, the vibrations from his chest emanating through your body like an electric current, “Trust me, I’ll find this plenty fulfilling.”

Chewing on your bottom lip, you wonder if he’ll catch onto your hesitation—your desperation to be able to reciprocate your impending pleasure, but his double entendre doesn’t go over your head.

“Baby,” the softness of the pet name relaxes your shoulders, “Do you think I don’t find pleasure in sex with you?”

You shrug helplessly, “I just know you like it when I touch you.” Your hands in his hair. Shallow scratches along his shoulder blades.

Holding your chin between his index and his thumb, he guides your eyes to meet his own, “I’m going to fuck you, and while your arms are bound above your head, I’ll get a full look at the way you writhe beneath me.”

Butterflies swarm in your lower belly at his words, you have to hold back from panting in his lap.

“Fucking you is my pleasure,” he tells you, holding your face in place. “Watching you squirm below me,” he trails a finger from his free hand down your torso before letting it rest on the waistband of your shorts. “The way your cunt clenches around my cock and flutters after you come around me,” his voice deepens with want.

A pathetic moan escapes your lips at his words, causing you to clasp a hand over your mouth.

Spencer snatches your hand away, “Don’t do that. I want to hear all of the pretty little noises you make. I want you to tell me if you want me deeper or slower. I want to hear you.”

Nodding quickly, you feel more and more of your composure slip away as the damp sensation in your underwear grows. “Okay,” you breathe, keeping your eyes on his as you slide off of his lap.

He stands up, making quick work of his sweatpants before propping himself back up on the bed. Of your own volition, you lean back, letting your legs fall open as he climbs over you. You keep your eyes on him, minding the way his body moves above you, the way his cock peeks out from the waistband of his boxers.

From the moment his lips reach yours again, you know you’re a goner. Lifting your head from the pillows in order to tug at his bottom lip with your teeth, you savor the way he groans into your mouth.

In response, Spencer takes both of your hands, intertwining his fingers with yours one at a time and pinning them at either side of your head. He settles his hips in between yours, adding a torturous pressure at your core.

Slowly, your hips grind up into him, it’s a mainly reactive response—your body needs the friction, the relief. Ending your kiss, a low whine bubbles in your throat, “Do you think you’re ready?”

With your hands already pinned to the bed, you let your head bob in confirmation, “Yes.”

Your eyes follow his movements as he kneels between your legs, grabbing the rope from your nightstand before taking your wrists and crossing them one over the other. “It’s soft,” you observe about the material, you’d never actually put it on your wrists before, only touching it in the store with your fingertips.

“That’s why we picked this one,” Spencer reminds you; he had been the one to encourage a softer material, wanting to protect your skin from a rough, fibrous rope. “Tug on it,” he says, leaning back and inspecting the knot.

Tugging on your binds, all you’re capable of doing is pulling your body higher on the bed, and you yelp when Spencer grips your hips and pulls you back down to him. “It works,” you squeak, suddenly conscious of how you’re splayed out for him.

He hums lowly, the soft, sensual sound causing your hips to buck, “Good,” he murmurs, “Take a deep breath for me.”

You comply, blowing air out of your nostrils as he rests his head in the crook of your neck, leaving timid kisses down the column of your throat, an exorbitantly shy action for someone who had bound you to the bed.

His head continues to make its way down your body, leaving sloppy, open-mouthed kisses across your breasts, “You’re too tense,” he tells you, an echo of himself.

Mindfully, you take a deep breath, sinking your body into the mattress and looking down at him, the saliva on your chest shining in the lamplight—he was going to be the death of you. “I don’t know what to do with myself,” you whispered.

“You don’t have to do anything, baby,” he reminds you gently, “Let go. Let yourself feel it.” His thumb gently rubs circles over your hip bone, bunching up the fabric of your shorts beneath his fingerprints.

You look down at him, lying down between your legs, resting his cheek on the inside of your thigh. The lovelorn look in his eyes causes your chest to tighten, and you gasp at the sensation, your face warming as you remind yourself that he hasn’t even touched you yet.

Spencer hooks his fingers on the elastic of both your shorts and your underwear, pulling any remaining fabric off of your body with a deftness that threatens to take your breath away. “You’re so pretty,” he murmurs, nearly licking his lips at the sight of your wetness. “My pretty, pretty girl,” he continues, pressing tender kisses up your thigh, inching closer and closer to your core.

Peeling your eyes away, you can’t bear to watch the way he peers at you through his eyelashes as he lowers his mouth to your aching cunt. “Spence,” you breathe at the sensation of his tongue licking a broad stripe through your folds and pressing a gentle kiss to your clit.

He bows his head, snaking his arms around your thighs to hold them open, stopping you from closing your legs, and without the use of your arms and your legs, you’re defenseless against his relentless movements. His tongue peeking out of his mouth just enough to tease where you’re most sensitive, kitten licking your clit until you’re panting beneath him, desperate to lift your hips from the mattress, in need of more—so much more.

You pull on your restraints, and he doesn’t stop his movements. Instead, he changes the placement of his hands, using one to massage your thigh while the other finds a home between your legs, his index finger teasing your entrance. A pathetic whine escapes from your throat as you get one step closer to the relief that you so desperately need and the relocation of his hands allows you to rotate your hips, meeting his knuckles when his finger sinks into you with ease.

“So wet,” he whispers, coming up for air and reveling in the way your mouth gapes as he adds a second finger, “So wet for me, darling girl.”

Taking a shuddering breath, you nod in acknowledgment as his head drops again, puckering his lips to gently suck on your clit as his fingers work their way in and out of you. The crude, wet sounds emanating from your pussy second in volume only to the breathy moans that continue to slip through your lips.

You imagine yourself reaching your hands down, weaving your fingers through his curls, and tugging on the tendrils in encouragement, but you recall his request to hear you. Since you can’t touch him, you gasp, a small knot forming in your lower belly as he continues thrusting his fingers in and out, “Oh, god,” you choke, looking down to see his hair falling in front of his forehead. “Spence,” you whimper, eyes screwing shut as you beg for your orgasm.

A curse slips from your lips while your back arches off of the mattress, the sheet sticking to your sweat-coated skin as your orgasm washes over you, sending volts of electricity through every extremity until you come down. Vaguely aware of how his fingers continue to move inside of you, the two phalanges curling in a way that makes you shudder.

Spencer tenderly shifts your body up, relieving some of the strain on your shoulders which had become a secondary concern while he had his head between your legs.

You pant helplessly at him, “Ah, ’s too much,” you tell him, walls clenching around his idle fingers as the aftershocks of your orgasm begin to ebb.

Immediately, he withdraws his fingers and brings both of his hands up, mindful not to get his slick-covered hand near your hair, “How are you doing?”

The check-in doesn’t come as a surprise to you, and he wouldn’t do anything until he manages to wrangle an answer out of you. His brown eyes study you with a sensual curiosity as your breathing balances out, switching from the breathlessness of your peak to the gasps of desperation as you find yourself wanting more. “Good,” you answer, “That was so— fuck.”

There was something to say about the effects that losing your sense of touch had on sex, the inability to distract yourself by touching Spencer kindly forcing you to focus on nothing else but how he was making you feel. Leaving you to absorb pleasure percutaneously—this was the kind of sex people start wars over. “Do you want more?”

“Please,” you respond, maybe a tad too quickly.

His responding chuckle does horrible things to your psyche, the butterflies in your stomach coming out of their brief hibernation to flutter through your insides, “What do you want, darling?”

You sigh, “You. I want you, baby, please.”

Spencer hums in response, ducking his head to leave slow, intentional kisses on your chest, enveloping your nipple in his mouth while he brings a hand up to even out the sensation on your chest. Releasing you with a wet pop, he looks up at you with lust-blown pupils, “You have me,” he assures you. “I’m right here, where do you want me?”

Embarrassingly, a high-pitched whine makes its way past your lips—he was going to make you beg for it, and you were going to do it. “In me,” your plea comes out faster than you can control, “Please fuck me, please please.”

He groans in response, “Your fucking manners are going to be the death of me,” he tells you, moving to slip his underwear off, leaving absolutely nothing in between you as he rests his cock in between your folds. “Such a good girl,” he coos.

It didn’t help that you were beginning to feel like you were going insane, waiting for him to finally slide inside of you, “Please,” you add for good measure, the butterflies in your stomach spinning as he moves his hand out of your line of sight, tapping the tip against your swollen clit before finally breaching your entrance.

With an almost startling gentleness, Spencer cranes his head down to press a kiss to your lips. Using his tongue to part your lips, kissing you deeply, you can taste yourself on him, the sensation causing a ripple effect, your walls clenching around his shaft as he sheathes himself inside of you. “I love you,” he mutters against your lips, pulling out of you as he starts to find a rhythm.

“I— ah,” you cry out when he snaps his hips into yours, “I love you too,” you breathe, your eyelids fluttering as he seemingly finds his rhythm.

Spencer takes your thigh in one hand, pushing it up to spread you wider for him as you meet his eyes, the steady rhythm eliciting nothing but a metronome of ah, ah, ahs out of you.

Dropping his head in the crook of your neck, your boyfriend moves his free hand to play with your clit, his thumb circling around the sensitive nub as he continues to fuck you. He moans into your ear, causing your hips to involuntarily lift from the mattress, meeting his thrusts as they start to grow messy.

“’m gonna come,” you tell him, leaning your head back as the rubber band in your abdomen snaps, the pulsing of your cunt only driving him closer and closer to his own orgasm.

His hips stutter against yours, the pacing that he had so perfectly set leaving as he loses himself, hot cum painting your insides as he slows to a complete stop, letting your leg fall to the side as he pulls out of you.

A low keening sound slides from your throat as Spencer skims his hand up your side, “Spence,” you mumble, relaxing into his gentle touches.

He hums against your skin, making his way up until he’s fully sitting next to you, reaching over your head to release your arms from their silken prison. Tenderly, he takes your wrists in his hands, bringing them down gradually so that you can have time to adjust. “Are you alright?”

Spencer’s voice was a very welcome sound, his thumbs gently kneading at the indent marks on your wrists. Your head bobs in response, reaching out for him to help you sit up. The dull ache in your shoulders gave you reason to lean into him, your back against his chest while his nimble fingers found a place on your bare skin, continuing their earlier motions, this time on your shoulders.

Reaching out a hand, you grab the top sheet and pull it snugly to your torso, “Cold?” Spencer asks, his voice no more than a whisper, he presses his lips to your shoulder. “Come on, angel, words,” he beckons, the movement of his lips on your skin causing goosebumps to form.

“Cold,” you confirm, the high of your orgasms vacating your body, leaving you dependent on Spencer for body heat.

Spencer kisses the crook of your neck, “Why don’t we get cleaned up and reconvene on the couch? We’ll watch a movie,” he offers thoughtfully. “We can order in for dinner,” he says, taking advantage of your pliant state and rocking back and forth.

You sigh in his arms, “Can I pick the movie?”

“If you let me pick dinner,” he replies, pulling a throw blanket from the end of the bed and laying it over your lap. “Are you still cold?” He murmurs, a tinge of concern creeping into his voice.

Shaking your head, you adjust yourself in his arms, the tingling in your shoulders beginning to subside, “I’m lukewarm now,” you offer, smiling dazedly up at him, “I’m okay.”

He presses a soft kiss to your hairline, “You did so well,” he praises, his words threatening to melt you.

“So,” you begin, “We’re keeping the rope?”

[thejeangreysummers]

boxer au simon “ghost” riley

⁃ everyone is exiting a kickboxing class you show up doe eyed with your little matching set and a bag the same color. simon immediately crosses the gym before soap or gaz get a chance to.

⁃ “i think i have something you’ll like.” simon offers hesitantly, if any other tall masked stranger approached you like that you’d leave for the sake of self preservation. but he’s so hesitant in the way he offers looking above your head and not making direct eye contact. his shoulders are drawn together like he’s trying to make himself smaller.

⁃ he ducks behind the desk and pulls out some Everlast hand wraps in the same color as your clothes.

“your favorite color.” he says jokingly

“how’d you know?” you laugh and for the first time he looks you in the eye and something shifts in your chest.

“you’ve got good taste.” he quips

he’s extends his hand in front of yours and you’re so dazed, you just hold his hand. simon is already tipsy of your laugh he considers kissing it. he begins wrapping your hand and the realization makes you flush with embarrassment.

⁃ until he starts talking… he’s explaining how the wraps work and which gloves he recommends and your initial reaction shifts into annoyance. you want to fuck with him just a little bit, because who is he to explain anything to you? he probably doesn’t even work here and you’ve been kickboxing for the last two years.

the stress relief it gave after your last break up worked wonders.

⁃ “do you want to practice with me love?” he offers after he lingers on your wrist

you concede and slip under the bar of the ring. his eyes tell you everything. eager to be close to you he explains a hook and a jab, of course you nod and smile feigning ignorance as he tells you how he’ll explain the kicking afterward. you’re feeling a little triumphant when the false jab distracts him as you sweep him, he falls and makes a jagged hurt noise.

⁃ your playfulness turns to panic

“are you okay? i’m so sorry i didn’t mean to actually hurt you. i kind of expected you to grab my leg or move or laugh? i didn’t mean to—” you fall to your knees beside him worried he hit his head. he shifts on to his back leaning lazily on he’s elbows and he’s smiling at you. that little fucker. or huge fucker honestly, he’s so tall he’s practically scraping the celling.

⁃ “you’re such an asshole.”

“wounded my pride, worse than a physical injury honestly.” simon looks up at you cheekily

“how long have you been doing this? do you work here? why did you come up to me?”

simon wants to toy with you a little more. he loves your short temper paired with your softness it’s intriguing. you’re so sweet worrying about him, would you be like that at one of his matches? anxious fluttering around saying a hail mary he won’t get hurt? or would you bask in the stadium lights, proud that he belongs to you? he intends to find out immediately.

“well ‘m a professional love, a man’s got to eat someway. my trainer, price, doesn’t love when i frighten the clients, but you’re too pretty to avoid.” simon winks at you like his voice isn’t flirtation enough

“i’m not afraid of you.” you lean in front of him on the mat and he gets a long look at your tits when he meets your eyes again you’re aware of how public this display is. you scramble to you feet and extend a hand to help him up and simon doesn’t move.

“get up.” you command in a harsh whisper

he shakes his head shamelessly drinking in your figure.

“seriously, get up someone could come in here.” you urge extending to gently kick him and in a moment he’s pulling your ankle shifting to ensure you fall directly on top of him. he places a gentle hand on the small of your back, respectful almost hesitant.

“now we’re even.” he teases

he smells like mint a touch of lavender and something distinctly him. you want him to lower his hand even though you’re in public. you almost want to kiss him, but then he’d get the wrong idea about your intentions. you were supposed to be scouring the price for this gym across from your apartment nothing more. he probably does this with every pretty customer that walks through the doors. you push yourself up using his chest as leverage.

“we are not even, you tricked me!” you scoff

“then let me make it up to you let me buy you dinner.” he offers

you can’t date this stranger at the gym across from you apartment. you’d see each other again, after dating your co-worker you decided not mix buisness and pleasure. boxing is an essential part of your routine, it’s safe and consistent. he’s roguishly attractive and probably not staying in the country.

“no thanks, you’re something but y’know you’re not from around here. i want a serious relationship.” you know your honesty will scare him away and you’ll never speak again

“well if you get off me, i can get on my knees and propose” simon smirks

you realize that you’ve been leaning directly on top of his chest, not shifting or standing.

“it’s one knee.” you counter as you slide off him and stand up

“for you i’d beg.” simon admitted

the way he looks at you for a second you almost believe him.

“i’m sure you offer that to ever pretty girl who walks in here.”

simon is serious about the begging, he’d wait as long you wanted to have you underneath him. but someday soon the sweet sound of you whimpering his name would be fill the room. you’d be the one pleading for him just to put the tip in.

“come to my match tonight. if i win, you let me buy you dinner. our first real date.” simon promises

he’s such trouble and you want him despite it.

how many girls batting their eyelashes and love struck boys come to his matches longing to see him afterwards? one of them will surely take your place if you don’t attend.

“what if you lose?”

“i won’t.” simon drawls

“you think you’re that good?” you taunt

“i think you’re lucky.” simon breathed