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pome-seed · 3 days ago

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Just Take it * Bucky Barnes

Pairing: Congressman!Bucky Barnes X Assistant!Reader

Summary: You get fucked on your boss' desk. That's it really.

Words: 1.7k

Warnings: Sexual content. Penetrative sex. Degrading name calling. Dominant Bucky. Bucky likes humiliating you a little. Power imbalance. Age gap. Bucky's a little mean (in a fun way). Use of diy gags. idk man.

18+ Minors Do Not Interact.

Authors Note: Idk I was thinking about office stuff and it just came to me.

Masterlist

A large hand smoothes down your spine, guiding you over the polished desk. You shudder as your cheek presses to the cold wood.

Calloused fingers drag up your thigh, slowly hiking up your skirt.

“Oh god…” you blurt, your eyes fluttering shut.

“Shh,” The older man hushes you. “Gotta stay quiet, don’t you?”

“James-” His large palm swats your ass, making you jump. “I’m sorry- I’m sorry, I’ll be quiet…” you whisper, your nails scraping over the clean surface.

He smirks as he drags your skirt over your ass. “Good girl.”

You groan and pinch your lip between your teeth, trying to keep yourself from ruining the moment. But god is it hard.

It wasn’t often that you were called into Congressman Barnes office to chat. It wasn’t often that you were both in the office after hours, finishing paperwork.

It wasn’t often that others stayed in the office as late as the both of you.

But here you are, trembling and breathless, as your boss touches you.

You can still hear the voices outside his office, talking, laughing, debating.

Bucky’s fingers slip beneath the band of your panties. He slowly drags them down, taking your tights with them. You stiffen, your eyes squeezed shut in embarrassment as you’re exposed.

Bucky palms your ass, his rough thumbs spreading you open. Your walls flutter in arousal- and maybe a bit of humiliation. “Such a pretty girl,” he hums, his thumb dipping inside, spreading your slick.

You swallow hard, your knees instinctively spreading. “James, please,” you press back against him.

“Stop moving,” he smacks your ass again. “You’ll take what I give you.”

You choke on a sob, nodding hurriedly into the desk. “Fuck-Yes sir,” you gasp.

Bucky smiles, pleased. He pushes your skirt up further, his thumb continuing its slow work of circling your cunt. His middle finger joins in, slowly sinking inside you. Each notch of his knuckle has you shuddering.

He pumps his finger slowly, enjoying the humiliatingly slick sound that echoes through the room. He curls his finger just right, dragging over something tender.

You groan, your spine arching as your walls flutter. “Oh jesus…”

Bucky tsks and pulls his hands away. You whimper pathetically as you glance back in confusion. “Just can’t keep that mouth shut, can you?” He mutters as he bends down, helping you step out of your tights and underwear.

You try to blink through your haze, try to catch your breath. But it’s hard with him. Especially when you look back and see him with his tie loose, his button up sleeves rolled up his forearms.

He straightens, his gaze sharp as he looks down at you. “Got nothin’ to say now, sweetheart?” He huffs. “Open your mouth.”

You obey without question.

Bucky smirks as he carefully shoves your balled up panties into your mouth. Your cheeks heat in embarrassment as he closes your jaw around them.

“All better, hm?” He taps your cheek.

You drop your head back onto the desk, hiding your face. You get the feeling that Bucky enjoys humiliating you. Just a little bit.

You listen to the sound of his belt loosening. His buckle clinks. Your stomach twists.

You listen as he fists his cock, his free hand pressing bruises into your hip. “So bad at listening, aren’t you?” He groans, pressing his erection to the back of your thigh. You pant against your gag, flustered by the taste of your own musk. “Such a sweet thing in the office though, hm? I woulda thought you knew how to be good.”

You whine, the gag muffling the sound.

He snickers behind you, but then he kicks your feet apart a little wider. “So desperate, aren’t you?” He taps the tip of his cock against your soaked entrance. “It’s okay, doll. I like desperate.” He aligns himself. “You’re so cute when you’re desperate.” He slowly pushes the head of his cock inside.

You groan, your eyes fluttering shut.

“Show me your hands,” He pants, rocking his hips forward. You reach back, wavering. He snags your wrists in one large palm, then presses them to your lower back.

You grunt when his hips kiss yours, your body making room for him. His lips smack together as sucks in a steadying breath.

Bucky slowly pulls back, then snaps his hips forward. You gasp, the desk shaking beneath you. You expect him to draw it out, to make you wait. To torture you.

But he doesn’t. Bucky grinds his cock into your soaked cunt, his thick size stretching you out. So big it almost burns, but just barely. It’s a delicious kind of stretch. The kind that reminds you just how full you are.

The man pulls you back against him, then shoves you harder into the desk, his pace brutal. But you take it. Because god does it feel good. Nothing’s felt this good in- you don’t know how long.

He’s so quick, so greedy, so intense, that it has you drooling into your panties. The desk rattles with the force, office supplies rolling and dropping to the floor with each roll of his hips.

“Takin’ it so good-” he grunts, his chest heaving. “Such a good girl when your mouth’s full.”

You sob, your body writhing as you take it.

Your stomach twists and coils, electricity rippling through your veins. You want more. You need more. Yet at the same time, its just too fucking much. You’ve never felt so loose and wound tight at the same time.

Like a bow string about to snap.

Or lightning about to strike.

Bucky groans above you, his large palm petting your soft skin while he rocks his hips into yours. He knows he’s not being quiet. He knows that if someone were to pass his office door, they’d hear the thumping desk, and Bucky’s depraved sounds.

Because he truly, truly is depraved. He’s like a starved animal as he fucks you. Pins you in place and gives it to you in all the ways you need. Because reducing you to a writhing, sobbing mess, god it just does something to him.

Maybe it makes him feel strong. Or maybe, he just likes the idea of making you feel good. Making you feel so good you can’t think. Can’t speak.

Because nothing compares to this.

“How’s that, baby?” He grinds against your ass, pressing deep inside you. “Feel good?”

You nod, your forehead dragging sweatily against the desk. “Mm- ugh…”

He smirks, his nails dragging marks along your spine. “Such a good girl…” He leans down, his breath ghosting along the nape of your neck. His fist wounds tighter around your wrists. “But such a dirty whore too…” He kisses the side of your throat, bathing in the sound of your overwhelmed sobs.

You nod shakily, pressing back against him. “Ple-...ease..mmh..” You beg through your soaked gag.

He drags his tongue along the hinge of your jaw before pulling back. “Shh,” he whispers, pulling out, then sinking back in. “Just take it,” he moans.

And you do, because you’re good. You wanna be good for him. Need to be.

So you take it.

You listen to the delicious sound of Bucky moaning above you, his skin slapping against yours, his slacks scraping against your plush thighs.

You make these punched out little noises as he sinks his cock into your pussy. You pant, your lashes fluttering. You feel him twitch inside you as the head drags over something tender. But you take it.

You’re a good girl.

And you can’t help it- that buzzing feeling. That delicious, addictive warmth that pools in your stomach.

You gasp, your spine rippling with pleasure as Bucky drags you through your orgasm. His large hand strokes over your spine as he rolls his hips into yours, helping you ride it out.

“That’s it,” Bucky moans. “There you go…” He grunts.

Your release quickly drifts from bliss into overstimulation as he chases his high. You tremble, your sounds muffled and distorted, making you sound like a depraved animal. But you can’t take it- it feels too good that it hurts.

Bucky’s head rolls back, his abs clenching as his body grows tight. “Fuck-” he grunts, dragging you back against him until you’re fully seated on his cock.

He grinds against you, a sob of pleasure climbing up his throat as he cums. You gasp, feeling his cock throb and twitch as he spills inside of you.

You go limp beneath him, your chest heaving against the cold wood. Bucky sags above you, but doesn’t let himself drop. He releases your wrists- your arms fall to the sides without a fight. His large hands press down against your back as he gathers himself.

He hangs his head low, panting heavily. “So good…”

You groan, your fingers making a mess of the papers beneath you.

Bucky carefully pulls out of you- the slick sound makes your stomach turn. He sighs and takes a moment to watch his cum slide down your inner thighs. You shiver at the sound of his soft chuckle.

He tugs your skirt back down over your ass. “You okay, doll?” He leans down and presses a kiss to your cheekbone.

You nod lazily, drooling through your gag.

He takes his time righting himself, pulling up his pants and buckling his belt. Then, finally, he slides his arms around your body and drags you up. You grunt, shivering as your slick thighs slide together. Bucky guides you to sit against the desk. He cups your jaw, his fingers sliding between your lips.

Your mouth drops open as he pulls the balled up panties out, then drops them to the desk. You cringe, glancing back at the wadded up fabric. “Geez…”

Bucky snickers, his thumb swiping over your bottom lip. “Guess you’re walkin’ outta here without those,” he presses a soft kiss to the corner of your lips.

“James…” you huff, leaning into him. “You’re such a jerk…”

“Careful, doll…” He pecks your lips. “Shouldn’t talk to your boss like that. It’s disrespectful.”

“Worse than getting fucked on my boss’ desk?” You lift a brow at him, trying not to show how badly you’re blushing.

“Maybe not as bad as that.” He grins.

A/N: Yeah idk. Hope you enjoy!

Minors/ageless bios WILL BE BLOCKED.

Taglist:

@a-world-with-pure-imagination @frog-fans-unite @1967barracuda @akkklys @cherryheairt @lonelyghosts-stuff @mysoulbelongstobuckybarnes @devilslittlehelper @miss-chuchu @dollface-xoxo @natalia42069 @thuul-box @local-crazy @justachillgirllui @pleasecallmeunhinged @cookies-and-music @fallen-w1ngs @unicornqueen05 @bloodmocha @sleepysongbirdsings @fadingcollectivenightmare

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thepencilnerd · 2 months ago

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Not Enough

"And I don't know how many people I've helped today, but I can tell you every other person who has died." pairing: Dr. Michael “Robby” Robinavitch x F!Doctor!Reader summary: Still in the thick of the hospital’s response to the mass casualty event, Robby is fracturing under the weight of it all. You’ve both seen too much. And tonight, it’s your turn to hold him together. warnings: descriptions of violence, blood, panic attacks, grief, mentions of death a/n: because this show has me in a chokehold and noah wyle at the end of 1x13 broke me. p.s. also check out my other Dr. Robby fics (And Through It All | Feels Like Trouble)

As soon as the mass email came, you rushed out from your apartment and sprinted to the hospital. The moments are seared into your memory—the trauma bay full of bodies, the sharp smell of iodine mixed with blood, a teenager’s hoodie torn open beneath your hands as you searched for the source of the bleeding.

You remember the small hand that slipped out of yours as the patient began coding.

The parents screaming for their children.

The quiet ones were somehow worse, never fully there but not all the way gone.

The muffled chaos from the pit beyond the glass door are the only real sounds. Alarms, voices—frantic and fatigued—bleed through in faint, distorted waves, like a war raging just out of reach. It’s distant, but not far enough to forget

You got the text while changing out of your blood-soaked scrubs, hands still trembling as you peeled the fabric away from your skin. It clings to you anyway—in your hair, your skin, the backs of your eyelids every time you blink. With blood still drying on your sleeves and the adrenaline long gone, you closed your eyes to breathe in a moment of quiet when your phone buzzes four times.

Hey I know you keep things quiet but Robby’s not okay.

He broke down in front of Jake.

He’s falling apart.

He needs you.

You find him in peds, cowering in the far corner like he’s trying to disappear. The room is cold—refrigerated, sterile—and smells faintly of antiseptic, sweat, and the awful tang of blood that never quite leaves. You recognize the scent of grief and aftermath of trauma hanging in the air like smoke.

One of the gurneys near the wall is still streaked with drying blood, its sheet half-pulled back like someone had to leave in a hurry. A pair of tiny shoes sits on a tray nearby, splotched red, forgotten, out of place, obscene in their stillness.

He’s on the floor, curled in on himself, arms wrapped tightly around his knees. He’s sobbing—ragged, uncontrollable, like something vital inside him has broken loose. His chest heaves as he tries and fails to breathe through it, and you can hear the panicked gasps, the wet hitch in his throat, the tremors rattling his whole body.

This isn’t just grief—it’s a full-blown panic attack. And he’s drowning in it.

He’s curled in tight, arms wrapped around his knees, body rocking slightly as if the motion might keep him from falling apart completely. His eyes are wide, but unfocused—bloodshot and glassy, locked somewhere far away. He’s still gasping, each breath too shallow, too fast. His hands are shaking violently, fingers digging into his own sleeves like he’s trying to anchor himself to the fabric.

You take a step closer, voice barely above a whisper. “Robby?”

His head jerks up at the sound of your voice, eyes wide and disoriented like he’s just surfaced from underwater. He blinks at you, breath still catching, and it takes a second for recognition to flicker through the haze.

“Did Dana call you?” he asks hoarsely.

“No,” you say softly, taking careful steps towards him. “She texted.”

He lets out a dry sound—not quite a laugh. "Figures."

You kneel beside him. The air is heavy, dense with everything he’s not saying yet. Slowly, you reach out and take one of his trembling hands in yours. His fingers twitch, then tighten, clinging to you like a lifeline. The squeeze is weak at first, then firmer—as if just the touch is enough to remind him he’s not alone in the dark.

He doesn't look like Dr. Robby right now—the sharp, fast-acting physician who can command a hospital with a glance and make impossible calls on the fly. The man beside you is just… a person. Shattered.

His scrubs are soaked in blood, some of it dried, none of it his. His hands tremble even after he’s wiped them down. You know that shake—adrenaline crash mixed with the sickening aftermath of decisions no one should ever have to make.

You bring your other hand to his back, rubbing slow, steady circles between his shoulder blades. "You're safe," you whisper. "Just breathe with me. In... and out." His breath still stutters, but he tries. His chest jerks with the effort of each inhale, panic still lodged deep in his lungs.

For a moment, it feels like he’s not hearing you at all. But then you feel it—his shoulders drop just slightly beneath your touch, his grip on your hand loosens just enough to shift from desperation to something like trust. His sobs taper to ragged exhales. He's still shaking, still barely holding on, but he's with you now. He’s coming back to himself.

“I lost five people today,” he says finally, like he’s reciting a number that won’t stop ringing in his head. “Two of them were kids.”

You don’t speak. You don’t interject. You just let him have the space.

“I did everything right. We all did. We didn’t waste a single second. And they still died. Just like that.” His voice cracks on the last word. He runs a hand down his face, leaving a smear of something—blood or ink, you're not sure.

“I keep telling myself to focus on the ones we saved,” he whispers. “To hold onto the lives, not the losses. But tonight… all I can see are the family members I had to talk to. The look in that mom’s eyes when I said her daughter was gone. It’s like it burned into me. I can’t shake it.”

He looks at you finally, eyes rimmed red and glassy. “I save so many people. I do. I know that. But tonight it’s like… all I can see are the ones I didn’t.”

You press your hand gently to the side of his cheek, grounding him. As he closes his eyes and leans into your touch, a stray tear that paints his cheek. “You were there for them, Robby. You did everything you possibly could. I know that. The entire team knows that.”

His eyes flick to you, glassy and raw. "But it wasn’t enough. I wasn’t enough. I'll never be enough."

That’s what really guts you—the way he says it. Quiet. Final. Like the math has been done and he’s come up short. Not loudly. Not violently. Just quietly, steadily. Like something that’s been held in too long, finally slipping free.

“You are,” you say fiercely. “You are more than enough. You gave everything. That's what matters.”

He drops his forehead to your shoulder. For a long moment, the only sound in the room is his breathing—ragged, uneven. Then, finally, it breaks. Quiet tears. No theatrics. Just silent devastation.

You wrap your arms around him, holding him like you’re trying to piece him back together. His body is wracked with sobs, shaking so hard it rattles through your chest. You feel it all—his heartbreak, his helplessness, the unbearable grief pulsing through him like a second heartbeat. Your own chest aches with the weight of it.

You tighten your hold, one hand cradling the back of his head as he buries his face into your shoulder. His breath stutters against your neck, gasping and uneven, but your presence anchors him. You stay that way, silent and steady, letting him feel it all—letting him fall apart without judgment, letting him not be strong for once.

"I told Jake I'd remember Leah long after he'd forgotten her..." he murmurs, voice frayed and trembling at the edges.

You pause, letting the silence stretch—just long enough to breathe, to feel the weight of his words settle between you. Then you speak, quiet but steady.

"Because you will," you say simply. "People grieve and learn to move on. But we don’t forget. We carry them with us—all the lives we've lost, every person we've watched die, every moment we felt helpless. The weight of it doesn't go away, Robby. It just shifts. Becomes part of who we are. The feeling that no matter what we did, we could've done better, the guilt that eats you up inside and lives with you... we learn to live with it. Not around it. Not despite it. And you're not alone in that."

Robby doesn’t speak right away. He swallows hard, jaw clenched, eyes squeezed shut as though he’s trying to keep it together—at least, whatever little there’s left to hold. When he finally pulls back and looks at you, it’s with a kind of desperation that threatens to swallow you whole.

“I don’t want to live with it,” he admits, voice wrecked. “I want to forget it. I want to go back and do something—anything—to save them.”

You nod, gently brushing your thumb along his cheek. “I know. But we can’t go back. All we can do is keep showing up, even when it breaks us. And let the people around us help carry the weight.”

“I don’t know how,” he murmurs. “All of this pain, this loss—it’s too much.”

“You don’t have to carry it alone,” you whisper. “Not tonight—not ever.”

And for the first time all day, he lets himself believe that.

#the pitt #the pitt hbo #the pitt x reader #the pitt fanfiction #dr. robby #michael robinavitch #dr robby x reader #michael robinavitch x reader #noah wyle #dr robby imagine #the pitt spoilers #dr. robby x reader #dr robby x you #the pitt imagine #the pitt 1×13

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saintsanddevils · 3 months ago

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Unravel Me

Liam Mairi x Fem!Reader

Summary: Grief is your constant companion as you struggle to come to terms with losing Liam. You can’t handle the memories, so you ask Imogen to take them away.

Warnings: ‼️18+ (MDNI) explicit content‼️, smut, grief, death, blood, some violence, angst, ALL HURT/no comfort, first person reader pov

Author’s Note: This is probably my fav story I’ve written so far! Liam is my favorite of all of the Fourth Wing men & I’ve been dying to write this for so long. - also, every person who has checked in on me about burnout, thank you, you’re incredibly kind & I appreciate all the love!!

Word Count: 8.6K

AO3 link

Masterlist

• • • •

The stone archway is the only thing keeping me from collapsing to the ground. I lay my back against it, trying to keep myself standing. Breaths saw through my lungs in jagged, sharp inhales. A knife cutting through me from the inside out.

Storm clouds form in the sky above, ominous in the setting sun. The smell of wet stone and soil fills the air as I try to still my racing heart.

It’s been one month.

One month.

Four weeks.

Thirty days.

Seven hundred and twenty-two hours and counting since Liam has been gone.

Knees shaking, I close my eyes, breathing deeply. But the breaths come quicker and faster. The image of Liam’s broken, bloody face surfacing unbidden. The way his blue eyes frosted over before closing, his skin cracked and pale as he slumped against Deigh’s red scales.

Rough, uneven breaths escape me. Thunder rumbles the ground beneath my feet, the summer air chilled by the cool of rain. Each breath clouds around me as I stand beneath an arch, facing the open courtyard.

The very courtyard where I first met Liam.

I remember the way his eyes lit with a teasing gleam when they first met mine. He was playful, flirtatious, but his eyes captured me. Like crystal glass, filled with murky seawater shining in the sunlight. I’d never seen such a blue.

The memory stings, sharp and insistent with its presence. Since his death, I’ve been left with nothing but every memory I have of him. Each one imprinted upon me, unique and shining. How he smiled, fully and entirely intoxicating, when I entered the room. The way his skin glided against mine between sheets. The feel of his calloused hand gripping my own. His lips coasting mine, teasing, before claiming them for his own, stealing the breath in my lungs.

Every day since his death has been my own personal hell. Waking up, alone, forms a hollow ache within my chest that grows with every second. I never want to leave my bed.

For the first week, everyone grieved alongside me. But we’re in the middle of a war. We can’t waste any time.

Only the pestering of my squad mates and the force behind my dragon’s insistent encouragement force me out of my room now. Although they try to hide it, they’re concerned for me. I act like I can’t feel their penetrating gazes, but it’s suffocating.

Every day is suffocating.

Distantly, I hear someone call my name. With my eyes closed, I can pretend I’m not here. I can pretend he’s alive. I can pretend I will find him standing before me, smiling, when I open my eyes. That he’ll tell me I worry too much and he’ll kiss the rain from my cheeks and lips.

When I open my eyes, it’s not him standing there. It’s Imogen.

Concern lines her face as she stares at me. “I’m so sorry. I can’t.”

Tears burn my eyes as the rain begins to fall harder. Overcome by a heaviness crushing my ribs, my knees start to shake. I can’t tell if I’m holding on to the wall or if it’s the one keeping me up.

“Please,” I beg, voice cracking. “I can’t do this anymore. I can’t wake up tomorrow with this pain,” I grip my chest, swallowing the grief threatening to choke me. “It’s like a living, breathing thing inside of me. It’s poisoning me. I…I can’t do it anymore.”

Sobs escape from my lips, gasping and heaving. I must sound like a tortured animal as I collapse to the ground, cracking my knees against the stone. The pain grounds me as I slump against the wall.

This pressure on my chest, the one that settled there as I watched Liam limp towards Deigh a month ago, is stifling me. It’s growing more and more, crushing my lungs, severing my breaths as I cling to the stone beneath my fingers.

I completely forget Imogen until she’s stepping towards me. She watches the tears fall from my eyes, shared sorrow evident in her posture. She, too, knew Liam well. They all did. It wasn’t just me who lost him.

But she knows what he was to me. What I was to him.

I don’t know what convinces her. Maybe it’s the tears. Maybe it’s my pathetic whimpers. Or maybe it’s the hollow look in my eyes as grief consumes me. All I know is she’s staring at me with concern and hesitant understanding. And I cling to that like a lifeline.

“Okay,” her voice sobers me from my tears.

A shaky breath. Another.

“Really?” My whisper is broken in the space between us.

She nods slowly. “I’ll do it. But you have to know what you’re asking me to do.”

I nod back, aware of her hands as they clench and unclench at her sides.

The idea came to me last week when a cadet mocked Violet about losing her “guard dog”. Violet flinched and, suddenly, there he was. Xaden was a feral, untamed thing as he hurled himself at the cadet.

It should’ve been me. I should’ve hurt that dumbass cadet. I wish it had been me as I watched Xaden deliver blow after blow on the cadet before being thrown back by Garrick. My knees and hands were shaking as I watched him be crowded against the wall, restrained as the injured cadet ran down the hall like a fucking coward.

Grief is something that’s different for everyone. I think the only person who knew an ounce of what I felt was Xaden. He lost not only a friend but a brother. He loved him.

And as I stood there, staring as Violet calmed Xaden, I had known this grief would pass for him. It would haunt him forever, but it would scar over. He would heal because he had Violet. He had Garrick and Imogen and Bodhi.

I had Liam.

A steadiness settles in me as I meet her gaze. “I know what I’m asking.”

She closes her eyes, briefly, as if debating if this is worth the risk, before raising her hands towards me.

“You need to stay perfectly still,” she instructs, kneeling before me. “I’m not going to lie to you. This will hurt like hell, but the pain won’t last long. It should fade, along with the memories you want me to erase.”

I nod as trepidation and nerves slowly creep up my spine, causing my hands to shake. I clench them, steeling myself. Forcing determination to settle on my shoulders.

Imogen settles herself before me, waiting for my signal before touching the skin of my temples. The pink of her hair is darker in the low lighting, thunder gradually fading in the distance as rain continues to fall.

“Are you sure?” She asks, voice hesitant.

A flash of Liam’s smile has my gut twisting. Liam used to say that love was something he never thought would happen to him. That love was a fairytale.

After almost a year of being together, he whispered with shaky breaths, “I’ve never loved someone like I love you. You’re the other half of something I didn’t know was missing. Something so tied within me, I feel you always.”

I’d gripped him tightly, clinging to him as I kissed his collarbone, neck, all the way up to his jaw. “I feel you, too.”

He shook his head, lips brushing my ear. “Don’t you think it’s terrifying that at any moment, it could be gone? I could lose you?”

I’d given him reassurances. False promises.

I didn’t know I’d lose him so soon. I didn’t know loving him would become a curse.

Wanting something I can’t ever have again will kill me. I can’t do it anymore.

“Yes,” I answer Imogen. “I’m sure.”

She hesitates, only for a moment, before closing her eyes. I close my own, letting the rain wash my doubts away.

Pressure builds behind my eyes, steady and gradual at her fingertips. I can feel her presence in my mind.

“Start from your most recent memory,” she says. “And slowly go further and further until you reach the oldest one.”

I pause, my heart racing frantically in my chest as I immediately recall the last time I saw Liam.

“No!” I scream, but it’s too late.

Deigh slumps to the ground, motionless.

Blood drips from my hands as I run towards Liam, whose eyes meet mine in wide panic. I watch him stagger forward, limping, before collapsing to the dirt.

I’m there, holding him up as his body begins to slump. Xaden appears, helping me, but I barely glance at him. My entire focus is on Liam’s shallow breathing.

“Take me to him,” he whispers roughly, chest rising and falling jaggedly.

We help bring Liam to Deigh. My shaking hands cling to him as we settle him against the red scales of his dragon. Xaden lingers beside me as we both kneel before Liam, whose gaze is fixed on his friend.

“You’re the brother I’ve always wanted,” he smiles. “Don’t forget where you came from. Who you are, and who you’ll become.”

Tears well in Xaden’s eyes as he nods.

I feel like I’m intruding on a moment between them, but I can’t bring myself to leave Liam’s side.

“I-“ he swallows, gaze fixated on Violet behind us. “I hope I did enough-“

“You did,” Xaden smiles, tears now falling down his cheeks. “You did everything you could and more.”

Liam nods, tears in his own eyes. Xaden leans forward to hold him, one last time.

Liam mumbles something to him I can’t hear before Xaden backs away, back towards Violet. I catch Xaden looking at me, guilt written across his features, but I don’t acknowledge it. I can’t waste any second we have left.

Liam finally, finally, meets my gaze. His jaw clenches as he watches the tears streaming down my skin. His fingers reach up, wiping them away. I lean into his hand on instinct, forcing myself to memorize the way his calloused skin feels against mine.

“I don’t know how to say goodbye,” I whisper.

Liam’s smile doesn’t reach his eyes. “Then don’t.”

He pulls me forward, kissing me with his last breaths. I don’t hesitate. I kiss him with every fiber of my being, knowing I won’t have this for much longer. The feel of his lips will stay with me until I, too, meet Malek at the end of this life. Where I hope he waits for me.

When we part, I lean my forehead against his, breaths sawing through me like a serrated knife’s edge.

“I-I can’t lose you,” I gasp.

His skin is pale, almost gray-tinted, as his fingers softly touch my cheek. “You won’t lose me forever. I’ll see you again.”

A sob escapes my lips before I kiss him again. “I love you. Always.”

Liam’s smile is full of sorrow as he kisses me back. “I’ll love you beyond my last breath,” he whispers against my lips.

His fingers suddenly caress the back of my head, tilting my face to look up at him. There’s a severity in his eyes as he stares down at me. “Every moment we have had is something I’ll cherish long after I’m gone. I’ve never felt so lucky,” he kisses the tip of my nose, the top of my cheeks. “Whatever becomes of me, my soul,” a tear falls from his eye as his gaze holds me captive. “I’ll always be with you.”

I turn my head to kiss the palm of his hand. “I’ll always need you.”

“Not always,” he shakes his head. “I need you to promise me something.”

“Anything.”

“Live,” his smile is beaming as blood trickles down the side of his head from an open cut, staining his blonde hair. “Live and forget me.”

“But-“

“I want you to grow old, live a full life. Fight to live beyond whatever this war will bring.”

I shake my head. “How am I supposed to forget you? You’re all I have.”

“No, I’m not. You have so much to live for, don’t let me stand in the way of something greater ahead of you.” I try to refute, but Liam silences me with another kiss. “You’re the one thing in my life that’s made all of this worth it. For that, I’m grateful for the time I was given with you.”

A whimper escapes me and Liam holds me, breathing me in.

“I kept my promise.” He kisses me once, twice.

In the space between us, we breathe together. I hold my hand to his chest, feeling the rise and fall. One long, deep, shaky breath, a whisper of my name, and he stills.

Silence crowds around me, choking the air as I weep into the skin of his neck, holding him close. A scream builds in my throat as his body grows cold beneath me. Rage rises like a tidal wave within me, numbing the pain.

They’ll pay. Every last Venin will die for this. For what they took from me.

I’m covered in sweat, blood, and dried tears by the time the sun sets and the Venin are defeated in Athebyne. For now.

Flames reach towards the sky, flickering and grasping for the stars. I grip my sword, Liam’s sword, tightly in my hand. Blood trickles down my skin across the blade as I stare into the fire.

Liam’s body burns atop the pyre. Ashes scatter in the breeze as everyone stands to watch. We all lived, and it sickens me. We survived, and Liam, the best of us, didn’t.

Bitterness settles next to the grief. It burns like acid in my gut. The last thing I remember is Violet’s hand gripping my own in comfort.

“You’re not alone,” she whispers.

But I am. I’m entirely alone.

The memory is ripped from my grasp, leaving me gasping, heaving, as the ache in my chest burns.

Before I can steady myself, I’m thrown into another.

Arms wrap around my torso, pulling me close to a firm chest as dim light filters through the arched windows.

“Good morning to you, too,” I whisper, groggily.

A breathy chuckle against my spine has my skin prickling. “Morning, love.”

I bask in the warmth of his arms, the feel of his muscles flexing against my skin as he kisses my shoulder. He hums, continuing kissing up my shoulder to my neck, shifting my hair to kiss up my jaw. I shiver, as his fingers trail down my torso to my hips, pulling the hem of my nightdress up my thighs.

“Liam,” I breathe.

I feel him smile against my ear as he nips at it. “Yes, love? Need something?”

His fingers trail up my thighs, leaving goosebumps in their wake. When his calloused hand reaches the edge of my underwear, Liam’s lips caress my bottom lip.

I whisper against him, “I need you.”

“Whatever you want, I’ll give you,” he smirks before his lips collide with mine.

He kisses me with a lazy, unhurried pace. As if we have all the time in the world.

I shift in his arms, gaining better access to his mouth as I tangle my tongue with his. My fingers dive through his hair as his own slip beneath the lace of my underwear. His skin is warm and rough against me as the tips of his fingers glide across where I want him most.

“Already wet for me, darling?” He growls into my mouth.

I moan as his fingers sink inside me, pumping agonizingly slow. He continues to tease and caress as I melt in his arms. When his thumb rubs smooth circles around my clit, heat begins to prickle at the base of my core. I’m already climbing to my peak, heaving and gasping breaths as he pumps his long, thick fingers in and out, gaining speed the more I moan his name.

“You’re intoxicating,” he groans as he bites my lip. “I fucking love waking up to you like this. Soaked and ready for me.”

A gasp falls from my lips just before he pinches my clit. Light flashes beneath my lids as I cry out, fire blazing up my body as I fall into the rhythm of his fingers. I pulse and squeeze around him as my hands grip onto him tightly. When I come down from my climax, a pounding on the door has me jolting.

“Don’t make me break this fucking door down!” I hear Xaden’s voice yell.

Liam groans, slumping against me. “Shit.”

The bed shifts as he rolls off the bed, covering me with the blankets before throwing open the door.

“What?”

There’s a pause before I hear Xaden’s low chuckle. “Sorry to disrupt your morning, but we have to leave.”

Liam’s shoulders tense. “Now? What happened?”

People are running in the hall, shouts echoing off the walls that force me to sit up, staring in confusion at the chaos.

“Get dressed,” Xaden commands, all amusement gone.

“What’s going on?” Liam asks again.

I can see Xaden’s jaw clench as he stares at his foster brother. “They’re calling us down to the flight field. War Games.”

Liam’s grip on the doorframe whitens his knuckles. “How many minutes do we have?”

Xaden hesitates. “Less than ten, but you need-“

“We’ll meet you on the field.” Liam slams the door shut.

When he turns to me, his eyes are blazing like blue fire. He stalks forward, standing at the edge of our bed. His hands shoot out and drag me to the edge, making me squeal. His fingers tear the lace from me, leaving me bare before him before forcing my legs open. He’s kneeling as I sit up, watching him as he leans forward to lick up my slit in one swift, precise movement. I groan, head falling back as I buck against his unyielding grip.

“But we have to go,” I gasp when he does it once more.

His voice is rough and gravelly as his lips caress my heat. “Guess I have to make every second count.”

The memory fades, like the burning of paper. Ashes scattering in my mind as pain radiates up my spine, throbbing at my temples. I bite my lip to keep myself from screaming as the pressure builds.

My head pounds as I’m thrown further, another memory crashing over me.

“Fuck, baby, that’s it,” Liam groans against my ear, pumping deep into me. “You’re taking me so well.”

I whine, shifting my hips to meet him with every thrust. He hits inside of me deliciously, stars dancing across my vision as his hands hold my waist, pressing me into the sheets.

An urgency fills us as we stop pacing ourselves and chase that fire slowly burning beneath our skin. It races in our blood as our skin slicks with sweat, breaths gasping.

Liam shifts his hips upward on the next thrust, making me moan into his collarbone.

“Gods, do that again.”

Liam smirks, blue eyes glittering when they meet mine. “As you wish.”

The memory warps, lost to time, as I’m thrown further, again and again, into one memory after another and another.

The mat presses against my cheek as Liam holds me down. I can tell he’s holding back since his weight isn’t entirely crushing me.

That’s a mistake he’ll surely regret.

I twist my legs, elbowing him in the face as I throw my weight onto him. He rolls, falling to the mat as I climb atop him, my elbow pressing into his throat to cut off his air supply. My legs hold his arms down to keep him from moving.

He struggles for a moment, but the shining pride in his eyes is what causes butterflies to flutter in my stomach.

“I love it when you throw me around,” he chokes out. I raise my elbow slightly to lessen the pressure on his throat.

I chuckle, leaning forward until we’re inches apart. “You like it when I make you do what I want?”

He smiles. “Keep looking at me like that and I’ll beg for it.”

Paper crumples in his hand, frustration steeling his jaw as he throws it at the wall.

“Stop,” I say, reaching for his clenched fingers. “Stop blaming yourself. It won’t do anything good.”

His hard eyes meet mine, immediately softening. “I don’t know what to do,” his voice is broken, hushed. “I wish I could find her, hide her, take her as far from this as possible.” He shakes his head, closing his eyes. “Sloane doesn’t deserve this life.”

Bringing my hand to his cheek, I force him to open his eyes. “You can’t change the future just as you can’t change the past,” I give him a small smile. “She’ll be okay, Liam. She’ll have us.”

Liam’s gaze holds mine as he breathes deeply. We sit there, suspended in time, as he grips me with shaking hands. I know he’s fighting tears as much as he’s fighting the urge to throw a punch at the wall. But with me here, he slowly begins to calm.

When he grabs my hand laying on his cheek, he kisses it. “I guess I should be grateful she’ll finally meet you.”

I smile at the idea. “I hope she likes me.”

He grips me tighter. “She’ll love you. Besides,” he leans forward, inches from me. “She’ll have to since she’ll be putting up with you for a very, very long time.”

I raise a teasing brow. “How long will that be for?”

“If it’s up to me,” he breathes against my lips. “For the rest of our lives.”

The sunset flickers across the horizon over the distant mountains, casting the room in a dim, fading gold light. It refracts off Liam’s eyes, making the blue iridescent, as he smiles against my lips.

“Will you stay?”

I smile back, nipping his bottom lip. “Always.”

“I-I don’t want to wake up alone anymore.” He hesitates, swallowing. “Move in here with me. Share my bed and steal my blankets. Get dressed with me every morning. I don’t want to waste a moment without you next to me. Make this room both of ours.”

Tears gather in my eyes as warmth fills me, settling in my chest.

I kiss him recklessly, leaving us both breathless as I whisper, “Gods, I love you.”

He laughs, shaking his head. “You have no idea.”

Two cadets with fowl breath and malice in their eyes crowd around me. My heart beats wildly in my throat as I back away. Their hands sharp and insistent as they push me to the corner of the hall. Their hands locked on my wrists to keep me from running.

“Get. Your. Fucking. Hands. Off. Her.”

The words cut through the air like a knife laced with venom. It startles the men, who bolt upright to turn and see who spoke.

Liam’s face is a mask of fury as he strides down the hall. The second our gazes collide, he unleashes himself on them. He throws a punch at one of their faces, knocking them against the wall. The other, he tackles into the brick, cracking the back of the cadet’s skull. He groans as Liam throws punch after punch, blood spraying, before throwing the man to the ground. The other cadet is there, stumbling forward and hurling himself at Liam.

I scream when I see the flash of a dagger. Liam catches it within seconds. Being the best of our year has its benefits as he twists the blade out of the cadet’s grip and stabs it to the hilt into his arm. The cadet’s eyes widen, blood trickling from his mouth as he screams, falling to the ground.

The other cadet bleeds next to him, panting.

“What the fuck?” He groans.

Liam stands, blood soaking his clenched fists at his sides as he stares them down. “You touched her, tried to hurt her, you even scared her.” He shakes his head. “You don’t get to live after that.”

The cadet Liam punched over and over again is now trying to crawl away, but it’s too late. Liam is there, hauling him to his feet and holding him against the wall by his throat.

“Liam,” I whisper, fear rattling my voice.

He stops. Everything stops as he lets go of the cadet and turns to me. He’s there, holding me as he quickly examines every inch of exposed skin.

“Yes, love? Did they hurt you?”

I shake my head. “No, I’m f-fine,” I step closer to him, cradling his bleeding hands in mine. “Just please get me out of here.”

He nods, not even sparing them a second glance as he whisks me out of the corridor. We walk quickly until we’re outside in a courtyard. Under a stone arch he stops, pressing me against the wall as he holds me close.

“You looked so afraid,” he whispers in my hair. “I-I couldn’t handle it. Did-“ he hesitates. “Did I scare you?”

“You could never scare me,” I hold him tighter as the lingering fear begins to fade. A warmth settling in me from his close proximity. A sense of rightness at the feel of his arms around me.

He pulls back, looking me over once more. “If those fuckers laid a finger on you-“

I smile softly. “You stopped them before it got worse. I’m alright.”

He nods, forehead touching mine in defeat as his shoulders sag, releasing all the pent-up tension inside of him. “If I wasn’t there, if things were worse, I don’t know what I’d do if I lost you. Who I’d become.”

I burrow into him, letting his warmth chase every horrible thought away. “But you didn’t lose me. You won’t.”

Liam shakes his head. “I need you to promise me something.”

“Anything.”

“Promise me you’ll fight. You’ll fight till your last breath to stay alive, to see the next day. I can’t-“ he swallows. “I couldn’t live knowing I could’ve saved you. But I can’t always be there.”

“You don’t need to be, but I’m grateful you were there today,” I press closer. “I promise to fight and not give up.”

He nods, satisfied. Silence envelops us as the night breeze whistles through the courtyard.

The moon shines on his blue eyes, making them almost silver as he says, “And I promise to fight for you, too. To love you and keep you safe. Till my last breath. You can hold me to that.”

Music floats through the air as Liam holds me close, hands intertwining as he guides me to an alcove covered in shadows. I stifle a laugh as we race through the corridor. We ignore the shouting taunts from Ridoc and Sawyer down the hall as they head back to the party.

Once we’re out of earshot and covered by the dark, Liam presses me against the stone of the alcove. He doesn’t waste a second. His lips are on mine, holding me captive. He’s insistent and intoxicating as he consumes me with just a kiss. He smells of liquor and desire, making me feel lightheaded.

His rough fingers drag the fabric of my dress up as his lips begin to trail down my jaw, neck, and chest. Before I can protest, he’s kneeling, throwing the fabric up to expose my legs to the cool night air.

“Liam!” I whisper-shout. “Someone will see!”

Liam raises a brow. “Then you better keep quiet.”

He grips the back of my leg, tossing it over his shoulder as he disappears beneath my dress. His breath is hot against my skin as he licks up my inner thighs.

I bite back a squeal as he moves my underwear out of the way, fingers toying with my skin.

“Don’t worry, baby, I’ve got you.”

“Liam-“ I’m cut off by the feel of his mouth kissing my heat. His tongue diving deep inside me, causing me to throw a hand over my mouth, stifling a moan. My knees begin to buckle but he holds me in his firm grip, keeping me standing as he continues to twist his tongue deep inside, feasting on me.

I’m delirious with want as he continues to eat me out, thumb caressing my clit lazily. Pleasure spreads up my body, curling around my spine. My hips rock against him, pressure building and building before-

“Liam,” I gasp against my hand as my climax hits me, hard and fast. His fingers and tongue prolong my pulsing as I come all over his mouth. It feels like an eternity before my body gives out, sliding against the stone.

“Gods, I love the way you say my name,” he groans against me. “Especially when I fuck you.”

Liam stands, shifting his hands as I hear the sound of a buckle. Before I can calm my racing heart, he grips my thighs and holds up my legs to wrap firmly around his waist. I obey and immediately suck in a breath. The head of his cock is poised at my soaked entrance.

He suddenly leans forward, surprising me with a kiss on the tip of my nose. My heart swells before he finds my lips, kissing me. It’s consuming, claiming. Leaving me breathless and wanting.

“I love you so much, baby,” he says before pushing into me, stretching me. We moan together, breaths intermixing, as he bottoms out.

Using the wall as leverage, Liam adjusts me so my hips are at the perfect angle, his hands holding my ass firmly before he begins to thrust. My nails dig into his shirt as he hits me just right. This angle allows him to sink deeper and deeper, causing gasps to fall from my lips like whispered secrets.

He stops the sound with his mouth on my own, swallowing my moans. I taste myself on his lips and tongue. It’s incredibly erotic and fills me with immense pleasure as he thrusts harder and harder. I bounce against the stone, clinging to him for dear life as he begins chasing his own pleasure. I’m already climbing with him, breaths sawing through my lungs as I feel myself chasing another orgasm.

“That’s it, baby,” he coos. “You’re incredible.” He hisses as his cock hits me just right. My inner walls fluttering around him as he pumps faster. “Fuck, that feels-“

He groans just as his hips piston into me, wild and untamed as he releases inside of me. I’m right there with him. Like a flower bursting open in the sun, warmth burns through my body at the sensation. I don’t even care if anyone hears us anymore, I’m moaning his name loud enough to echo off the walls as I gyrate against him.

When we both finally come down, we’re twitching and panting, giving one another tired, lazy smiles. Liam towers above me, breathing heavily as he kisses my forehead, my temple, the corner of my mouth.

“Gods, you’re insatiable.”

I laugh before wiggling in his arms, causing his still-hard cock to sink further into me. He moans at the sensation.

“Another round?”

He laughs with me. “You don’t have to ask me twice,” his hands are firm on my wrists as he holds them above my head, trapping them against the cool stone. “As you wish.”

The stars are bright above the flight field as Liam and I lay back in the grass. It prickles the skin of my hands as a breeze flutters over us. The distant sounds of crickets and a nearby river fill the quiet. Both of our dragons lie close by, their sulfuric breathing filling the silence. We’re far away enough from them to feel as though we’re entirely alone.

Liam’s arm is close to mine as we lay, looking up at the constellations.

“What did Ridoc say to you earlier when we were leaving the gym?” I ask quietly. “You seemed annoyed.”

Liam’s breath hitches, his chest stilling. I feel his arm tense as he tries to slowly breathe out, almost like he’s calming himself.

“He, uh, just wanted to know about something.”

That piques my interest. I raise a brow. “About?”

Liam is quiet for a moment. “He wanted to know if you were single.”

“Oh.”

The silence is suddenly suffocating. The presence of our dragons makes this feel incredibly awkward, as if we have an audience. I can feel the weight of my dragon peering at us, like the gossip she is. I ignore her.

I don’t turn to look at Liam as I bite my lower lip. It’s been months of this constant flirtation. Months of tension that’s been building and building but I can’t tell if he’s just incredibly friendly with everyone or actually wanting a relationship with me. It’s driving me crazy.

Liam’s the type of guy who anyone can love and I hate how I’m one of them. How I’ve completely fallen for someone who probably only views me as nothing more than a friend.

A shaky exhale escapes me as I try and compose myself. “What did you say?”

Liam scoffs. “I told him to go ahead and ask you out.”

I startle, eyes wide and heart beating out of my chest as I turn to look over at him only to find he’s already staring at me. There’s a gleam of satisfaction in his eye as he watches my reaction.

Anger rises, sudden and quick. “Did you just say that to see what I’d do?!”

Liam shrugs before winking. “Just making sure you’re not interested in him.”

The anger dies as quick as it arrived. But my heart continues to pound, nerves sparking in my gut. “Why?”

Liam is suddenly leaning close, breath fanning over my face. He smells of mint, earth, and something so familiar, I ache to be closer to him. “I told him to go fuck himself. That you’re mine and he’d end up with a broken nose on that pretty-boy face of his as soon as he even spoke to you.”

My breath catches in my throat, a squeak escaping my lips. Liam’s mouth twitches at the sound.

“Who said I’m yours?” I whisper, unsure and entirely too hopeful for my own good.

Liam’s smile is beaming and brilliant. “You were mine the second you punched Jack in the throat after parapet.”

A laugh bursts out of me, startling the quiet of the night. Liam joins in, but his gaze is heavy and insistent on me.

“He deserved it,” I huff.

“He did,” Liam’s smile is contagious as his fingers move a piece of hair behind my ear, lingering next to my cheek. “But I also knew when you told me I’m just another big asshole at Basgiath,” he winks.

I roll my eyes playfully. “You came on too strong from the second you met me.”

He shrugs. “Didn’t want anyone to steal you away from me before I got the chance to sweep you off your feet.”

I raise a brow. “And did you?”

He lays his hand against my cheek, no more hesitating. “Depends on if you’re truly mine or not.”

I lean into him, eyes closing. “I’ve been yours for a long time, Liam.”

The nighttime breeze wraps us tighter together as he leans in and kisses me. It’s the first time I’ve ever felt his lips on mine and it sends a spark of fire down my body, lighting every nerve like a firework. I’m electrified, lighting up the night sky as he kisses me like something fragile and precious. Something worth having.

“I love you,” I whisper against his lips.

He startles, pushing himself away before he’s suddenly hovering above me. A smile that rivals the brightness of the stars shines on me as he leans down, our noses touching.

“You love me?”

I nod, my nerves fluttering as he reaches out to caress my cheek. I’ve never seen him so soft, so gentle. No one would believe how trusting, caring, and loving he can be. But only I see it. Only with me does he let down his walls.

He’s kissing me again, but this time, he’s no longer holding back. He’s not gentle as he bites my bottom lip, sucking it between his teeth. I moan as his tongue surges into my mouth, claiming me. I’m lost to the feel of him as his hands tangle in my hair, pulling my head back to gain access to my throat.

Against my skin, he whispers. “Gods, I’ve been wanting to hear you say that for so long.” He licks a strip of my skin, biting my pulse, before sucking my clavicle. “Fuck, I love you so damn much, I’ve been going insane with wanting you.”

My breath hitches as his fingers trail beneath my leathers, finding the skin of my hip. He presses me into the grass as he finds his way back to my lips. Kissing me once more.

Time seems to hold its breath as we kiss under the stars, uncaring of what the next day may bring. All we have is this moment, clinging to one another and sighing with relief. I’ve never felt so happy in my entire life as Liam looks down on me with such adoration.

When he suddenly sits back on his knees, I pout up at him. He shakes his head, laughing as he holds his hand out.

“Come with me.”

He pulls me up with him off the grass and starts racing towards the school.

“Where are we going?” I huff, trying to keep up.

Liam’s grip is unwavering as he turns back to look at me. “We only have a few hours till sunrise and I need all the time I can get to show you just how much I love you,” he winks.

Warmth rises up my neck to my cheeks, making him smile wider as he pulls me after him towards Basgiath.

“Is something going on between you and Liam?” Violet asks.

I startle, choking on my drink. Rhiannon snickers as she pats my back, helping me. Once I can breathe, my eyes betray me. I automatically find Liam across the dining hall, talking with Xaden and Garrick. His face is tight with tension and concern as his hands clench beside his plate. When his eyes meet mine, as if he can sense me, the tension is immediately gone. He softens. A smile playing on his mouth as he nods to me, saying good morning.

I nod back, warmth filling my gut before I avoid Violet’s inquisitive stare and go back to eating. “Nothing’s going on.”

Rhiannon snorts. “Sure. And nothing is going on with Violet and Xaden.”

Violet stiffens next to me. “There’s nothing-“

Rhiannon holds up a hand, stopping her. “Don’t fight it, Violet. It’s way too obvious.”

Violet glares at her best friend, causing me to laugh. I catch Liam glancing at us from the sound.

“It’s just as obvious with you two,” Rhiannon presses.

I prickle at their interrogation. “What do you want me to say? We’re just friends.”

Violet shakes her head. “Friends don’t look at each other the way he looks at you.”

I stare at her, brows pinched. “What do you mean?”

Violet glances at Xaden’s table and smiles. “Like that.”

I whip my gaze back to Liam to find him staring. He doesn’t look away when I meet his blue eyes. There’s an underlying intensity in his stare, something heavy and wanting. It leaves me breathless and trapped, wanting more than anything for us to be alone. To finally tell him how I feel. To see if maybe, just maybe, the lingering stares and touches and late-night talks are more than just friendship.

I break away first, staring down at the broccoli on my plate with sorrow climbing its way up my sternum. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Violet throws her hands in the air, clearly exasperated. “Gods, can’t you guys just shut up and make-out already!”

Her voice echoes around the table and I freeze. Closing my eyes, I hope he didn’t just hear her. I hope to every god that can hear me that he isn’t the one whose chair screeched against the floor. That it’s not his booted feet coming towards our table.

“Ladies,” Liam’s deep octave vibrates against my already rattled nerves.

“Oh fuck,” I mumble. I open my eyes to find Liam hovering above me, leaning his hands on the table.

“Morning, gorgeous,” he winks.

I fight the blush rising to my cheeks by curving my nails into my palms. The pain is sharp and helps clear my head.

“Morning,” my voice catches, sounding winded. “Did, uh, you need something?”

I catch Rhiannon smiling at the exchange in my peripheral.

Liam’s hand reaches back to wrap around his neck, showing off the rippling muscles in his bicep as he shrugs. “I was about to head to Battle Brief and wanted to see if you would join me. I mean, since you’re already heading there anyway.”

I nod, butterflies threatening to rise from my gut and fall out of my mouth as I clench my fists beneath the table. His stupid biceps are all I can focus on as his bright blue eyes burn into me.

FOCUS!

I smile. “Yeah, sure,” I turn to Violet and Rhiannon, who are smiling so big and taunting, I want to throw them off the bench. “Are you guys done? Want to head over with us?”

Violet shakes her head. “Oh no, don’t wait up for us. As a matter of fact, I think you’re looking a little chilly though,” she raises a concerned brow. “Do you need my coat or-“

Liam is draping his jacket over my shoulders before she can finish her sentence. I’m startled and staring as his cheeks redden from the attention.

“Ok, we’ll see you guys there,” he holds a hand out to me, waiting.

I turn back to Violet to see a satisfied gleam in her eyes. I glare.

Rhiannon chokes on a laugh as I take his hand, quickly making our way out of the dining hall.

We shove our way through the crowded halls, Liam close by my side as I hold on to his jacket. It’s warm and smells so much like him that I try and resist burrowing my nose into it. Would he think it’s weird if I keep it?

I shrug out of it, not trusting myself or this sudden burst of kleptomania to keep from me stealing it. “Here, I’m not super cold. It’s okay.”

Liam stops me, shoving it back onto my shoulders. “No, I want you to. Besides,” he winks. “You look good in it.”

I hide my blush as we make our way through the crowd once more.

It’s only when we’re at the door to Battle Brief that I realize I’m still holding his hand and he never let go.

Like knotted string, Imogen unravels my mind. Every knot a memory. She pulls and yanks until I’m fraying at the edges. Pain shoots through my veins, burning me from the inside out. A scream slowly builds in my throat as the pain increases to an all-consuming fire.

Just as the pain rises, it falls, like a cresting wave crashing against the shore. And a strange numbing sensation takes over.

A strange hollow throbbing begins to pulse inside of my head. As if something, or many things, are missing. I can’t place it and as soon as I try to recall what’s gone, it whisks away like a leaf in the breeze.

Imogen’s hands are steady on me as another memory, this one golden and bright, surfaces.

“I could show you a thing or two with those pretty long legs of yours wrapped around my-“

A crunching sound echoes in the courtyard as my fist collides with Jack Barlowe’s nose. His head whips back, harsh and startling. I keep my stance, watching and waiting as he whips back around, fury lighting his eyes.

“You fucking bitch!”

My hand shoots out again, this time slamming into his larynx, cutting off the sound in his throat. He chokes, staggering backwards. He falls to the ground, heaving.

The son of a bitch deserves it for pinching my ass and asking me to meet him in the dorms tonight like I’m some sort of whore. I roll my eyes and walk away from him, ignoring the stares that follow in my wake. I didn’t survive the fucking parapet to be groped and manipulated by some jackass.

“Excuse me?”

I whip around, ready to take on another asshole when I hesitate. My eyes widen at the sight of the man before me. He’s incredibly tall and broad. Muscles line his arms, rippling across his skin as if he’s a statue at a gallery. He towers over me with an impish grin on his face. His golden blonde hair a beacon in the sunlight. My heart races in my ears as I stare up at his incredible handsome face.

“You’re in the Fourth Wing, right?” His voice is deep, hypnotic. I could lose myself to the rhythm of it.

I nod, dumbly. “Flame Section.”

He smiles and I feel a strange sense of gravity slipping from beneath my feet at the sight. Gods, he’s beautiful.

But beautiful men often tend to be assholes. Like Jack.

“Me too,” he shrugs. “What’s your name, gorgeous?”

My hackles rise at the compliment. “Why?”

He puts his hands up, showing he’s not a threat. “Hey, I’m just curious. I wanted to know the woman who beat the shit out the biggest asshole at Basgiath.”

I roll my eyes. “All men are assholes here. He just happens to be one of them.”

He cocks his head, leaning forward with a twinkle in his eye. “Am I one of them?”

I step close, glaring up at him. “Most likely, given how you seem to entirely depend on your good looks and charm to get you through your time here. Just like any asshole.”

“You think I’m good looking?” His smirk is intoxicating. “And charming?”

I shake my head. “And apparently brainless.”

He leans closer. “I’ll be whatever you want me to be as long as you keep talking to me.”

My heart gets caught in my throat as I try and swallow. He watches the movement with sharp, knowing eyes. That smirk stretching wider.

“What if I don’t ever speak to you again?”

“You want me to beg, is that it?” His voice is as soft as velvet and it slithers over my skin. “Should I get on my knees for you?”

The image of him on his knees, looking up at me through his lashes, has me jolting away from him. He laughs, which rings through the air like a forgotten melody I only just remembered. It’s frightening how familiar he feels to me.

Annoyance prickles my skin as he continues to laugh at my expense. “You’re just another pompous ass who gets off at the idea of taunting me.”

He shakes his head, his smile never wavering. “Oh gods, you’re entirely wrong. Trust me.” He raises a hand, holding it out to me. “How about we start over, yeah? I’m Liam Mairi and I promise I’m not an asshole. Or,” he shrugs. “Not as big of an asshole as Jack is, at least.”

I can’t help my smile at the words. My annoyance simmers, but something inside of me knows he won’t be like Jack at all. I’ve always been good at reading people and Liam seems like he might actually be the opposite of what I thought he was.

I whisper my name back at him in greeting before reaching out and shanking his hand.

Something golden, like a thread, weaves between us as our skin touches for the first time. Intertwining around the space between our rib cages that has me gasping. It’s familiar, yet frightening. It’s something fragile, but I know it’ll somehow be something glorious. If I let myself curl into it. If I trust it. Trust him.

As I appraise Liam Mairi, I know, deep in the marrow of my bones, that I can trust him. That maybe, just maybe, he’ll become something more. He might be my everything. If I let him.

And that’s the most terrifying thing of all.

As if I’m rising out of water, after drowning for so long and seeking oxygen, I surface from the memories. They fade away with the tide, blinking from existence, as I feel my breath steady me.

Blinking my eyes open, I find Imogen moving back from me. With a quirk of my brow, I stare up at her eyes now brimming with unshed tears.

Why is she crying?

“Imogen?” My voice cracks, roughly, as if I’ve been screaming for hours.

Glancing around, we’re sitting on the stone ground of the courtyard. An arch protects us from the rain. The clouds are dark and ominous above, but I don’t remember coming out here. Weren’t we just having dinner in the dining hall?

Furrowing my brows, I purse my lips. How did we end up here?

“I’m sorry,” she whispers.

I whirl to look at Imogen. “What for?”

That’s when I notice the skin of my cheeks are damp. Touching them, I quickly wipe them with my sleeve. Must’ve been from the rain.

“Can we go back inside? It’s cold.”

Imogen is still staring at me as she helps me from the ground. My muscles ache and pinch as if I were sitting for a long time. Strange.

I stretch my limbs and stare up at the dark clouds. “Hopefully we didn’t miss dinner.”

The last thing I remember was heading to the dining hall with Violet. How did I get here without her?

Imogen is silent as she watches me.

“What’s wrong?” I ask.

She hesitates. “Nothing. Let’s go back-“

“There you are!”

We both turn to find Violet and Xaden heading towards us. Concern is painted across their faces as they approach.

“Are you alright?” Violet asks, stepping towards me.

I tilt my head. “Yeah, I’m fine, why?”

Imogen flinches in my peripheral, catching Xaden’s eye. He narrows his gaze on her as Violet continues to fret over me.

“I’m sorry, I should’ve been there for you. I don’t want you to feel like you’re alone in this. You never will be.”

I furrow my brows, staring at her. “What are you talking about, Vi? Weren’t we heading to dinner?”

She freezes. Suddenly the quiet is stifling as everyone shifts their focus to Imogen.

“What did you do?” Violet asks, her voice piercing.

Imogen stares at the ground, her eyes brimming with tears again. She doesn’t respond.

Xaden’s dark eyes are heavy on me as he steps closer. He whispers my name like I’m a startled animal and it sets my nerves on edge.

Why is everyone being so cryptic and dramatic?

Violet is the one who steps in front of him, taking my hands in hers. “Do you know who Liam Mairi is?”

At the sound of the name, something strange happens. An echo of something deep inside of me leaves me aching and wanting. I search for what it is that has me feeling this way, but I’m left empty. As if a part of me is missing. As if I’ve been cut up and left to figure out how to pull myself back together again. All I can feel are the ashes of something that used to be there and I can’t understand what it was.

“Who’s Liam?”

Weaver of Fate

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nemo-writes · 24 days ago

Text

𝗮𝗯𝘀𝗼𝗹𝘂𝘁𝗲𝗹𝘆 𝘀𝗺𝗶𝘁𝘁𝗲𝗻 I chapter eight

(dr. jack abbot x nurse!reader)

⤿ chapter summary: you wake to the kind of news that steals the ground from under you. jack holds steady, anchoring you to the promise of now. in the warmth of his arms and the dark of the foxhole, two heartbeats remember how to stay.

⤿ warning(s): panic attacks, stalking

⟡ story masterlist ; previous I next

✦ word count: 1.7.k

Rain batters the blackout blinds like a thousand frantic knuckles, dragging you from a deep, numbing sleep. You push the quilt back—Jack’s T‑shirt clings messily to your shoulders—and squint at the dull gray seam around the window that passes for daylight. Your body feels wrung out but unmistakably rested; for a single breath you almost forget why you’re here.

Then your phone vibrates against the nightstand.

Seventeen missed notifications from Ramirez—Night Security glare up from the lock screen. Your stomach tightens as you swipe open the thread. A small gallery of audio clips lines the message bubble—each stamped within the last hour—but above them sits a single photo: an evidence bag spread on a stainless autopsy tray, fluorescent glare bleaching its edges. Inside, your stalker’s crumpled note is clearly visible.

See you soon, pretty girl. The handwriting is unmistakable—slanted, looping, like a child’s cursive lesson gone feral.

A cold ripple slides under your skin. You can almost smell the acrid plastic through the image. Thumb trembling, you press play on the first voice note. Ramirez’s calm baritone fills one ear:

“Morning. I have a few updates. The kid’s story checks—unhoused, prepaid phone only two days old. Anonymous account DM’d him. Sent your picture and promised cash for a hand‑off…”

The word picture needles you. You tap the second attachment—a low‑resolution printout of you in surgical greys, snapped from behind in the hallway, circled in red ink like prey in a hunter’s manual. Someone has been close enough to catch the tiny embroidered stitching on your scrub pocket.

The second voice clip autoplays; you scarcely register fragments—“cash drop, dumpster, service bay, widening sweep”—as a roar swallows the edges of your hearing. You are suddenly outside your body, floating just above the bed, watching your own hands start to tremble.

The phone slips from boneless fingers, thudding onto the quilt where the evidence photo still glows like a fresh wound.

Not over. Never over.

A choked whimper tears out of you, then blossoms into raw, jagged sobs. Air scrapes the back of your throat but refuses to dive deeper. Vision tunnels—wall, ceiling, rain‑streaked window all squeeze into a narrow, swimming aperture. Your chest clamps so tight it feels fused.

Some buried instinct yanks your knees to your chest; fists press into your temples as if trying to hold your skull together. But the images keep flashing: the note, the photo, shadowy hands delivering them. You shake so violently the mattress quivers.

Footsteps pound the hallway. Jack crashes through the door, barefoot, eyes sweeping the scene—phone on quilt, note aglow, you folded in on yourself. Something in his gaze fractures, then sets.

He drops to his knees at the bedside, palms hovering just off your shoulders. “Look at me,” he says, voice steady but edged with urgency. “In through the nose—one, two, three, four. Hold. Out for six.”

You try, but air hooks against your ribs. Your lungs seize and the sobs return, sharper. Panic is a black tide, boiling up your throat.

“Plan B,” Jack mutters. He whips the comforter free, wraps it around your torso with practiced confidence—weighted pressure you didn’t know you craved. Still, the tide keeps rising.

Jack slides an arm under your legs, the other behind your back, lifting you as though you weigh nothing. He maneuvers across the room, shoulder bumping the closet door, shoves it aside with his hip, and eases you into the carpet inside. Cedar planks and faint traces of gun oil greet your nostrils—his foxhole. He folds himself behind you, tight, like armor. The stuffed comforter makes a cocoon, pinning your arms gently. Total dark except thin light through the door crack. Rain becomes a dull, distant drum.

“This is how I ride it out,” he breathes near your cheek. “Small space, darkness, weight. Feel my heartbeat.”

He presses his chest to your back; his pulse thuds slow, resolute. One hand captures your wrist, taps a measured code—tap‑tap‑pause… tap‑tap‑pause. His own grounding trick.

“Match the taps. In on the first, out on the pause.”

Your throat shudders. You drag in a shaky breath, pulse racing. Tap‑tap. You inhale—one, two. Pause. You blow the air out—five, six. Again. Again. The ringing in your ears softens; the closet walls feel steadier around you than the entire city outside.

Minutes spool out. Your sobs fade to hiccups, then to shaky exhales. The black tide recedes enough for you to notice his shirt is damp from your tears. When your hands relax at last, he loosens the blanket, but not his embrace.

“The kid had a photo,” you rasp. “Sent it to him. He knew my face.”

Jack’s reply is a low growl threaded with fury not meant for you. “Then they left a trace on the web. Ramirez and PD will track it. Every slip is evidence.”

A tremor still twitches through you. ��I can’t… keep doing this.”

He squeezes—arms, blanket, the very air around you. “You’re not alone in the foxhole,” he whispers, voice fierce and tender all at once. “Storm hits both of us now.”

You breathe—one, two, three, four—hold—five, six—release. Chest loosens fraction by fraction, the world expanding beyond the narrow circle of fear.

Jack draws you closer between his knees, tucking your wrapped form close like instinct. The comforter cocoons you as legs bracket yours, anchoring you to the slow, even tide of his breathing. His stubble grazes the side of your face as he tilts down, nuzzling almost absent‑mindedly, the faint scrape oddly soothing. Without thinking, he folds his arms around your middle and cradles you tighter, as if you’re something soft he can keep safe from every sharp edge outside the cedar boards.

“We’ll layer more security,” he murmurs, the words rumbling against your cheek. “But right now—water, food, daylight when you’re ready. One hour at a time.”

You nod against the scratch of his jaw, throat raw as sandpaper yet loosening under the steady drum of his pulse. The closet no longer feels like a tomb but a bunker—heartbeat‑warm, his arms a barricade softer than steel yet stronger than any lock. You cling to that single hour—this dark, this storm, the unconscious way he cuddles you like a beloved talisman—tap‑tap‑pause. One minute, one breath, one solid heartbeat at a time, while outside the rain claws the roof and fails to find a way in.

. . .

You drift off without warning—one moment answering his measured breaths, the next a boneless weight in his arms. Panic has that cruel after‑shock: it empties the body like a wrung sponge. Jack holds you a minute longer, just listening to the fragile hiss of true sleep, before easing out from under the comforter. You stirs, but never fully wake.

He pushes the door open with you gathered in his arms. The guest room seems suddenly inadequate: too many windows, too far from his reach. Instead he makes a beeline for his room, and lowers you into the center of his own bed. The mattress dips under your exhausted form. A strange relief hums through him the instant you’re there, as though the perimeter of his world has tightened to these four walls and at last, finally, he can stand watch without distance between them.

Jack tucks the comforter around your shoulders, then moving to adjust his own blackout blinds until only a thin seam of rain‑washed gray slips through. The hush grows deep, broken only by the soft rasp of your breathing. He brushes a stray strand from your brow, the pad of his finger traces the faint crow’s‑feet fanning from the outer corner of your eye—lines he’s noticed deepening these past months, carved by sleepless shifts and too many forced smiles. They move when you dream, tiny ripples that speak of decades lived at full burn. He rests there just long enough to feel the steady pulse beneath, anchoring himself to its quiet strength, before he steps back.

He doesn’t leave.

Instead, Jack perches on the cedar trunk at the foot of the bed, hands laced, breathing slow. The weight he’s carried since the first signs settles heavier tonight, a dull iron plate behind his ribs. He has known fear—mortar whistles, black‑site alarms, the metallic stench of his own blood—but this is different. This is fear in a hospital hallway, in one's home.

Love, he realizes, has teeth. It bites down exactly where you’re weakest.

His phone vibrates in his pocket. Gloria’s reply to his earlier voicemail: Update when able. PD looping tech for DM trace. We’ll cover her nights—consider yourself attached to the same order.

He texts back: Understood. Off tonight; reassess tomorrow. Within seconds a second message arrives—Margot this time, a single thumbs‑up emoji and a heart. Ben adds: Tell her I’ve restocked the lemon tea. Small gestures, but each feels like another board slid into place around the foxhole.

He stands, pacing once to bleed off tension, then thumbs Gloria again anyway: Need shift relief extended through the next cycle. Panic episode severe. She requires at least 24h decompression.

Gloria’s typing bubble appears, then: Approved. File in the morning. Take care of each other, Jack.

The administrative confirmation should calm him, but the ache behind his sternum doesn’t budge. Your phone had mercifully stayed unlocked. He forwards‑selects every voice note, screenshot, and photo Ramirez sent, and fires them to his own encrypted account before the screen can timeout. A double vibrate confirms delivery. The impulse to dismantle every security camera in The Pitt and rebuild the system from scratch surges hot beneath his skin. He drags in a breath, holds it to a four‑count, and lets it out slow.

Anger is fine; action later. Guard duty now.

He positions a chair just inside the bedroom door where he can see your face and the hallway beyond. He places his battered field notebook on the nightstand, flips to a blank page, and begins to diagram: time-stamps, camera grids, staff schedules overlapped with sightlines—anything to keep his hands busy until daylight or danger, whichever comes first.

But every few minutes his eyes return to the bed. You’re curled toward his pillow, lips parted in deep sleep, lashes casting faint shadows. Each rise and fall of your chest—slow, even—chips the iron plate in his chest just enough to let air in. He wants to promise you that the foxhole walls will hold. He wants to tear the city apart until the stalker’s face has a name and an arrest record. He wants, selfishly, to live in that kitchen kiss for one uninterrupted day.

Instead he writes, listens to the rhythm of rain, and keeps watch under the muted glow of the generator lamp—because love may have teeth, but so does the man willing to guard its heartbeat.

divider credit

#fanfiction #fanfic #the pitt #the pitt fanfiction #the pitt fanfic #the pitt x reader #the pitt x you #jack abbot #jack abbot x reader #jack abbot x you #dr. jack abbot x reader #dr. jack abbot x you #female reader #nurse reader #small age gap

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b1mbodoll · 1 year ago

Note

it’s me i’m the kitty won enjoyer i think i actually need to be chained up when im ovulating i cant do this anymore 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭 kittywon and baby trapping……… its like you read my mind i could kiss ur brain 🩵

pairings: yang jungwon x f! reader

warnings: hybrids + barbed cock! won + dacryphilia + babytrapping (baby referred to as his kitten) + noncon + pregnancy ment + lactation

💌: NO UR SO REAL… we r ovulation twins like this is TOO MUCH!!!! free us!!!!!!! anyway enjoy this quick thought hehehhmmfmenfnf

kitty! jungwon is a clueless little thing and doesn’t realize that humans don’t have heats like female hybrids.. doesn’t know that human cunts weren’t exactly made for taking hybrid cocks either.

that’s why he simply licks away your tears as he pounds your poor pussy, his barbed cock is long and thick, stretching your hole so much it hurts, pained sobs and garbled cries of his name the only noises you’re able to make.

wonie’s so eager to breed you; wants to cream your cunt and knock you up, desperate to see you carrying his kittens and feel your tits, heavy with milk and leaking at the smallest amount of pressure.

his thrusts are brutal and relentless, the sound of skin against skin filling the room, wet plap, plap, plaps as he rearranges your insides, inner walls wrapped around his cock like a vice; almost as if you don’t want him anywhere but inside of you, sucking his length deeper and deeper, spasming due to the spiked feel.

painful pleasure is wiped from your mind and fear is the only feeling you can focus on as jungwon’s pace turns sloppy and his breathy yowls warn you of his impending orgasm. “wonie.. jungwon! stop, pull out, please. pullout, pullout, pull-“

it’s like he can’t hear you, despite the way his furry ears twitch and his tail thrashes wildly, and you can do nothing but lay there and take it, his cockhead piercing your womb and flooding it with hot, sticky cum, making you wince when he grinds his hips, the thought of making it stick clouding his kittybrain.

he begins to purr, wrapping his tail around your thigh as a content smile makes its way onto jungwon’s lips. “‘m gonna make you a mommy.”

#♡.signed. sealed. delivered.#♡.sweetheart: twinnie 😙#♡.the honeypot #this is for flo i know they wouldve loved this 😞 i miss u babe #i wrote tbis in one sitting it is CRAZY what ovulation will do to a mf!!!#enhypen #yang jungwon #enhypen smut #enhypen x reader #yang jungwon smut #yang jungwon x reader #💌.hybrids #💌.dacryphilia #💌.noncon #💌.pregnancy #💌.creampies #💌.lactation

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ssloveslogan · 6 months ago

Text

. ⋆. 𐙚 ˚ too much ˚ 𐙚 . ⋆.

warnings: MDNI, dom!logan x sub!reader, unprotected sex, size kink, dirty talk, kinda breeding kink, degradation, daddy kink, petnames, belly bulge

✧₊⁺ i knoow its such an overused dynamic but i cant help myself i love it. i so badly need logan to just take control of me and do give feedback on where i can improve i need it ✧₊⁺

“relax sweetheart, it will feel good once you do” logan grunts out, slowly pressing his tip into your tight hole.

“l-logan! oh lo, y-you’re too big!” you hiss out, feeling stretched and already full just from the fat head of his cock burning your gummy walls.

“shhh, she’s taking me just fine, hm? look at that, i’m squeezing right in” he smirks as he look down to where you’re both connected, your juices already leaking down his shaft, as he bottoms out with a loud groan.

he gives no time for you to get used to the generous size of him as he pulls out leaving just the tip before slamming back in. he sets a rapid pace as he thrusts in and out, kissing your cervix with every rut.

“f-fuck baby, you’re gripping around me so tight” he growls out, leaning down to bury his face in your neck, biting and sucking to leave his mark on you, yet remaining at his vicious pace. he wants needs everyone to know who you belong to.

“oh, daddy i’m so full, your cock feels s-so fucking g-good” you mumble out, eyes rolling all the way back as you moan with every thrust into you. “m-more, please daddy..”

“greedy fuckin’ whore” logan scoffs at your desperation yet he presses his thumb to your red, puffy button and moves it in swift circles which have you clamping down on him impossibly harder. you’re hands claw at the sheets, you swear you can see galaxies at this point, and the pleasure from both his finger on your clit and his hips snapping into you is all too overwhelming.

“w-wait lo, s’too much” you sob beneath him, squirming away, but he doesn’t stop and instead drills harder against your cervix. he grabs both your wrists and pins them above your head with just one of his hands while he continues his assault on your clit with the other hand.

logan chuckles “this is what you wanted, right doll? so quit squirming and fuckin’ take it” he snarls into your ear, his breath hot against it and his groans take over your hearing.

you soon give up with your pleads to slow down and instead let him use your now pliant body. so willing. logan hikes one of your thighs up to his pleasing - manhandling you as if you were merely a toy. strings of ‘uh,uh,uh’s’ are all you can slobber out and soon enough you’re crumbling down with the intensity of your orgasm.

logan groans at the even tighter feeling and he fucks you right through your release and all you do is just moan and whine while being fucked dumb on his girth. soon enough, you feel him throb in your heat and he jackhammers into your cunt, chasing his own orgasm.

“gonna cum in you princess, make those pretty noises for me, let everyone hear what a cumslut i’m making of you” logan smirks as he watches you let out your lewd moans for him. so obedient.

“f-fuck” logan’s hips begins to stutter and then he halts into you, as deep as he can, as thick spurts of his load stain your insides white, plugging you full of him.

“im gonna stay right here, princess” he releases his grip on your wrists and moves his hand towards the thick bulge in your lower stomach. he presses down gently, letting you feel the imprint of his girth in your core, and you whine, feeling overworked and spent.

“gotta make sure you can take daddy’s cock easier next time, hm?

ִֶָ𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ🐇་༘࿐ ִֶָ𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ🐇་༘࿐ ִֶָ𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ🐇་༘࿐ ִֶָ𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ🐇་༘࿐ ִֶָ𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ🐇་༘ ִֶָ𓂃 ࣪

was it too much? was it too little? help me, all i knew when writing this earlier was how desperate i am for him😢

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orangeblossomsintheair · 6 months ago

Text

LANDO NORRIS

lando fingering you. thats it. thats the post. im almost always open for lando, carlos, and logan requests ;>

lando knows how needy you get after a few days apart, knows the small little tantrums you have when he isn't there to lick between your thighs before bedtime, or your snappish attitude when you don't wake up with his cock nestled inside you.

he finds it all too cute, admittedly, to know he's spoiled your pretty little pussy so much that you can't cum without him.

“eager, aren’t you?” a quiet laugh spills out of his lips as you crawl into his lap, your back against his chest.

his arm finds its place around your waist, fingers already teasing the hem of your panties. “was only gone for a weekend, baby.”

“felt longer,” you mumble, nuzzling into his neck like a cat in heat. “missed you so much.”

“missed me?” his mouth brushes your ear, delighting in your soft gasp as his fingers hook into the lace, ripping the delicate fabric apart without so much as a second thought. “or missed this?”

lando is gentle when he trails his fingers through the shining mess painting the inside of your thighs, eyes fluttering close as he makes contact with the slick that feels like it’s spilling out of you.

the groan that’s pulled from him is sheer instinct— fuck, you’re so wet.

he drags a finger through the mess between your puffy folds to try and distract himself from the molten heat that simmers low in his belly.

it’s a futile effort when he can barely even look away from your pretty cunt, mind going wild over getting his mouth on you again.

lando’s hips shift, the thought of your taste on his tongue making his cock throb, straining in his shorts. you are not good for him.

“ngh..” you jolt when he finally sinks a finger into your cunt, pretty eyes widening and lips parting in shock at the stretch. his other hand busies itself with your chest, pawing at the plush swell of your breasts.

“l-lan..” he can’t help but giggle at your slurred call of his name, eyes lidded as he lazily pumps his finger in and out.

he knows what you need, can read the hitch of your breath and the ground of your hips against his hand. lando knows you still feel too empty, knows one finger is hardly enough to satiate his pretty girl.

“what do you need?” he asks anyway just to hear the pitch of your cry, too shy despite the fact that your legs are already parted and resting over his thighs, cute cunt already dripping down his wrist.

he places a sharp slap to your clit when you fail to answer, reveling in the way your back arches and how you squirm in place. “answer me.”

"need more..." your voice trembles as you speak, eyes closing as if it can shield you from the shame of begging for your pussy to be stuffed.

"aw? my pretty princess needs more? not enough for you, baby?" he teases, lips brushing your ear, and you can feel the smile behind every syllable.

you don’t answer, can’t, really, but it doesn’t matter, lando doesn't expect you to.

he grabs your knees, pulling them over his, spreading your legs wide and you let out a desperate sound, part whine, part sob when he reaches down to absentmindedly pinch your clit.

he pulls his finger out and replaces it with two before you can even blink or gasp. you choke on air at the thickness that spears you, incomparable to your own.

lando thinks you’re so pretty like this, head thrown back with a wail, grinding against his knuckles. he has to stifle another giggle at the too-tight cling of your pussy, at the way your walls clamp down on him.

he fucks you like that, the length and breadth of his fingers dipping in and out. you scramble to clutch at his arms, trying to ground yourself as he decides to increase his pace. he pistons inside you, looking over your shoulder to get a glimpse of the wetness he can feel leaking out of you.

“you're so loud..” lando laughs, the lilt of it teasing. “so wet, baby.”

#lando norris #lando x reader #lando imagine #lando x you #formula 1 #formula one #formula one x reader #lando norris smut #x reader #smut #ln4 #ln4 x reader #ln4 x y/n #ln4 imagine #lando x y/n

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porcalinecunt · 2 months ago

Note

m in lov wit your writing > < can we pleaseee get more connie smut?:(

𝐌𝐄𝐀𝐍𝐈𝐄 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐃 !

🎀 ᯓᡣ𐭩 connie loves to be greedy with your pretty pussy, even if it gets too sensitive for your liking! :c

⋆˚࿔ FEATURING . . 𝜗𝜚˚⋆ CONNIE SPRINGER X MALE! READER

° ᡣ𐭩 . ° . cw — ftm!reader , connie’s tongue is pierced ;3 , overstimulation , cunnilingus , mean dom! connie(?) , breeding , use of ‘sweet thing’ & ‘sweet boy’ .

[・:。author’s note ! 「 ✉️ 」・𓂃 ࣪˖ ] hello, i have risen once again with new theme and a ton of new ideas that (hopefully) i’ll be able to write. no promises tho! anyways, ty for the request nonie! sorry it look me so long ;-; <3

somehow, you haven’t fallen and knocked your clumsy head off.

your stomach was in knots and your thighs were practically crushing your boyfriend’s shaved head. if only you could make proper eye contact with him, but you couldn’t risk throwing off his balance while you sat on his shoulders. connie’s strength was no joke, proving your worries wrong in a heartbeat the moment he hoisted your body up against the wall until your legs were fully hooked onto his shoulders.

here you are now, sensitive to the touch and his pierced tongue deep inside your ruined cunt. it didn’t matter that his chin and neck were soaked in your arousal, he wasn’t gonna stop until you were practically sobbing and unable to string two words together besides what he wanted to hear.

“i can’tt—i can’t anymore c-connie!”

you screamed uselessly for the upteenth time, knowing it’d only egg him on. a quick strike to your bruised thigh said it all.

“connie! ‘m serious!”

with a loud smack, he groaned and pulled away, resting his cheek against your thigh. his pupils blown from lust and a lazy smile stretched on his lips. even when he’s mean, there’s a boyish charm to him that you can never hate. such a face that has your nails scratching his shaved head as if he was a cat that purred its way out of trouble.

“wanna stop? lame.. ♡” he replied, earning him a light smack on the head from you.

“i already came twice, jackass! ‘m too tired!”

connie rolled his eyes at you before you could continue your whining and you suddenly felt your body drop to his torso. a yelp echoed through the room from the sudden fall for it to be cut short when you felt something poke at your cunt and sink straight in like it was nothing. a broken string of gasps and mewls of straight shock tore out of your throat from the sudden sensation of your boyfriend’s cock stuffing your sensitive pussy to the brim.

“still tired of me, sweet thing?” connie half groaned half chuckled a spiteful response, knowing damn well you couldn’t babble an answer out with your brain turned into mush. you could barely register what was even happening until he snapped his hips against yours as you practically bounced off his body. the speed was so intense, you couldn’t even muster up a moan and left your jaw unhinged with strained cries spilling out. it was all too much, too much for your frail little cunt. yet, it wasn’t enough for connie.

through glassy eyes, you watched your boyfriend stare you down with lust blown pupils. hearts practically carving themselves into his sage green eyes, a look only he gives you in a state of pure ecstasy. the only thing on his mind was tearing your orgasm out of you, to shut that bratty mouth of yours and even breed you stupid. after all, it never fails to make you melt into idiocy.

“atta boy, all nice and quiet now—are you?” he pokes at you, watching you try and mutter out a response. “ah..nghh—“ “what? words baby, use em’.” his words faltered a bit, a sign of his orgasm as if his twitching cock wasn’t obvious enough. his thrusts grow sloppier and uncoordinated, a desperate pace throwing him off.

“fff..’uck you..” you choked out. the next sound being a guttural moan punched out of your gut. a shot of liquid heat gushing into your cunt and deep into your womb. you’re whole body squished between the wall and your boyfriend.

“ah..love you too, sweet boy. ♡”

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tacticalprincess · 1 year ago

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a/n i need him in ways that wouldve gotten me lobotomized in the 50s…

himbo!könig wanted your first time together to be special. after all the months of work he put in getting you to take him seriously, all of his dumb attempts at courting you, he wasn’t going to fumble his chances with you now.

he’s usually pretty confident in himself, almost to the point of delusion, but something about you makes him so nervous, and he can’t wrap his head around someone like you genuinely being interested in a goofy guy like him :( that’s why he misses all of the opportunities you give him to fuck you, always taking your hints and attempts at seducing him the wrong way…

“it’s so hot in here, köni.” “are you getting sick, liebchen? should i turn the air on?” “no, i think i’m wearing too many clothes…” “…you don’t look overdressed to me.”

at some point you start to question if he actually does want you in that way. but the way even the slightest touch from you has him popping boners is enough to shake you out of those doubts. everything about you seems to turn him on. he’s convinced you were plucked straight from his wettest dreams, and he can’t stand to be in close proximity to you for too long without being affected. but he thinks he hides it well enough— always covering the proof of his arousal with a subtle pillow over his lap whenever you’re around.

of course he wants to make the move, but he wants to do it properly. it happens the night he takes you to a small town carnival. he planned on kissing you on top of the ferris wheel, but he unfortunately surpassed the weight limit. instead he holds your hand on the rollercoasters and you feed each other fair food. he insists on stopping at every game until he’s won you too many stuffed animals for you to carry and eventually you’re forced to leave.

he’s shaking in his boots by the time you get back to his place, tripping over the mess on his floor and stumbling over his words. sensing his hesitancy, you’re the one to lead him to his room, your hand wrapped around his large finger.

“are you sure, maus? we don’t have to, i have DVDs–”

“shut up and fuck me, köni.” you huff, already fully naked and exposed on his bed. “please.”

he plans to take it slow, he really does. getting the chance to please you, to be let inside your hot body for the first time, is a privilege he doesn’t take lightly. he wants you both to savor it, he has to make it good for you :(

instead, he absolutely loses himself the moment his fat, pulsing cock sinks into your gummy cunt. he goes full caveman, your headboard slamming against the wall with the force of his thrusts for all your poor neighbors to hear :( all thoughts leave him when he’s sheathed inside of you except for how perfect your sopping pussy feels around him, borderline animalistic as he uses your smaller body as a fleshlight. the sounds of his heavy balls smacking against your ass accompanied by your pretty whines and moans only spur him on.

he fucks you in missionary so it’s more intimate, but there’s nothing romantic about the way he’s mounting you. you thank god for making you flexible as he’s pushing your knees up to your ears, seemingly trying to push his cock deeper than your small cunny has room for, stretching your poor cunt past its limit. you swear you can feel him all the way in your stomach, mushroom tip bruising your cervix with each thrust.

you don’t even notice you’re sobbing until he does. “are you okay, liebe? does it hurt?” he asks through heavy pants. “fuck, i’m sorry. i don’t think i can stop myself, you just— you feel so fucking good. you’re so… warm… squeezing me so tight. just- just hang in there for me, ja?”

your brain can’t work for long enough to form words, rough thrusts drawing nothing but high pitched staccato “uh-uh-uh”’s from your throat. you’re drunk on the feeling of his thick cock splitting you open, the way his heavy body squishes yours, barricading you in so you’re completely engulfed by him. his hairy stomach ruts against your sensitive, puffy clitty until you’re clenching around him, your sudden orgasm draining the cum out of his tight balls. “so good. fuck, you’re so perfect. best pussy i’ve ever felt.” he fucks you through the high, mindlessly overstimulating you both until you have to physically push him off of you.

you might’ve created a monster…

#himbo!konig #konig cod #konig x y/n #konig call of duty #konig modern warfare #konig mw2 #konig smut #konig x you #konig x reader #könig smut #könig cod #könig x reader #könig mw2 #könig call of duty #könig #könig x you #könig x y/n #könig fanfiction #bella writes⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

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minxmut-cafe · 3 months ago

Text

FUCKING MACHINE

Pairing : BTS Members x Reader.

Warning : smut, dirty talk, uses of a fucking machine, accidental voyeurism.

Authors note : Ehe.

Synopsis :

They come home expecting a nice warm welcome but the sight that greets them...oh my

NAMJOON

You don’t hear the front door open.

You don’t hear the keys dropping onto the table or the sound of footsteps moving through the apartment. You’re too far gone—too deep in your own world, panting, trembling, as the machine works its relentless pace, dragging out pleasure until you’re barely coherent.

But you do hear his voice.

"Baby?"

Your eyes snap open, panic flashing through you just as you feel the weight of his presence in the doorway.

Namjoon is standing there.

Still in his airport clothes, a backpack slung over one shoulder, his face slack with shock. His lips part slightly, his brows furrow, and for a moment—just a moment—he doesn’t move.

His gaze flicks down. And then he sees.

Sees the machine. Sees you, trembling, ruined, with your thighs spread wide to take every inch of the thick, pulsing replica of his cock. Sees how your body jerks every time it fills you, how your chest heaves, your lips parted on silent, desperate cries.

Sees everything.

His breath stutters. His fingers tighten around the strap of his bag.

"What…what are you doing?"

His voice is so soft. Confused. Almost innocent.

But then he notices—how wrecked you are. How long you must’ve been at this. How your pretty eyes roll back, how hoarse your cries sound, how your body twitches like you’ve already come too many times to count.

"Oh, baby."

The backpack drops.

Your whole body locks up when you see his shoulders tense—the way his throat bobs as he swallows hard, the way his usually gentle eyes darken into something you’ve never seen before.

"Turn it off." His voice is barely above a whisper, but it’s not a request.

With shaking fingers, you fumble for the remote, pressing the button to shut the machine off. The moment it stops, your body collapses, a wrecked whimper falling from your lips at the sudden loss.

And then—Namjoon is on you.

"Baby…" His large hands are everywhere—cupping your cheek, stroking your trembling thighs, his brows drawn together as he takes in your wrecked state. "How long have you been doing this?"

You can barely think, barely speak, but when you don’t answer fast enough, Namjoon’s fingers wrap around the base of the toy still inside you, shifting it slightly—just enough to make your body jolt.

"Too long," he murmurs, answering his own question.

Your breath hitches. "Joonie—"

"Shh." He presses his forehead to yours, his voice achingly soft, but his grip on the toy tightens. "Baby, you know I love you, right?"

You nod frantically.

"You know I’d do anything for you?"

Another nod.

His thumb brushes over your bottom lip. "Then tell me, sweetheart—why did you need this when I’m right here?"

Tears prick your eyes. "I missed you—"

"Oh, baby." His voice is so sweet, so full of warmth, but the way he pulls the toy out in one slow, devastating motion is anything but.

A broken sob rips from your throat. Your walls clench around nothing, your body aching with the loss, but Namjoon just watches—eyes dark, lips parted, fingers twitching as he studies the toy now slick and glistening in his hand.

And then, he does something unexpected.

He brings it to his lips.

Drags his tongue along the length—his length—tasting the evidence of just how badly you needed him. His eyes flutter shut, a deep, guttural groan vibrating in his chest.

And when he opens them again—

"I think it’s time you remember why the real thing is better."

And then—he ruins you all over again.

KIM SEOK JIN.

"Honey, I’m home!"

Seokjin’s voice is full of warmth, lighthearted as he kicks off his shoes, already smiling at the thought of surprising you. He wasn’t supposed to be back until tomorrow, but the thought of seeing you sooner had been too tempting.

But then—

He hears it.

A soft, rhythmic whirring. A noise that doesn’t belong. A noise coming from your bedroom.

His brows furrow. He steps closer, the sound growing clearer with each step—accompanied by something else. Something wrecked.

A moan.

His stomach tightens.

Jin reaches the doorway, pushing it open with ease, ready to call out to you—

And then he sees.

Sees you—spread out on the bed, shaking, your hands clutching the sheets as your body jerks helplessly with every deep thrust of the machine. Sees the way your pretty mouth falls open, drool glistening on your lips, your chest rising and falling in uneven gasps.

Sees the thick, veined toy inside you.

And then—realization hits.

Because he knows that shape. That curve. That size.

It’s him.

His first reaction is disbelief. His second is offense.

"Are you kidding me?"

Your whole body jolts. Eyes fluttering open, you meet his gaze—wide, shocked, completely fucked out.

"J-Jin—"

He scoffs. Actually scoffs.

"So let me get this straight—" He crosses his arms, looking so unimpressed despite the flush creeping up his neck. "I leave for one tour, and suddenly I’m replaceable?"

You whimper, trying to reach for the remote, but Jin is faster.

He snatches it before you can, holding it up with a slow, dangerous smirk.

"Oh, no. You wanted this, right? You went out of your way to get a perfect replica of me—so why don’t we see how well it compares?"

Before you can protest, Jin’s thumb presses down.

The machine speeds up.

A cry rips from your throat, your body convulsing as the mechanical thrusts deepen, pushing you right to the edge again.

Jin watches.

Leaning casually against the wall, he studies the way you fall apart—how your back arches, how your legs shake, how your lips tremble. His tongue clicks against his teeth, his head tilting slightly.

"Mm. I don’t know, sweetheart—" His voice is mocking. "You look like you’re enjoying this a little too much."

Tears gather at the corners of your eyes. You’re so close, right there, just one more second—

And then—

Click.

The machine shuts off.

You sob.

"Aw, baby." Jin pouts dramatically, tossing the remote onto the bed. "Did I ruin it for you?"

You glare at him, but it’s weak—your body too wrecked, too needy to do anything but tremble.

Jin chuckles, finally stepping forward. He kneels on the bed, his warm hands gliding up your shaky thighs, his gaze softening—just slightly.

"You really missed me that much, huh?" His voice drops, his thumbs rubbing slow, soothing circles into your skin. "Couldn’t wait for the real thing?"

You nod frantically, lower lip trembling. "Jin, please—"

"Shh." He leans in, lips brushing over yours, but not quite kissing. "I got you, baby. Let me remind you why the original is always better."

MIN YOONGI

You’re completely gone.

Sweat clings to your skin, legs trembling, fingers gripping the sheets in a desperate attempt to ground yourself as the machine continues its relentless pace.

You don’t hear the door open.

You don’t hear the soft shuffle of footsteps.

You don’t even sense him until—

"Huh."

Your entire body freezes.

Your heart stops.

And then, in pure horror, your head snaps toward the door.

Yoongi.

Standing there.

One hand in his pocket, the other holding a plastic bag—probably takeout from his favorite spot.

Expression?

Completely. Blank.

Oh, fuck.

You scramble to shut the machine off, body still twitching from the aftershocks, but Yoongi just lets out a slow, low exhale through his nose.

"Don’t stop on my account."

Your breath hitches.

You should say something. Apologize. Explain. Anything.

But you’re still too dazed—too wrecked—and Yoongi knows it.

Knows it, and uses it against you.

He steps closer.

Slow. Unbothered. Like this is just another Tuesday.

And then—finally—he speaks.

"You must’ve been real desperate, huh?"

Your face burns.

But Yoongi?

He just tilts his head.

"Really couldn’t wait for me?" His eyes drop—zeroing in on the toy still buried inside you. "Had to go and get a little… substitute?"

You swallow. Hard.

His tone is unreadable—calm, flat—but his eyes are a different story.

They flicker—something dark, something knowing, something that makes your stomach flip.

And then—his lips part.

"Looks like it did a number on you, too."

Your breath catches.

Because it has.

You know what you must look like—skin damp with sweat, thighs trembling, body still buzzing from the aftermath.

Yoongi sees it, too.

Sees it, and—finally—his lips twitch.

The barest hint of amusement.

"Cute."

You die.

Because that tone? That expression? It’s not mocking like Jimin’s.

No.

It’s worse.

It’s pleased.

And then—before you can even process what’s happening—he sets the takeout bag down, shrugs off his jacket, and—

"Alright."

Your breath shudders.

"Alright?" you echo, voice raw.

Yoongi just hums, rolling his shoulders.

"Go on, then." He gestures lazily at the still dripping toy between your legs. "Show me how badly you needed it."

Your lungs collapse.

"Yoongi—"

"Come on, baby." His voice is softer now—low, warm, dangerous. "You’ve already put on a show. Might as well finish it."

Oh, fuck.

Oh, you’re in trouble.

And from the way Yoongi smirks, slow and satisfied, he knows it too.

JUNG HOSEOK

You’re too far gone to notice him at first.

Body trembling, breath ragged, lips parted as the machine mercilessly works you open.

But then—

"What the fuck?!"

Your soul leaves your body.

Your entire existence pauses.

And when your dazed, blurry vision finally manages to focus—

Oh.

Oh, no.

Hoseok.

Standing in the doorway, hand clutching his chest like he’s just witnessed a murder.

Mouth hanging open in sheer, unfiltered disbelief.

Eyes wide, scandalized—as if you’ve just personally offended his ancestors.

Your hand slams down on the machine’s switch, body still twitching as you try to scramble for the sheets—

But Hobi gasps.

"Oh, don’t you dare!"

You freeze.

He points accusingly. "Don’t you dare try to act shy now!"

Your face burns. "Hobi—"

"No. No." His hands are on his hips now—looking you up and down like you’ve insulted his entire bloodline. "You mean to tell me—I leave for a little while, and you replace me with a machine?!"

You open your mouth—no idea what you’re even going to say—

But then his eyes drop.

To the toy.

The toy that’s still inside you.

And suddenly—his jaw drops too.

"WAIT A DAMN MINUTE—"

You whimper. "Hobi, please—"

"IS THAT ME?!"

Oh, fuck.

Your entire existence caves in on itself.

Because—yeah. It is.

The attachment on the machine? It’s modeled after him.

And Hoseok—

Hoseok sees it.

Sees it, realizes it, processes it—

And immediately starts pacing.

"Oh my GOD." He rakes a hand through his hair. "You—this—you actually—" He turns back to you, expression an absolute mess of emotions.

Scandalized. Confused. Weirdly proud?!

"Babe." He gestures wildly at the machine. "You commissioned a replica?!"

Your whole body burns. "I didn’t—"

L*"Who made this?! Is there a company?!"

You groan, covering your face. "Hobi—"

"Oh, my God, this is crazy!" He runs a hand down his face, shaking his head in disbelief. "This is—I mean, I get it, baby, I do, but—"*

And then—suddenly—he stops.

Goes completely still.

And when he looks back at you—

Oh.

Oh, you’re in danger.

Because his expression has shifted.

The shock is still there—sure.

But underneath it?

Amusement.

And something else.

Something dangerous.

"Wait." He takes a slow step forward. "So you mean to tell me—"

You gulp. "Hobi—"

"—That this whole time—while I was gone—" He’s right beside you now—voice dropping, taunting. "—You’ve been sitting here, legs spread, fucking yourself stupid on my dick—"*

Your breath shudders.

Hoseok just grins.

And then—he chuckles.

"Oh, baby." He tilts his head. "You are so in trouble."

PARK JIMIN

You’re so gone you don’t hear the door open.

You don’t hear the soft click of footsteps, the sharp inhale of breath—don’t see the shadow that lingers in the doorway, watching you with dark, unreadable eyes.

You don’t notice him until it’s too late.

Until a smooth, wicked voice cuts through the heavy air.

"Oh, baby… that’s just pathetic."

Your soul leaves your body.

Your head jerks up—eyes blown wide, a desperate whimper slipping from your throat as you lock onto him.

Jimin.

Standing at the foot of the bed, arms crossed, lip caught between his teeth.

And he is smirking.

Your whole body freezes. Shame, panic, devastation—it all slams into you at once, but before you can even think about scrambling to turn the machine off, Jimin tuts.

"Ah, ah—don't stop now, baby."

Your breath hitches.

His voice is low, silky—a slow drag of heat over your already ruined body.

And then—he steps closer.

"Look at you," he murmurs, eyes devouring the mess you’ve made of yourself. "Drooling, shaking… completely wrecked. And I was only gone for a few weeks?"

You open your mouth—no idea what you’re even going to say—but he just grins, tilting his head.

"You missed me that much?"

Oh, he’s enjoying this. He’s enjoying this way too much.

And then—

His eyes drop.

To the toy still buried deep inside you.

The toy modeled after him.

And suddenly, his smirk turns sharp.

"Oh, baby…" He hums, stepping forward until he’s standing right beside you. "Is that what I think it is?"

You whimper, heat flooding your face.

Jimin just chuckles.

"Wow." His fingers trace the base of the toy, mockingly pressing down just enough to make you twitch. "So needy you had to make yourself a little… replacement?"

Your breath stutters—a desperate whimper slipping out before you can stop it.

Jimin grins.

"Mmm. That’s cute."

You don’t trust that tone.

And you shouldn’t.

Because the next thing you know, Jimin twists the toy inside you—just enough to make you gasp, body jolting against the sheets.

"Tell me, baby," he purrs, watching your reaction with open hunger. "Did it feel just like me?"

You swallow, heart pounding. "Jimin—"

"Be honest," he interrupts, fingers still teasingly toying with the base. "Did it fill you up the way I do? Stretch you open? Make you whimper and beg?"

You don’t answer.

You can’t.

Not when his voice is like this—all slow, all taunting, dark with amusement.

And then—he leans in.

His breath ghosts against your ear, his lips barely brushing your skin as he murmurs, "Did it make you scream my name?"

And just like that, you snap.

You jerk under his touch, hips instinctively rolling up, chasing something more. A deep chuckle rumbles through his chest, and he pulls back, grinning.

"Mmm. Thought so."

You hate him.

You love him.

And then—suddenly—his smirk sharpens.

"Alright, baby," he hums, eyes glinting with something dangerous. "Since you like using my dick so much—why don’t we see if the real thing is still your favorite?"

And then—he ruins you.

KIM TAEHYUNG

One second, he’s walking into your shared apartment, humming softly, Tannie tucked in his arms. He’s thinking about surprising you, about cuddling up together, about how much he missed you while he was away.

And then—

He hears it.

A low, rhythmic whirr—a mechanical hum that definitely wasn’t there before.

He pauses. Brows furrow.

Tannie lets out a soft woof, like he can sense something is off.

"You hear that, bud?" Taehyung murmurs, adjusting his hold on the little dog as he walks toward the bedroom. "Maybe she’s fixing something?"

Oh, if only.

Because nothing—nothing—could have prepared him for the sight that greets him when he pushes open the door.

You.

On the bed.

Absolutely wrecked.

Your legs are spread, your hands are clutching the sheets, your eyes rolling back, drool slipping from your lips as your body jerks with every deep thrust of the machine.

A machine that—

Taehyung chokes.

That’s—that’s him. That’s his dick.

The realization slams into him so hard he almost drops Tannie.

And then—

"HOLY SH—"

The shriek he lets out is ungodly, so loud that Tannie lets out a startled bark, squirming in his arms.

"TAEHYUNG?!" You scream, eyes snapping open, pure horror flashing across your face as you scramble for the remote.

But Taehyung is already spinning on his heel, face aflame, clutching his dog to his chest like a shield.

"I DIDN’T SEE ANYTHING—" His voice cracks— "I—OH MY GOD—TANNIE, COVER YOUR EYES—"

Tannie, oblivious, just lets out another woof.

You die.

You fumble to turn the machine off, still reeling from the absolute chaos unfolding before you. Taehyung is pacing in the hallway, one hand clamped over his eyes, the other still gripping his very confused dog.

"I CAN’T BELIEVE THIS—"

"TAEHYUNG, JUST STOP YELLING—"

"YOU’RE—YOU WERE—WITH A ROBOT ME—WHAT AM I SUPPOSED TO DO WITH THAT INFORMATION?!"

"PRETEND YOU NEVER SAW IT—"

"I CAN’T—" He wails, voice cracking all over again. "IT’S BURNED INTO MY BRAIN—"

You groan, dragging a hand down your face.

"Tae, baby, please—"

"I NEED HOLY WATER—TANNIE, WE NEED HOLY WATER—"

At this point, you don’t know if you want to laugh, cry, or die. Probably all three.

Meanwhile, Taehyung is still reeling in the hallway, mumbling something about needing to rewire his entire memory.

And somewhere in all of this, Tannie just lets out another woof, tail wagging—completely unbothered.

JEON JUNGKOOK

You don’t hear him come in.

Too lost—too wrecked—you don’t notice the door creak open, don’t see the shadow that lingers in the doorway, arms crossed, watching.

But you do hear it.

A snort.

"Oh, no way—"

Your soul leaves your body.

Your eyes snap open, mortified, your whole body locking up in horror as your gaze meets his.

Jungkook is standing in the doorway.

And he is grinning.

His massive eyes are wide with amusement, his perfect teeth on display as he watches you, shoulders shaking like he’s trying to hold back his laughter. Spoiler alert: He fails.

"Babe—babe, what is this?" He wheezes, stepping into the room, one hand on his chest like he’s just witnessed the funniest thing in his entire life. "Is that—oh my god—is that me?"

You make a dying noise, scrambling to shut the machine off, but the second you fumble with the remote, Jungkook is there.

He snatches it.

"Ah-ah, don’t be shy now!" He wiggles the remote between his fingers, his shameless bunny grin on full display. "You were so into it just a second ago."

You groan, hiding your face, but he just laughs harder.

"No, seriously, baby—" He plops down onto the edge of the bed, beaming. "I leave for a few weeks, and you go out of your way to get a mechanical version of my dick? Like—how did you even do that? Did they take measurements? Did you show them pictures?"

You whimper. "Jungkook, I hate you."

"No, you don’t," he singsongs, clearly having the time of his life. "You love me. Too much, apparently."

You’re dying. Absolutely perishing. But Jungkook? He’s thriving.

His head tilts, tongue poking out between his teeth as he eyes the toy still inside you. His grin turns wicked.

"Damn, baby," he murmurs, gripping your trembling thigh. "You really went all out, huh? Look at you—absolutely wrecked."

You glare at him through your fingers. "If you’re gonna make fun of me, at least help me first."

Jungkook gasps—all fake offense, hand clutching his chest. "Me? Make fun of you? Baby, I’m honored."

You groan again, but before you can say anything else, Jungkook’s fingers wrap around the base of the toy.

You squeak.

"Wait, wait—!"

But he just grins—and turns the machine back on.

A cry rips from your throat as the vibrations resume, your overstimulated body twitching beneath him.

"Ohhh, baby," Jungkook coos, eyes twinkling as he watches you squirm. "Let’s see if my twin here can keep up, yeah?"

And then—he ruins you all over again.

#bts smut #bts x reader #park jimin #jimin smut #fluff #namjoon #bts army #bts jin #bts jungkook #fantasy #jin x reader #bts jung hoseok #bts hoseok #bts yoongi

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