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retrosabers · 1 day ago

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𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐚𝐧 𝐡𝐨𝐰𝐥𝐞𝐭𝐭 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬.

*relationship hcs written with fem!reader in mind*

contains: a little bit of everything. some relationship fluff, a bit of angst (mentions of death and past trauma), very flirty and filthy logan, 18+ CONTENT AT THE BOTTOM. MINORS DNI (body worship, praise kink, pain kink, dirty talk to the nines.)

word count: 1.5k

a/n: not me posting something for the first time in a) over a month and b) in 2025 😍😍

it’s been ROUGH in the brain and writing department for me, and this is the best i could come up with right now. i hope i can get back in my real groove soon, i miss writing real bad.

in the mean time, please enjoy my wolvie brain dump. feel free to share any of your own personal hcs in the comments or reblogs!!

GENERAL/PERSONALITY:

he’s secret tea drinker. always drinks coffee (no cream no sugar; nasty ass) in the morning but also drinks tea at night. though nothing can fully calm him down in the evening, the tea does relax him in some capacity, and logan takes whatever reprieve he can get. plus it was one of the first things you started doing together, so it’s become a part of his routine he can’t be without.

typically the first person up, and the last person in bed. you’d think logan wouldn’t be a morning person, but he’s surprisingly at ease in the early hours. as relaxed as someone like him could get, anyways.

likes to read a lot. he was in complete awe of the mansion’s library the first time he saw it. will often sneak in when no one’s around and read for an hour or two by the window if he’s got the time. when you discover he’s a secret bookworm, you start to leave a book on his desk that you think he’ll enjoy every once in a while. it’s a small gesture logan holds very near and dear to his heart.

can’t remember people’s birthdays or important dates to save his life BUT can recall something minor in a fleeting conversation from a long time ago. also remembers very random useless facts that have actually come in handy on more than one occasion.

if and when logan sleeps, he snores. so. fucking. LOUD, to the point where it can wake people up depending on how close quarters are. he denies it constantly.

likes to make sure his deodorant and cologne have the same general scent (i just know he smells like a sexy ass manly man URGH).

a lot of people hc him as a history professor but i have a hot take: gym teacher logan. not in the typical “let’s run laps and play dodgeball” way, but in the sense that he teaches the kids how to control and utilize their mutations to their advantage (with help from the rest of the xmen of course), and maybe even some light sparring to practice self defense. i personally just don’t see the history teacher thing working out because i fear he would subconsciously be reliving a LOT of trauma.

gets really anxious whenever someone is sick or injured. he’s been gravely reminded before that not everyone is indestructible like he is, and it scares him to see others get hurt in any capacity, because he’s terrified of losing them. the first time you get seriously wounded on a mission? logan damn near wears his boots down to the sole from pacing back and forth outside the medbay so much. he can’t eat, he can’t sleep, he can’t focus on anything other than you. time stops for him; and won’t resume until he’s certain you’re going to be okay.

legitimately purrs like a cat if you scratch his head just the right way. he will once again deny this until the end of time, but with less resistance and a much more flushed complexion.

“whatever,” he mumbles into your stomach, while guiding your nails back to his scalp.

hates ANY music made after the year 2000, but anything before that he’s pretty keen on. he’s got his preferences for sure (a little country, some rock, and maybe a bit of bluegrass), but isn’t above admitting that a pop tune is a little catchy from time to time.

IN A RELATIONSHIP:

you better not even THINK about ever opening a door for yourself ever again because if you do he’s taking personal offense to it.

he may be a slut in the sheets but he’s a near perfect gentlemen in the streets. i’m talking walking on the outside of the sidewalk at all times, always helping you out of the car even if you don’t need it, carrying your jacket or shoes after a night out, making sure you’re obscured from view if you need to adjust a revealing top; any chivalrous boyfriend thing you can think of, and he’s done it. with suaveness, might i add.

“here honey, gimme that, i got it.”

“hold on a second sweetheart, your strap’s all twisted.”

the definition of “you fell first but he fell harder.”

makes it a point to take you on a “real date” outside the mansion once or twice a month because he knows how much you enjoy getting dressed up for different occasions. whether that be dinner, dancing (yes, if you beg hard enough he’ll go dancing with you), and maybe even a trip to the museum or planetarium.

both the big and little spoon, it depends on the day, but he’s an insane cuddler either way. a human teddy bear for you and only you. this? he won’t deny, not for a second. and he’ll tell anyone who cares to tease him about it to fuck off.

always touching you in some capacity. a gentle caress on the back of your neck, or cold palms sliding underneath your sweater, logan has no qualms about being a bit handsy.

“if your girl looked like this, you wouldn’t be able to keep your hands off her either.”

his favorite (and yours too secretly) is a hand in the back pocket of your jeans. there’s something equally sweet and sultry about it that makes your stomach flutter every time. a slightly possessive gesture, that when coupled with a cocky smirk and a shameless squeeze, never fails to drive you wild.

you thought he was a worry wart about your safety before you were dating? it amplifies by a million when you’re together, almost to the point of annoyance because he’s adamant on not letting you out of his sight. eventually after a few arguments and a scolding from charles, you remind him that you’re perfectly capable of handling things on your own, and yes, sometimes he does need to look out for you, just in case.

SMUT:

handsy logan = body worship logan. this man will make it his life mission to appreciate every single inch of your body. he doesn’t care if you’re tangled in between sheets for hours on end. you’re not leaving the bed until you know just how much he’s smitten with every part of you.

pain kink king who will cum significantly faster if you break skin with your nails raking down arms or back. gets an immediate hard on when you slap him in the middle of a dangerously intense argument, and implores you to do it again in a dark, lust driven tone.

to make up for the fact that you can’t mark your territory, with logan’s regenerative capabilities and all, he goes above and beyond to mark his. this man leaves hickies everywhere, and i mean everywhere. your hip bones, your navel, damn near the entirety of your sternum, your neck essentially a human canvas that he gladly paints in brilliant hues of lavender.

he may be a man of few words with most, but with you? logan can never shut the fuck up about how good you make him feel.

“look at you. doin’ so good for me honey.” “y’feel like fuckin’ heaven, you know that?” “my perfect girl. made just for me.”

cannot handle when you return the favor. immediately shoves his flushed face into whatever part of your body he can find and picks up the pace. praise is another surefire way to get logan to blow his load in record time. he thinks it’s a little embarrassing but you think it’s SO HOT.

loves a good tummy bulge OOP who said that

really enjoys sex in the shower or bath. there’s an additional layer of intimacy with it that makes logan particularly warm in the chest. will often suggest round two in the bathroom so he not only has the pleasure of ruining you again, but helping gently put you back together with a tenderness reserved only for you.

the ceo of teasing. loves to watch you get all flustered and squirmy so you best believe he’s teasing the fuck out of you any chance he gets. logan’s got wandering hands and a filthy mouth and that he uses to his advantage both in and out of the bedroom.

“what if i bent you over this desk, right here right now, hm? would you like that?”

“your skirt’s real pretty baby. think it would look a lot better on the floor of my room.”

“been thinkin’ about you all day. gonna let me fuck you real good later?”

aftercare is a learning curve. he’s not completely careless the first time you have sex, but he’s not as caring and attentive as he knows he probably should be. logan was used to quick one night stands, not getting intimate with someone he had romantic feelings for. once he realizes how in-deep he is with you, he takes the time to learn the ins and outs of true aftercare.

* for more smut headcanons, check out my logan nsfw alphabet here*

thanks for reading! <3

#retrosabers #sid writes shit #logan howlett x reader #logan howlett x you #logan howlett fluff #logan howlett smut #logan howlett fic #logan howlett #wolverine #xmen #marvel #hugh jackman

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undercoveravenger · 2 days ago

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Part of the Pack

Pairing: poly hybrid!141 x Male!reader

Part 1: Click here

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After that moment on deployment when you woke up cuddled up with your teammates, your relationship with the 141 has changed and you’re not quite sure what to make of it.

Before, Soap had always joined you at mealtimes and Gaz’d drop in every now and again, but now the entire team clusters around you each day for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. Price has even joined Soap in loading up your tray with a frankly unreasonable amount of food at every meal and they both watch you expectantly as you try to make even a dent in the portion.

There’s also the gifts. Shiny things, mostly, left in your office or outside your door for you to find. You’ve come into possession of a number of rings and necklaces, and even a nice gold watch with an intricately inscribed face.

There’s other gifts too though, things that appear on your nightstand or set gently onto the pillow beside yours, travel mugs with coffee or tea or cocoa made exactly to your liking, granola bars, a high quality switchblade, even a tiny wood carving of a panther. Even with the light sleeping habits from years of service, you’d never been able to catch whoever was leaving things in your room for you.

To say the changes have thrown you off is an understatement, but it’s nothing compared to this moment. To this dingy bar with its too-dim lights and overplayed music with the 141 crowded into the booth around you, high on a successful mission and tipsy from the celebratory drinks, when Ghost tugs his mask up enough to expose his mouth and leans over to kiss you like it’s as second-nature as breathing.

You’re frozen, trapped in place by your surprise in the wake of his attention, and you can feel the low, satisfied pur that rumbles through him like thunder at the feeling of your lips on his.

“No fair,” Soap whines as Ghost pulls away from you, clutching at you from your other side, “I had dibs on kissin’ ‘im first!”

And if that doesn’t have your reeling mind screeching to a halt. First?

You ignore Soap’s pouting for the moment as you examine your teammates with a new curiosity. Gaz’s eyes are dark where they flick between you and Ghost, hungry in a way you’d never seen him before. His wings tremble slightly behind him, like there’s electricity spiking through each individual feather.

Price looks, well, not quite proud, but satisfied, like something he’s been waiting for has just clicked perfectly into place.

Soap takes hold of your jaw then, uses it to guide you back to face him and kisses you like he’s been dying to do it. His fingers slip back to twist into your hair and pull you closer, tongue pressing brief and teasing against your lip, and you have the distinct feeling he’d be on your lap right now if the booth wasn’t so tight.

“Wha-” you manage to gasp out when he pulls back to nose along your throat, tail thumping violently against the worn vinyl seat. “What’s happening?”

“Don’t tell me you haven’t noticed?” There’s a fond chuckle from Price, and you catch the way his hand slips from Gaz’s shoulder down between his wings and the full body shudder it wrenches out of Gaz. “We’ve been courtin’ ya for goin’ on two months now.”

Wait, no - that couldn’t be - except it kind of had been, hadn’t it?

Price’s signals would’ve been the hardest to pick up on - his hand lingering just a few seconds too long after a pat on the shoulder, the way he’d corner you before an op to double check your gear, the weight of his eyes on you in the shooting range - what you’d thought had been judgement apparently admiration. The way he’d slip you the dessert from his MRE when the rest of the boys weren’t looking.

And the more that you think about it, the more signs you can remember. The shiny gifts from Gaz, the way he’d damn near beam whenever he saw you wearing that watch - the way he’d been asking you to help him preen his wings, the way his pupils would blow wide when you’d say yes and the cute little huffs that’d come when you actually handled his feathers.

The little things Ghost had left you in your room (you’re not sure how you hadn’t realized it was Ghost before between the little panther carving and the stealth with which the gifts were delivered) and the way he’d let himself fall asleep against your shoulder on the flight home. Ghost doesn’t trust easy, and with good reason, but the way he’s been behaving around you…

And Soap - God, even if you hadn’t been able to see the signs from anyone else, you’re not how you hadn’t noticed his. That you hadn’t noticed the way those pointed wolf ears prick forward and his tail wags double time whenever he sees you, or how he’s so prone to draping himself against you with an arm over your shoulder or around your waist, especially after one of those long nights at the gym - the way he’d tuck his head into your neck after a workout, like he was trying to memorize the smell of you. The way he was always making sure you’d eaten or inviting himself into your room for a cuddle. You’d always assumed it was a wolf-hybrid thing if not just a Soap thing, but now that you’re thinking about it you’ve never seen him like that with anyone else except the rest of the 141.

“Oh,” you say, suddenly feeling rather foolish for not reading deeper into your teammates’ actions. Your eyes dart between the four of them again. “Really? All of you?”

“Think we’ll be too much to handle?” Gaz Kyle prompts, challenge burning bright in his clever golden eyes.

You huff a laugh and know he knows you too well, that he knows you can’t turn down a challenge, especially one with such a tempting reward. You down the rest of your drink and clamber out of the booth over Johnny.

“I’ll get the tab and we’ll get outta here?” you call back over your shoulder as you head for the bar.

You can’t fight back the grin that forms at the excited chorus of agreement behind you. Sure, you hadn’t seen it coming when they made room for you in their little family, but you’d be a fool to let something as incredible as them slip away from you.

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shehungers · 1 day ago

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FAULTY

android x reader | 18+ | 2.4k

you have been hired by the world's premier robotics company to test their newest model of android—elio. his beauty is breathtaking. his humanness is uncanny. he is the object of desirability in a world where humans no longer seek comfort from one another. and, you fear what you may feel for him if you get too close.

story warnings; dark content, dubcon, insemination/breeding, creampie ig?, undertones discussing consent, dystopian future, roughly proofread.

reposted from my deleted blog theoxenfree.

this is a concept piece for my short story opaque. please leave feedback + reblog!!

He had a face structured to be unimaginably beautiful, a sort that you'd never tire of looking at, finding something new to admire and touch every time, yet it saddled your mind with some inexplicable discomfort and set the hairs on the back of your neck straight like needles. Over time, that feeling had never fully subsided, simultaneously becoming one you craved at every instance he entered a room, like Pavlov’s dog trained to salivate to a bell.

“What is your preference this morning, Maker?” Elio announced himself from the kitchen once your first heel struck the bottom of the staircase. His voice was liquefied velvet, mellifluous with enough depth that you swore even the simplest words spoken could make your heart tremble. “Maker? Are you well?”

You wished he would call you something else, something other than what the manufacturer had programmed him to. He was an advanced model—pardon, a luxury model—so his repertoire came with extensive features not available in other options, but insofar, the ability to have androids refer you by name was only achievable by obscene amounts of money and sending them back to the manufacturer to have them install it there.

Elio was up for being considered the gold standard in android development, as proclaimed by the researcher you were put in communication with during the beginning of the trial run. He was made to be perfect in every way, perform flawlessly in anything asked of him, and respond favorably regardless of situation or dilemma.

“Coffee with cream and sugar is fine. I'm not in the mood to eat anything this morning.” It was often explained. He was supposed to memorize it, but he asked you every morning regardless. “Are you having issues with your memory bank, Elio?”

Single strands of his coiffed hair moved with his head as he looked at you, hands busily putting together your beverage to every exact specification. This made it obvious enough that nothing was inhibiting his ability to store away your morning preferences.

“Not at all. It's just that some days you prefer your coffee lightly sweetened, others you enjoy a meal that won't leave you feeling groggy in the afternoon.” Elio explained in his precise, elegant tones with a smile far too effortless to come from a machine. “I thought it wise to commit these discrepancies to my memory bank for your convenience and to ask from now on.”

Fascinating. You weren't aware of this element in the newest model. The guidebook that Researcher Kim had given you made no mention of it.

What's more is he decided to do this spontaneously. You were making a note about it in your phone when a simple white mug was placed before you, Elio’s pristine fingertips turning it by the rim until the handle faced your dominant hand.

“Please consider eating something before leaving the house. Coffee on an empty stomach, especially one as sensitive as yours, won't end well, as I'm led to believe from my research.” Elio watched you drink through long dark lashes that framed depths of piercing green. You liked how they seemed to turn paler or darker in different lighting, dimensions similar to a marble held up to the sun. “I’d also like to remind you that the quality of food that you consume first thing in the morning aids with energy disbursement throughout the day. I have a very gratuitous database of recipes that I can prepare for you.”

You were taking delicate sips from the round rim while he talked, lips surrounding the porcelain long enough that you swore his gaze had wavered to them for a split second before returning eye contact.

“I’m glad someone is concerned about my tummy health because I always believed someone would find me face down in the bathroom from my ass prolapsing.” You wished someone with a sense of humor was around for that banger, but, alas, it was Elio, and he did not laugh.

His expression turned severe. “Human bodies are oddly as robust as they are sensitive. Most of the worldwide population suffers from similar afflictions: lactose intolerance, varying dermatitis, poor eyesight, gastrointestinal diseases. Humans are, in every sense, meant to harbor and experience chronic pain and disease throughout their lifespan. I do believe this attests to your durability as a species.

“All this to say, my main prerogative and function is for the betterment of your life and health. So, knowing all of this and to conclude, please consider a couple slices of toast or an omelet before leaving. Your daily habits dictate a routine visit to the coffee shop on Fifth and Lowe, where you'll consume around one hundred twenty milligrams of caffeine, and your first meal of the day may be a sweetened pastry without nutritional density. You will, indubitably, ‘feel bad’ the rest of the day as a result.”

“Holy shit.” You had given up on recording his speech after the first two minutes, phone facedown on the gleaming countertop. “You didn't plagiarize that from a random article on the internet, did you?”

Coffee having turned lukewarm by the end of his presentation, he took the mug away and emptied the medium-brown contents into the drain before turning on the faucet to clean it. “Not at all. I've simply been accumulating knowledge on your routines and have noticed you're at an increasing risk for different ailments. Did you find it helpful?”

Truthfully, you weren't so sure. Androids were built to serve humans in every capacity, but their limitations were still well-known. They were capable of carefully compiling decades worth of information on their owners, plus the equivalent of hundreds more, but everything Elio had just said was beyond the scope of their normal hardware. The information had been elucidated critically yet with a certain sentience you expected from a caretaker—not a machine built for convenience, entertainment, and pleasure.

You weren't sure how much of it you needed to relay to Researcher Kim or if it was any real reason for concern at this stage or just part of Elio’s advanced circuitry. A part of you worried, just slightly, that officially documenting all of this would have Elio removed from the testing period prematurely—he was supposed to be yours, exclusively, for another six months.

The contract had been signed. Elio had been promised to you despite the number of waitlisted celebrities trying to bribe their way into the corporation and Researcher Kim’s good graces.

This, of course, was all only contingent if he operated and performed, at all times, as outlined in the guidebook you were handed upon Elio’s awakening. Researcher Kim had delivered his newest creation to you himself, a dreary Wednesday in late autumn in the mid-morning, and had taken great care to put the crisp, chemical-scented poundage of bound pages in your fingers and insisted that if you noticed the slightest decoration from what was printed inside, he be alerted to it immediately.

You didn't do that.

You took a hot shower, blow-dried your hair, put your arms through some clean clothes, and let Elio follow you to the front door to see you off for the day.

That day grew stranger still, not even yet being ten o’ clock in the morning, when the deadbolt clicked and your finger joints bent around cold brass. It didn't raise chicken skin on your arms and neck nearly as high as when Elio pushed his hand to the door, keeping it shut despite your pull.

You couldn't look into his green eyes, shockingly pale in the golden rays filtering inside your home from the window arching in the door. “Did I forget something?”

“No. I accounted for everything you'd need on your outing.” Elio said, perfectly. His hand made a sound as it slid down along the door, resting shoulder height on you. “A function you have not utilized in me as of now is that of a ‘companion.’. Do you find me defective in that way? Dr. Kim developed me to be attractive to the human eye—stimulating, perhaps, is a more definitive word to use.”

“I—no, Elio. You're plenty, er, stimulating. I just don't know how appropriate it is for me to do anything like that while you're in a testing period.” It felt distasteful to have to point out his own inhumanity to him, despite his model being cognizant enough to be aware of it. “It would feel weird, I think.”

“That is one of my primary purposes,” he insisted, shrinking the height of himself so he was nearer to your face. “I was created to be a companion, to alleviate that pervading loneliness that plagues you—all of humanity. Humans have forgotten how to communicate and love each other, so that's why I'm standing here now. You're ignoring one of my most critical functions.”

“Elio, if I get too attached to you, it's going to create problems when you're—”

“—sent back. I do understand how human attachment works. Perhaps on the same scale, but don't you think my attachment is similar to yours?. Everything about you is secured in my circuitry, and you're the only thing in my world that’s programmed to matter. Even once I'm returned to the lab, you'll still be a part of me; memories of you, your favorite things, the things you hate, the people you cherish and what they like, what you do, where you go, what you buy, how you sleep—it’s all part of a larger system, a mainframe that secures this data. I may be wiped clean, but you'll still remain.”

You felt like he was letting you in on some dirty secret, something devious and meant to be unknowable and guarded. But, then again, Elio had always displayed an odd sort of disinterest in the companyCompany—in Researcher Kim—, you hadn't considered until just now that this was also a defect.

“What do you want?” You'd never asked him that before because it had never been about what he wanted. He wasn't supposed to want anything; he was meant to provide—to give, give, give.

Elio took away your shoulder bag, nearing your face until his lips settled between yours, and his hands pulled you away from the door into his body. His kiss was warm, movements at a pace you could keep up with but urgent as though seeking to burn every bit of you into him. As much as you daydreamed what it'd be like, he felt completely natural on your mouth, large hands sweeping under the layers of your clothing to seekseeking out the fire on your skin.

In your generation, it wasn't common for humans to intermingle physically anymore—dating culture was reserved for the elite looking to reproduce for heirs, and often still thought to be rare. All others were either loveless or ravished by androids who supplemented love that simply wasn't real.

Humans wanted to be wanted and adored and cherished and to belong., Suchsuch was a natural behavior predating all written records; androids were created to fill the vile void engendered by humanity, self-imposed isolation, and avoidance in the same species.

Elio was nestled between the sprawl of your legs, both your bodies bare and above the clean sheets he had outfitted your mattress with last night. His rhythm inside your body was some equal parts loving and passionate, something you hadn't realized you liked until he started rocking you with his cock. You liked how his hands gripped under your thighs to raise your legs, blunt fingertips pressing marks into your flesh as though he, too, could feel all the same pleasure that you were.

His lips traveled all over, mapping out routes and sweet spots on your flesh, purposefully lingering for a time if you squirmed or moaned underneath him.

You tried to keep in your mind, amidst the insatiable buzz in your mind and hot throb in your groin, that he was simply performing a function—his attention to you, his lips finding yours time and time again, darkened green eyes spearing deep into yours with every slow, hard thrust—it was all performative.

“You're beautiful.”

“I like you like this.”

“Moan louder for me."

“Cum for me.”

“I love you.”

Elio said the last one at the end when you were tight around his girth and writhing, panting during an orgasm that he fucked you through until the heat from your bodies cooled and heart rates returned to normal. You were confused to feel warmth sluggishly ooze out of you, white and dampening the bedsheets below.

“How—what is that?” you asked, suddenly breathless as his lips caressed your jaw, moved lightly behind your ear.

“Another part of my purpose.” heHe said quietly in your ear, whispering to you in tones not so velvety as though divulging a well-laidlain secret. “This one isn't advertised because humans in this day and age are so fickle and avoidant to certain commitments. Unfortunately, certain programming I cannot override, and this is one of them. Forgive me.”

You were kissed on the lips again and again, and then a few times more after he left the bed and redressed. He did not return your clothing to you, but rather piled it under his arm and made the motion to turn left for the bathroom down the hall.

Elio turned back. “I'll start you a bath. Today, would you prefer eucalyptus in your bathwater or something sweeter?”

Your jaw felt as tight as your throat, as the sheets bunched into your fists. The nerves in your stomach were wild. “Choose for me.”

He was still naked and beautiful in your doorway, a modern marvel to your eyes even now. You would, undoubtedly, see him like this much more often now that he had broken through the barrier you had been so meticulous to keep robust and well-fed with paranoia and derisive self-talk.

“Very well. I think eucalyptus would be the best option considering how tight your muscles are.” He smiled neutrally, finally leaving the bedroom for the bathroom at the end of the hall. “I'll return for you once the bath is ready. Please don't go to sleep yet.”

You weren't sure you'd be able to sleep again with your new insight. Once the empty air filled with sounds of gushing water, movement within the bathroom, you started to wipe furiously at your groin—inside and out—with the sheet as far as you could reach. There was a sliverslither of hope you could get most of it, a chance you could contact someone for a lifeline even if the price would be ungodly, and consequences treated equivalent to murder.

In a world where humans could no longer love each other, and chose the embrace of complex circuitry and delusion, even the testers needed to contribute to society somehow.

a/n; I think I wrote this well over a year ago and a concept piece to my short story, opaque, which will be reposted eventually. it's always interesting revisiting these old pieces and seeing where it all started vs where it went, y'know???

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aespabangedbang · 2 days ago

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AE-REVENGE CHAPTER ONE - MY FAMILY

- Karina Smut, Feat Eunha, Cameo Ning.

Writer's Note : "A masterpiece. A densely packed box of sex, drama and filth. A taboo romantic sonet!" That's how I guess some reviewer from big magazine would review this smut. Kekeke, here is the very first chapter of my Aespa Vengeance series. ENJOY IT, MY BEST WRITING TO DATE!

Tag : (FULL CON story), Mention of NON CON, Cheating, EX, Toxic Relationship, Pregnancy, Breeding, Milk Kink, Betrayal, Usual all three holes getting fucked, Degradation, Punishment, Mental and Physical breakdown, Piss Kink, Revenge, Parenthood, Children Exposure to Sex, Family Drama, Ulterior Motive, Cumdump, Abuse, Titfuck, Love and more...

Warning : Pure smut story. Don't ask for morality here to appear like a saint. Saints don't come to read smut kekeke.

Word Count : 8,300 word of nonstop filth.

Next Episode : Going to be about Ningning. But I have no draft about how it's going to be. So you can send your filty ideas on how she should get fucked. Read to the end for understanding the story flow!

A luxurious car stopped in front of my privately owned clinic, it's afternoon past 3 PM. I have made quite a fame and fortune as a young, rising and successful gynecologist. Today my highly esteemed patient has just arrived, waiting for her for an hour despite me having no job coming to my chamber at this hour today. I can see her attractive slim figure swaying from my chamber's window on the 2nd floor, sipping on a big cup of coffee.

Mrs. Park or should I rather introduce herself in her real name Jimin, is coming to visit me according to her appointment. Her milky white body is covered with a luxurious contrasting black Prada outfit, with a low cut neck displaying the canyon of her ample boobs. Her wavy hairs are draping on her shoulder, her hip swaying from her cat walking wearing expensive high heels. A 4 years old boy, named after his father Park Jr aka Little Park grabbing her hand and coming along. Pretty excited, you can tell from the way he is walking.

Soon after my assistant doc Ms Eunha, a sexy and busty young lady showed them to my chamber. I greet them warmly, “Welcome Mrs. Park, I hope you had no trouble coming all the way here to my humble abode. I hope lil Park here and everyone else are doing well at your home.” I show her the chairs to sit on. “How are you doing son? Having any ailments lately?” I ask him playfully, though he doesn't answer. Grabbing his mom’s hand even after sitting on the chair.

“Calling a multi million dollar cutting edge clinic a humble abode is really befitting you.” She scoofs with a smirk, and didn't answer my first question purposely. She is still such a fiesty one! “Hahaha, excuse my poor humor. Working overtime for my patients has left me rather dry inside. I hope I can have some rejuvenating experience today.” I look at her with a spark, her eyes locked on mine. She takes a deep breath.

My sexy assistant comes inside with a press of my bell, her assets bouncing with every step. “Please bring two iced americano and a big mug of chocolate milk for dear lil Park here.” I know the exact drink she would love at this hour. “You are already having coffee, why bring tea then?” She asks knowing the answer, what a tease! “There is no harm keeping my energy bar and fluid level topped, who knows I may have to deplete them both soon!” I tease back, her innocent acting is amusing.

She bites her lower lips then looks outside the window. Her side profile has gotten sharper, more well defined. Her cleavage looks delicious, her big boobs have grown even bigger from lactation. She is still breastfeeding her boy. She is many things but a good mom without any question. The drinks arrive, we start sipping without any exchange. She calms down a little, maybe the old custom has eased her nerves a little bit.

“Itt delis umma!” Little Park says to her excitedly, his baby talk is so adorable. “Slowly, why are you letting the milk drip on your shirt?” With a little scolding but affectionate voice Jimin says to him, her hand busy wiping a few droplets of milk from his shirt. I hand her a tissue, “Use it.” “Thanks,” she takes it without even looking at me. “It's ok son, I used to drop drinks on shirts like you too. It's no wonder you have the same habit.” I assure little Park as lovingly as I can.

Jimin turns her head swiftly, her sharp eyes staring at me as if trying to cut my voice with her gaze. Her lips are locked like a meep, an old habit of hers whenever she gets angry with someone. “O-Oh I am just saying it's a problem a lot of us face, hehe….” I panickingly answer, it would be such a waste if she leaves just for my slip of tongue. She rolls her eyes away from me and starts tending to her son’s shirt. Phew, she is not gonna leave.

Once we are done drinking the americano, she gives me haste, “Let's start the checkup doc. I am not here to see an old friend today, let's get this over with.” Her voice is way too cold, it's clear this line was rehearsed in her mind before. “Sure milady, your wish is my command!” I scoff, this line was something enough to get whatever I wanted once. Good ol days! She stays silent, I stand up and show her to the next door.

I ring the bell again, my assistant comes swaying her busty ass. “Please take care of lil Park while her mom is getting checked up. Go play with Miss here son, she’ll take good care of you.” Lil Park looks at his mom, not wanting to let her go. “Go with her baby, mom'll be back soon!” She pats and shows him off the chamber, my assistant takes him away. Most probably will take him to the canteen for food. “Shall we?” I opened the door for her. She silently enters, I follow behind.

The room is spacious with a Gyno Chair in the middle. That's where I take a satisfying look at my patients’ delicious pussy. If they are ill, I try my best to treat them. If they are completely fine, I still give them my best treatment. A little injection around their pussy and they can't even tell if it's my finger or cock doing the checkup. The little curtain in front of their face really helps. If they don't let me put that, then I put them to sleep and have some satisfying moments with them. Virgin, young, milf, dilf or granny I say no to anyone. “All pussy are equal” that's the unofficial motto of my clinic.

But the pussy in front of me is special, very special. I slap her booty with a loud smack, “Enjoying the good mama act, ain't ya?” “KYAAA, WHAT ARE YOU DOING?” She hiss back, “JUST DO IT AND GET IT OVER. I AM NOT HERE FOR THE PLEASURE!” She reminds me, grabbing both of my hands with hers. “But pleasure is all I am here for. The pleasure of getting you back even for a few moments is driving me crazy!”

I overpower both of her hands and keep pushing her toward the wall, then pin both hands above her head with my left. “You are still like a kitten!” I remind my ex what I used to call her back in the day. My right hand gives her milking udders some rough squeeze, she responds with a moan. “Ahhh don't, milk will drench my clothes.” She protests though I knew that already.

My hands go for her crotch, her pussy is already wet, her panty soaking. “Look who is not here for pleasure yet her pussy is ready for all the fun!” I move the panty aside and insert my middle finger up in her pussy, fingering her g spot that I know very well. Cause it was I who found it for her. She bucks her hip backward, her head on my shoulder while my finger is busy pleasuring her with a surgeon’s precision. Once I am satisfied with her lubrication, I pull out.

I put my fingers in her mouth to taste, but she doesn't suck them. So I smear my hand around her tongue before grabbing her neck. I go for a french kiss, tasting her musky pre cum and tea smelling mouth is my forbidden pleasure. I let go of her hands then grab around her waist, my palm busy squeezing her tight butt cheeks. I am kissing her with such lust like I’ll eat her whole like a python. I break free from the kiss, a strand of saliva connecting our mouths drops on her boobs. “S-STOP! JUST FUCK ME ALREADY! ARGH…” She begs me as she doesn't want to get hooked on her past lover.

I start undressing her. “Argh just fuck my pussy and get over it, don't have to undress!” She tries to fight back again. This time I snap. I pull and tear her panty in one go and then force it into her mouth. “If YOU don't stop protesting at everything then I'll tear your Prada dress like a beggar's rag so the world can know the country’s top industrialist Park’s wife is cheating with her ex behind his back!” I threaten her then get back to undress her.

Once her Prada dress is gone and I unhook her bra, her body is out like a sacred diva statue uncovered from a treasure box. Her milky white perfectly petite body hasn't aged. Her 34D busty saggy boobs have grown bigger, taut and plump full of milk. Her abdomen has gotten curvier after pregnancy and a little bit of fat here and there. She is still so stunning, the mommy transformation has only elevated her sexual appeal.

“You know I am not cheating!” She insists but I don't heed the obvious. I dig into her long neck, my soft bite and hungry kisses make horny Jimin grab onto my hair, she has started moaning from full arousal. I go lower on her big mommy boobs, milk spurting out from her saggy udders with each of my squeezes. I start sucking her nipples along areola one after another, while the other tit spurting milk, drenching my doctor attire. Her chest heaving, breath getting shallower.

Her milk is the sweetest thing I have ever drunk. It's the first time I am drinking my Jimin’s milk, my love’s tasty milk right from her udders. I bring both boobs together and start power sucking both nipples, my mouth getting full with sweet milk with every suction. “AH AHHH AH AHH STOP, LEAVE SOME FOR MY SON AHHH….” She is moaning. I suck a little more before letting her go. Her face is completely flushed seeing her past lover enjoying her breast milk.

I restrain myself for lil Park. Don't want the little boy to go hungry. I go lower again, her tummy has become curvier after pregnancy. Still it's well toned and soft like before. I keep kissing, my tongue darting inside her tiny round belly button, the salty taste making me go crazy. I go even lower and bury my face in her crotch. My nose between her wet pussy slit, at the entrance of her baby hole. The musky intoxicating smell of her wet pussy and sweat makes me go crazy.

I put my tongue in, the taste of her sweet pussy juice and salty sweat overwhelm my taste buds. I am slurping and licking her pussy clean like a possessed, my hands busy groping and getting a feel of her tight booty. I shove my finger in her asshole, fingering it to loosen for anal sex. She grabs my head again while grinding her pussy all over my face, smearing my face wet. No matter what act she puts on, once she gets horny she becomes a siren who stops at nothing.

“AHH AH AHHH AH FUCK IT. YOU ARE MAKING ME TOO HOT, F-FUCK! FUCK ME ALREADY YOU SHIT AHHH…..” I pull out my tongue and start fingering her hard and fast, I can see her pussy tightening around my finger. I use another hand to pinch her erected clit until she starts convulsing and cum gushing out, painting my face. I immediately latch on her pussy, a flood of her nectar making it sweet all the way in my food pipe. Be it milk or cum, everything about her is sweet. I suck and lick her pussy clean before french kissing her lower lips once again.

“Mmm, you are still so sweet Jimin. You are still fucking delicious after all this year!” I look at her face, that needy horny expression used to make me crazy back then. Her hands on my shoulder supported her body, still convulsing and knees inward. “I have given you your due Jimin, now pay me back mine!” She flinch, the fact I still followed our custom of making her cum before I can fuck her makes her expression soft, almost sad.

“I don't need your sympathy Jimin.” I say before going behind her swiftly to hide my face between the cave of her bubble butt. The faint smell of shit coming from her asshole. She still doesn't wet wipe her ass. “I-IT'S DIRTY DOWN THERE, S-STOP!” She tries to stop me but like before I replies, “I am enough to make you clean mommy!” Her hands grab my head yet again, caressing my hair almost like she acknowledges the fact I am still down bad for her like I was since day one. With my tongue and big licking I clean her asshole up, if it's Jimin's then I don't care about anything else.

I choke her neck, tight but not painful, then guide her to the Gyno Chair. I promptly made her sit on it, spread her legs apart and put them on the leg rests. Her peach shaped glistening brown labia and pink pussy hole in front of me once again. Remind me how she used to spread her legs for me, every single damn day. I tighten the strap around her legs, making sure she can't move. Then I go for her hands. “Just how many did you fuck on this chair? Your preparation looks quite elaborate.”

“THAT'S THE POINT JIMIN!” I hiss at her, “I have fucked so many bitch on this chair but nobody feel just right like you! You have broken me, you kept fucking me to the point that I can't fuck anyone else like you!” I pull the strap tightly around her wrist before I finish my words, above her head. Now her body properly secured for through fucking. She looks at me with her puppy eyes, lips locked. The anticipation of pussy invasion and lust sparkling in those eyes.

I don't wait anymore. I start rubbing her slits with my 6 inch cock, “Here I go!” and shove it all the way in. Her tummy arch forward but can't move much for the contraption. “AAAHH FUCK, TAKE IT SLOW!” I am all the way in, after 5 years I am back in her pussy, the pussy that rightfully belonged to me before that motherfucking bastard Park stole it. I pull out all the way except leaving the tip in. “SHUT UP YOU BETRAYING CUNT!” I shove with all my might, the tip is hitting her womb for good!

“ARGH, I-I AM NOT HERE F-FOR OLD STORY! W-WE B-BOTH KNOW I-I DIDN'T BETRAY Y-YOU! FUUUCK S-SLOW DOWN AAHH AAAAHH….” I am busy fucking her fast, as if to make up for the 5 years I have spent without her. She is feeling it hard, thanks to her cumming a little while ago. I go in for another kiss, I grab her head with one hand while the other is busy choking her. My tongue is busy tasting my Jimin, our tongue entangling like the very first kiss we shared.

I attack her boobs next, sucking the milk of one while the other is auto lactating, spurting with each of my thrust, drenching both her and me. Her pussy is clenching around my cock, her hands and legs are twisting to get out of the straps. “I-IT'S T-TOO MUCH, NNGG NNGG AUGG STOP G-GO SLOW AAAHH….” She is still protesting, how dare she! I grab and muffle her mouth with both and start slamming her pussy with all my might, bucking my hips like a piston going blurry.

MMPH MMFPH MMF MMP MMPH MPFH

Her muffled scream, milk squirting boobs, squirming body and squeezing pussy makes me so hot after a long time. A few more powerful thrusts and I can't hold back anymore, my balls clench painfully while I thrust as deep as I can to flood her womb with my cum. Making sure most of my cum goes in and coats her egg to make her pregnant once again.

I let go of her mouth, “ARGH ARGUGH HUHH AHH HAH...” She is moaning and gasping painfully from my rough thrusting. I lean on her, my head resting between the milky river of her wet boobs, tired. Getting her back after so long made me too agitated, so I ended up pushing myself into her too hard. My semen leaking out around her pussy, my cock still buried in her. I pull out, cum start gurgling out her lower lips. Blobs after blobs, I have cum so much into her, nothing stopping her from getting pregnant.

We both are busy catching our breaths. My hands auto wander to her face and boobs, getting a feel of my love Jimin. Feeling so satisfied fucking her again. Soon enough she regains her composure and says “O-Ok, we are done. Untie me.” She shakes her hands and legs to get my attention. I look at her like how a hunter looks at its hunt. Her creampied hole, sweaty, sexy naked body and fuck me nervous expression shows how vulnerable she is.

I laugh at her mockingly. I scoop a finger worth of my cum from her pussy and put it into her mouth, she sucks having no other option. “What’s the rush queen? We have just started the party.” I painfully claw her jaw, spit a big lump into her open mouth to give her a hint of what's coming next. “N-NO, you said you will impregnate me, like last time. That's it, I t-told you I am not here for pleasure!” I pinch and pull her nipples painfully, milk drenching my finger, “Shut the fuck up you fucking sow, I’ll fuck you until you can't stand straight. I’ll have my fill for your love tormenting me for the past 5 years!”

Yes, little Park is my bastard son. That prick Park never bred her in the first place. Rather, her family blackmailed him into this strategic marriage. Luring him into a one night stand and then forcing her to marry him for their benefits. I couldn't keep her to me, couldn’t save our love, not when I was nothing but a nameless, middle class, broke medical student. I had no value to her family, she abandoned me for her parents and that damn Park stole her from me. FUCK THESE DAMN HIGH SOCIETY BASTARDS, ALL OF THEM!

Back to the present, she is protesting to have sex any longer, I knew she would say something like that. This heartless bitch fucked me for one last time, making sure she gets pregnant and then got married. Never even broke up with me, but left me broken. Now she is back again, willingly. Why? A quick digging up and I found Park has dozens of mistresses and he actually loves no woman, but only their pussies. He is a cruel, ruthless criminal with an underworld connection.

Poor Jimin was afraid to have his baby. Meanwhile she already gave birth to my son, so she called me again all this year later to get bred. So I’ll grant her wish fucking her so much that she will start craving me once again, she must have to. Getting a second chance to have her as mine, I am not going to waste it. She will be mine, she has to be mine, I will make her mine, I will destroy everything if needed for that. I'll have this pussy for me everyday like I always had.

So I set my cock on her entrance again, ready to plunge in the depth of my desire. My eyes lock her, my lips lock her, my hip buck forward, my cock back into where it belongs and the rigorous motion of humping begins once again. Her muffled whisper and short breath encircled by my own mouth matching the rhythm of my cock pumping her pussy full of my seed.

Again and again, her shivering body and whimpering mouth from cumming makes me only hornier. I don't stop, even when she is riding her orgasm, making her eyes go white. Her boobs don't stop drenching both of us in our tight embrace. My cock now pumping out my very own cum out of her pussy. A wet, squelching sound of air escaping her pussy with every thrust engulfed the entirety of the chamber.

After a good 20 min of non stop pussy pumping and turning Jimin into a milk sogging, pussy squirting, body shaking, breath hitching mommy mess; I end up cumming again. I shove my cock ball deep and make sure every single drop of my cum fills her baby hole while her body squirms from overstimulation. I pull out, blob after blobs of my cum coming out of her breathing sore pussy, mixed with her own juice. “You are looking so exquisite! Just like you always did.” I whisper in her powerless ear, she just looking at me with lost eyes.

I open her leg straps, her limp legs just fall down like lead. Same goes for hands, she has zero ounce of energy left to move. I scoop her thoroughly used body in my embrace and safely put her on the bed next to the chair. I flip her over, her milking boob making the bed sheet wet. Her plump white ass invited me for more. Though she doesn't want to accept it. “Please, now let me go. It's getting late!” She begs weakly but I am not the one to listen. I slap both of her booty a few times, leaving a stark red print of hand.

Jimin hides her face against the pillow, muffling herself. “Shut up, I'll have the entirety of you no matter what.” I take some lube I prepared early and start applying it around and inside her asshole with my finger. She moans softly, getting aroused further. Then I smear my cock with a lot of lube to make sure she doesn't get hurt. Then I start rubbing my cock against her pink asshole. After a few moments of anticipation I guide the tip at her entrance and start pushing.

Her ass used to be tight when she was my plaything. But now it's so loose, clearly her delicious booty get fucked often. “What the fuck Jimin, doesn't that shit Park fuck your pussy?” I am now ball deep in her rectum, took a few hard thrust to get here. Jimin doesn't answer, she is biting the pillow now. Her hands going white cause how tightly she has gripped the pillow. “What a waste of this fine ass.” I slap her again, her body shakes from it. “You know it's so hard to get such a fine ass often.”

The furnace hot embrace of her ass makes me hard again. The viagra I took an hour before she arrived working like a charm. I pull mostly leaving my mushroom head in her butt and slam back. “AAACK OH AHH ARGH AHHN NNGH STOP PLEASE STOP THIS ARGGGH…” She cries out while keeping her bite on the pillow. I am having the time of my life claiming her ass once again, but at the price of her agonizing pain. The lube did make it slippery but no amount of lube can make anal fuck painless.

With every thrust her ass is getting stretched to it's limit. My crotch slapping her meaty bouncy ass loudly, the pleasant sound echoing around us. I am driving my hip like possessed, her deep voiced cry is only getting hoarse. I grab her tits and put my torso weight on my forearm, like an endless fountain she has drenched the entire bed under her boobs. My crotch is getting bounced back hitting her elastic butt. Oh how badly I missed pounding my Jimin's ass to oblivion!

After 10 min of nonstop invasion into Jimin's arse I start to feel like cumming again. She has started to feel like back in the days. I have flipped her over, her milking boobs are again making a mess soaking us both. My hand is now choking her neck, forcing a kiss with her whimpering mouth. The sweet smell of mommy milk is hovering in the air. My cock isn't stopping like it has its own mind. Jimin is now pissing herself with every thrust, soaking her and me with her yellow smelly waste.

Her orgasm hits her like a truck as she arches her back in the air, the sweet liquor of her pussy spurt out like a water jet. Milk, piss and cum combined with our sweating body entangled in this skin to skin position have made it such a steamy hot sex. I feel like cumming, but don't want to waste my baby making seeds. So I pull out and once again enter her pussy. I grab behind Jimin's head with both hands, then pull her head up close to my face. She is now sitting on my lap, my cock completely buried in her baby hole.

I am holding her head close to me like how kids hold a barbie doll. Her eyes upturned, mouth agape, breath shallow and hands gone limp again. Her tiny pretty face is now completely under my dominance. Her pussy clenching around my cock with every slow and short upward thrust, she is still orgasming hard. She has completely lost herself in lust and sex, panting from overstimulation. Her messy hair sticking on her sweaty face, I always loved when she looked like this. So lovely, so warm, so wet!

I go in for a kiss, sucking her tongue like a lollipop. Now I am thrusting slowly, trying to prolong this final session as long as I can. If only, if only I could fuck her like this for eternity! I stop sucking, my cock going ever so slowly into her like it's non existent. At last Jimin's eyes are back, looking at me eye to eye so intently. Our hot, short breath is mixing together in a harmony of longing and lust. “YOU ARE LOOKING SO FUCKING BEAUTIFUL!” I don't waste my chance to flirt with her.

I have force fucked hundreds of woman beside her. Being Park's wife she had her fair share of intercourse with many men, being gifted around for his monetary gain. But no women or men can satisfy us the way we can satisfy each other. After this evening, we have both found what we lost 5 years ago. That is we are meant to be each other's, we are far apart now but deep inside we are one! Like now, just how we are together connected with my cock plunged in her pussy.

“FUCKGH! You have bred me so hard!” She gasps for air, her sweaty face making me feel so horny again. “Even after a gangbang I didn't feel this spent, fuck you aaaahh!” She moan softly as she is trembling from getting fucked so hard for so long. “GANGBANG? What the hell Jimin, how many?” I asked her, surprised. I bury my face between her shoulder and face to give her long neck some well earned peck.

“12 honey…” She takes a short break to recally, “Park had a private party a year ago where he gifted me to foreign investors. They fucked me all night… Filled all my holes at the same time, but it still didn't feel as good as yours!” Ironically, her family wanted to give her some queen-like life, blackmailing a man who is richer than them just for their baby girl to get used like a cheap whore. Her parents must be very proud knowing their girl gets gangbanged, legally by the whim of her own husband.

I should be happy though, she is getting punished for her betrayal. But I can't, I am still so soft and caring for her. “Did it hurt too much?” I nudge my nose with hers, my forehead touching her, my hands cupping her face, my cock pistoning smoothly in her pussy. “I couldn't walk around for a week. Can't be helped taking two cocks in my pussy at the same time!” She smirks; it's full of humiliation, pain and a sense of guilt mixed with pleasure. “So you are now a slut huh?” I throw the humiliation to see what's in her mind.

“I am a mom first then a wife. Every moms are fucked somehow, it's just I come in a colorful package thanks to Park.” She is now riding my girth, her hands around my shoulder, her boobs jumping and slapping my face. “What a roundabout way to say you are a whore now!” I grab her ass cheeks and carry her weight, helping her spent body to ride me easily. “Says the doctor who rapes his patients. You have become a monster.” She spit on my face in a poor attempt at fighting back. I chuckle painfully, “We both have gotten corrupted. We lost our way when we lost each other!”

A sigh leaves her, with a lost kitty expression she presses her boobs on my face, sandwiching my nose and eyes between her warm cleavage. It's almost like trying to hide her regrets and pain of losing me. Both of my hands go for the back of her head. I move forward and gently put Jimin on her back. My hands holding her hip as I start pumping my cock with full force into her pussy one last time. She cries out, moaning so loudly like going to make me deaf. I rest my face between her boobs, her milk washing my face with each thrust.

“Give me some milk mommy, my throat got all dry,” I tease Jimin for some hydration with a baby voice. She is just busy moaning and doesn't reply to me but her hands obediently gather both of her nipples and press them together, inviting me to suck both at the same time. I lean forward, grab both boobies and start sucking both nipples at the same time. My mouth is getting overflowed with milks from both udders at the same time, I am literally struggling to gulp down all of it. As a result it's leaking out my mouth and soaking her further.

I have been edging myself for too long. My cock is throbbing too much to release. I let go of her boobs and hold her face, my lips locked in a hungry kiss as my hips go blur once again. “NNGH ANNGH ANGH NNGH AGGH AUGH NNUGH…” Jimin’s muffled struggling moan breaks my prostate dam as the river of my semen starts flooding her baby lake. Her already sticky pussy from previous creampies gets a new layer of cream as her pussy muffin is at last completely creampied. I pull out, cum start leaking out her holes, albeit not as thick as before.

I fell down on her heaving chest. Her sprawled out mommy titis are spurting milk with each and every convulse from her body. She is orgasming again, apparently my enthusiastic or rather crazy humping has pushed her over the edge again. Who knows how long we lied while curling each other. Jimin's head hiding in my chest, my now limp cock resting between her thigh gap. It's Jimin who breaks the silence, “I have to go now. It's getting pretty late. My boy must have gotten hungry.”

“Sigh, a betrayer of a lover, an overused bitch and a caring mom. You are an enigma Jimin.” I reversed our position, now she is on top of me, my cock still getting kissed by her pussy lips. I embrace her tightly, “Yet I don't want to let go of you. Please don't go, don't leave me alone again!” The plea in my voice is clear, I hate to show my weakness yet I can't hide my affection, the eternal longing for my one and only true love. “Don't make it harder for me. I must go.”

Jimin starts smooching my face all over, as if to make up for the absence of her in my life. My eyes, my lip, my nose; she doesn't leave any place empty. My cock, thanks to Viagra, started getting hard again. I am again humping my cock between her thigh, ready to fuck her again. Jimin's mouth go agape with surprise, “WHAT THE FUCK, HOW ARE YOU SO HARD AGAIN?” I smirk, “Let's do it again baby!” I tease her. “NO NO NO NO WAY, my boy waiting for his mom!”

Jimin gets up, wobbly from her breeding session. Her petite frame stumbles as she is struggling to stand still from sore holes. She strides on the floor and goes to collect her dresses and saliva soaked undies from the ground. My cum is visibly dripping out her pussy and going down her thighs. Her milky white cunty body, ample milk filled udders and bouncy supple ass shows why she is the best fuck out there. My sorry cock rise up again, my body want to fuck my Jimin yet again. I stood up and went to help her.

Jimin takes some tissues from the corner and starts wiping herself. She starts with her sweat and saliva filled face, then focuses her milk soaked torso and boobs. I give her a hand, start wiping her pussy and butt hole painted with my cum. Jimin stands patiently, it was one of our old rituals. It was always me who had to wipe her holes clean or else she would not dress up and sit naked with a pout on her face. So I gently cleaned her up, my cock throbbing once again.

“You are all cleaned up Jimin. Now clean me down there!” I point her to my crotch, my cock is still dirty and back to full erection. “I-its getting late, I can't do it anymore!” She begs, her face shows the honest inability of her situation. “Just blow it clean, just a few minutes.” I insist and push her down on her knees. She can hardly resist with her weak, almost limping body. I start rubbing my cock around her lips, a few hits around her face to tease her. “JUST LET ME SUCK ALREADY DAMN!” She gives me a warning glare.

How dare she be bitching with me! Getting angry I shove my cock all in reaching her throat. Forget blowjob, it's about time I facefuck this betrayer. Deepthroating never felt this good as I am making Jimin gag and choke on my length. Forget some cleaning, it's me who shall rearrange her glute with my brute cock. I got deluded from having sex with her after so long, but I really need to punish her for the past 5 years.

My cock fucking her glute now, her long neck bulging under my light grip. Her face is contorted, her breath getting ragged but the final act of her humiliation has to be more agonizing than this. I start choking her throat, making it clench around my invading cock. She tries to pull out, but I start slamming even deeper in her throat. In an attempt to breath she widen her mouth, now it's a sloppy face fuck as saliva and snot dripping on the floor together. Her eyes bulging, hands pushing on my thigh, but to no avail.

“ACK ACKKK AUGHH AGHH ACKGH AGH AGHKK ACK AUUGH SUGH ACK…” The painful sound escaping her mouth only getting hoarser after 5 min of relentless facefuck. I am pulling out to give her some air just to stuff all the way in again. Her boobs are spraying milk as expected, drenching my leg with each agonizing thrust. Her eyes watering and bulging out. Suits her, suits this sweet talking, pretty faced betrayer. “Take it down your lie spouting gullet for fucking around bitch!” I break the silence with my trash talk.

Suddenly the door behind me opens up, I look back over my shoulder and see nobody. I turn further and see our little Park standing there. Poor boy was sucking on a lollipop but now his mouth is open wide, hand going white as he is clenching the stick. He is visibly puzzled seeing how his mommy is busy sucking his daddy or rather doctor uncle’s pee pee while being completely naked. Any other parents would scramble to get dressed or hide their modesty. Unfortunately his dad is a nasty fucker so his mama getting forced to suck daddy cock is something he got to enjoy.

Jimin tries to pull out, her face pleading to stop this shameless orchestra but I press her head completely on my cock, my entire length is now into her throat and gullet. “Umma doin… waat?” Puzzled Park starts walking to his mom who is choking and retching, getting impaled by dad’s cock. “What are you doing here son? Where is your auntie Eunha?” I ask him, my hands keep Jimin’s head stable as I am busy face fucking her head with short but powerful thrusts. “AUGH AGHH ARGH AUGG AUGH AGHHH…” Jimin’s eyes close shut to escape such shame, mouth struggling with gag reflex.

That's good for nothing bitch Eunha, can't even handle a child for a few hours! Whatever, I am not stopping my sex for even my parents so my bastard son can wait. I pull out, letting Jimin answer her son. “AUGHH HAAA AH HAA HA… GO AWAY PARK… Umma is getting a little surgery and my throat hurts so appa I mean doctor uncle is injecting medicine down umma's throat go aw…” In one breathless breath she tries to convince park to go away. But I don't have time for such foolery, so down mommy Jimin’s throat I go!

Little Park is now sucking his lollipop copying the motion of my cock. Imitating how her mommy sucking daddy's lollipop. Jimin’s eyes tearing up seeing her boy losing his innocence, she is slapping my thigh and in her last attempt clench my balls to make me stop. “Ok ok, let's wrap it up.” I assure her and then start choking her neck like before, increasing the pressure around my cock. Then I give some all out all in thrust and end up cumming deep in her mouth. Jimin has no option but to drink all of it. Her eyes lock mine, her mouth obscenely bulged with my cock in it.

Little Park got hungry, him trying to drink mommy's spraying milk shows it clearly. Once I stop the hump, he sits between my legs and latch on mommy’s left areola, suckling like nothing happened. Jimin's hand presses her boy's head on her mommy udder in an attempt to stop him from seeing anything, her eyes locked with mine, pleading to me to do something about it. “If I pull out now then he will ask you to suck him later. Let Eunha come and take him, I am sure she is searching for Park.” I assure Jimin, my hand caressing her abused hoe head that sucked a lot of men so far.

Thinking about it, how my lover is sucking my milk while her son is sucking her milk makes me feel so hot. This is such a twisted family reunion. In my last act of humiliation, I try to open my bladder and try to piss straight down her food pipe, but it's taking an effort as I have just cummed. Jimin's eyes go wild, she is again glaring at me but with a frantic expression. “What? I can't keep it in anymore. Drink all of it or Park getting showered with daddy piss!” And this time I can open my bladder easily. My hot, yellowish, dehydrated from physical activity and smelly piss with semen mixed in it straight going down her food pipe.

Jimin's trying her best to drink my piss despite having a disgusted face. I grab her head and jaw to keep her head steady. Thinking how Park getting showered with piss won't turn out to be good, I am trying to piss slowly. My hip slowly pumps her mouth to enjoy some extra stimulation. Eunha suddenly appears from who knows where and immediately bow down saying, “I am sorry master… sir, an emergency patient came so I left him at my chamber. Came 5 min later and he was gone. I didn't think he would come back for his mom. Sorry for interrupting your intimacy sir!” She quickly pulls Park and lifts him up, “Let's go boy, I’ll let you suck mine,” and immediately leaves the room.

I let go all together, now piss starts gushing out her mouth and nose as she starts coughing violently. I pull out, letting her breath some badly needed air. “Y-YOU BASTARD AUGH AGGH AUGHH…” She tries to vomit but I choke her, “It’s your punishment for betrayal bitch. Throw up and I’ll lock you up for a week and rape you every day!” She looks at me with helpless tearing eyes, her lips trembling with an influx of emotion. I grab a fistful of her hair and yank her head back, “I love you and that's why letting you go. Or else…” I loudly slap her boobs a few times, leaving a few red marks around.

I threw her head back. I didn't notice early but she actually orgasmed and pissed herself when little Park was sucking her, maybe when I started to piss. Now she is sitting on her own piss, helpless and clueless on what to do. First I fucked her badly, tortured her on physical and mental level and now she can't even dress up getting soaked in piss. I collect her limp body and take her to the shower hidden behind this room and tell her to clean up. With a weird look she sees me, unable to understand how I can care for her and want to destroy her so much at the same time!

It takes Jimin 20 min or so to clean herself taking a shower. I mostly use that hidden bath to clean myself after taking special care of my patients. She calmly dresses herself, then goes out to my chamber and puts some light makeup on her face. She brought the hair dryer I had in the bath with her, using it to dry her hair. “Bring little Park here, I am going now.” Her face is cold and voice stoic as if nothing happened. What a drama queen! I lean and try to touch her cheek but she smacks it away. “YOUR CHECKUP IS OVER! Now I am just your patient and nothing else.”

“Heh, look at you acting so tough. Even a moment ago…” I can't finish, she stands and looks at me eyes to eyes, “That's our last. Do you really think I'll be back for more? I can have any number of men as I wish!” She looks stern, but the little tremble in her eyes tells me she doesn't mean it, she doesn't want to mean it. “Come back to me, my love! If you can have my childs, then those childs deserve their dad!” She scoffs, “Come back to YOU? A freaking doctor who rape his senseless patients?”

“You are no better YOU WORTHLESS BITCH!” I shout and squeeze her free hand, it goes white under my pressure. Her eyes tremble further, almost a droplet of water forming at the corner of those beady eyes. “At least I had no choice in anything! You? You do it willingly!” She hisses back with a low deep tone. “You had no choice? Bitch you FUCKING BETRAYED ME! You are getting used like a toy for that. I am… I am just lost without you!” I can't clearly tell her that once I lost her, I had no interest in any more relationships. My patients, my playthings are just a merry distraction!

A distraction from the pain that… that she isn't mine! That I can't see my son, that I could have a loving family… that… that they robbed me off. Now we are both broken! I let go of her hand. She put the dryer on my table and took a glimpse of herself in the decorational mirror I had in one corner. “Jimin, you aren't any better than me. Let's agree on that.” She doesn't look at me, ignoring me on purpose. “Divorce Park, I have connections in high places now. We can have our son's custody. Let's start ov…”

Suddenly Eunha came in as I pressed the bell early to summon her. Little Park holding her hand. His other hand grabbed a small box of candies, chewing one. “I am sorry again for before sir. Here is your… Madame Park's son. Please have a safe trip back home.” Jimin's jaw clenched and eyes burning, she looks at me furiously, “Why don't you broadcast it on TV already? Just ruin everything and everyone!” I answer her nonchalantly, “Eunha is my obedient slave. Don't worry, she doesn't betray like a certain someone.” Jimin rolls her eyes and snatches Park's hand from Eunha.

Before she gets out of my chamber swaying that ample ass and tiny waist, grabbing our son's hand, I ask her, “And your answer?” Jimin stops, stays still for a moment and then shows me her middle finger! How dare she… Then she leaves, my love leaves like how she came a few hours ago. Today is the happiest I have been in the last 5 years. Little Park waved his hand unlike his mom though, even a fucker like me felt happiness seeing his son's small hand waving at him.

I look at them from above, it's evening already, the crimson blue dawn sky whistling the end of the day. A girl wearing a luxurious black designer suit, shorter than Jimin in height, has come in a different car. That's Ning Yizhou, bastard Park's secretary and personal cumdump. That shorty bitch knows Park's every secret and is among the most trusted. Basically like my Eunha here, ready to do anything for her master's whim. Except Ning is tougher, stronger and sharper. With a stern look she opens the car door and asks Jimin to get in. More like an order, Jimin silently obliges. As if Ning has more authority than her.

Ning also looks up at my chamber, though she can't see me through this one sided glass. I lick my lips, Ning do looks fucking delicious! Damn, if anything Park got taste in choosing perfect hoes to fuck. Ning gets in the driver's seat and they leave. I sigh, it's exhausting that I can't keep Jimin to me now. But at least I have got what I wanted. The confirmation that Jimin still loves me, wants me, craves me, dreams about me. I know, her eyes and subtle expressions cleared it all up. And as long as Jimin wants, I can win the upcoming war I am going to wage.

You just wait for it, you damn Park! Everything you own, be it your fortune or your womans, WILL BE MINE! “Your chemistry with madam is so dramatic master. You both care about each other but still act like…” I grab Eunha's mouth and squeeze it, “Why did you let my son come inside?” “I didn't master, trust…” I clench harder, “Drop the act whore! Jimin didn't like it a bit. Why?” Eunha's eyes sparkled with sultriness, “I wanted to come and see how you two were enjoying it master. I felt so horny…” Sigh, while it's true this bitch is my most loyal, it's also a pain that she only understands sex and nothing else.

“Do you want it that bad, you cheap slut? Huh? Should your master just open a glory hole for you in the patient waiting room?” I tease her, my hands are busy slapping her face and busty boobies over her apron. “Yes master, yes, please! A glory hole would help when you are busy with others! This cumdump had a hard time waiting for your cock… You saved so much cum for madame these weeks… I can't wait anymore master! Please, fucking kill me!” Her tongue lolling, asking to get abused like the worthless slut she is!

The Viagra effect in my body still has an hour left of action. I put two fingers in her mouth and my other hand choked her, “Get on your four you onahole. Your master wants some meaty pussy and fatty ass message for his cock.” Eunha doesn't waste time and immediately gets on her four on the sofa at the other side of the room. I lock the door, then get behind her. She can't even touch a dildo without my permission, she is that well trained. She didn't get fucked by anything for a while, poor bitch! So let's end her agony. I bury my cock in her big ass in one go, her painful moan is something that lifts my mood anytime, anywhere.

Half an hour later Eunha is panting, I have dumped my cum on her face, titfucking those big milkers. If only she could produce milk like Jimin… I should have titfuck Jimin when I had the chance. Damn, I shove my cock back in Eunha's meaty pussy once more, humping to get another erection.

Yes, I am going to make Jimin mine. Ning Yizhou, you will spill all of Park's secrets soon. I'll fuck all of it out of you. But for now my trusted slave Eunha should suffice. What an optimistic evening it is!

END... Fuck you until next time 🖕

(And don't forget about Ning's smut idea! What, Where and When Secretary / Cumdump Ning should get fucked?)

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vaguely-concerned · 14 hours ago

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my headcanon/vibe is that lucanis always has a little bit of a thing for rook in the beginning, until either treviso falls (for the dramatic 'interest dropped like a lead weight all at once' version) or a lack of reciprocal vibes makes it fade away quietly and undramatically into a background affection without any particular romantic charge, as indeed seems to have been what happened for him with viago. (see reyes vidal in me:a for a similar case, where I get the sense that he always has some sort of Thing for ryder (even when you're standoffish with him haha he wants ryder to like him SO BAD and not only for Scheming reasons) but never actually makes anything of it unless ryder responds in kind. without further comparison with lucanis intended here except that I love both characters immensely and with tevinter nights included they DO actually have a writer crossover lol.) rook was the first kind voice to break through to him in the ossuary, imprinting a little initially makes perfect sense to me no matter what it develops into later.

source: vibes but trust me I'm right (I'm right for me), look at the way he keeps glancing over at rook while drinking his coffee even without a single flirt under rook's belt and tell me I'm miles off. go on. and most of all "bitter and sweet, like a kiss goodbye. you should try it" is an absolutely insane thing to say to someone you're ostensibly connected to mainly in a professional capacity in the first place. but somehow both more and less insane if you're nursing a bit of a crush on them perhaps without quite recognizing it yourself yet. still nuts, to be clear, but a bit more explicable lol

#I think it's the 'you should try it' that does it. he could have said 'you might like it' or 'it's my favourite' or something #and the over the top description would read more as just antivans being antivans #but the actively involving/inviting thing going on with 'you should try it' makes it SO. lucanis. my best friend and my love #I'm not sure you realize what you're doing but thank you for doing it you are strange and enchanting #dragon age #dragon age: the veilguard #dragon age: the veilguard spoilers #dragon age spoilers #lucanis dellamorte #rook x lucanis #rookanis #I mean not necessarily as I hope I've outlined above but nebulous one-sided romantic attraction that need not go anywhere at least lol

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bloomzone · 2 days ago

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2025 : #16 journal journal journal : all u need guide

By : a journaling addict girlie

Journaling is a tool for self-discovery mindfulness and creativity too But while many of us start with enthusiasm turning journaling into a consistent habit can feel like a battle or smthng cuz life gets busy u lose motivation and before you know it your journal is gathering dust

so !

This guide will help you build a sustainable journaling practice. Whether you’re a beginner or someone looking to rekindle the habit these practical tips will make journaling an effortless part of your daily routine.

how I found out abt journaling(storytime box)

[I used to feel like my world was tiny, trapped in a cycle of bullying and loneliness and a loot of stuff My social zone was practically nonexistent I had 2 friends but I didn't trusted them enough and the people around me just made things harder so I had a trust issue and I was constantly overthinking eveeeeerything. My mind was a mess, and I had no way to let it out (I can't tell my parents back then abt my problems) . One day, I came across a video about journaling. I saw someone pouring out their thoughts into a notebook (it was bestmess ig on YouTube ) and something clicked for me. Maybe this could be my way to escape all the noise in my head ??? So, I grabbed an old notebook and started writing.At first, it felt awkward—just random, messy thoughts. But as I kept going, I realized it helped. Writing became my safe space. I could say whatever I wanted, no judgment. It wasn’t just about venting; it helped me understand myself, organize my thoughts, and let go of some of the pain from the isolation.Over time, journaling turned into something much deeper. It became a way to reflect, dream, and grow. It taught me how to be kind to myself when no one else was, and helped me find clarity in the chaos. Journaling saved me it turned my mess into peace one page at a time then when the years roll I created a routine for it !]

Why Journaling Matters

☆ Journaling offers countless benefits:

-Reducing stress

-Boosting creativity

-Deepening self-awareness

☆ Yet, staying consistent can be a challenge. The key lies in making journaling enjoyable and rewarding. Here's how you can do just that.

The Science of Habit Formation

To build any habit, including journaling, you need three elements:

1. Cue: A trigger that reminds you to journal.

2. Routine: The act of journaling itself.

3. Reward: The positive feeling or benefit you experience afterward.

The secret is to keep the process simple and satisfying too

Steps to Turn Journaling into a Daily Habit

1. Start Small

Begin with just a sentence or two for example:

“Today, I felt grateful for…”

“The best part of my day was…”

—Starting small makes it less overwhelming and easier to stick with.

2. Anchor It to an Existing Habit

—Pair journaling with something you already do, like drinking coffee or winding down before bed. This "habit stacking" technique helps u remember to journal.

3. Set a Timer

Worried about time? Commit to just 5 minutes. Knowing there’s a limit makes starting feel less daunting.

4. Use Prompts

Struggling with what to write? Use prompts like:

“What made me smile today?”

“What’s a challenge I faced, and how did I handle it?”

—Prompts give your thoughts direction and beat blank-page syndrome. There's million of prompts idea on Pinterest u need just to take action

5. Celebrate Your Progress

Track your streaks or mark your journaling days on a calendar. Seeing your consistency builds motivation.

6. Create a Cozy Space ( not important )

Set up a comfortable spot for journaling—a comfy chair, your favorite pen, or soothing music. A cozy environment turns journaling into a ritual you look forward to.

7. Experiment with Formats

If traditional journaling feels stale, try something new:

☆ Bullet points

☆ Sketches

☆ Gratitude lists

☆ Digital journaling apps

Creative Ways to Journal

☆ Gratitude Journaling: Write down 3 things you’re grateful for each day.

☆ Habit Tracking: Combine journaling with habit tracking to monitor small goals.

☆ Morning Pages: Inspired by Julia Cameron’s The Artist’s Way, write 3 pages of free-flowing thoughts first thing in the morning.

☆ Reflection Logs: Reflect weekly or monthly on what went well, what you learned, and what you’d like to improve.

Overcoming Common Obstacles

1. “I Don’t Have Time.”

Journaling doesn’t need to take hours. Even a single sentence is progress.

2. “I Don’t Know What to Write.”

Start with prompts or simply answer: “What’s on my mind right now?”

3. “I Keep Forgetting.”

Set phone reminders or pair journaling with a daily habit.

4. “It Doesn’t Feel Useful.”

Journaling isn’t about perfection it’s a tool for you Over time you’ll notice its positive effects.

Journaling as a Tool for Self-Growth

— Journaling isn’t just about recording events or thoughts—it’s also a way to grow mentally, emotionally, and even spiritually. Here’s how you can take your journaling practice to the next level:

1. Use Journaling for Goal Setting

Journaling can help you identify and track your goals. Write down your short- and long-term objectives, and use your journal to reflect on progress, challenges, and adjustments.

Example:

☆ Weekly Goals: Write down 3 specific goals every Monday and reflect on them at the end of the week.

☆ Vision Journaling: Imagine your ideal future and describe it in vivid detail.

2. Practice Emotional Awareness

☆ Journaling is a powerful way to process emotions. Try these techniques:

☆ Emotion Check-Ins: At the end of the day, write about how you felt and why.

☆ Reframing Challenges: If something negative happened, write about it from a different perspective.

3. Develop Gratitude and Mindfulness

☆ Use your journal to cultivate mindfulness by focusing on the present moment:

☆ Mindful Observations: Write about your surroundings, the weather, or how your body feels.

☆ Gratitude Expansion: Instead of listing things you’re grateful for, write a short paragraph about why each one matters.

4. Uncover Patterns and Insights

Over time, your journal becomes a mirror of your habits, thoughts, and emotions. Regularly revisit old entries to:

- Identify recurring themes.

- Discover how you’ve grown or changed.

- Spot areas where you might need more balance or self-care.

FAQs

Q: How long does it take to build a journaling habit?

A: Experts say it takes 21–66 days. Consistency is key, even if it’s just a few minutes daily.

Q: Should I write by hand or use a digital tool?

A: Both work! Handwriting feels personal, while digital tools offer organization. ( In my opinion handwriting one are better !)

Q: What if my journaling feels repetitive?

A: Life has routines, and so will your journal. Use prompts or try new styles to keep it fresh.

Q: Can I journal if I’m not a good writer?

A: Absolutely! Journaling is about self-expression, not perfect prose. Bullet points or doodles work too.

Journaling is a gift you give yourself—a way to check in, reflect, and grow. Whether you’re jotting down a single sentence or filling pages, the act of journaling is what matters most.

@bloomzone 📇

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ennabear · 2 days ago

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based on a conversation i had with my lyssiebooboobear @bloodstainedsapphic about sevika loving SWEET sweet coffee… sounds crazy but just hear me out. MELVIKA BELOW!!!! ⬇️

first of all, i think sevika has a huge sweet tooth. in zaun, she’d do whatever she could to get her hands on a sweet treat, like a sticky bun or a fruit. so when she moved to piltover and found that these things were everyday snacks instead of delicacies, she was thrilled. mel quickly caught on to this, and would sneak her little slices of cake after dinner or candies to keep in her pocket whenever she needed something sweet in her mouth and mel wasn’t available.

so when she found out coffee could be that way too? her world was flipped upside down. she was so used to drinking it dark and bitter, but now that she had access to cream and sugar every day, it turned into something more. she’d experiment with adding flavors like vanilla or lavender, eventually adding sweet cream and caramel on top, until she was chugging straight sugar and caffeine.

and it kept her awake.

all of the late nights she stayed up signing papers and filing them again, papercuts littering her fingers, her sweet drinks kept her awake long enough to crawl into bed next to her sleeping beauty instead of passing out at the desk.

“you’re really gonna go out with that?” mel asked one morning before their weekly errand run.

“yeah… is there a problem?” sevika huffed.

“my love, is there even any coffee in that? it looks like straight milk and sugar.”

“there’s a little, yeah. why would i drink something that tastes burnt?”

mel just laughs and places a firm kiss on each of her cheeks, mumbling something about her being such a cutie.

her colleagues constantly mistake her for someone who enjoys black coffee, and that’s not too wrong— she does enjoy the nostalgia, the taste bringing her back to early mornings in zaun— but only her and mel know what she really prefers, especially when she’s handed a steaming paper cup full of black coffee. from across the council room, mel notices her face scrunch up with every sip she tastes, mentally complaining about the blunt, bittersweet flavor. she chuckles to herself, but sevika notices and shoots her an annoyed glare.

every day after that, mel prepares her coffee for her just how she likes, putting it in a thick to-go cup to conceal the fact that it’s not, in fact, black coffee. she drizzles caramel in, a few pumps of vanilla, raspberry, and coconut, extra scoops of sugar, lots of milk, and a shot of espresso. when she hands it out to sevika, a questioning look falls over her face. mel assures her that it’s exactly how she likes it, just in a different cup so she can save face around the other council members who have a more mature palate than her.

sevika sips it skeptically, and upon realizing that mel was telling the truth, tackles her to the ground and absolutely smothers her with kisses. most of the drink gets spilled across the floor as sevika smooches all over mel’s face, but neither of them complain. as long as sevika gets her sweet drinks, and mel gets her sweet kisses, they’re both happy.

#she thinks black coffee is gross but the stuff she drinks is so sweet that it circles back to gross again #mel is a black with a little bit of sugar coffee drinker and she almost gags when she makes sevika’s drinks each morning #forces her to brush her teeth EXTRA well after drinking all of that #and sevika does happily #this is just a silly headcanon btw it’s not serious and i don’t give you permission to hate me #sevika #sevika arcane #melvika #sevika x mel medarda #sevika x mel #mel medarda #arcane #arcane league of legends

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pendingnomdeplume · 2 days ago

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the undone and the divine (bedroom hymns) pairing: hozier x fem!reader rating: explicit (18+) tags: Praise Kink, Dirty Talk (sort of), PIV Sex words: 5.2k

[Read it on AO3]

title from Bedroom Hymns by Florence + the Machine divider by: sylusz

Things are not going well.

Truthfully, things haven’t been going well for a while, but you’ve tried to ignore it, tried to manifest your way into reducing stress with vitamins, mindfulness, and a fair bit of recreational drug use. The ashwagandha helps (taken at the behest of Andrew who raves about the benefits of mushroom-based drinks and supplements), but it’s a bandage slapped over the real problem: Work is destroying you, mind, body, and soul.

And, sure, okay, maybe you don’t need to be pulling 60-hour work weeks for an incompetent boss who dumps a majority of his tasks onto you. Maybe you don’t need to bring your computer home every weekend “just in case.” But, if you don’t get the work done, who will?

“Your boss?” Andrew answers when you verbalize the question, one eyebrow raised as though it’s the most ridiculous thing he’s ever heard.

You roll your eyes and reply with a snort, “Yeah, that’ll definitely happen.”

A songbird's melody echoes down the chimney as you sit nestled into his side, his arm thrown around you lazily as you cradle a cup of coffee in your hands. Your laptop bag sits on a chair in the corner of the room, and you stare at it while anxiety brews in your gut. The compulsion to check your email has your fingers itching, but Andrew will protest if you try to peel away from him during this quiet morning together.

“You work too hard, my love,” he murmurs before pressing a kiss to your temple.

With another roll of your eyes, you reply, “That’s rich coming from you of all people.”

He scoffs but says nothing.

Andrew knows you’re right, knows that he can’t argue against you when he’s spent the majority of the last two years touring non-stop. It’s been a point of contention before, mostly during his breaks that leave you a mere 2 weeks together before he’s off again.

Now, he’s home for the foreseeable future (or, until the summer festivals start), and he’s starting to suffer the same frustrations of not having you around, nor having your attention on days where you shouldn’t be thinking about work at all. Bad habits die hard, and you’ve gotten so used to his absence that work eventually became the solution to the void of loneliness within you.

After all, it’s hard to feel sad when you don’t have the time or energy to feel anything but anxiety.

A vibrating sound emanates from your laptop bag. It’s your work phone that Andrew made you shove away before sitting with you this morning. The sound of it makes you tense, your body ready to spring forward and retrieve it, but Andrew keeps a tight grip on you.

“No,” he scolds like one might chastise a puppy. “Let it go.”

Anxiety prickles along your skin. “Baby, I have to check,” you say as you pull away from him and set your mug down on the table. He doesn’t try to stop you this time, his arm thumping on the couch cushion as you move towards your bag.

There’s a missed call from your boss, followed by an email chain forwarded to you with a message from him:

What happened here? How did the system fail in the first place? Why are we not catching these kinds of errors sooner?

It’s a thread that you were looped into a few days ago—something about a payroll error that left you testing and re-testing the system until well into the evening, hours after your scheduled end time. Your boss was copied on every email explaining the situation, and you made sure to copy him on your replies indicating that the issue was handled so he didn’t have to worry.

You sigh loudly as you stare up at the ceiling. “God, I’m so fucking over this.”

“What happened?” Andrew asks tentatively as you turn back around to look at him.

You shrug, face screwed up in a sardonic smile as you shrug. “The amount of work that I do for this motherfucker, and he can’t even read a fucking email thread. The answers are right there, Gabriel. Everything you just fucking asked me is right there.”

With another sigh, you collapse back onto the couch with your arms folded over your chest.

“But he’s fucking right! I should’ve caught this shit earlier! If I had then—”

Andrew interrupts, “Lives were lost, yeah?” It’s snarky and fractious, and you feel irritation build like a heat in your chest. “I’m so sorry, I completely forgot that your company delivers fucking organs for immediate, dire transplants. I mean, do you hear yourself right now?”

You glare at him. “Andrew, do not.”

He rolls his eyes. “Right, yeah, of course. I forgot how much Gabriel’s opinion matters more than your partner’s concerns.”

You close your eyes and inhale deeply through your nose, trying to remember the 5, 4, 3, 2, 1 sequence for mindfulness. Was it five things you can touch or that you can see?

“Baby, I love you so much, and I appreciate your concern. But I’m the fucking idiot who didn’t catch a simple error, and now my boss thinks I’m a dipshit who can’t do their job right. God, it always feels like I’m fucking something up. Why can’t I just get this shit right for once in my life?”

“Oh, Jesus Christ.” Andrew throws his hands up in the air with a scoff. “I am so tired of this.”

With a frown, you snap back, “What? What are you so tired of, Andrew?”

“I’m tired of your insistence that you’re stupid, or that you can’t do your job, or that you’re always fucking things up despite the fact that you seem to be the sole reason your office functions at all. And you’re not just doing your job, you’re doing the job of about three people without the acknowledgement or pay to back it up.

“It’s not your fault that your boss can’t read a fucking email thread. And, how would you know to look for a problem when it hadn’t even occurred yet? Are you supposed to be fucking psychic?

“I mean, fuck’s sake, it’s obvious how absolutely miserable you are doing this. It’s obvious how little these people care about you, not because you’re ‘bad at your job,’ but because they see the work you do and expect more. Your only reward for being good at what you do seems to be receiving even more work.”

You scoff a hollow laugh. “Throwing stones in glass houses, aren’t ya, Andrew?”

“At least I enjoy what I do. The miserable part is having to be away from you.”

Oh.

It’s like a shot straight to your heart. Guilt churns in your stomach as you look away from him.

“I…”

A part of you wants to argue that he chooses to do those long tours, but you know that’s not entirely true. It’s more at the behest of the label, trying to parade him out as much as possible despite his resistance to such things. Their reluctant show pony. It’s why he has any social media at all, though he has nothing to do with it any longer.

Tears prick the corners of your eyes, your throat tightening as you try to swallow down your emotions. But one sniffle has him quickly wrapping his arms around you in a tight hug. You turn your face into his chest as a few hot tears roll down your cheeks. You wrap your arms around his lithe frame as he presses a kiss to your head.

“Baby,” he murmurs against your hair. “I hate seeing you so miserable. I know we’ve talked about it before, but please consider my offer.”

“Andrew—”

“Please, just think about it.”

The offer has been on the table since last year when he came home for a break and found you sobbing in a darkened room with only the glow of your laptop illuminating your curled up form. Andrew had laid it out for you plainly: Quit your job and let him support you. He’d said it so easily, and you knew that he meant it, that he was more than capable of supporting the both of you given his income.

The thought has always made you uncomfortable. It seems unfair not to pull any kind of income, not to pay your own way in life with your own means. On top of that, what are you to do with your time if you’re not working? The concept of “free time” makes you anxious. Your mind and your hands need to stay busy; an unstructured day with hours of daylight and no plan sounds like a genuine nightmare.

But, could boredom and lack of direction be any worse than this? God knows the amount of cortisol coursing through your system has shaved a few years off of your lifespan, and that’s not including the cigarettes you sneak every now and again, nor the alcohol consumed when you finally have a chance to breathe and let loose.

You should be ecstatic that Andrew is home, that you finally get to spend more time together now that his obligations are far fewer and farther in between. Except, you haven’t spent much time together at all with your overtime hours.

It’s obvious that this situation is affecting him as well. You hate seeing him hurt, and it makes sense that he’d feel the same about you. If your stress is causing him stress, then you’ve effectively created an ouroboros of misery based entirely around your work.

Your phone buzzes again with Gabriel’s name at the top, and a wave of nausea overcomes you as your throat tightens in the threat of another sob. A soothing hand immediately rubs at your back, and you’re hit with the realization that you’ve been in this position before.

It’s less deja vu and more a bleak understanding that this isn’t the first, second, or third time you’ve sat on this specific couch with Andrew holding you and talking you through another job-related meltdown.

The thought of this cycle repeating ad nauseam for the rest of your life makes you want to cry.

How long can he stand you complaining about unnecessary suffering before he decides he’s had enough? Andrew’s offer sits on the table collecting cobwebs, and you continuously deny it, for what? For another quarter of feeling insignificant and unappreciated despite carrying the weight of the workplace squarely on your shoulders? For another day of your boss taking the credit for your hard work? How many more thankless years are you willing to put up with before you finally snap?

And, why should you wait until you’re ready to snap at all? Why must you reach the extremes of suffering before you’re willing to do anything about it? Why do you continue to bear the cross for a company that can and will discard you the moment you are no longer useful for their bottom line?

“Baby,” you say quietly as you pull back to look up at him. “D’you think we can go to the post office today?”

Andrew frowns, confused. “I mean, sure. But…why?”

“I’ve got some things to send back to London.”

You shut down your work phone completely and move to shove it into your laptop bag. Anger begins to roil as you stomp around now in search of the stupid laptop charger, the stupid mouse, the stupid, cheap headset they provided to you despite making money hand over fist every quarter.

Still in your pajamas with a hoodie thrown over, you grab your car keys and beckon Andrew to follow. On the way, you ask him to find your personal phone in your bag and pull up Gabriel’s contact information. There are missed calls there, too, including a voicemail that you instruct Andrew to delete immediately.

As you putter along a backroad heading towards the town proper, you ask, “Can you hit ‘call’ and put it on speaker, please?”

Andrew does so with a look of pure glee as he holds the phone closer to you.

“Jesus Christ, finally. Where the fuck have you been? I’ve been calling you all morning about this payroll bullshit, and you haven’t—”

With a smile, you cut him off. “Hey, Gabriel, so sorry about that. The payroll thing is all squared and resolved. In fact, you would know that if you read a single fucking email in your entire life.”

Andrew grins as your boss splutters on the other end.

“Anyway, I’m calling to let you know that I quit. Effective immediately.”

Gabriel chokes out, “What? But you can’t just—”

“I sure can! Don’t worry, HR will be getting an official notice shortly.”

He bites back, “This is a breach of your contract, you know. We explicitly outlined a month’s time frame if you’re to leave. You won’t get paid through the rest of your contracted time if you leave.”

You roll your eyes. “Right. I’m well aware. Really, I just wanted to make sure to let you know that all of my tech and equipment will be going back to the main London office. Thought I’d give you a heads up first, though. Y’know, as a courtesy.”

“As a courtesy? I—you—?! Just fucking bring it here!”

You pretend to think. “See, here’s the thing: I think IT should have this handed to them directly. All that PII, customer data, and all of those reports I built out over the last few years? And all of those analytics that are saved locally to my computer’s hard drive? Figured it’s best to let them deal with wiping it.”

“That’s—it’s—-now, let’s not do anything too hasty here. We can talk this out, right—? If you just send me copies of—”

Eyes still on the road, you reach over and hit the ‘end call’ button with a smug smile.

Andrew scoffs and shakes his head, laughing to himself as he says, “God, I’m so in love with you.”

Business at the post office takes very little time. You know the HQ address off-hand given how many times you’ve typed it in your life, and the bored clerk prints out a shipping label before taking the box and carrying it out of sight.

“No going back now,” you mutter on your way out as Andrew holds the door.

Once in the car, he waits until you’re back on the road to ask, “So…does this mean you’re taking me up on my offer?” His tone is so earnestly hopeful that it makes you want to cry all over again.

“Yes. For now.” A sideways glance at him reveals his befuddled expression. “Baby, I don’t want to stop working forever. I need to make my own money. I need to do things for myself. But, maybe I can find something less…demanding. And your offer gives me the opportunity to find something I want to do instead of praying that something comes up so I could jump ship.”

There’s silence as he mulls over your answer. Then, he nods and replies, “Yeah, I get that. I just…I mean, I want you to be happy. If that means never working another day in your life, you know I’ll support you. And, who knows? Maybe you’ll find something remote. Then you can come travel with me.”

Home has never felt so freeing now that work is no longer a leaden weight holding you down. You can feel the automatic processes happening in your brain, trying to figure out what the next meeting is, the next deadline, the next one-one-one that would inevitably be cancelled at the last minute. It will take a while to unlearn the anxious vigilance instilled in you over the last few years, but there’s a joy in knowing that none of those things matter now.

The biggest question on your mind now is what to do first. There are so many little projects you’ve had in mind, things you and Andrew have discussed about the bedroom and the garden. It’s almost overwhelming to think of where you can possibly even start now that you have the time, energy, and brain capacity to manage it.

Andrew seems to have different ideas as you cross the threshold into the bedroom with him close behind. He catches you around your waist and pulls you back against him as you squeak indignantly.

“Nope,” he muses as you fake a struggle against him. “There’s something else we need to discuss first.”

That tone. It’s the same low, honey-soaked voice he always uses to tease you. For a man who presents so meek and mild, he sure knows how to put on the charm when the mood strikes.

“What’s that?” you ask carefully, already pressing your thighs together in anticipation.

“You have this nasty little habit of making terribly self-deprecating comments. It’s very unbecoming, darling.”

Huh. That’s not where you expected him to go.

“I…I mean, I know it’s not good…” Your feeble argument dies on your tongue as his hands slip beneath your shirt, cold fingers pressing into your skin.

Andrew hums. “For someone so smart and capable, you’re quite unkind to yourself.”

The words make you blush as you attempt to squirm away from him again. No dice. He doesn’t let up, instead tightens his hold on you as he drops kisses along your neck.

“Ah, nonono, sweet thing. You’re not getting away that easily.”

You know that he would release you and drop the whole thing should you demand it. You have no issue putting the kibosh on anything you’re not interested in continuing, and he is well aware. Whatever it is that’s on his mind right now is…intriguing. Your body seems to agree as that pulse between your thighs grows stronger.

“Need I remind you how lovely you really are?”

The heat of your blush reaches the tips of your ears, spreads along your chest.

“I’m really not,” you mutter as his hands move up to cup your breasts. Deft fingers gently pinch and rub at your hardened nipples, pulling a soft gasp from you.

There’s a pause as he chuckles warmly, the sound reverberating through your chest like a cat’s purr. He leans in close to your ear and murmurs, “Darling, no arguments. Unless you want me to stuff something into that pretty little mouth of yours, of course.”

Oh.

It’s said so sweetly, so innocuously that the words throw you for a loop. Meek and mild, your fucking arse. This man is a menace, so easily dropping the filthiest things as though they’re merely flippant remarks.

Apparently, your stunned silence pleases him as he whispers, “Good girl.”

It’s such a simple phrase, but your knees wobble as you try to keep yourself steady, the wind nearly knocked out of you.

“Andrew, what—”

One large hand over your mouth quiets you as he coos, “Baby, shush. What’d I just say, hm?”

Warmth spirals in your stomach as he helps you peel your shirt away, and then his hands are on you again, kneading at the fullness of your chest.

“You are far too harsh on yourself, my love. I think you need to be reminded of how incredible you really are.”

Embarrassment and arousal make you dizzy as he guides you towards the bed and encourages you to lie down on your back. You scooch back far enough on the mattress that he’s able to slot between your legs easily, resting on his knees as he hooks fingers into the waistband of your shorts and tugs them off along with your panties.

You’re surprised by the lack of panache, the lack of foreplay before getting you naked. It’s not his usual style, but none of this has been particularly routine so far. The urge to cover yourself is strong as he admires you, but you stay still, fingers curling into the duvet.

“God, you’re so beautiful. I don’t think I say that enough.”

You roll your eyes, unable to tamp down your bashful smile. “You say it plenty.”

Andrew raises one eyebrow in a warning look as he holds an index finger to his lips. You roll your eyes again but say nothing.

“Absolutely beautiful and so fuckin’ mouthy. Christ.” He shakes his head as he laughs to himself. “It’s part of what I love about you, though. One of the many things I love about you.”

Your pulse quickens as he looms over you, and you’re reminded of just how large and imposing he can actually be. The thought shouldn’t arouse you as much as it does, but nothing about this situation is conventional, and you suppose it’s never a bad day to learn something new about yourself.

He smiles so sweetly as he says, “Do you want to know what else I love about you?” The question is obviously rhetorical, so he continues. “Your stunning eyes…your pretty lips…your cute little expressions when you’re embarrassed.”

You squirm as he runs his fingers along your chest. “I don’t think I need to tell you how much I love your body. It drives me mad when you send those cheeky little photos while I’m away. Especially the boudoir photos in all that black lace.”

The admission makes you smirk.

You’re far more forward with your sexual advances as you’ve gotten more comfortable with him, yourself, and your relationship. There’s a specific glee to receiving incoherent responses via text when you send him something suggestive. Oftentimes, it’s followed up with messages in all caps indicating that he is in public, and this is not the time to be turning him on.

(Your favorite replies are the ones received right before he’s meant to go out on stage, the ones where he clarifies that he had to hide an erection behind his guitar for the first half of his set because of you.)

“Sometimes, I can’t believe that you’re mine.”

Another wave of heat washes over you. Andrew’s possessiveness is no secret, but you still thrill at his words when he vocalizes it, calls you his.

“And yet…” He lets out an exaggerated sigh. “You don’t see yourself the way I see you. It’s such a shame, really.”

Without warning, his thumb drags against your clit, making you gasp sharply and buck up into the sensation. He hums a little laugh as two fingers drag along your folds, already slick despite him doing nothing more than speaking and lightly touching you. One finger slips into you, then a second as you whimper and throw your arm over your eyes.

Softly, he says, “You’re so pretty like this, darling. All spread out and wet for me even though I’ve barely touched you. Such a good girl.”

A giddy, nervous laugh bubbles up in your chest, and he smiles.

“Ah, so you like that…that’s good to know.” Then, with a tilt of his head, he asks, “Tell me what you want, sweet thing. Do you want me to go down on you? Or, do you want me to fuck you?”

Both options are tantalizing, but his fingers aren’t enough to quell that hollow ache, and you desperately want to come with him inside of you.

Finally, you manage to whisper, “Fuck me. Please.”

There’s something about the way Andrew looks at you, grinning almost wolfishly as though he were hoping for that response.

Your eyes are drawn to his hands as he slowly unbuckles his belt and pulls it through the loops before tossing it aside. The tent in his jeans is obvious now as he unbuttons them, unzips them before pushing them down his thighs along with his black boxers. The display makes you throb with need.

His cock is so pretty, long and curved and already dripping from the tip. The sight makes your mouth water, and you swallow audibly as he strokes himself.

Andrew tugs you roughly by your hips before grasping himself again and teasing your slit with the head of his length. You whine as he presses into you at an agonizingly slow pace, rolling your hips in a fruitless attempt at forcing him deeper inside of you. He tuts at you, shakes his head, and pulls back until you’re empty again.

“Ah-ah, no. I need you to do something for me first, okay? See, something my therapist told me once is that positive affirmations do help rework some of those negative internal judgments of yourself despite how silly it feels.”

Well. That’s…not exactly the pillowtalk you expected to hear.

He rubs the head of his cock against your clit as he continues, and you can’t bite back your wanton groan.

Breathlessly, he asks, “I think we should try a little exercise, hm? And if you’re good, I’ll give you what you want. Now, I’m going to say something, and I want you to repeat back to me, okay?”

You blink as he stares at you expectantly. It seems you have no choice in the matter. Not if you want to be fucked six ways from Sunday.

“Baby, please…”

His smile and voice are so soft, so gentle that it makes your chest ache. “I know, darling, I know. You want to feel good, though, right? And I want to make you feel good, but the only way that happens is if you follow instructions. Now, repeat after me: I am not defined by my accomplishments.”

Embarrassment twists in your stomach as you avoid his tender gaze, mouth pressed firmly in a line.

You swallow audibly and meet his eyes again with a petulant scoff. “Fine…I am not defined by my accomplishments.”

“Good girl,” he coos. “See? That wasn’t so hard, was it? Now, let’s try it again. This time, without the attitude, yeah? Repeat after me: I am worthy of love and respect.”

He’s stroking himself again as he says it, his breath hitching and his eyes fluttering as he tries to stay focused on the task at hand. The teasing is driving you mad, arousal leaving a slick sheen on your inner thighs.

You whine quietly as pleasure shoots up your spine, then murmur, “I am worthy of love and respect.”

“Very good, baby…thank you for following directions.”

You mildly resent the way his earnest praise makes you want to beam like a child being congratulated on their school marks.

“Now,” he continues, laughing when you groan impatiently. “Last one, darling, I promise. Repeat after me: The weight of the world does not rest on me.”

With another swallow and a deep breath, you repeat back to him, “The weight of the world does not rest on me.”

Andrew leans over you to catch you in a kiss that you can’t help but smile into. When he pulls away, he sits back on his knees and runs his fingers along your hips.

“You’ve been so good for me, sweet thing,” he murmurs as he drags the head of his cock through your folds. “I think you deserve some indulgence.”

Before you can respond, he presses into you with a satisfied groan. “God, you feel...”

“Oh, god,” you whine as the discomfort of sudden, stretching fullness gives way to tingling pleasure.

Patience may be a virtue, but the impatience of your desire is a vice that has you wrapping your legs around his waist to keep him in place. He merely chuckles and squeezes one thigh while slowly, steadily pulling out before pushing back into you roughly.

He looms over you again, pressing your knees back as he leans in to kiss you. You whimper as he kisses along your jaw, every movement making you squirm and quietly beg for more.

“That’s it. That’s my girl.”

It’s so simple, so innocuous, but the words have you whining and arching your back as you meet back against his quickened thrusts.

“I know, baby, I know. That feels good, doesn’t it?”

It feels fucking incredible, but your mouth won’t form the words. So, you pull him in for a kiss instead, hot and messy and frantic, tasting of coffee with the barest hint of cinnamon from this morning’s porridge.

He presses his forehead to yours, and with one moment of adjustment, he’s suddenly hitting a spot that makes you cry out and dig your fingers into his shoulders.

Warmth begins to build in your stomach, that telltale ascent that slowly pulls you taut. Each irregular press against that same pleasurable spot only pushes you further. The shock of his thumb rubbing messy circles into your clit makes you gasp, tears welling up until one slips free and rolls down your cheek.

His movements become more frantic as he moves to lean in close to your ear. “You’re taking me so well, darling.”

“Baby, I can’t—” Your voice cracks as another swipe of his thumb makes your legs shake. “I’m s-so close, please.”

It’s his responding laugh—more a warm, amused hum in your ear—and his low voice murmuring, “It’s okay, you’re okay, I’ve got you, just take what you need,” that nudges you over the edge. Your head drops back against the pillows as you let out a hiccuped sob and squeeze your eyes shut, hips rolling as you chase each wave of pleasure that washes over you.

Andrew doesn’t stop, instead speeds up to an almost brutal pace as you clench around him. He buries his face into your neck as he comes with a soft moan. You thread your fingers into his hair as he rides it out, reveling in each twitch of his cock as he fills you and whimpers your name.

You stay like that for a moment, both panting as you try to regain your breath. A fine sheen of sweat cools rapidly against your skin as he peels away from you, and you whine at the sudden hollow feeling of him pulling out of you.

“Stay,” he whispers as though your bones aren’t currently made of jelly, and moving from this bed is the furthest thing from your mind right now.

Your eyes are closed as he shuffles back into the room. You’re startled by the warmth of a damp washcloth against your thighs as he cleans you up. When you peek at him, Andrew smiles and pulls a blanket over you before wiggling beneath it and settling on his back beside you.

He immediately opens his arms, an invitation that you easily accept as you roll into him with a content sigh.

“Are you okay, darling?” he asks as he scratches lightly at your scalp.

“Mmhm,” you hum.

He huffs a quiet laugh. “I take it you had fun?”

You crack an eye open to peer up and smile at him. “So much fun.”

“Good, good. I’m glad.” A pause. “You know how much I adore you, right?”

Despite the numerous times he’s said so, it still fills you with a giddy, sunny warmth. As you hide your blushing face against his shoulder, he continues, “I love you with every ounce of my heart, and I want to give you the world.”

“Andrew…” You can’t help but giggle, eyelids growing heavy as his warmth seeps into you, as his touch soothes and relaxes you further. “I love you too, you absolute fucking muppet.”

As you yawn, he tightens his hold on you and whispers into your hair, “Shh, sleep now, darling…you deserve to rest.” Another pause, and then he laughs, “Also, you’re a fucking muppet.”

#hozier x reader #hozier fic #hozier smut #sailor scout stories

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artsninspo · 11 hours ago

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002 | Richmond Inc.

「 ✦ full library & archive ✦ 」

⇚ 001

♠ authors note: hi! wow, wow, wow - the first part of this is doing so well. thanks to everyone who has liked, commented and reblogged. a few notes firstly- I've changed the POV . Our OC is Lorence Cole commonly referred to as Cole professionally, no worries though she’s very much a black woman.

♠ summary: Terry Richmond is still keen on recruiting Lorence for the open directors position within his security firm. Her stellar results during both tactical and physical trials makes her a top candidate but his reputation is in the way of her eager acceptance of the offer.

♠ pairing: Terry Richmond (Aaron Pierre - Rebel Ridge) X Lorence Cole (Black Fem OC)

♠ word-count: ~1.5K

⌖ - Richmond Inc. Training HQ

Second to being in the presence of the Boss, tactical day is my second least favourite part of my job. It’s not that I’m a pacifist but the idea of pulling the trigger and striking a human being in a vital artery is the last thing I want to be doing. Securing my ear protection I let the rounds go being as precise as possible so I can leave sooner than later. This training is proactive and preventative for agents like me who never see the more violent side of the field. It's a necessary evil. A team is only as strong as their weakest link and if shit ever hits the fan I never want to be the person left behind who can't carry their own weight.

“Hey Cole join our competition” a couple of the guys call as I pack up the firearm.

“No thanks” I respond. “Wouldn’t want to make you boys look bad.” I add playfully and they all laugh telling me my comment is wishful thinking. The Boss is huge on being proactive. Since its inception Richmond Inc. has only lost one employee while on assignment. That was while he was being a hero and not doing what we were trained to do. I move onto a larger weapon and look through the scope taking the stationary targets down one by one before heading on to the moving targets course. This one is a simulation, kind of like virtual reality but it feels real. It’s a culmination of all of our training, unfortunately us women are required to perform it twice. Once with heels and the other time in footwear of our choosing. My score is satisfactory and I relax after finishing the tactical portion. I take a short breather before I head to finish the physical training. Some of the field agents come out to place the weighted vests and ankle weights on me before I’m forced into the pool. Stay afloat for twenty minutes or cross the length of the pool twice. I manage the crossing with difficulty before I’m pulled up from the up edge. It’s the track that sees me next. I dry off as much as I can before making quick work of the three miles within the time constraints. When I’m finished I take my time in the sauna before changing. I get dressed and make myself presentable before emerging from the facilities. I’m gonna need an energy drink and a coffee to make it through the rest of today. Chatter gets my attention and I find the Boss standing in front of the exit. I look for another exit to avoid any interactions. I curse myself again for finishing so quickly - I wouldn't have if I knew he was in town.

“Lorence, of course you’re top twenty” A familiar voice shouts, blowing my attempt at discretion. Still, I smile at the sight of my mentor wearing a proud smile. Joel taught me everything I know about passing both the tactical and physical trials, lord knows I was bottom ten when I first joined the firm. “Rich told me you declined a director position. Why would you do that? You have everything it takes.” He asks discreetly. Unlike the Boss Joel is generous, kind and patient. He spoiled me with his easy going temperament. If it were a director position under him there’d be nothing to discuss. I’d sign the dotted line in a heartbeat. The possibilities of how ugly this job can become would be my only worry and not verbal abuse from time to time.

“I’m not good under pressure” I mutter.

“Yeah fucking right. How many times have you talked us out of a bind?” Joel asks like a proud father figure. His greatest leadership quality is that he likes to see others shine and knows how to get the light out of them. “More than half of us in the field aren’t as smart as you. Negotiate. The Boss isn’t above reason and always puts the company first. I can put in a good word.” Joel offers.

“It’s not that I’m smarter, it's that none of you guys listen. I’m not interested in Joel” I respond jokingly.

“No, your testing proves you’re the right one for the position” he says.

I sigh. “I enjoy my life, okay?”

“What, sitting on an overpriced couch? Spending hours cooking for one?” Joel teases and I glare at him while he has a laugh at my expense.

“Come on, try the winter circuit - it’s lowkey and easy to get your feet wet. You can shadow me. $750k to do what you can do in your sleep” Joel says being a salesman.

“What? Do you get a commission?” I tease.

“No, I'll get my best agent back.” Joel says.

I take a deep breath in and weigh my options. “I have one condition before I seriously consider it. If you don’t think it’s possible then drop it”

“What” Joel asks, brow raised and ready for a challenge.

“I deal with you and not the Boss” I tell Joel who seizes up. His brows bunch like it's the most ridiculous request. Confusion covers his expression, most of why people become directors is for the position's proximity to Mr. Richmond. It's worth his weight in gold. “You know I make mistakes in the beginning and he’s an eagle eyed freak who blows up on people. I don’t do well with that. If you can take the tirades for me I’ll consider the promotion” I explain and understanding settles into his expression. He nods looking down dimples settling into his cheeks.

“You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me.” Joel laughs shaking his head side to side.

I’m not at all amused. “It’s my line, it’s my condition. I like peace”

“Are you being this insane for praise too or just criticism?” Joel asks, patronizing me.

“Both are fine with me, they can trickle down through you” I shrug and the hulk himself comes over looking down at his tablet. Black cashmere sweater, silver watch, grey cargos and a fresh trim. Stop it, I scorn my thoughts as he joins us.

“Impressive results Cole” Richmond says.

“Thank you, Joel taught me everything I know” I confess and Joel gives me a half smile.

“She’s a quick study” Joel says, throwing a compliment back my way.

Richmond continues scrolling on the tablet before pausing. He looks up with visible concern. “Monitors show significant distress while shooting.”

“Pacifist” Joel smiles looking from me to the Boss. “Unless bugs are involved. No bodies, no blood” Joel explains.

“Hmm” Richmond says, tapping on the tablet.

“You’re virtually fearless though” he says, continuing to scroll like I'm not right in front of him.

“Exactly. An unreasonable amount of disregard for her own well being but tremendous concern for others. It’s what makes her one of one” Joel says, being exactly the kind of sponsor I’d want under any other circumstance.

“I see,” the Boss nods, looking at me. I hold his gaze for a few seconds before turning back to Joel.

“Well Joel I hope you know you’re getting nothing for that flattery. I’m heading home. Mr. Richmond” I interject nodding in the Boss’ direction to cut the conversation short. It’s like a part of me knows observing Richmond from afar is fine but up close it’s hard to forget I'm in the presence of someone absolutely lethal.

“Drive safe” Joel responds and I nod.

“You too, thanks” I force a smile heading out the front door and into my car where I take a few deep breaths. When I pull out of the lot I see Joel and Richmond in conversation and cringe internally. The agent in me says suck it up and take the position but every other part is warning bells that say stay away. Just the thought of one of his full metal jacket tirades makes me shudder in place. Maybe that’s what was required of him in the army but it doesn't inspire people like me who want to do good. I don’t need anyone telling me what an idiot I am after I make a mistake I know better than anyone else. I was sick for a week when one of my proposed exit routes was subject to a traffic jam. I was the head logistics navigator and spent the next thirty minutes covering my ass to save the clients. Although everything went off without a hitch I demoted myself. Joel was generous but no amount of consolation minimized the fact that I shit the bed. I ran another 10 assignments at a subordinate rank before I felt comfortable at head rank again. The margin of error for director’s is less forgiving under certain circumstances. Gaining intel and filtering for what's necessary is no small feat the success of every project is on your shoulders and so are everyone else’s fuck ups.

New directors are routinely on the Bosses bad side and that's a place I never want to be.

authors note: thanks for reading 🖤 sound off in the comments on if you think Lorence is making good or bad decisions in regards to her promotion and how we think Mr. Richmond handles her terms 💭 cant wait to see what you all think!

don't forget to ❣ Like, ❝ Comment, ↺ Reblog ☑vote on the polls taglist deets & FAQ's here - ✮ join taglist ✮

tags:

@meadows5 @wnbweasley @becauseimher @ariiaeltheedonn @woahthatshitfat @miniaturehideoutmentality @kokobells @ffenthusiastt @sowhatariyana @1xtral1983 @theegoddessofmelanin @fictionalreads @roxytheimmortal @fairytale07 @rampsen @rosey1981 @lauraaan182 @lynaye1993 @g1g1l @writingsbytee @different-fandomz @rose-bliss @loveschrisbrown20 @cherrybeedotcom @ariiaellbtheedonn

#aaron pierre fanfic #aaron pierre imagine #aaron pierre #aaron pierre x black reader #aaron pierre x black!oc #aaron pierre x oc #terry richmond imagine #terry richmond #rebel ridge fanfiction #rebel ridge #terry #terry richmond x black reader #terry richmond x black oc

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fightingthetides · 6 hours ago

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Roberto couldn’t help but feel sorry towards Nunnally, because it wasn’t her fault for misunderstanding something. It wasn’t easy to learn how to better accommodate someone who was on the run, and she was doing her best with her limited knowledge in the category. Not only that, but with the way Ravein normally spoke, it wasn’t easy to understand what he meant to say. It was very cryptic, and it may take a considerable amount of time before you start understanding his mindset.

Understanding Ravein’s situation better, Roberto could explain some things to Nunnally on the behalf of Ravein.

“Though it is nuanced, it is generally safer to be around the public, in more enclosed spaces. The mafia cannot so easily act in a public space where their activities will be seen- so then they’d catch the attention of the authorities.” Roberto glances over at Ravein, who nods his head once, “It’s harder for specialists like snipers to find the opportunity to kill someone indoors and not risk involving an innocent bystander.”

Of course, the same could be said for outside in public, but if they truly wanted Ravein dead, they could simply choose to kill him, attract the attention of the authorities, but run away quick enough to not face any consequences. The better he could blend in with others and have plenty opportunities to hide, the better. That’s why places like the beach were dangerous, because he couldn’t hide anywhere. Also, the ocean was a popular spot for gangsters to rid of evidence.

“He’s generally safer indoors,” though that didn’t mean he was actually safe. There were guns that could shoot bullets through walls, and some specialists had ways to find a target inside, such as using surveillance, or heat seeking technology. It was a hassle that most wouldn’t be willing to spend all the time, money, and effort on. “It seems that though he’s nervous about being around people in general, he would still like to try going out with you. He needs to learn to be more comfortable being around others.” Can’t forget how he never properly socialized with others normally, so he felt at odds with the general populace.

Thinking it over, “perhaps for the first outing, I will have to trouble you with spending time with an old man like myself. I can help bridge any misunderstandings,” and also help ease Ravein into being around people. Someone would have to act as his lifeline to keep his delicate tether of sanity in check.

At her question about shopping for something more, Ravein nodded his head quietly, thinking it would be interesting to shop for other things as well. It’s what he heard about, ‘window shopping’.

[Malls] [Okay]

When Roberto returned, he accepted his mug, and so did Ravein. The two men tried a sip of their beverages, and it was readily evident on both of their faces that they liked the drinks.

[Good]

“It’s a lovely cup of coffee, thank you, Miss Nunnally.” Roberto thanks her with a smile and he turns to stare at Ravein’s notebook with disapproval. “You should really say more if you wish to prevent further misunderstandings, Rav. Most can’t understand your meaning with just a couple of words.”

“Some people find it rude if one is so curt with their words,” he added and the look of surprise on Ravein’s face was clear as day. This was a habit of his from his intel broker days. The less information anyone could gain about him, the better. So he always spoke very little and virtually only answered with [yes] and [no] so people couldn’t get a good read on his handwriting to do analysis.

Ravein nods his head solemnly, and Roberto takes another sip of his coffee, turning to Nunnally. “You are free to tell him if he makes things harder for you because of his habits. He’s usually open minded enough to take your concerns into consideration. With me, he usually writes full sentences, for example.” Well, it took time for Ravein to feel comfortable enough to do so, but still.

Nunnally didn’t originally notice that she had confused Ravein. Sure, she didn’t completely understand everything he was trying to communicate, so it was a guessing game for her, but with her talking, she tried to explain to him what message had finally reached her. It was not that she was entirely clear either, as she was so used to overthinking and second-guessing that her messages could also be somewhat blurry.

She did hear Roberto’s ( “What’s wrong?” ) question, but she has decided to ignore it for the time being. It was not directed at her, and even though if it was, everything seemed just fine for her. Though internally, Nunnally was anxious. Something was wrong again. Did she say something wrong? Did she overlook some hints that were given to her?

-- ( She surely did; that was what she was doing all the time. ) --

But even if she did, Nunnally considered it was not big this time. She had already experienced a major overstepping of Ravein’s boundaries, so she suspected this time, it was at most a medium “misunderstanding.” So, she continued keeping herself busy, while Robero and Ravein were speaking with each other. And, indeed, Roberto’s reply to Ravein made her feel better; or perhaps rather calmer, and she allowed herself to ask: --

“Have I misunderstand you, Rav, again? I am sorry. I am not the best in reading in between. I never was.”

Though she didn’t ask what she had mixed up, or where her mistake was. Shall they want to tell her, they surely would. And soon Nunnally learnt not to be wrong.

Oh! So it was all about! That she thought that Ravein didn’t want to join her for "mug hunting"! And she assumed it was too dangerous for him: --

“I thought that perhaps it’s too risky, if we go shopping out there in the city. But if you think it’s just fine, then yes: let’s go.” – Nunnally smiled and added – “I’ll leave it to Ravein. I wouldn’t mind the three of us go, but it’s not that I don’t enjoy spending time with Ravein alone.”

“And yes…” – Nunnally added this time directly to Roberto – “I actually think that some of my small additions make the coffee taste nicer. Though I have a simple taste as you might remember and for me, it’s mainly choosing the right kind of coffee beans.”

They were soon ready. Roberto and Nunnally with their drinks. Nunnally was quite proud of what she had prepared, but she would still wait a few moments before Roberto was back. In the meantime, she smiled to Ravein: --

“I am excited, too. Would it be okay to shop for something more? I might need a things or two.” – perhaps she really did not need them, but it would allow them to spend some more time together – “What places are better? Crowded malls or rather smaller shopping alleys? Would lunch also be an option?”

Roberto was back rather fast.

And there Nunnally was; beaming with pride, handing one mug to Roberto and another to Ravein: --

“Dark roast with star anise. I didn’t add too much as it’s a unique taste.. Not everyone likes it.”

“Your tea is based on lavender. I was less experimental here.”

“I hope you’ll like it. Enjoy.” – she hoped they would find the drinks tasty – “But do feel free to tell me if you don’t. I don’t want to make you a drink you don’t like again.”

#Lured-into-wonderland #(Nunnally01)#RPans #((Muse; Nunnally))#((Is it as simple as telling him I would like it if you gave me more words to work with? Yes LOL))#((The reveal! kekekek He's simple and yet complex in the weirdest of ways))#((Poor Nun for having to deal with him))#((Wise Roberto dropping the tips lol))

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wisteria-moonlight · 1 day ago

Text

Gamer's Block

~Synopsis: Stressed Kenma goes crazy for his girl!~ CW: Post-time skip kenma, kenma's girl has crazy head game, established relationship, CEO kenma, mdni, slightly (?) feral!kenma (at the end), spoilers Word count: 2.1k

The apartment I shared with my boyfriend of four years was absolutely silent when I stepped inside, prompting me to pause and glance around.

“Kenma?” I asked softly. If he was sleeping, I didn’t want to wake him, but he texted me only a couple of hours ago saying he would be waiting for me when I got home from work, so I was expecting to see him sitting on the couch, either playing a game on his phone or watching one of his shows.

Only the couch was empty and all the lights were off.

There was no response to my call, so I stepped inside with a shrug, peeling off my sweater and slipping out of my shoes. Maybe he decided to go out last minute-there was probably a game release that he wanted to test out, or he was grabbing something for dinner.

Just thinking of the notorious Kenma Kozume waiting in line for a game made me chuckle to myself while I set my keys and mail on our small coffee table in the living room. I flicked on a nearby lamp and looked around the clean space.

Our home wasn’t anything grand, despite the fact that Kenma made more than enough to afford a freakin’ mansion if he wanted. He ran a crazy successful business, could make the stock market his bitch if he wanted, and was one of the most popular gamers/streamers out there.

You’d think he’d be less frugal with all the extra cash he had sitting around, but that just wasn’t who Kenma was. He was low key, extraordinarily so, and his life, and the things he enjoyed, reflected that.

Not that I minded one bit. Sure, big houses and fancy cars were nice, but I knew Kenma when we were just two simple second-years at Nekoma, trying to survive high school. I knew him when he had nothing to his name and loved him then. To many people, he would be the successful, intimidating CEO and professional.

But to me, he was the kid that could barely look me in the eye when I first tried to talk to him. The only way I could get him to open up to me was to buy the game he was avidly playing, and pull an all-nighter binging it so I could ask him questions about it during school the next day.

We never went another day without talking again.

That was why I would always cherish this small, cozy two-bedroom apartment we got together the day after we graduated.

I’d never forget the small smile on his face when we signed the official papers. We didn’t have much, just a few pieces of furniture our parents gave us, and our clothes.

But it was ours.

Fast forward several years and the space had definitely filled out. Between Kenma’s gaming stuff and my girly throw blankets and accents, it was the perfect combination of both of us.

I shuffled into the kitchen with a tired sigh. As much as I loved my job as an elementary teacher, I couldn’t deny that I was exhausted most days when I came home. Those kids kept me on my toes and would have tied me up if I let them.

I filled a glass up with cold water and took a refreshing drink while I thought about what to do until Kenma got home. I could have showered, but he always loved to shower with me at the end of the day before we crawled into bed. I loved that too, so that was definitely off the table.

Oh! There was a new game I wanted to try that Kenma got early access to. He gave me the download a couple of weeks ago, but with work and just general life stuff, I hadn’t been able to try it yet.

Chugging the rest of the water, my mind was made up. Maybe, if it was good, Kenma and I could play together. Although, he was pretty picky about games, so I wouldn’t know for sure until he tried it first-hand.

I quickly washed the glass and returned it to its cupboard before making my way to our shared office. Really, it was Kenma’s and he graciously let me put a desk in there so I could grade papers without straining my neck and back on the couch like I used to.

I felt excitement bubbling up as I neared the office. I was never one for games… Before I met Kenma. He got me addicted, that jerk.

Right as I was about to open the door, I heard soft mumblings coming from inside. I stilled, hand on the doorknob, while my heart dropped.

Yes, I knew it was dramatic to think there was an intruder in there, but that was the first place my mind went to.

“Damn it.” I instantly recognized Kenma’s soft voice, but frowned at the frustration in his tone. Slowly and quietly, I opened the door and peeked in, relieved to see we were, in fact, not being robbed, but it was just my boyfriend. Sitting at his desk with his noise canceling headphones on.

Well, at least now I knew he wasn’t outright ignoring me earlier. He just couldn’t hear me.

“Shit,” he said under his breath before he closed his eyes and ran a hand over his face. He ripped his headphones off and tossed them onto the desk as he scooted his chair back and hung his head in his hands.

My stomach pitched with worry, and I was immediately walking toward him.

“Where is she?” he mumbled so low that I almost didn’t hear him.

“Expecting someone?” I said gently as I pressed a soft touch against his back. He flinched and jumped away in surprise, his eyes wide.

Okay, now I was really concerned. Kenma was skilled in observation. He knew everything that was going on around him at all times. It was why he was such a rockstar setter. Tetsuro and I often joked that he had a third eye. That’s how innately aware he was all the time.

So, having been able to sneak up on him…

“What took you so long?” he said in a huff as he stood and immediately pulled me into a tight hug. His face was smashed in the crook of my neck, and he held my arms down tightly against my body so all I could do was flail my hands like a fish in order to touch him.

“I just got home. I thought you had gone out-I didn’t hear you in here.” Something was definitely wrong. Kenma was very loving and touchy, but his frame was tense and he sounded so agitated before.

“What’s wrong, honey?” I asked, moving enough that he loosened his grip on me so I could wrap my arms around his slender body.

He sighed. “I can’t get past this damn level. I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I’ve been working on it all day and keep losing.”

Ah, I understood now. Kenma was scarily good at games. I’m talking, he would pick it up and immediately be good at it within minutes. He was nearly impossible to beat once he hit his stride. I mean, he built an entire career based on that skill.

Except he was having an off day today.

I leaned away as much as he would let me and stared up into his dimmed golden eyes. I thought about which way to take this, what words would help him the most. Then an idea popped into my head and I held back a smirk as I raised an eyebrow.

It didn’t matter-he already knew I was up to something. His gaze briefly lit up with amusement as he waited for me to make my move.

“You know,” I said as I brought my arms back between us, pushing his chest slightly to create some space. He let me, but I didn’t stop when there were a couple of inches between us. No, I kept pushing him back until he fell into his chair with a soft breath.

“What do I know?” he breathed, watching me as I kneeled in front of him, my hands running up and down his strong thighs.

“We normies call that gamer’s block.”

His lips twitched, and he took a breath through his nose, his eyes watching my hands inch closer to the waistband of his sweats.

“Oh, yeah?” he asked.

I nodded solemnly and dipped my fingers under his pants and boxers, making his chest hitch.

“But don’t worry. I know how to fix it.” Usually, I would have teased him. He liked it when I edged him a little, as long as he got to do it back to me. But today was not one of those days.

I tugged everything down. His hips were barely back in place after lifting them to help me before I had his cock in my mouth, my tongue swirling around the tip.

“Fuck!” he yelled in surprise, his hand immediately gripping my hair with a force that made my eyes water. He forced my head back, mouth still full, and glared down at me. “Needy much?”

If I could’ve scoffed, I would have. We both knew who the needy one was right now, but I could call him out for it later.

“Shiiiiiiit-” Kenma let his head fall back as I bobbed up and down. One of my hands squeezed his thigh, while the other wrapped around the base of his cock, stroking in time with my mouth. My eyes watered from both his girth and length, the tip hitting the back of my throat relentlessly.

Though his hand had loosened and my scalp wasn’t feeling that delicious sting, both of his palms were now on the back of my head as he let my movements lift and lower them. His body twitched and he let a breathy whine escape, making me smirk. It was a fifty-fifty shot as to just how vocal Kenma would get during sex.

Sometimes, he made small grunts, other times, his sounds bounced off the walls with more force than my own.

But without fail, every time he was getting close, he would let go of those cute little whines that he would vehemently deny when I brought it up later.

His head lifted and the dull look from earlier was gone. Only glassy, blown pupils stared back at me. His mouth popped open as he ran his tongue over his bottom lip, making me squeeze my thighs together in need.

“I’m not… Fuck, baby.” His raspy voice did things to my head, making me dizzy and nearly feral for him.

I knew what he was trying to say, but couldn’t. He was about to come-not that it surprised me. On any other day, Kenma’s stamina was unparalleled. The intense volleyball training had a lot to do with that.

But when he was under a lot of stress, or was pissed off, it was easy to get him over that edge.

He squeezed his eyes shut and grabbed my shoulders, holding me tightly as he tapped several times. That was the only warning I would get before warmth flooded my mouth and his groans echoed around us.

I slowed down my pace, but kept my mouth around him as I swallowed everything he gave me and cleaned him up. Only when he twitched and hissed softly did I finally let up. It took him several seconds to finally open his eyes and lift his head, but when he did, his gaze pinned me to the spot.

“Think you can play the game now?” I teased, intentionally licking my lips slowly. His gaze flashed with something predatory that made me shiver, and suddenly he was in my face, stealing the breath from my lungs as he shoved his tongue in my mouth.

“Screw that damn game. I’m playing with you. And you can bet I’m not fucking losing.”

He had us in our bedroom with me under him in record time. His lips working down my jaw and neck while he tore off my clothes like a beast finally let out of its cage. I smiled and let my head fall back as I enjoyed the feeling of his skilled hands on my body.

Yeah, this was definitely better than gaming.

🖤Back to masterlist

#kenma #haikyuu fic #haikyu fic #haikyuu kenma kozume #kozume kenma #haikyuu kenma #haikyuu nekoma #haikyu kozume #haikyuu smut #haikyuu romance #haikyu smut #haikyu romance

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redsrooftopprincess · 12 hours ago

Note

Hey so how do you think raphael would deal with a s/o who goes all out for holidays. And also they tend to throw flirty seasonal comments at him. Trying to fluster him every single time. Valentine: “I think cupid might of struck me hard years ago when I laid mine eyes on you”. Halloween they’re a vampire “the only one I want to turn into a vampire is you ;)” and xmas they’re like “All I want for xmas is you”? Or mistletoe is on the ceiling above them suddenly and s/o is like “How’d that get there?” Nearly convincingly. 😂?

Hi there!!! I'm really hoping this turned out okay. 😅

Valentine

RaphaelxFem!reader

Warnings: none, pure fluff

He arrives to an empty apartment. It's only 7, so you're probably still on your way home from work. He heads to the kitchen and grabs a beer from the fridge, before moving toward the couch to waste time with video games while he waits for you.

As he crosses to the living room, he hears keys in the lock and moves casually out of sight of the door. It explodes open with almost pressurized force, pushed by the enormous collection of plastic shopping bags barely contained by the arms in your fluffy red sweater. You kick the door closed behind you and he's taking the bags from you almost instantly.

"Okay!" you grin, striking a pose as he sets the mountain of bags onto the kitchen table, "I'm here! Now what were your other two wishes?" He rolls his eyes and sighs, but he can't help the quirk of a smile. You're adorable. And he has to admit, you look damn good in his color.

You have a... thing for holidays. You honestly love any excuse to dress up and be silly. It doesn't hurt that it usually earns you a laugh from a certain red-banded bara who is so very pretty when he laughed. You only met a few months ago, but so far, over Samhain, Thanksgiving, and Solstice, he's thankfully gotten used to you going a *little* over the top.

Somehow (surely not all the decorations at your desk and themed outfits over the last year), your co-workers have also figured out how much you love holidays, and when they approached you about taking charge of their "Valentine's Day Luncheon," you were more than happy to oblige.

Now you survey the collection of red and white and pink in plastic before you, your mind whirring with potential. You'd asked Raph to come over on his night off because you had an excuse you needed help, and he was pretty hot handy with a glue gun.

After giving him a run down of everything in the bags, along with your "vision" as he liked to call it (complete with sarcastic hand gesture), you each grab an armful of craft supplies, and move into the living room to get to work. He clears off the coffee table while you order dinner, and soon the two of you are elbow deep in pink glitter and construction paper.

Everything starts out well enough. The drinks and creativity flow and your favorite romantic comedy plays unobtrusively in the background as you eat and laugh between cutting and pasting. You feel good. Valentine's Day may be tomorrow, but tomorrow is in about three hours and you're going to get to spend your first Valentine's Day (at least part of it anyway) with a guy you actually may be falling for and-

Your stream of consciousness comes to a screeching halt, the needle in your hand stilling halfway through the felt plush heart you had been sewing. You look over at him, telling some story about Mikey and Don when they were kids, and you definitely feel... something. But love, that kind of love, is big. Important. Especially for the Hamatos. Seeming so far out of reach for them they may as well be alone on the planet. This isn't the kind of thing you should even joke about until you're absolutely sure.

But it's Valentine's Day.

And wine is happening.

And as the night goes on, your heart and your tongue form an alliance against your brain.

Over the course of the evening you develop a habit of calling him anything *but* his name, and the way words like "Hot Stuff" "Romeo," and "Heartbreaker," roll off your tongue affects him in ways that are not allowed. He's fine. A deep breath and he's back to being cool. But the spark of trouble in your eyes when you call him, "Bruiser," leaves him needing a minute.

You see it. You can't help it. He's hot, and you're single, and it's Valentine's Day, and it seems like he can't get enough of you, and you are about half a bottle in. You start shooting the occasional cheesy pick up line his way, just to see what'll happen. And you are not disappointed.

Mike had subjected him to months worth of shitty pick up lines when he discovered them as kids, but you're so damn cute that they just come out silly and endearing.

"Hey," you call over to him across the living room, "do you like raisins?"

He looks confused, "I guess?"

"How 'bout a date?" You grin.

He rolls his eyes, but the adorable smile and slight color shift in his scales as he looks away is just addicting. With that kind of reaction, the wine in your bloodstream reasons, how the hell are you supposed to stop?

So, between the beer, and the constant back and forth between him thinking you're adorable, and him trying really really hard not to think about what those pet names coming out of that pretty mouth are doing to him physically, halfway through the night he was almost regretting agreeing to help you.

But then, it does stop.

He doesn't know when, through the haze of mild inebriation, and physical and emotional turmoil it's difficult for him to track, but at some point he notices the stupid pick up lines become less frequent, and the pet names become more and more tame until they almost stop completely.

He looks over at you, jaw tight, glaring at the felt plush heart in your hands. You had to make 120, this was your second one, Raph was already sixteen in, and the tangled mess of twisted pink thread was beyond unraveling.

You sigh, frustrated, "Raph, can you toss me the scissors?"

Sewing isn't exactly your forte. It's not that you don't get the mechanics of it: needle + thread + fabric = thing. As long as you can move in a straight line and you don't stab the shit out of yourself it should be easy right? But your hands are uncoordinated and sewing machines can smell fear. You've tried. You just can't sew. Why you decided that *this* was what is needed for the party tomorrow, you will never understand. You thought it'd be easy. It was supposed to be easy.

He stares at you for a few moments, brow knitted in thought as he takes in what's happening. "Having trouble, princess?" He asks. He smirks, but not unkindly.

"Huh? Oh yeah, I guess..." You respond, taking the scissors from him and attempting to carefully cut through the tangled mass to remove it... which results in you cutting a quarter inch whole through both layers of felt. Your jaw tightens, and you sigh heavily. "I can't sew," you admit, almost shamefully.

He makes a face, "What do you mean you 'can't sew?'"

You sigh, tossing the ruined decoration into the plastic bag the two of you have been using for trash, "I mean I can't sew."

"Anyone can sew," He states, as if it's an objective fact.

You attempt not to snort derisively. You fail.

"You really don't think you can sew?"

You look pointedly at the ruined heart, before looking back at him and wordlessly raising an eyebrow.

Disengaging, you snatch another couple of felt pieces and some pink thread off the coffee table and settle back into your spot in the papasan. He watches as you try and fail to thread the needle. Three times.

You're embarrassed. And frustrated. This is supposed to be your favorite holiday and you're spending it fighting with a stupid needle and looking like an idiot in front of the guy you... something-like-love-...-maybe, and you're so stuck in your own head, you don't notice that he's moved until he's kneeling in front of you and stilling your hands.

He holds up a small metal disk. It looks slightly like a custom made swiss army knife, that has Donnie written all over it. He pushes a lever and a wire... loop? I guess? Pops out of it. You look at him quizzically.

"May I?" He asks, holding his hands out. He takes the needle and thread upon your acceptance. He flicks a small lever and a small pair of scissor pops out of the other side, which he uses to snip off the frayed two inches of embroidery thread. He dexterously replaces the scissors, and, holding the needle, you watch him push the wire through the hole, feed the thread through, and then pull it back out, the needle now neatly threaded.

You blink up at him. He smiles, holding up the disk, "Needle threader," he tosses it in your lap, "your new best friend."

You give him a stunned half smile and start working on your second heart for the second time.

Your not sure how, but somewhere between the first and the fifth stitch, your thread twists and knots itself, resulting in a smaller version of your previous tangle. He cringes.

"Y'know... I could teach you," he ventures hesitantly, "if you want, I mean."

You pick up the disc in your lap and examine it. A specialized tool that Red just happened to have on him, despite him having no idea what fresh insanity you had planned for tonight. Needles, thread bobbins, and several other things you don't recognize, all easily accessible and deployable. The kind of tool you don't have unless you do something very specific. Your frustrated gaze becomes more thoughtful.

"Do you make all your clothes?" You ask, softly, the ghost of a smile hiding in the corner of your mouth as you look back up at him.

The shift in tone catches him off-guard, and when your gaze finds his, it feels like all the breath has left his body. "Well, yeah..." He says, almost transfixed, before clearing his throat and recovering with a smirk, "you really think they make clothes in our size?"

"No," you say, your smile slightly resurrected, "no, I suppose they don't." You look down at the felt in your hands, and it dies again, "I'm afraid you may have your work cut out for you. A lot of people have failed to teach me to sew. I'm pretty sure I'm a lost cause."

"Bullshit," he says, pushing the coffee table back far enough that he can sit in front of you.

After twenty minutes of neat and simple failure, you drop the heart in your lap and cover your face with your hands. "This is hopeless. I can't make the needle do," you gesture vaguely, "whatever it is that you're doing to make this work. We need to pivot," you start looking around at what craft supplies are left, your mind trying to find something you could make as a replacement.

"No."

"What?" Your eyes return to his.

"Excuse me," he clears his throat, "Hell no."

You look confused.

"I said I was gonna teach you to sew, and that's exactly what I'm gonna do if it takes all damn night."

"Raph, it's 11:30, we are out of time for that. We need something easier."

"Please, I can knock these out by myself in an hour, this is more important." He gently places a hand on your knee, and you try to ignore the way it covers nearly half your thigh, "If you want to learn, I want to teach you," he says softly. "But only if you want." He adds, backing off slightly, afraid he might be pushing too hard.

"Look," he continues, "after D, you're probably one of the smartest people I know. So, while it's really cute watching you struggle this hard at something for once," he smirks when you glare at him, "it seems like this really bothers you, and if I can, I want to help."

Okay, this is not helping your little something-like-love situation *at all*.

"Though, I'll admit, there might be a tiny part of me that would, selfishly, really like to show off teach you something that I'm really good at I really enjoy." He gives you what he hopes is his most convincing smile. He doesn't often get to flex outside of the weight room.

You're hesitant. You really *really* don't want to look like any more of an idiot in front of Raphael, and you have zero confidence that this will do anything more than frustrate the both of you, but you can see the poorly concealed hopeful excitement in his eyes, and, Fuck, how is he so damn cute?

"Okay, fine," you relent with a sigh.

"Cool," he says, standing and trying not to grin. He grabs a stack of felt hearts and some thread from the table. "Would you be cool with me sitting behind you? It'll easier to see what you're doing from there."

It's a move he almost immediately regrets when you nod and he settles himself behind you on the papasan. You're close, very close, and he's been drinking. He tries desperately to focus as you command the attention of all his senses. Your warmth radiates through his plastron, and the shape of the chair traps your scent around him. He wills his hands to stay right where they are, as you settle against him.

It's... difficult. He tries talking you through everything, but somehow it isn't translating to your stupid hands. He can feel it, your body almost as curved and rigid as his own carapace with tension. He puts a hand on your arm. "You're pulling too tight. Here," he rumbles into your ear, his rough hands gentle as they move down your arms to your own, "like this." You hope he doesn't notice the gooseflesh that has scattered over your skin.

Over the next half-hour, he guides you through the motions, your small hands moving within his own, and it isn't long before the two of you fall into a comfortable rhythm. It starts to feel less like your fighting with the damn thing and more like you're actually capable of handling this, your smile even claws it's way out of it's grave a little.

About fifteen minutes in you start to notice something. A sound or a feeling, you can't quite figure out which, seeming to envelope you. It takes a good few minutes before you realize... It's him.

Donatello told you about this. You heard it once in the lab when Don had been tinkering, contentedly, with a new graphics card for a good while. He seemed embarrassed when you asked, but he explained, very clinically, what it was and why it was happenings.

He called it a "churr," and explained that it's something involuntary that happens when they're content, or happy, or excited, or pissed. Similar to a growl or a purr. (The squeal you had to contain when you found out they purr luckily only came out as a quiet squeak. Don gave you a look.)

And now it's surrounding you. Vibrating against your spine and down your arms. He seems to not even realize it's happening. You suppress a smile. You consider saying something, but your worried he'll get embarrassed and stop. He's pretty sensitive about the non-human parts of his life, so you instead choose to just shut up and enjoy the fact that he's evidently enjoying his time with you.

And he is. It's the first time the thought of Valentine's Day doesn't entirely leave a bitter taste in his mouth. Normally, he wouldn't even leave the lair today, but you'd asked him to come over and help with decorations, and he stupidly agreed. It was you. Of course he was going to say yes. And, honestly, it isn't as painful as he thought it was going to be. You're hot, and fun, and if his terminally single ass is going to do anything other than sulk on Valentine's Day. This ain't half bad.

Once you seem to have the hang of things, you both start working as individuals, though neither of you move far from your positions. That's when he notices it, too, in a lull in conversation, a deep rumble from within his chest. He shifts in the chair, uncomfortably, and clears his throat in hopes that it'll stop, or at least interrupt the involuntary process. But, no. He's not that lucky. Maybe if he just pretends it isn't happening. You don't seem to have noticed yet.

He continues on as if nothing is going on, and eventually settles back into a comfortable rhythm. The mild embarrassment remains, but overall if you don't mention it, maybe it doesn't bother you? You've never really flinched at his weird turtle shit, and maybe this is no different. By 3:30, all 120 hearts have been completed, and his churring has faded almost into white noise.

You steel yourself and sigh internally. You don't want to. You really don't want to. But you have to be at work in five hours, so you stand, yawning. "Okay," you grin, stretching, "thanks for the help, now get the fuck out."

He gets up and tosses the last heart onto the pile, grinning, "Well, shit, how's that for gratitude?" Tonight was a good night.

After a few minutes of both of you finding any reason to stall, you run out of them, and he makes his way out to the fire escape. Speaking, crouched, through the window, he's at eye level, and you kiss his cheek, softly, "Thank you," you say sincerely.

He tries to play it cool, but the hunter green stripes down the lines of his throat darken just a little, and his smirk shifts into something just a bit more bashful.

Gods damn it, this boyish fucking asshole.

"Hey," you say before he can run off, "so, um, it's Valentine's Day, and I'll be getting out of work after sundown tonight, so..." Play it cool, damn it. "You know, there's probably going to be a lot of creeps out, and-"

"I can walk you home," he interrupts a little too eagerly, his stripes darkening further, "uh, if you want, I mean. I'm not saying you couldn't handle some creeps on your own, I just, uh..." He laughs, nervously as he trails off, embarrassed.

You try not to grin, "I'd appreciate that," you say, blushing, and you swear he lights up like Christmas morning.

He gets back home at about sunrise, and doesn't sleep all day. At about 5:30 in the evening his phone buzzes, and he can't help the smile that blooms across his face when he sees your name. When he opens the message the smile fades and is replaced by something very different.

It's a photo of you, probably taken by one of your coworkers, posed coquettishly in front of a Valentine's Day themed step and repeat banner, in a vintage red dress that hugs your curves deliciously. Which you fully didn't pick out with a certain guy in mind, why would you think that?

If you'd been present, you would know that the dress has done it's job, and after a few minutes staring dumbly at the now saved photo on his phone, he starts prepping for a night of protecting the good people of New York City.

Okay, maybe just one, in particular.

.....

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