#get me out of this concrete jungle

[e-mptyflowerfields]

There’s something so sad about seeing abandoned houses and buildings being torn down. I understand it needs to be done and they serve no purpose, but it just feels like the world is moving too fast.

I remember as a kid on late night drives from a long day, we’d always pass by this old gas station, it was completely over grown and rusted but I always knew we were almost home when I saw it.

Now it’s a Costco.

[of-ether]

another cycle 🔄

[king-dra]

theres something very charming to me about super early sci-fi stories, stuff from a time before we had any idea as to what could possibly be out in space, so people were just making shit up

[xbellaxcarolinax]

Okay but imagine sex pollen with Miguel fucking you on your back and then even when he cums he just keeps going and it’s spilling out and refractory period who and you’re overstimulated and he’s like no no you’re not allowed to tap out and he — and he —!!!!!

Sorry

MONA. You put me in a fucking MOOD LMFAO This is way longer than I intended. And its pure filth 🫣

Word Count: 2k+

NSFW below the cut.

Part 2

...

Earth 703- A post-apocalyptic world in which New York was nothing more than a ferocious jungle.

You stared off into the distance, the familiar city skyline overrun by wild flora and thick green vines sneaking in through broken windows and cracked concrete. 

“What the fuck.” You whispered to yourself, eyes now trained on the massive dragonfly that whizzed by you. Miguel grunted, punching a large finger over the screen of his watch.

The mission was supposed to be simple: Catch the anomaly—send them back to their own universe—go home. That’s it. No detours, no distractions. In and out.

“Are we close?” You questioned, pressing up against Miguel’s side at the sight of another massive insect, “I wanna get the hell outta here.”

“We just missed him.” He sucked his teeth. His mask disappeared in a flash of digital pixels to reveal his scowling face, narrowed red eyes and brows furrowed in frustration.

You’ve been wandering around the city for forty-five minutes, trekking through the godforsaken jungle with no luck. The anomaly, a Prowler from some random universe (you couldn’t remember, you weren’t paying attention at the meeting), was clever, quickwitted, and inconspicuous. You’d wished Miguel had chosen Jess for this one, but he’d refused. He’d used the excuse of her pregnancy but really, she’d already complained to you beforehand that the humidity would do her hair no favors. 

“What now?” You questioned, plopping down at the base of a bulky tree trunk a few feet away. The trees were so massive that the branches seemed to kiss the sky, monstrous green leaves blocking out most of the morning sunlight.

“Keep lookin’,” he huffed, running his fingers through his hair, “we’re getting close.”

“Miguel,” you whined, your head thumping back against the trunk, “you said that forty-five minutes ago.”

“Get up,” he demanded, shooting out a web of electric red to swiftly pull you toward him. You yelped, crossing the distance within seconds, crashing into Miguel's sturdy body.

“I hate when you do that.” Your words were muffled by his broad chest, peeling your sweaty cheek away from the synthetic material of his suit. The tiniest smile ghosted over his lips. 

“I know.” 

… 

You’d left Miguel on his own for a few minutes. 

You’d gotten distracted, swinging up into one of the treetops to observe one of the colorful parrots squawking in the distance. It’d looked just like the ones back home, except this one was enormous, probably bigger than a medium-sized dog. 

“Fuck!” You’d heard Miguel yell from down below, spitting out curses in Spanish, choking on the words as coughs racked his body. He’d been waving his hands in front of his face to clear his vision to no avail. You watched as his body reacted immediately to whatever it was that ailed him, his body hunching over as if in pain.

“Miguel!” You dropped to your feet in front of him and attempted to reach for him, but he recoiled, fearing your touch. 

“Stay back!” he wheezed, crouching down and holding his head in his hands.

“What’s wrong?”

“It hurts,” he groaned, his eyes screwed shut as his body trembled, his fingers weaving through his thick hair strands to violently tug from the root.

“Stop,” you scolded, getting on your knees in front of him to pry his hands away, “tell me what’s wrong so that I can help you.” You shoved him down by the shoulders so that he was sitting with his knees out, bringing a hand to his face and yanking it up by his chin. His eyes, normally a mahogany shade glowed a disturbing red, his pupils dilated. 

“Ran into a plant,” he forced the words from his throat, his skin gleaming with sweat, “s-some flower, I don’t know, some kind of pollen.” He groaned again, squeezing his eyes shut.

“Shit, ok, ok, ok, we can fix this,” you panicked, placing the back of your hand against his forehead. He was burning, skin blistering hot. “Where does it hurt.”

Miguel remained silent, breathing harshly through his nostrils as beads of sweat began to trickle down his face. He looked down between his legs and you followed his line of vision. Oh. OH.

His bulge was tenting through his suit, fighting against the restraints of the digital fabric. The area glimmered brightly before his cock burst through the pixels, flopping out and twitching with need.

Miguel was big. 

His cock stood tall and proud, bobbing against his stomach, the tip leaking a thin bead of precum that ran down his length. 

You stared for a moment, transfixed on the angry red tip before you found your voice. “Miguel—”

“You need to go,” he spat viciously, his fangs protruding as if to scare you away, “if you don't I’ll—” He stopped himself, lips pressed into a tight line as his chest began to heave. You could hear his heart rate accelerate with every passing second.

“Let me help you,” you whispered, your hand hovering over his cock. He looked away from you, his skin flushed from his cheekbones to the tips of his ears. “Miguel, please, let me help you.”

“I don’t want to force—”

“You’re not forcing me,” you breathed, letting the pad of your finger tap against his tip, smearing his precum over the surface. Your cunt throbbed, squeezing tight with an overwhelming desire to be filled. “I want to.” You cooed, your tone causing his eyes to flutter. 

Miguel grunted, grabbing your hand and placing it over his throbbing cock.

“Then help me.” He hissed.

…

You needed a new suit. Immediately.

Miguel had torn into it, ripping the seams apart from the crotch, all the way up to your neck, revealing your chest and glistening pussy. You had no time to complain, mewling when he spread your thighs apart with his large hands, his eyes trained on the heat between your legs before diving in to eat from you.

You squealed, your hands flying to his head as he kissed and licked and spit over your cunt, his nose pressing against your clit. His tongue dipped into your hole a few times before licking one long stripe up to your bundle of nerves, swirling his tongue around it before sucking it into his mouth.

Okay—you’ve had your pussy eaten before, but goddamn never like this, never like it was a matter of life or death, as if your pussy alone was the answer to all things.

Miguel continued his ministrations, releasing a growl every few moments, licking to oblivion until you thought his jaw would lock. 

He made you see stars, groaning loudly as you gushed into his mouth. He savored your tangy taste as he lapped at your wet folds, making sure to lick up every drop he could find. 

His mouth and chin were soaked in your juices when he came back up, and it shot a fresh wave of arousal through your veins. His hand reached out to cup your face, his thumb smearing over the traces of his cum dotting across your cheek when you’d sucked him off earlier, catching some of it in your mouth before he'd pulled out, wanting to paint your face with it at the last moment. 

He dipped his thumb into your mouth, forcing you to clean it as he slid his cock over your messy pussy, smearing the underside in your juices. His body shook with need, his eyes glazed and lidded, teeth sinking into his lower lip as he whimpered something about you being so wet.

He pulled out his thumb from your mouth with a pop and watched how you panted underneath him, your exposed skin now covered in a sheen of sweat.

“I’m sorry,” he muttered, positioning your legs over his shoulders before draping himself over you, folding you in half, “I’m sorry if I’m not gentle.”

Gentle? You were a big girl, you didn’t need him to be—

You cried out as soon as he pressed his fat head into your tiny hole, forcing your pussy to open up for him as he pushed in deeper without giving you much time to adjust.

“Fuck,” you sobbed, your hands scrambling to grip his arms as he began to thrust his hips, dragging his cock in and out of you at a bruising pace. 

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Miguel began to babble, grunting when your cunt squeezed the life from him, the slick noises of your drenched pussy egging him on. 

Maybe…gentle would have been nice knowing now how big he was, but you understood the circumstances of the situation. This was meant to be anything but gentle.

He had you coming again, your back arching and your bare chest pressing against his clothed one before he filled you with his own spend, pushing it as deep as he could into you. He pulled out harshly causing you to moan, watching his cum leak from your swollen pussy before slapping his length over your folds a few times and dipping back in.

He fucked you harder this time until your pussy throbbed and burned from the size of him, filling you up with so much of his cum, and delighting in the way it dripped out of you. 

“Again.” He grunted, pushing his cock into your convulsing walls, slamming in deep as he licked and sucked on your nipples, leaving red love marks over your skin. You sobbed from the pleasure, feeling his weight push you into the ground.

“I can’t!” You cried, pushing weakly against his shoulders.

“You can and you will.” Miguel commanded. He couldn’t stop, barely giving you a minute to catch your breath after making you both cum again before sinking into your searing heat, stretching you beyond your limits.

You were lightheaded and spent, losing count of the number of orgasms he’d given you. Miguel growled, pulling out his cock from your abused hole and shooting his load over your body. He pressed it into your skin, smearing it over your breasts and tender nipples, down your abdomen, and finally, over your burning pussy. 

He paused, his eyes tracing over your fucked out form before reaching down to pump himself with the leftover cum in his hand.

“I’m sorry, Hermosa,” he whispered, draping himself over you again, “I can’t stop, you feel too good. So fucking tight.” He slurped your nipple into his hot mouth, sucking the taste of him from your skin as he pushed his large cock into you. 

Your eyes fluttered and you cried out, your fingers digging into the earth, focusing on nothing but Miguel's rich voice:

I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry I’m—

…

It was nightfall by the time Miguel was satiated.

You felt weak, eyes heavy with sleep and body limp. Miguel sat against a tree and had you cradled in his arms, your body nestled comfortably between his legs. He rested his head over yours, inhaling the scent of sweat and dirt trapped in your hair. 

“See that flower?” He muttered, pointing straight ahead at a few giant white daisies clustering around a tree. They were massive, like everything else in that universe, the stems taller than Miguel when he was standing at his full height. You nodded sleepily, ignoring the ache in your still exposed cunt. “Don’t go near it.”

“Got it.” You absentmindedly played with the frayed pieces of your suit, letting Miguel shield your exposed skin from the elements.

You probably should’ve left already, should’ve gone back to HQ for a much-needed shower and rest, probably schedule another meeting, but Miguel wouldn’t budge, his grip on you tightening whenever you so much as shifted against him.

“Quèdate quieta.” He grunted.

“Miguel,” you protested, “we have to go home. The anomaly—”

“I know, hermosa,” he murmured softly, “I know.” You never seen him this soft before, nor speak in such a gentle way, not with anyone and least of all, not with you.

You both sat there in silence, processing what happened while listening to the sounds of the jungle, the birds chirping in the distance, the leaves rustling in the gentle wind. You sighed, playing with his interlocked fingers over your stomach. It was strangely intimate (despite everything else that happened), having him coddle you. 

“Miguel?”

“Mm?” 

“You better get me a suit like yours.” 

“What’s wrong with the fabric ones from HQ?”

“It’s a waste if you’re just gonna rip it off again.” You heard him snort out a breath, just the tiniest thing that implied he understood your meaning. You were hoping this wouldn’t be the first nor last time you’d be under him. “We got a deal?” 

Miguel chuckled, his hand leaving the safety of your abdomen to venture down into your sopping-wet folds. You bit your lip, spreading your tired thighs, whimpering as his thick fingers swirled inside.

“Deal, Hermosa.”

...

Quèdate quieta- Keep still

[astonmartinii]

day four: rock(ette)ing around the christmas tree

pairing: pierre gasly x fem rockette reader

high kicks this, high kicks that, pierre is ready to kick off because his job is getting in the way of his festive wag duties

MASTERLIST | TIP JAR

yourusername

liked by pierregasly, charles_leclerc and 238,044 others

yourusername: back in the concrete jungle wet dream tomato for another round of rockette duty !!!

view all comments

user1: how does it feel to live my dream

user2: its not fair that 1. she’s a literal rockette 2. looks like that and 3. is with a whole ass f1 driver ???

user3: everyone saying that she’s lucky to be with him but have we considered that he’s massively batting above his league?

user4: real …. i hope their babies have her hairline

pierregasly: HUH???

yukitsunoda0511: i make sure to remind him everyday 🫶🏻

user5: obsessed with yuki’s need to humble pierre all the time

yukitsunoda0511: he bagged a queen and has made it everyone else’s problem since

yourusername: can you blame him?

pierregasly: don’t answer that yuki

charles_leclerc: please please please come back right now this whiny french man won’t shut up

yourusername: … it’s my job

charles_leclerc: well i’d also argue that wrangling this oversized puppy with attachment issues is also your job

yourusername: no it’s my passion! there’s a difference

pierregasly: seeeeeee !!!! i am loved :(

yourusername: you are! but please cool it on the texts, i got so many going through the TSA that they thought i had a vibrator in my carry on 😭

pierregasly: WITHOUT ME?

yourusername: babe can we not read?

pierregasly: oh! lol i was ready to fight the world of battery operated sex toys

estebanocon: you need help

pierregasly: LEAVE ME ALONE

user6: smile guys i think we’re in the original

user7: bro is crashing out

user8: tbf i’d give my left ball to have a chance with y/n

pierregasly: i will castrate you for free if you even think about her!

yourusername: so romantic <3

pierregasly

liked by charles_leclerc, yukitsunoda0511 and 524,087 others

tagged: yourusername

pierregasly: engine failures got me missing my girl :(

view all comments

user10: my one dream this christmas is to get a man this in love with me

user11: really waiting for my grapes to kick in

user12: any second now i swear...

yourusername: mine took three years to come true so hang on

pierregasly: as if i wasn't manifesting you

yukitsunoda0511: bro retired but still hasn't caused any damage this year damn

pierregasly: told them to give me the projected damages for the season as a bonus so i could treat my girl

yukitsunoda0511: ... and nothing for the guy who is actually at all of the races ???

pierregasly: that is your job?

yukitsunoda0511: and i just comfort you after the races for the love of the game?

pierregasly: yes?

yukitsunoda0511: well it looks like i'll be looking for a new boyfriend this christmas

yourusername: what the hell, sure

user13: y/n just giving up against yukierre

yourusername: sometimes you gotta just sit back and let them get it out

yourusername: and also i do actually get invited to pierre's house in milan (i do also live there)

yukitsunoda0511: THAT IS A SORE SUBJECT Y/N WHY WOULD YOU GO THERE

yourusername: you're calling my boyfriend your boyfriend in public instagram comments?

yukitsunoda0511: PLEASE STAY IN NEW YORK FOREVER

pierregasly: yuki ???

yourusername: that's not very christmas spirit of you yuki

user14: y/n is thousands of miles away but still pulled into the scraps

pierregasly: i'm glad she loves me and puts up with it

yukitsunoda0511: why are you both being so mean to me today :(

yourusername: it's the christmas presents that keep me around (jokes, OBVIOUSLY)

charles_leclerc

liked by yourusername, yukitsunoda0511 and 2,109,778 others

tagged: pierregasly, danielricciardo & landonorris

charles_leclerc: i've stolen his phone so he won't see this but @yourusername he's scarily easy to kidnap

view all comments

user15: so we're on kidnap now... i think the season needs to finish now

user16: no we gotta see how far they are taking it

user17: there's no race in qatar because half of the grid have been arrested lol

francocolapinto: please manifest it i need one of their seats

user18: so real

charles_leclerc: i hate to break it to you franco but you're also on the plane

francocolapinto: don't be dumb charles, i know that, i'm just too pretty to go to jail

charles_leclerc: if anyone is too pretty to go to jail on this AIRPLANE IT IS ME NOW PUT YOUR PHONE DOWN PIERRE IS GETTING SUSPICIOUS

user19: FRANCO IS THERE?

user20: are they all there ???

maxverstappen1: when all is done i don't wanna hear from ANY of them that i don't do anything for them

charles_leclerc: sorry good sir but not all of us have a private jet we can use at the drop of a hat

maxverstappen1: oh i know, i will just hold this over all of you (especially pierre) for as long as i can

charles_leclerc: it's pierre's surprise, why would you hold it against him

maxverstappen1: because i can 👌

yourusername: so on a scale of 1 - 10 how worried should i actually be?

maxverstappen1: very.

charles_leclerc: MAX

charles_leclerc: all is under control y/n do not worry

yourusername: i gotta go warm up for my show tonight i better not finish the show to news reports that my boyfriend is dead

charles_leclerc: he will be alive!

yourusername: and well?

charles_leclerc: i don't want to make that guarantee

yourusername: EXCUSE ME?

charles_leclerc: what? my lawyers told me to never make promises i can't 100% deliver on?

yourusername: well consider me worried

user21: they're defo doing what we think they're doing right

oscarpiastri: if you've got more than two brain cells and the ability to read context cues you will know, it's not the craziest surprise ever

charles_leclerc: we're not in a country rn, maritime laws and all that - THINK

user22: .... riiiiiiiiiiiiight

yukitsunoda0511

liked by charles_leclerc, maxverstappen1 and 489,205 others

tagged: pierregasly & yourusername

yukitsunoda0511: using this love sick fool as an excuse to visit new york

view all comments

user24: they took him to nyc to see y/n !!! that's so cute i can't

user25: are they going to go to y/n's show ???

maxverstappen1: they weren't allowed my jet without the assurance that we were going to that damn show

yourusername: you were very happy to see me as someone who recently publicly told me to stay in nyc forever ...

yukitsuonda0511: obviously i said that so we could come visit you !!!

yukitsunoda0511: it was all a part of the plan

charles_leclerc: ummmm you had no part of the plan

yukitsunoda0511: i clearly seduced pierre into not asking questions

yourusername: you're very close to successfully seducing my foot to your ass

yukitsunoda0511: pierre !!!!!!!!!!!!

pierregasly: i am not helping you here bro

user26: someone get yuki a girlfriend before he gets his ass high kicked out of radio city

yukitsunoda0511: at this point i am just doing it to annoy them

yourusername: whatever you want to tell yourself girlypop

yukitsunoda0511: you're just scared that i'd look better than you in the costumes

yourusername: oh really?

pierregasly: okay girls there's enough pierre to go around

pierregasly: but it is all going to y/n, sorry yuki

yukitsunoda0511: you're scared you'll find things out about yourself

pierregasly: is it time to go home yet y/n ???

user27: fuck george vs max i need y/n vs yuki

user28: instead of crash threats it's just yuki threatening to steal rockette outfits

user29: surely there's someone who can make this happen? @f1 @yourusername

yourusername: noooooooo chance

yukitsunoda0511: cough, cough SCARED

yourusername

liked by charles_leclerc, maxverstappen and 303,277 others

tagged: pierregasly

yourusername: heard my frenchie missed me <3

view all comments

user30: my god they're so cute

user31: i love when a man is so shameless about his love

user32: the matching outfits !!!!!!!

charles_leclerc: thanks charles!

charles_leclerc: you're a great friend

charles_leclerc: you're an amazing person who knows us so well and DOESN'T try and seduce one of us

charles_leclerc: how can we ever repay you

charles_leclerc: oh well, no worries guys i love you

yourusername: nurse he's out again

charles_leclerc: i'm giving you ten seconds before i lose my shit

yourusername: i jest !!! thank you for bringing my lover boy to me charles

pierregasly: thank you charlooooo i guess all my complaining was worth it, i'll make sure to keep it up

charles_leclerc: no no no no no no no No No No NO NO NO NO

user33: charles got major friend points for reuniting them (after like a week away from each other lol) and now will be stuck with pierre complaining full time

alexalbon: and this kids, is why we're not nice to each other

user34: the grid being so done with pierre is so funny

charles_leclerc: the change from him being a slut to a lover boy is too much for my head

pierregasly: can we tell radio city to push back your performances to the second week of december so we don't have to be apart

yourusername: babe i don't think i'm important enough to be making those kind of demands

pierregasly: I THINK YOU'RE IMPORTANT ENOUGH

yourusername: thank you baby but being a rockette is my dream so you'll have to deal with a couple weeks without me

pierregasly: so you don't miss me :(

yourusername: you're on my mind all the time, i love you xx

pierregasly: i love you more xx

pierregasly

liked by charles_leclerc, lewishamilton and 673,298 others

tagged: yourusername

pierregasly: only two more races until i can become a full time christmas wag xx

view all comments

user37: the grid are so cute 🥰

user38: the way y/n's dressing room was full of flowers omg she's so loved

user39: the videos of them just being flabbergasted by the show, so personal to me

yourusername: thank you all for coming to see the show !! i promise everyone else were a lot less chill about you guys being there than they let off

pierregasly: no thank YOU for being the star you are 🌟

yourusername: ugh i love you so much

yourusername: are qatar and abu dhabi really that important?

pierregasly: unfortunately they are :( (i am also contractually obligated to be there)

yourusername: boooooooooooooo

alpinef1: but we're paying him to buy you christmas presents

yourusername: ... okay i guess

user40: christmas came early with all this grid content

user41: this is what i wanted from drive to survive not the fabricated drama

yukitsunoda0511: although i still think i'd look better in the costumes... i don't think i'd slay the high kicks like you y/n :(

yourusername: i'll take it !

yukitsunoda0511: but you guys will let me come to the milan house in the new year right?

yourusername: you'll have to ask pierre ...

yukitsunoda0511: PIERRE PLEASE

pierregasly: i guess... only if you stop saying you're prettier than my girlfriend. NO ONE IS PRETTIER THAN HER

yourusername: that's crazy coming from the handsomest man in the world

charles_leclerc: let's not get too crazy here y/n

yourusername: look who isn't getting a christmas present this year now ...

charles_leclerc: i mean last year you gave me a "this candle smells like max verstappen" and a max cardboard cutout

maxverstappen1: sounds like a great gift to me ...

pierregasly: well the presents she gets me are great

charles_leclerc: i don't want to know about those presents

user42: even christmas isn't free from them being horn dogs

yourusername: why do you think i learnt to high kick babe ....

charles_leclerc: shut THE FUCK UP

pierregasly: heheheheeh

fin.

note: oh gosh it's been a busy busy busy week. i haven't written for pierre for like a year lol - enjoy!

[withjaejae]

Hole-in-One | JJK pt. 3

Pairings: Jungkook x Reader

High society, richie rich setting

Warnings: Oral (m/f), fingering, car sex, superstitions, tiny bit of jealous Jk, mostly Simp JK, unprotected sex, just sex.

A/N: felt inspired by JK’s recent live so here we are. Enjoy

+++++++

“If I make this hole-in-one, let’s go to the charity ball together as a couple.” Jungkook smirks and hits the ball. He was confident that he doesn’t even look when the ball goes in so smoothly.

You on the other hand are smiling like an idiot.

Its been a month since you and Jungkook started dating but you’ve been doing it lowkey. With the finals over and graduation is just around the corner, he wants to publicly announce your relationship by going to your parents’ charity ball together. For the entire society to see.

Jungkook approaches you and bends over to peck your lips. You were about to speak when a cough interrupts your moment.

“So this is why you don’t ask me to play golf anymore.” Namjoon stood behind you two and frowns. “Auntie told me you and Jungkook would be here.”

“Okay, and?” You raise your eyebrows. His eye flicker between you and Jungkook standing very close to each other.

“What are you doing with my friend?” He finally asks and Jungkook drapes an arm around your shoulders.

“We’re dating.” You answer simply and Jungkook’s chest swells with pride. “What do you want, Joonie?”

“Jungkook, need a favor.” You groan and turn away, taking Jungkook with you.

“Aha. My days as your wingman are over, Joonie.” He teases him with the nickname. “I’m like your cousin now.” His words make you blush.

“Come on. You’re like the best wingman ever.” Namjoon groans. “There’s this girl who DJs at this club. You know people there, just give me an opening.”

“And I told you, I can’t. Plus, me and YN are going shopping tonight.” He shrugs. Namjoon groans in frustration.

You take pity in your cousin who is single as a pringle.

“You can go.” You look up at Jungkook. “It would be fun.”

“Nah. I hate clubs, the only clubs I want are these.” He hugs his brand new golf clubs that he bought yesterday. “Plus, I got a hole-in-one. Don’t I get my reward?”

“I thought your reward was the charity ball?” He groans. “Okay.” You tease.

“Ugh. I hate you two. Come onnnnnn.” You forgot Namjoon was still there. “You can tag along YN.” You contemplate.

“Damn. She must be really hot for you to let me join.” You turn back around to face him. “I guess we can go after shopping.” You look up at Jungkook.

“Fine.” He pouts.

“Would you be angry if I just drove around the block then back to the club house because I’m sure Henry or whatever can spare me a room?” Jungkook as his eyes glued to your legs. “Baby, you’re a sin.” His eyes finally met yours.

After shopping you both took an hour to prepare to get Namjoon a girlfriend. Or you hope its going to be a girlfriend.

You picked out a cute silver dress that’s too short for Jungkook’s sanity.

“If yoy’re the best wingman the way Namjoon says you are. We can be back at the club in an hour.” You trail your finger along his jaw before giving him a soft kiss.

He groans as you step away, he opens the door for you and you both drive towards the heart of the concrete jungle.

Namjoon had already chosen a VIP table near the DJ booth. His eyes light up as soon as he spots Jungkook approach with you right next to him.

“Ugh. You guys look good. Its annoying.” He rolls his eyes but hands you two an amorito sour.

“Okay, you ready?” Jungkook drinks half his cocktail and stands up.

“What? No! Its too soon!” Jungkook sits back down and pouts. “Do you have a next appointment or something?”

“No.” He continues to pout and you giggle at his cuteness.

“Relax.” You place a hand on his shoulder and squeeze. “Let’s have some fun.”

A tray of shots gets served at your table and you’re just as shocked as Jungkook. But hey, you haven’t been out for a while.

The three of you took shots like actual college students. Jungkook’s hand sitting tightly in between your knees.

“Jungkook. Go time.” Namjoon nods, you both look up at the DJ booth where they switch and the female Dj exits towards you.

“Whatever you’re gonna see. Its all for show.” Jungkook whispers before grabbing a shot glass and walks down crossing her and accidentally spilling the shot over her arm.

He doesn’t apologize, instead he just walks away and you can see the dj mumble ‘asshole’ just then Namjoon approaches with a handful of tissues and strikes up a conversation with her. In a couple of minutes you feel someone sit next to you.

“Is it like a good cop bad cop sort of thing?” You ask before turning to see who sat next to you.

“I dunno.” The voice sounded different.

You turn to see Kim Taehyung, a highschool friend, you shriek and hug him.

“Tae tae! When did you get back?” You start speaking french.

You both attended a private school in Paris but he pursued art there while you came home for college. Though you knew each other since you were kids, you only became close in highschool.

“A couple of days ago, I’m in town for a relative’s wedding. Fancy seeing you here, you hate clubs.” His arm was draped over the couch behind you.

Jungkook could see it from across the room, his stare is as sharp as a spear. The moment Tae tucks a hair behind your ear, he snaps. Angrily wading through the crowd on the dance floor before he finally reaches you both.

Tae looks up at him. “Jungkook.”

“Taehyung.” The air suddenly felt cold. Your eyes going back and forth between them.

Taehyung was the reason Jungkook didn’t make swim captain in 6th grade. He’s pissed to this day. He was also the reason he didn’t join the Paris program, he didn’t want to be anywhere around the man.

Clearly you two became close while in Paris.

“Taehyung, you remember Jungkook, he’s my boyfriend.” The B word that came from your mouth made any anger from Jungkook dissipate.

“Ah. Seems that I was too late.” He teases but you reach up for Jungkook’s hand. Taehyung took it as his cue to leave. “It was nice seeing you both. If he ever breaks up with you…” he locks eyes with Jungkook. “Call me.” Then looks at you.

You give him a small wave as he left, Jungkook takes his seat back. A grin on his face.

“You called me boyfriend.” He wraps an arm around your waist.

“Are you not?” You bit your lip. But the expression on Jungkook’s face tells you he loves it.

“I most definitely am, girlfriend.” You both cringe and laugh.

You wait a couple more minutes until Namjoon gives a thumbs up while passing you both before you stood up and left.

“Well, that was fun.” You smile as Jungkook gets in the car with you.

“But not as fun as—“ Before Jungkook could finish his sentence you’re crossing the center console and sitting on his lap, landing your lips on his.

It was a good makeout session until Jungkook starts undressing you.

“Wait. We can’t.” You pull away from the kiss, his hooded eyes luring you in. He asks why, “It’s bad luck to fuck in a car.”

“Says who?” He chuckles. “Its not like anyone can see us.”

“I know and I really want to. But it’s bad luck. For the car, not us.” He full on laughs.

“I wanna test that now.” He continues to put both hands on your ass. “Shit.” He curses when he feels you wearing a thong.

“Fine. Its your car.” You crawl towards the back seat. “Do you want your reward?” You wink and he hastly follows you.

His jeep has a wide leg space for the back seat so there was no hurdle as you situate yourself between his legs. You tie your hair up in a pony tail and place his hand on it.

“Shit. I don’t think I’ll last long with you looking like a fucking goddess.” You smirk at his words as you finally take him in your mouth. “Holy fuck. You are most definitely a goddess.” You take him deep in your throat and swallow around him.

He groans deeply making your slick drip from your folds. You moan around him, you can feel his dick twitch on your tongue. You drag your tongue across every ridge and nerve, the slurping sounds echoing in Jungkook’s brain. Despite your ruined mascara, he worships how you take him so well. Whispering filthy things as he cums down your throat.

He pulls you by your pony tail, you’re facing the passenger’s side window, you feel his tongue lick your thigh all the way up to your folds.

“Baby, you’re dripping.” You chuckles. “Who did this to you?” He, again, rips your underwear off.

That’s the fifth time in the time you’ve been together.

“You.” You mewl and rest your head on the seat. “Kookie, please.” Your breathing becomes ragged as you feel him tease your hole with his fingers. Pushing back towards him.

“Eager, baby?” He bites your ass cheek as he plunges two fingers in you.

He’s making you scream and moan, not giving a shit if someone passed by and heard you. Begging for more, his fingers have no mercy after adding another finger. He makes you fuck yourself on his hand and he revels in your reactions.

Your thighs start shaking, a sign that you’re close but just before you dive into your climax he pulls away.

“Nooooo—FUCK.” Your complaint turns into a moan, your eyes rolling to the back of your head as he rams his huge cock in you in one go. Your wetness making it easy for him to slide in.

He pistons in you, for sure someone can see the car shake but who the fuck cares anymore.

He takes a seat and you ride his huge cock facing away from him. You rest your hands on the front seats and give him something you’ve always wanted to do. And honestly, it drives him mad.

You raise your hips and start fucking yourself on his cock. As if you were twerking on him.

The view of your ass bouncing makes him lose it. He gathers up some slick and spits on your ass, you look back at him as he teases your ass hole with his thumb. You push back and nod, giving him a go.

He lets out a rough exhale as he pushes this thumb into your ass. You moan at the intrusion but surprisingly, it feels good. Maybe its the alcohol , or maybe its just Jungkook but fuck you feel ecstacy.

Your entire body becomes sensitive as you reach your peak.

“Baby. So fucking close.” You moan and Jungkook meets your ass by thrusting up. His thumb still in there. The sensation pushes you over and you’re cumming all over his cock the same time as he paints your insides white.

Your arms give out and Jungkook catches you again. You both catch your breat before you crawl to reach for the wet tissues from the glove compartment. You clean each other up.

“So… butt stuff.” You start and he chuckles.

“Its my first time too baby. Let’s put it on a shelf.” He kisses you deeply. Three words almost slipped out of his lips but he holds it back. Its too soon.

The next morning.

You both stand on the side walk, staring at Jungkook’s car as it gets towed. Apparently, it won’t start and its not because of the battery.

You open your mouth to say something but he shuts you up by kissing you. Out on the street. For your parents and the neighborhood to see. Both his hands on either side of your face, your arms wrapped around his waist.

“Yes, you warned me. But it was so worth it.” He pecks your lips. “We still have your car.”

“Nope. Its bad luck. My baby cannot have bad luck.” He keeps an arm around your shoulders as you take a stroll down the road.

“So, do you already have an outfit for the charity ball?” He asks and you nod.

You do hope he likes the deep royal purple gown you had custom made. It was also your graduation party after all.

-

Part 4

[hynzsn]

★ CHLORINE KISSES ★

☆ choi seungcheol x male reader

꩜ .ᐟ fluff

contents: established relationship (boyfriends), playful!cheol, romance, swimming, pool, hotel pool, nighttime, teasing, kissing, underwater kiss, talk about alcoholic drinks (cocktail), cheol being whipped for his boyfriend!

wc: 1.1k

summary: seungcheol is so hyped to be at a fancy hotel with a pool, especially at night when it's all yours. you, his boyfriend, however, is perfectly content to lounge poolside. after some wheedling and puppy-dog eyes, seungcheol gets you into the water. but that's not all he wants - inspired by a certain scene in the bl you binged with him, seungcheol's been dying to try an underwater kiss... and he's not taking no for an answer.

♡︎♡︎♡︎ likes, comments and reblogs are highly appreciated ♡︎♡︎♡︎

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

the rooftop pool at the hotel glittered, an oasis of turquoise in the concrete jungle. seungcheol, already in his swim trunks, was practically vibrating with excitement. “babe, c’mon! you're taking forever!” he called from the doorway of your hotel room, where you were struggling to get the umbrella thing to stay in your cocktail. “chill, cheollie,” you chuckled, finally succeeding and taking a sip of your drink. “it’s not like the pool’s going anywhere.”

he pouted, leaning against the doorframe. “but i am. and i’m about to yeet myself into that water if you don’t hurry up.” you laughed, grabbing your towel. “okay, okay. i’m coming.”

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

seungcheol wasted no time cannonballing into the water, he’d been dying to take a dip in the hotel’s ridiculously lavish pool all day, and now under the soft glow of the moon, he was living his best life. you, on the other hand, were perfectly content to admire the view from dry land. you watched from your lounger, a bemused smile on your face, your cocktail glass clutched in one hand as you took occasional sips. “you look like a kid in a candy store, cheol,” you chuckled, leaning back and enjoying the warm summer air.

seungheol paused mid-paddle, his hair a damp curtain around his face. “and you,” he pointed an accusing finger, “look like you’re about to fall asleep on that sunbed.”

���it’s a lounger,” you corrected, though the threat of sleep wasn’t entirely innacurate. the day had been long, filled with sightseeing and indulging in far too much delicious food. he pouted, his usual sunshine grin replaced with something far more dangerous–puppy dog eyes. “babe… join me? pretty please?”

you sighed dramatically, “cheol, you know i’m not exactly a water baby like you.”

he grinned, a mischievous glint in his eye. “that’s why i’m here to protect you,” he announced, puffing out his chest playfully. “your very own personal lifeguard.” you laughed, shaking your head at his antics. he was ridiculous, utterly ridiculous, and yet…you couldn’t deny the pull you felt towards him, towards the pure joy radiating off him like heat from the sun. “fine,” you relented, pushing yourself off the lounger. “but if i turn into a scaly lizard from all this chlorine, you're taking me to the spa."

"deal," he said, holding out his hand. you took it, letting him pull you into the water. the shock of the cool water against your skin took your breath away, and you instinctively clung to seungcheol, who laughed and wrapped his arms around you.

"see? not so bad, is it?" he murmured, pressing a kiss to your temple. you shook your head, burying your face in the crook of his neck, trying to hide your blush. "shut up and hold me."

he laughed again, the sound echoing softly in the stillness of the night. he held you close, his warmth a comforting presence against your skin. you relaxed into his embrace, the gentle rocking of the water lulling you into a sense of peace.

“you’re lucky you’re cute,” you mumbled. “cute?” he feigned offense, his grip tightening playfully. “i’ll have you know i’m devastatingly handsome.” you laughed, the sound echoing across the silent pool area “devastatingly cheesy, more like.”

he chuckled, a low rumble that vibrated against your skin. for a moment, you simply floated there, content in the silence, the only sound the gentle splash of water and the steady beat of seungcheol’s heart beneath your ear. then, as if struck by a sudden thought, seungcheol pulled back slightly, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “remember that show we watched?” he asked, his voice barely a whisper.

you raised an eyebrow. “which one? we binge-watch way too many shows, cheol.” he rolled his eyes playfully. “the one with the guys at the pool? and the, you know…” he trailed off, his cheeks turning a faint shade of pink.

you knew exactly what he was talking about. you’d binged the new bl that came out together a few weeks back, and let’s just say a certain underwater kiss scene had left a lasting impression on your boyfriend.

“don’t even say it,” you warned, though a smile tugged at your lips.

“but babe,” he whined, his lower lip jutting out in a pout that should be illegal. “it’ll be fun! romantic! we can pretend we’re, like, in a movie or something.”

you sighed. trying to resist seungcheol when he was like this was like trying to outrun a hurricane—futile and frankly, a little bit pointless.

“fine,” you conceded, already knowing you were fighting a losing battle. “but if we swallow half the pool, i’m blaming you.” he grinned, his eyes lighting up like a kid on christmas morning. “okayy!”

he leaned down, his lips brushing against yours. “ready?” he murmured, his breath warm against your skin. you took a deep breath, nodding slowly. he grinned, and then, with a gentle push, he pulled you both beneath the surface.

the world went quiet, the sounds of the night replaced by the muffled rush of water. tiny bubbles, like sparkling diamonds, danced upwards as you both opened your eyes, the chlorine stinging slightly but not unpleasantly. seungcheol’s eyes, wide and bright, met yours. he was smiling, a wide, goofy grin that made your heart melt. and then, slowly, he leaned in, his lips meeting yours in a kiss that was soft, sweet, and surprisingly breathtaking.

it was clumsy, a little awkward, and absolutely perfect.

seungcheol broke the kiss first, gasping for air and shaking his head like a wet dog, sending droplets of water flying. he grinned, his cheeks flushed and his eyes sparkling, as he watched you emerge beside him. you came up sputtering, hair plastered to your forehead, a mix of laughter and disbelief bubbling out of you. "cheollie!" you shrieked, playfully shoving at his shoulder. “i totally swallowed water, you owe me a drink!"

he chuckled, wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you closer, uncaring of the fact that you were both dripping pool water everywhere. "worth it," he declared, pressing a quick kiss to your temple, his smile wider than you'd ever seen it.

you couldn’t help but agree.

maybe, just maybe, being seungcheol’s water baby wouldn’t be so bad after all.

[amongemeraldclouds]

a summer night with the slytherin boys

Ft. Lorenzo Berkshire, Mattheo Riddle, Draco Malfoy, Blaise Zabini, Theodore Nott

My official entry for week two of @thatdammchickennugget and @finalgirllx's Jinxed July. Challenged myself to do all prompts!

✿ Masterlist | 1.9k words | Fluff, established relationship

Lorenzo Berkshire

Too Sweet

The firewood popped and crackled as you inhaled the smell of burning sugar. You instantly yanked your hand away along with the stick you were holding out. You frowned at the small fire that once was a sweet, innocent marshmallow.

Beside you, Enzo cackled. “Bringing the fire closer to you, dear?” You groaned impatiently. It had been your third attempt at roasting a marshmallow. Having been raised in a concrete jungle, you had never gone camping before nor tried making s’mores. When Enzo invited you to go as part of your summer adventures together, you jumped up and down with excitement.

There was nothing exciting about it now. You stared at the charred remains as the orange glow flickered out in the cool evening air. It seemed the marshmallow was roasting you instead. “Now now, that poor marshmallow did nothing to you,” Enzo said as he lowered the stick, bringing it away from your eye level.

“It’s taunting me,” you snarled.

With an amused smile, he sat closer to you. While you held the stick, he removed your latest victim from the other end and replaced it with a fresh marshmallow. “I’ll show you, okay?”

He wrapped his hand around yours and all the annoyance melted. In your rage, you hadn’t noticed how much closer he had gotten.

When you turned to look at him, you took in the upward curl of his thick lashes that you were always jealous of. His eyes glittered like the stars you were gazing at. His mouth curved with that special smile he only had when he was around you. You had been together for a while now and yet the butterflies still raced around your stomach as if you had just seen him for the first time.

With his hand on yours, he moved the stick back to the fire and it snapped your attention back to the present. “The key here is to bring it just close enough,” he said patiently, “spin it like this so the heat gets distributed evenly.” Your insides seemed to twist along with the motion as heat crept up your cheeks and it wasn’t from the fire.

“And that’s it,” he said, bringing your hand back with a perfectly toasted marshmallow this time. He grabbed the crackers and chocolate you had laid out and pressed the marshmallow in between, squeezing it into gooey goodness.

“I don’t know how I’ll eat that when you’re the sweetest thing here tonight,” you said, beaming up at him.

“And your words alone will give me diabetes,” he quipped, bringing the s’more to your mouth.

You took a bite and closed your eyes, feeling the chocolate and marshmallow melt in your mouth as you chomped on the crunchy crackers. “Never mind. I take that back, it’s sinful for something to taste this good.”

“Hey, no take backs,” Enzo insisted.

Mattheo Riddle

A treacherous wave in the late hour

You pushed Mattheo away and used the momentum to propel you forward, your laughter ringing out into the evening air, sand spraying behind you as you ran towards the sea.

When Mattheo first invited you to go backpacking with him this summer, you nearly said no, because it meant tossing your carefully laid out schedule into the wind. But you didn’t want him to spend another summer alone in his family’s depressing house.

And you hate to admit it, but he was right. There was a thrill that came with living in the moment, not caring about the days ahead. There was also the fact that being with Mattheo meant exploring exotic places, laughing over late night shenanigans, and more adventures in a few weeks than you’ve had in years. You had never felt more alive.

You squealed as the cold water hit your skin, waking you better than any coffee could in the late hour. “I won!” You declared proudly, turning back to see Mattheo joining you.

“You cheated,” he said, playfully splashing water at you.

“You just said, first one in the water wins so I win,” you shrugged. “Now where’s my reward?”

“Yeah?” He said, a dangerous smirk on his face as he prowled towards you. You tried to take a step back but the treacherous wave pushed you closer to him instead.

When he was near enough, he pulled you in, his strong arms locking you in place against his toned body. There was no place you’d rather be anyway. He brought his mouth close to your ear as his hands traced your figure. “I can think of so many rewards.”

Draco Malfoy

A colourful promise

You stepped out the into the evening air and took Draco’s hand as he led you to the balcony of his family’s holiday home overlooking the beach.

You pulled the shawl tightly around you as a chilly breeze drifted past. Draco wrapped a protective arm around your hip to warm you up. For a quiet moment, you watched the rippled glow of the moon on the sea as waves crashed onto the shore and retreated.

“What surprise could you possibly have for me this late in the evening? You could hardly see anything,” you asked.

“That’s exactly why it’s perfect, love,” he winked at you as he pointed to the sky. “Here goes.”

You followed his gaze, unsure what to look at until lights exploded in the sky. Fireworks. You watched in wonder as small circles burst and expanded, illuminating the dark sky.

You looked at his grinning face and watched his features reflect the glowing colors. He promised you the best summer of your life and you told him not to make bold statements. He just scoffed and said ‘watch me’.

And there he was, flying you to different places that summer in a private jet, taking you shopping and dining at the finest restaurants. Now lights exploded in the sky simply because he promised this summer would be memorable.

“Look at the fireworks, not at me,” he said smugly when he caught you staring.

“I just can’t believe you,” you admitted, gazing back at the colourful sky.

“It’s you I can’t believe. See those fireworks? That wonder I saw in your eyes? It’s how you make me feel.”

Blaise Zabini

Summer lights

The wind carried your hair as you propelled yourself forward, letting the swing carry you as you leaned your head back. If you weren’t so wrapped up in the moment, you would have noticed your boyfriend stop his swinging to gaze at you.

He tried to commit the moment to his memory. Your carefree laughter, the clean smell of your shampoo, your beautiful face. He felt so lucky to have you.

You swung back again and the wind brought your hair in the opposite direction, covering your entire face. You laughed at how silly it all was. You planted your feet in the sand to slow the momentum.

Earlier in the day, you were nervous that Blaise was taking you to meet his mum for the first time. A thousand thoughts crossed your mind in the days that led up to that moment. What ifs that kept your heart racing like they were its personal trainer. Blaise assured you that you’d hit it off and surprisingly, you did.

You finally noticed Blaise’s eyes on you. “What? I still don’t have that cake on my face, don’t I?” You ran a hand through your face, “I swear, I wiped—“

Blaise chuckled, “no, I just like seeing you happy.” You mirrored his grin and then a small blinking light beside him lit up.

“You didn’t tell me you had a floating light in the garden,” you remarked.

It was his turn to be confused and he followed your gaze where a few more floating lights appeared. “These are fireflies!”

You gazed around the garden as more and more drew closer, lighting up the garden. It was as if the stars descended from the heavens themselves. You watched them glow in wonder.

“Did you know that if you catch one, you can make a wish?” He said holding out his hand as a firefly landed on his palm. “Like this,” he cupped it and whispered his wish before releasing it back.

“I don’t need to wish for anything, I have everything I need here,” you beamed at him.

“Okay love, I’ll buy all the clothes and hand bags you want,” he teased and you slapped his arm.

“You know that’s not what I meant.”

He brought you in for a hug, savouring the way you melted against him. “I know,” he said gently kissing your forehead.

“I’ll buy you all the shoes you want instead,” he quipped.

“Blaise!”

Theodore Nott

Sunshine smile

(A/N: this is the only one that happens during the day and is not an established relationship)

Theodore Nott hated summer with its long, hot days that scorched everything it touched. Public places were more crowded than he’d like. He wouldn’t see his friends again for a few months and he sure as hell wasn’t going to go home to his father. Instead, he went to a resort on a remote island to get away from it all.

He met you while he was sulking over breakfast, trying to get lost in a book. You excitedly introduced yourself and despite being friends with Enzo, Theo could not for the life of him figure out how someone could have so much energy so early in the day. You had recently read the exact book he was reading and loved it!

He was about to ask you to leave when you took the seat across from him and sat down like you owned the place. (He would soon find out that your family actually did.)

You wanted to know his thoughts on the book. When you shared yours, he was surprised how insightful you were, he even found himself agreeing with most of your ideas. Though he kept that to himself.

He was relieved when breakfast was nearly over so he could have his peace and quiet back, but then you offered to be a local guide to the island. When you mentioned a bookstore that contained rare books and lesser known authors, he found that he couldn’t say ‘no’ to you.

That was how he find himself pedaling beside you as you shared the history of your home. There was something so charming about the island as if it were untouched by the world outside it. Just the open air and clear skies.

The quaint little town in the distance was just a small stretch of buildings that contained the necessities. There were other spots you promised to show him in the coming days. In the meantime, you browsed the bookshelves together as promised and he bought a few rare items he was excited to dive into.

When you returned to the resort, you relaxed by the beach chairs, listening to the ocean waves as the sun splashed hues of orange and yellow against the blue sky. Theo opened the book you recommended and was already captivated by the first few pages.

When he looked at you to share his thoughts, he found you peacefully asleep on the chair. He took that opportunity to study you, the way the wind caressed your hair and your chest rose and fell in a steady rhythm. He found himself smiling.

Summer, he thought, wasn’t so bad after all.

✿ Masterlist

[themareverine]

hello!! have never tried asking yet so hope this is fine with you, but old man logan! oh my days, domestic life with old man logan makes me so weak in my knees

oh absolutely, I could write domestic Old Man all DAY. ✧˚ · . ˚

A King & His Castle | Under Daylight | oldman!Logan x fem!wife!reader drabble

series summary: Breadwinner. Bring-Home-the-Bacon. King of the Castle. He's heard it all before, but it's never been true of the Wolverine. Until her. Coming home to her is the only thing to live for, the only thing keeping the heart behind his ribs spinning.

synopsis: Logan's wasted too much time — and that's right, wasted. Alive a century without purpose, floating in and out of perceived "callings," looking for meaning and direction that only really ever came years before this moment, this heartbeat. Logan — the Wolverine — had found everything he'd never truly been looking for. Wrapped up in bows and curls, swaddling clothes and blood.

warnings: drabble series, day-in-the-life, dad!Logan, mutantwife!reader, angst, domesticity, pregnancy, babies, children, Logan is a boy dad because I said so, reader has curls, slight ⚠︎

navigation | series masterlist | previous let me know if you want added to my tags! ♡！

Fuck daylight savings.

Sun begins to slip away the same time it always does, these days — too early before he arrives home, he misses that glorious little span when it gets cool. The sun sinks, sunlight more like ethereal gold as it stains the sky colors bold enough to make God blush. Years before, fading sunlight would kiss his face, taking him by the hand to say goodbye as hours tick closer and closer to the witching hour, to nightmares.

Countless hours he'd spent under the fading light of the sky, magnificent canopies of colors. All of them spent with her, mostly smiling. Always radiant. In years before the poison slipping through his veins stole more than he'd be willing to admit, they'd walked hours in the genesis of stars, the cool air of coming darkness. He'd held her hand, she'd whispered sweet everythings. They'd danced, fought — made a spectacular kind of love that was as wild as the earth, as free as the sky.

Today they did little of that. Such conveniences lost in the modern world of the concrete jungle, the age of social media. A plague not soon to die, if you asked Logan. Nobody did. A rotten cancer eating away at humanity's finest qualities, it demanded more than creation was ever designed to give. Relationships more anorexic than ever. Pressure of the grind was a mere diagnosis of a time bomb counting down years, eras, to explode. Logan saw the writing on the wall, it wouldn't be long.

He doesn't dwell there, in that hell of thoughts, often, though.

It's enough to kill a man, adamantium bones aside. A poison of another kind, he staves off the wolves of the world beyond his four walls at arm's length, away from the things that matter — what has become, for the first time since his youth, his home. His life. An unspoken, largely undeserved reward for a life under God, chasing graves and death that never arrives. Of spilling blood and cursing air in his lungs. Those things he cherishes, holds as close as a paralyzed, shell of a man with boneless, spineless fingers, can.

Logan's wasted too much time — and that's right, wasted. Alive a century without purpose, floating in and out of perceived "callings," looking for meaning and direction that only really ever came years before this moment, this heartbeat. Logan — the Wolverine — had found everything he'd never truly been looking for. Wrapped up in bows and curls, swaddling clothes and blood.

Their life together wasn't beautiful. Farthest thing from perfect — the kitchen floor was stained with refinery oils and grease, the linger scent of smelt and steel carved deep into the fibers holding the place together, old appliances hobbled together. Their windows were broken, spidering cracks taped over and draped with Look, Lo! This is perfect! tapestries discovered along the way. Stains on thrifted rugs, chipped plates. Bathroom facilities lacking everything to make it more than an industry standard, but somehow perfect for fucking her in the way he loved. Constantly on the alert for trespassers, prying eyes — wolves looking to steal away the "two Wolverines," the myths and logos had popularized.

She was like him in every physiological way, — right down to the bones they gave her. And that was a responsibility Logan had never taken lightly, would never stop fortressing. Stalking the lines like a snarling guard dog, slavering away at the world pressing into what is his, he'd never let her see the world for what it is, what it has become. What she fears in nightmares it will be, but already exists —

What, at some genetic and fearful level, Logan worries his child, in days coming soon, will enter.

Headlights cast milky beams of light against the chain link caging the front door, seven-odd foot sentinels that he knows she's already unlocked for him. It's the same routine every dusk — she unlocks the cage, the front door. Turns on the light above the doorway, waters the plant she's inevitable forgotten, but loves, potted beside the entry to their humble, dark castle.

He kills the lights on the Chrysler. Pops the shift into park a breath from the gate, Logan slips out, goods from his stop at the store under arm like the proud bring-home-the-bacon, breadwinner he isn't.

Slipping into his home with a practiced phantom years of peacetime can't quite shake, he shrugs off his suitcoat. Draps it over the makeshift foyer table and cracked mirror she took such pride in at that garage sale the first year they'd lived here. Bright, passionate roses give him pause, quaintly organized into a makeshift Campbell's soup can vase, giving the space a sort of color that makes the muscle in his jaw twitch with amusement.

If she didn't at least try to make this place theirs, a home, she'd be damned. He's sure of it as he makes his way in, groceries at hand, stepping into the low lights cutting across the kitchen floor. It smells good, like food — like bread. Meat. Protein. His gut spins at the thought, suddenly ravenous despite the junk he'd consumed on the road an hour ago.

Passing by the makeshift island, which is not ironically, a welding table, he spots dinner. Salad, warm bread. Chicken. Logan could chuckle at the bowl of Jell-o, if the idea of it being scratch-and-dent clearance didn't roil his blood. It's dinner, provisions — in some ways, better than they've had in beforeyears. They'd survived together on much less, much, much less.

But the idea doesn't quite land like he wishes it to — she deserves so much more. His child deserves a life out from the confines of hideaway secrecy and the stay-alive, a chance at life. To taste independence and experiences not those of the one's who gave it life.

Logan pops a crouton from the salad into the pocket of his cheek, the zing of dressing just enough to make his entire mouth salivate with hunger. Setting his wares on the table, his gaze cuts around the open floor — it's quiet. She isn't here.

The air doesn't move and crack like a whip with her presence, his entire body isn't on fire like it is when she's near. Weird.

But then, movement down the corridor, where their room is located, produces a nod from him. Of course. Naturally she'd be there, either room or bathroom, the two places she hadn't been able to stay out of since the start of this trimester. Throwing up or nesting, that's what the doc had called it, occupied most of her business hours. He was relegated to mere appointment appearances, sidebarred in her otherwise gestational state.

It's easy to slip into the room when she's not looking — one would think an impending child would heighten a mother's senses, but it doesn't. Not truly. Maybe for some people, maybe even for animals but not things. Creatures, like them. Science experiments clawing their way through freedom, a special kind of torture that doesn't land them in either camp. Forever limbo between fully human and fully thing, today she's more human than he ever remembers. And Christ alive, is she stunning.

Logan had never fully come to terms with the idea of being a father, of the responsibility of rearing another human being. If you'd have told him it was the best decision of his centuries of life, settling into fatherhood, breeding, he'd have laughed in your face. Drank away the idea, maybe. Drowned it in his own sorrows of survival and displacement. Lobotomized that idea right out of him, the labs had.

Hell no I don't want kids, it was a common question when courting the interests of the opposite sex. Earned him his fill of meaningless fucks and tit, that was fact. It was only ever until he'd met her that he'd high-tailed away from the idea of peace, of life not so unlike this one. There'd always be an element of danger, of suspect — even if he weren't what he was, if she weren't what she is.

And she'd come along and knifed him between the ribs, carved into him the idea of living that didn't hurt. Didn't rip apart his guts. She'd shown him what it meant to be alive, what it meant to be human — how being more than human was not the curse he'd made it to be. Loving the ugly parts of him, the raw and bleeding animal of the Wolverine, had stitched back together his soul. His purpose, his reason for walking under starlight.

She'd given him hope, faith. Purpose.

And now, a child.

Standing in the doorway of what is the farthest thing from a master suite, but suits him fine, he leans against the doorway. Watches the pretty of her across the room, rooting through opened bins on the floor for clothes.

Spiral curls pulled lazily into a clip, fallen pieces wild around her shoulders in a way that stirs fire in his belly that is so far from hunger it hurts, but produces a smile. And it isn't uncommon, seeing her this way — an oversized shirt and underwear small enough to be sinful. So few of her clothes fit, anymore. He'd never bothered to notice. Enjoyed look at her.

As natural as God designed, especially these days.

If she notices him, she doesn't say, but allows him to slip up behind her all the same. At one time, Logan trembles to think how this would've ended for him — on the floor, adamantium claws in his guts, blood on the floor. Pre-maternal her. Since Texas, since the swell of his seed filling her to a plump round that drove him within an inch of his composure, she'd become so much more docile. Content, at peace. Domesticity had changed her, a child had knit her back together.

What had once become a weapon had been reborn, became living, again. And that, Logan thinks, is the purpose of life — watching the ones you love become whole, again. Watching life restore purpose, rebirth that which once had died. Maybe not life in the general sense, but the purpose of his life.

His hands land at her hips, squeezing lovely the softness of her curve that feels so right, familiar in a way that should be frightening. And may she has been aware of him all along, because she doesn't jump. There's no spike of adrenaline in her blood, just a soft gasp of surprise. A giggle, as her hands find his on her hips, the little graze of her nails a kind of lovely he can't find words for.

"Logan," her airy laugh carries through the space brightly, lands right at home in his chest. "You're home," she leans back until her head rests against his chest, tucked securely in the frame of him. "Dinner is parked, if you're hungry. Chicken and salad."

He chuckles, lips twitching into a faint smile. Brushing a kiss to the shell of her ear, "Well stone the fuckin' crows," his taunt isn't genuine, but filled with mirth and sarcasm as he tuts over her ear, "What else is new?"

It's been chicken and salad every day for the last week, a craving he will never understand. "You're such an ass!" She swipes at his hand, trying not to laugh. It makes him smile against her skin, angling his head to gently suckle at the pulse in her neck, "I can't help it. I swear, if this kid doesn't come out feathered —"

Wrong kind of coat, Wolverines don't have feathers. The idea is, at its base, amusing. Lights him up in a way Logan isn't sure he can ever surrender. He's been enchanted with this entire journey since the moment she'd popped, and low parts of him haven't reconciled that he can't keep her this way, not forever. There will come a time she isn't swollen with his seed, fat and pumped fill of him.

Makes his cock ache in a way that will haunt him, probably forever. A high he'll only ever chase.

Tugging her back against him, his hands dip forward, fingers splayed over the curve of her belly. Warmth he can't describe slips from him, a yearning to feel snaking deep into his bones. He felt this child, his child, a dozen times. More, probably. Never had stopped feeling like the first time, he was high on it. Her scent, her heat, didn't help matters.

He could salivate just thinking about her wrapped around him, tight and so, so full.

Logan's not sure if it's the open-mouthed kiss to her neck or his hands lifting away weight of her belly that pulls a trembling, filthy grown from her chest. She falls back against his chest, slack like a doll, and his world spins for all of a heartbeat, accepting her weight. Her mewling little cry, the breathy gasp — her hands finding his, encouraging him not to let go. It all works together to take him apart in a way he isn't sure he wants to recover from.

"Oh my god, yes," he nuzzles his nose into her hair, that wild smell of peach and flowers so there, it makes him a little breathless. Adding a little more pressure into his hands, he lifts more, and the way she all but moans is just short of pornography. He wishes it was captured, somehow, for replay. "Logan, baby — oh, god." Hips bucking forward, her back arching so far, he feared she'd break.

His chuckle is low in chest, fingers gently kneading against her belly, probing. "Feel good, baby?" His hand grazes up her hip, knuckles kneading at the pulled muscle and heat absolutely buried into her softness, the curve of her.

"Mhmmmm," Nodding, Logan doesn't miss the sparkle of relieved tears behind her lashes, brow knit together in a ball of tension that makes him almost break. "Feels incredible," her nails dig into his hands, encouraging more, "shit, I could almost —" laced with wonder, it falls away under a shaky breath. "Oh, Logan —"

"I know, darlin'," he smiles against her skin, pressing a desperate kiss to her cheek, "I know." It's only a few more weeks, he knows. By their guess, by gut instinct from everything he knows about babies. It can't come soon enough, but it could be farther away.

If she never stopped loving him like this, it would be too soon.

Relishing in her warmth, in the tremble of her muscle, Logan finally releases, slowly. Hands on her shoulders gently coax her to face him, lazily. Bliss on her face pinks up her cheeks, has her eyes hung to half mast, and she almost glows as her hands find his face.

Fingers tease through his beard, encouraging him into a deliberate, slow kiss.

He lowers his forehead to hers, his lips brushing against hers in a tender, unhurried way. She asks him if he's hungry, and truthfully, he could eat. Food, of her, of this — he's a starving man for anything she'll provide, forever well fed but also never enough.

"Okay," her whisper is soft, a hand lowering to cradle their child. "It's conditional, though," she chastises, pulling back to quirk a brow at him. "Entirely dependent on what you're about to say, Lo."

He'd pull the moon from orbit, if she asked. "What's that?"

"We talk about what you're actually hungry for, after supper."

He doesn't need told twice.

taglist: @sidkneeeee @thevoicefromanotherworld @misscrissfemmefatale @eternallyfrustratedwriter @permanentlyexhaustedpigeon88 @laaadygisbooornex3 @itsafullmoon

[growthhyp]

The Garage Sale III

Aiden stumbled through the bustling college quad, his oversized backpack digging into his bony shoulders. His eyes remained glued to the screen of his phone, navigating the digital labyrinth of his latest coding assignment. The mid-afternoon sun cast a stark contrast on the concrete jungle around him, highlighting the stark difference between the vibrant life of the school and his own monochrome existence. He was a creature of solitude, a black-haired, bespectacled ghost weaving through the throngs of chattering students and athletes. His skin, a rich, deep brown, almost seemed to absorb the light, making him even more invisible amidst the sea of faces.

As he approached the library, Aiden felt the familiar knot in his stomach tighten. It was the same feeling he got every time he knew Abe was nearby. The ginger behemoth was a constant thorn in his side, a living embodiment of everything Aiden was not: brawny, brash, and basking in the adoration of his peers. The jock's laughter, booming and obnoxious, echoed through the air like a siren's call, and Aiden's heart quickened as he tried to stealthily navigate past the group of muscle-bound football players. But fate, it seemed, had other plans.

"Hey, look what the cat dragged in!" Abe's voice sliced through the din, and a wall of testosterone parted to reveal him. He towered over Aiden, his bulging biceps stretching the fabric of his crimson jersey. Aiden felt his cheeks flush as he looked up into the jock's piercing blue eyes. A cruel smirk played on Abe's lips as he stepped closer, casting a shadow over the smaller man.

"What's up, geek?" Abe sneered, his breath hot and minty against Aiden's cheek. "Still playing on that little toy of yours?" He snatched the phone from Aiden's trembling hand, glancing at the screen with feigned interest before tossing it back with a chuckle. "You should come watch me practice sometime. Maybe you'll learn how to be a man."

Aiden's stomach churned, but he clenched his fists and took a deep breath. "I've got better things to do," he muttered, trying to regain his composure. The phone screen cracked slightly when it hit the ground, and Aiden winced. That was a new low, even for Abe. He bent down to retrieve it, his heart racing.

"What's the matter, Aiden?" Abe's smirk grew wider. "You don't like watching real men at work?" His friends, a pack of equally burly athletes, roared with laughter. Aiden's cheeks burned with humiliation. He had to get out of here, now. He straightened up and looked Abe in the eye, his voice quivering. "I've got a class to get to."

Abe stepped aside, feigned disappointment etched on his face. "Too bad," he said, slapping Aiden's back hard enough to make him stumble. "Some other time, I guess." The group of jocks jeered as Aiden scurried away, the echo of their laughter following him into the library's welcoming silence.

Once inside, Aiden found refuge in the quiet embrace of the computer lab, his sanctuary from the world outside. He slumped into his chair, his heart still pounding in his chest. Being Abe's roommate was a living nightmare. They had been randomly paired by the school's housing system, and the irony wasn't lost on Aiden. The jock's boisterous energy and alpha-male posturing clashed violently with his own introverted nature, leaving him feeling like a caged animal in his own room. Aiden's only solace was his computer, the digital world his escape from the relentless barrage of insults and pranks that Abe subjected him to.

But even as the jock's cruelty replayed in his mind, Aiden couldn't help but feel his body react in an unexpected way. Abe's muscular physique was like a siren's call to his hidden desires. Every time Abe flexed his biceps, every time he saw the way his abs rippled when he took off his shirt, Aiden felt a twinge of arousal. It was confusing and humiliating, but he couldn't deny the attraction. He tried to shake the images from his mind, focusing on the cold, lifeless screen in front of him. But as he typed away, his thoughts kept drifting back to Abe's body.

The memory of their first encounter in the dorm room washed over him. Aiden had been unpacking his bags when Abe strutted in, all confidence and bravado. His ginger hair was a fiery crown atop his broad shoulders, and his skin was the color of a perfectly roasted sweet potato. Aiden had felt his cock stiffen in his pants as Abe threw his duffel bag onto the bed and flexed his arms, the veins in his forearms popping as he claimed the top bunk. It was like watching a living, breathing Greek statue come to life, and Aiden had been utterly captivated.

In the weeks that followed, the bullying had only intensified, but so had Aiden's infatuation. He found himself sneaking glances at Abe whenever he could, his eyes lingering on the way the jock's muscles moved beneath his skin like a living tapestry. He would lie in his bed at night, listening to the sound of Abe's deep, even breathing, and imagine what it would be like to trace his fingers over those powerful contours. He knew it was wrong, that he should despise the very thought of Abe's touch, but his body had a mind of its own.

One fateful afternoon, the breaking point came. Aiden had had enough. As Abe loomed over him in the dorm, poking fun at his latest coding project, Aiden felt a surge of anger unlike anything he had ever experienced. He shoved Abe's hand away, knocking over the half-empty protein shake that had been perched on the edge of his desk. The sticky, sweet liquid spattered across the floor, and the room fell silent.

Abe's eyes narrowed, his smirk fading to a snarl. "You little shit," he growled, his fists clenching. "You're going to pay for that."

Without a second thought, Aiden bolted. His skinny legs, usually reserved for carrying his slender frame from one class to another, found a newfound speed as he dashed through the dorm's hallways. The chorus of Abe's outraged curses and his heavy footsteps grew louder behind him. Adrenaline coursed through Aiden's veins, turning his fear into a wild, untamed beast that propelled him forward.

He sped past the open doors of the dorms, ignoring the stunned stares of his peers. His heart thumped in his chest like a drum, each beat a reminder of the danger that lurked just steps away. Aiden knew he couldn't outrun Abe forever, but every second he managed to stay ahead was a victory in its own right.

As the sound of Abe's footsteps grew closer, Aiden's eyes scanned the area for an escape. His gaze fell upon a house with a garage sale sign hanging askew from the doorframe. Without a moment's hesitation, he dashed down the driveway and ducked into the open garage, panting heavily.

The owner of the garage sale was Jack, a towering figure of masculine power that stood out even in the sea of muscular jocks at the college. His straight, tall body was sculpted by rigorous bodybuilding routines, and his attire was as enigmatic as the house behind him. He wore a vibrant blue tank top that clung to his broad chest and bulging biceps, hinting at the strength beneath. Skin-tight black shorts accentuated his powerful legs, and white sneakers with tight laces completed the look. The silver necklace with a gothic cross around his neck shimmered in the sunlight, adding an unexpected touch of elegance to his intimidating presence.

The ancient-looking house with ivy climbing up the walls loomed in the background, whispering secrets of its mystical heritage. The garage was a treasure trove of vibrant garments, a stark contrast to the well-maintained lawns and quaint neighborhood. Aiden, panting and trembling, stumbled into this whimsical scene, his eyes wide with fear as he searched for a place to hide from Abe's wrath.

Jack, the owner of the garage sale, looked up from his perch atop a sturdy wooden chair, his silver necklace glinting in the sunlight. He took in the sight of the panic-stricken college student with a knowing smile. The garments around him fluttered in the gentle breeze, their colors popping against the dark, mysterious aura of the house.

"Looks like you're in a bit of a hurry, friend," Jack drawled, his deep voice rumbling through the garage like distant thunder.

Aiden's eyes darted around the space, his breath coming in shallow gasps. "Please, I… I just need to hide for a moment," he stammered, his gaze landing on the towering figure before him.

Jack's smile grew, revealing a set of gleaming white teeth. "From what?" he inquired, his eyes sparkling with a mischievous glint. The garments around them fluttered, as if eager to hear Aiden's response.

"Abe," Aiden managed to croak out, his voice trembling. "He's… he's been bullying me since we became roommates." He paused, taking in a deep breath to steady himself. "He just… he's a jock, and he doesn't like that I'm… that I'm different."

Jack's expression grew serious, his eyes scanning Aiden with a newfound intensity. "Ah," he murmured, his voice a gentle rumble. "A classic case of the lion and the lamb." He stood up, his muscles rippling as he towered over the trembling student. "Don't worry, little one. You're safe here."

With a wave of his hand, Jack indicated the racks of clothes surrounding them. "Why don't you pick something out?" he suggested, his voice a low purr. "A change of attire might just be what you need to throw that oaf off your scent."

Aiden's eyes widened at the prospect. He had never thought of using clothing as a disguise before. The idea was ludicrous, but at the same time, it was strangely appealing. He shuffled through the racks, his trembling hands brushing against the fabric of shirts that screamed confidence and colors that shouted rebellion. The garments were a stark departure from his usual plain t-shirts and baggy pants, a silent manifesto of self-expression that he had never allowed himself to indulge in before.

Jack watched him with a knowing smile, his powerful arms folded across his chest. "Take your time," he said, his voice a comforting bass. "Find something that makes you feel… seen."

Aiden's eyes fell upon a faded black hoodie and matching jogger pants that looked as if they had been worn by someone of Jack's size. They were simple, yet exuded a strange power, as if they had been imbued with the confidence of a hundred fiery comebacks and the resilience of a thousand unspoken truths. The fabric was soft to the touch, and Aiden could almost feel the warmth of the garments wrapping around him, shielding him from the world's cruel eyes. He looked up at Jack, hope flickering in his gaze.

"Those?" Aiden's voice was barely a whisper.

Jack nodded, his smile widening. "They're perfect for you," he said, his eyes twinkling with mischief. "They're my old clothes, from back when I was your age. They've got a bit of history, a bit of fight in them. I can see it in your eyes, you want to fight back. But remember, not every battle is won with fists."

Aiden swallowed hard, his heart pounding in his chest. "Can… can I change here?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

Jack's smile grew even wider, his eyes twinkling with understanding. "Of course," he said, gesturing towards a makeshift changing room in the corner of the garage. It was nothing more than a large, velvet curtain that had seen better days, but to Aiden, it was a beacon of hope. "Take your time. The clothes will fit you like a glove, I promise."

With trembling hands, Aiden stepped behind the curtain, the fabric swishing around him like a dark cloak. He peeled off his own shirt and pants, his skin sticking to the fabric with a cold sweat. As he slipped on the black hoodie and jogger pants, they felt strange on his body—like a second skin that whispered promises of strength and protection. He looked at his reflection in a dusty mirror that leaned precariously against the garage wall, and for a moment, he didn't recognize himself. The clothes were indeed too big for him, hanging off his skeletal frame like a child playing dress-up in his father's oversized attire. Yet, there was something about them that made him feel… different.

As the fabric settled into place, a warmth spread through his body, starting from his chest and radiating down to his toes. He could feel the magic of the garments coursing through him, and with it, a strange sensation grew in his groin. Aiden's eyes widened as he looked down to see his cock stiffening and growing, pushing against the fabric of the jogger pants. The sensation was both terrifying and exhilarating, and he could feel his cheeks flush with a mix of embarrassment and arousal. The hoodie's fabric grew taut around his shoulders, stretching and morphing as his body began to change, filling out the garments in a way that seemed impossible for his lanky frame.

A soft moan of pleasure slipped from his lips as he felt his muscles swell. His biceps bulged, pushing the sleeves of the hoodie to their limits, and his chest grew broad and firm, the fabric of the shirt straining to contain the newfound power beneath it. His abs rippled as they formed, each one defined and strong. The sensation was overwhelming, and he reached up to touch the new contours of his body, his fingers tracing the lines of his pecs in amazement. His once-concave stomach had transformed into a washboard of power that begged to be admired.

His shoulders broadened, the seams of the hoodie giving way to reveal the beginnings of a pair of broad, powerful shoulders that could carry the weight of the world—or at least the burden of his heavy backpack with ease. The fabric of the garments grew taut across his back, highlighting the growth of his muscles as they expanded to fill the space. Aiden felt his heart race as the transformation continued, the blood pulsing through his veins like a symphony of strength.

The sensation grew more intense, his spine straightening and lengthening as muscles he had never felt before began to take shape. His back grew wider, the bones of his ribcage stretching and popping as they made room for the newfound bulk of his torso. He couldn't help but let out a low moan of pleasure and surprise, his breath hitching as his body continued to change before his very eyes. The feeling of power surging through him was intoxicating, a heady mix of arousal and adrenaline that made his knees weak.

Aiden looked down at his legs and gasped. They were no longer the spindly sticks that had carried him from one class to the next; they were thick, powerful pillars that could support the weight of his newfound strength. His calves bulged with each step he took, the muscles flexing and moving beneath his skin like living art. His feet grew larger, filling the space in his sneakers Jack had handed him with a satisfying snugness. The fabric of the jogger pants stretched tightly over his newly sculpted thighs, the seams straining against the unyielding pressure of his growth.

And his cock… it was massive, thick and heavy, demanding attention. It was as if the garments had brought to life every fantasy he had ever dared to think about Abe. The fabric of the jogger pants struggled to contain the monstrous length and girth that now filled his vision. The pressure was unbearable, and Aiden couldn't help but let out a soft moan as he reached down to adjust himself. His hand wrapped around his shaft, and the sensation was like nothing he had ever felt before—his skin was sensitive, electrified, begging for touch.

With trembling fingers, Aiden pulled down his pants, his cock springing free like a caged animal released into the wild. The sight of it was almost too much to handle, and he couldn't resist the urge to stroke himself. The feeling was indescribable—each stroke sent a bolt of pleasure through his body, making his knees weak and his toes curl. The air was thick with the scent of his arousal, mixing with the faint scent of the garage's dust and the musky aroma of the leather jackets that hung nearby. His eyes rolled back in his head, and he leaned against the mirror for support, his breath coming in short, sharp gasps.

As he came back to reality, Aiden realized the extent of the transformation. The once-shy college student was now a confident, dominant force, his mind ablaze with a hunger for male submission. The very thought of dominating a man, of feeling his cock buried deep inside someone else, filled him with a sense of power that was both terrifying and exhilarating. His interests had shifted in an instant—gone were the nights spent coding and playing video games. Now, all Aiden could think about was the rush of adrenaline from the football field, the feel of a tight end around his thick, swollen cock. His former love for comics and computers had been replaced by a ravenous appetite for physical conquest and the thrill of the chase.

But with this newfound confidence came a sharp decline in his intellect. His thoughts had become as thick and murky as the fog that rolled in off the ocean, clouding his once-sharp mind. His IQ had plummeted to a mere 70, leaving him struggling to grasp the complex concepts he had once found so easy. It was as if the garments had stolen his intelligence in exchange for his newfound strength and bravado. The very idea of his previous life—his studies, his quiet solitude—now seemed like a distant memory, a fading dream from a life he no longer knew.

The transformation wasn't just physical; it was a complete shift in his essence. The clothes had imbued him with a raw, primal power that was undeniable, and it was all he could think about. His once-shy persona had been swallowed whole by this new, alpha-male identity, leaving Aiden to grapple with his newfound desires.

As the first wave of pleasure crashed over him, Aiden's eyes rolled back in his head, and he let out a guttural groan that echoed through the garage. His body convulsed as he came, the warmth of his cum spilling out over his fist and down his thighs. The scent of his arousal filled the small space, mingling with the dust and the faint smell of motor oil. The garments around him seemed to pulse with excitement, as if feeding off his sexual energy.

Jack's eyes widened slightly from outside the curtain, the sound of Aiden's pleasure music to his ears. He knew that the transformation was complete, that the magic of the garments had taken hold. He had seen it before, the way they could change someone so fundamentally, so completely. It was a heady power, one that he reveled in.

As Aiden's breathing evened out, he felt it—the beginnings of a new arousal, his cock swelling once more. He looked down in shock, his hand still sticky with cum, as the fabric of the jogger pants stretched and strained against his burgeoning erection. The magic of the garments was potent, and having worn two of them at once had amplified the effect.

The warmth grew stronger, spreading from his groin and enveloping his entire body. It was a warmth unlike any he had ever felt—it didn't just feel good, it felt… right. It was a warmth that filled him with a deep, primal urge to conquer, to claim what was his. His heart raced, his thoughts a jumbled mess of desire and confusion.

Jack's voice broke through the haze, a gentle rumble that seemed to resonate in Aiden's very bones. "How do you feel, my friend?" he called out, a hint of excitement in his tone.

Aiden's eyes snapped open, his breathing ragged. "Jack… what… what have you done to me?" His voice was deeper, more assertive than he had ever heard it.

Jack stepped closer to the curtain, his own heart racing with excitement. "It's all part of the transformation," he said, his voice soothing. "The clothes, they… they have a way of bringing out the true you."

Aiden's hand stilled on his cock, the pleasure subsiding to a dull throb. He looked at the mirror again, his eyes widening as he took in his new image. He was no longer the skinny nerd that Abe could push around. Now, he was something else entirely—powerful, dominant, a creature of pure masculine desire. The warmth grew stronger, and he felt his body swell with each pulse of blood in his veins. His skin grew tight and hot, the garments clinging to him like a second skin.

The grey hoodie groaned in protest as Aiden's shoulders bulged, tearing the fabric with the ease of a lion shaking off a wet coat. The material split along the seams, revealing the swell of his biceps and the sharp lines of his triceps. The cotton fibers struggled to contain the explosion of muscles that had overtaken his body. His chest ballooned, the fabric of the shirt straining and popping as his abs grew more defined, each one a ridge of power beneath the surface. The neckline gave way, the fabric no match for the newfound bulk that was Aiden's shoulders.

Aiden looked down at his legs, his calves now bulging and thick, the once-flimsy jogger pants now nothing but shreds around his ankles. His feet had grown to size 16, the sneakers Jack had provided now a sad, discarded memory. His toes wiggled in the cool garage air, and he marveled at the sight of them, strong and powerful. The briefs, once a snug fit, now clung to his hips like a lover's embrace, the elastic stretched to its limits by the monstrous cock that jutted out obscenely before him.

The urge to touch himself was overwhelming, and Aiden couldn't resist. He wrapped his hand around his shaft, feeling the warmth and weight of it, the fabric of his briefs doing little to hide his newfound size. His strokes grew more vigorous as the warmth in his groin spread, his moans filling the garage like a siren's call. His hips bucked involuntarily, his body moving with a mind of its own, seeking release from the intense pleasure that was building.

Jack's smile grew wider as he watched through the crack in the curtain. He had seen this transformation before, the way the garments could strip away the layers of a man's identity and leave him a creature of pure, unbridled desire. He knew that once Aiden emerged from that changing room, there would be no going back. The transformation was complete.

As the warmth grew to a crescendo, Aiden's thoughts grew more primal. He no longer cared about his studies, his coding projects, or the quiet life he had once known. His mind was a raging sea of muscular men, their powerful bodies writhing in a tapestry of passion and submission. He was the captain of this ship, the master of this domain, and he would conquer them all.

Aiden felt his cock throb with anticipation, and with a roar of pleasure, he came again. His seed spurted forth, painting the dusty mirror before him in a display of dominance. The room filled with the scent of his release, a potent aphrodisiac that seemed to thicken the very air. The garments around him quivered with excitement, as if in response to his newfound power. His orgasm was a declaration of war against the weakness that had once defined him.

As the waves of pleasure receded, Aiden's eyelids grew heavy. The exertion of his transformation had left him drained, and the warmth of the garments lulled him into a deep, satisfied sleep. He slumped against the mirror, his muscular form heaving with each ragged breath. The sticky mess of his cum was a testament to the intensity of the change, a reminder of the power that now surged through his veins.

Jack watched him from the shadows, his smile never wavering. He knew that once Aiden awoke, his world would be forever changed. The magic of the garments had done its work, turning the shy, introverted college student into a creature of unbridled desire and physical prowess. The sleeping giant was now a force to be reckoned with, and Jack couldn't wait to see the havoc he would wreak upon the unsuspecting college campus.

[becomesylus]

12:05 am

Night blankets across the N109 Zone with the lights of skyscrapers and shops serving itself as the city's makeshift star light. The sounds of chattering and shopkeepers announcing of their great products echoes across the concrete jungle, meanwhile just a bit further away from the bustling atmosphere filled with crowdedness and commercials, comes a contrasting intimate and heavy air inside the residence of the leader of Onichynus.

His twin workers were sent away, meanwhile his pet mechanical crow was flown into god knows where in the house, only for you and Sylus to remain in the bedroom, clothes covered certain furnitures and floorings. Gasps, whines, moans and breathy whispers serve as a gentle lyric to the harsh thrusting of Sylus's hips drilling right into your sopping hole. He had his arm wrap itself around your throat while you were losing your every bit of sanity just to call out his name like a mantra.

Sylus growls at the way you were getting weaker and weaker, you two have lost count at the rounds you were going, but there were no way either of can stop. You two held a sexual symbiotic relationship; an obsession that felt like if either of you let go, you could die.

With each harsh thrusts, Sylus whispers words that contrasts the hard and rough nature of your actions.

"Fuck, sweetie~... you're doing so well for me..."

my first work !!! i'll be creating longer shots, but this will be the overall feel of my work ;) i'll do more cohesive and longer fic with each boys, trust hehe...

[iznsfw]

Hey Iz! Just would like to say that I love how you show Eunbi as softie in your fics which makes me go back to them every now and then. Hope you could do more of Subby Eunbi.

Maybe Wife Eunbi in the future perhaps?

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IZ*ONE's Kwon Eunbi x Male Reader Smut

11,834 words

Categories | wife!Eunbi, fluff, fluffy-to-rough sex, dirty talk, spanking, (is it really IZ who's writing Eunbi if there isn't) daddy kink, praise/degradation kink, choking, squirting, BREEDING

Here you go, thank you so much for the feedback + kind words. Fulfilled this request not only because it was sitting in my inbox even before I announced commissions, but also because it's her 28th. Still a baby 😭

Oh, and also because I feel like shit after reading "Birthday Blues." It makes me cringe and I feel like I could write her better than that.

Happy birthday to the best tokki! To celebrate, take a shot everytime Eunbi says "daddy."

You want to be anywhere but here. 

When will it all even end? It's nighttime but the evening doesn't even try to compensate for the heat in the morning. Where’s the departure of warmth? Where’s the cool breeze that could dull your aching bones? You're starting to believe that the world’s doing this on purpose.

If it explains anything, since your hatred for the sun is so solid: your job requires more than a degree and a calculating mind, so you're out in the fire of the large star for more than a few hours at a time with sweat pouring down on you more than the light is. You still have sunburns from the first time you underestimated it and went out without lotion. Oh, and from the time you overestimated it and still ended up with dark spotting your skin anyway.

It’s no different than what other employed people your age go through, but it remains… tiring. You get up before dawn even has a chance to call itself one and come home when the night’s on the brink of turning into day. The workload always renders you weak, when it's all physical rather than something you can get over with a keyboard, but you force a smile on your face. It'll all be worth it when you come home.

Click your phone on solely to see your wallpaper. It's her, of course, with your daughter in her arms. Yep, they're the ones you call the loves of your life. You simply can't wait to come home.

Well, coming home is a hell of its own, but it's the trip that makes it so. Often, there's the usual road rage from student drivers too inexperienced to be granted the right to let it out, and of course, traffic. 

That also renders you weak, if that’s anything that matters.

That's your current situation: stuck in a public bus in a concrete jungle ridden by vehicles. All the seats are filled with passengers of varying ages but the same exhaustion. That's the reason for your legs threatening to give up, and you wouldn't blame them. You barely had time to sit down for a break the whole day. Oftentimes, it results in your feet starting to quiver of their own accord, even when you lie down, as if still processing the strain it bore the whole day.

"Need a seat?" asks a man who's around the same age as you, but looks completely different. You wear a shirt stained with coffee and sweat; he’s dressed in a suit and pants. "Your legs are shaking."

At least, unlike the other men from offices you've met, he could read the room.

"Thanks," you say, smiling. You can't even muster politeness to refuse the offer when yes, your legs are shaking. Can't say "no, they just do that" or "ah, it's a talent." 

"No problem, man." He returns the smile. He gestures a brow to your phone, which you didn't even notice was still on. "Not to pry or anything, but—"

You know who he's referring to. Chuckle and nod. "Yep, my wife."

My wife. The words echo in your mouth long after leaving. Just two words bring so much happiness crashing into your heart.

"Could have figured." He leans against the pole. "You smiled like hell when you looked at her."

Did you? Most likely. Glancing at her still gives you butterflies in the stomach. Whether from afar, on a screen, or in person, the girl always has you in a chokehold. (Not that she could choke anyone with a heart and height like hers, but it counts metaphorically, for you're down bad. Down crazy for her.)

"Well, she makes my day.” Pause. “I love her."

"She must be a good wife, huh?"

Look down at her and now you're acutely aware of the big smile on your face. "The best,” you affirm. “Just the best.”

-

It takes hours for you to get through the traffic, and by the grace of god above, you're only going to bear the last of it now. Can't fall asleep—you're nearly there. Your subdivision is coming up to view. Nice place, really, rather nice for a first home, and—

There. You get off the bus and thank the man. You had a nice talk with him, and you hope to have more. He pats you on the shoulder and bids you goodbye.

Then, you thank the driver. He doesn't bother to say that you're welcome or anything. Can't be mad at that. You've all had a rough day.

The arc of your subdivision welcomes you to the aisles of houses lined up. You're home, but not quite. It takes walking to and opening the door of the house you've worked for and being engulfed in the arms of the woman you love to be truly home. It's cliché, you know, but it isn't anything far from the truth. 

Open the door to the world where you belong.

"I'm home," you say, because you are. This is home. You have coworkers and friends you love to hang out with, but nothing beats the comfort of being with your family. 

Gently close the entry to the doorway so as not to alarm your daughter and wife with the jingle of the mobile. Or worse, disturb their sleep. You don't expect them to be awake; it's barely two hours to midnight.

But still, there she is.

Kwon Eunbi, the woman you gave your last name and your love to. The ends of her long dark hair brush over the sweater she shares with you, or rather, has stolen with how many nights it hasn't been used by you. Her pretty little face shows exhaustion, but also a smile. Of course, it's that adorable grin you'll never get enough of.

Her steps pick up a faster speed as she rushes to you with light feet. Open your arms, and she fills them, fills them with her small body and fills the air with soft whines of complaint. They're complaints that say: where were you? Why were you gone so long? Please be here forever. Baby? Please. 

She really needed this hug from you, especially the lift. She needs someone to raise her up when she feels small. So, you sweep her off her feet.  Automatically, her legs join behind your waist. Heavy lifting at work has paid off—your arms barely struggle when you carry her, or maybe it's just Eunbi being as light as a feather as usual. 

Your heart aches at the hours she must have spent getting none of the help she needs from you. You nuzzle your nose to hers—if her whines speak of complaints, this act of yours tells her of your apologies.

"Hi there," you mumble through ruffles of her hair. She's still your baby girl after all this time.

"Hi," she says softly.

Press your lips to the crown of her head and pull her in tighter. "What are you doing up so late?" 

"Putting your kid to sleep," she replies. Eunbi juts both of her lips out. "She's such a brat these days."

"Got it from her mother," you reply testily, letting go and setting her on the ground to raise her chin anyway.

"Don't be mean. I had a terrible day. I missed you so bad."

You feel bad now for teasing her. While you have your share of trials, it's Eunbi who spends most of her time attending to your daughter. It's Eunbi who goes day after day helping you out with chores and paperwork with little complaint. You really should choose the right time and place for your banter.

"I'm sorry, pretty. How can I make it up to you?"

"Let's watch a movie," she says hopefully. Her thumbs create gentle patterns on the sides of your head. 

"A movie?"

"Yes. Just you and me."

-

That's how you end up on the sofa, with Netflix on and Eunbi with her head on your shoulder. Her thigh rests on yours, and if it weren't for her hair being the main focus of your fingers, you'd be caressing it. 

"You want some water? A snack?" She snuggles up to you, as if you were her favorite pillow. It's as on the nose as it gets; Eunbi loves being close to you, having your body on top of hers and just feeling your touch.

You shuffle through movie choices with the remote. The posters come up to view one by one with each click. What should you watch tonight? Nothing else than the usual, but you still have to check.

That one. You give her a question with a look though you know she'll nod. It's her favorite, too.

"You don't have to do that for me," you tell her. She really doesn't. You're satisfied having her in the crook of your arm, with one of her beautiful legs thrown over your thigh. "Just enjoy the movie. You worked hard today."

"But so did you."

"It's fine, Eunbi, I promise." 

Cup her jaw and squeeze those soft cheeks together. Her lips look particularly beautiful today. They're pouty, speaking wordlessly about something that's kind of like love. Love and other things. Love and things like virtues that you two aren't really required to follow when morality is common sense. Mostly. But Eunbi's a good person. A good wife. A good girl.

Lean in to kiss that flawless mouth. "Thank you for working hard."

"And thank you for coming home," she whispers quietly. Her gaze is soft. You could see your smile reflect in them.

It takes a strange soul, a soul that’s more than the right amount of grateful, to thank someone for being there. She says it everyday, a constant reminder of how loved you are. It’s weird to others to hear Eunbi say that while she sticks to your arm, but she’s your little oddity. She has been since the day you met her.

The film goes on and so does the familiar dialogue. You let out the occasional laugh—it’s still good with every watch. The characters say the same stuff, go through the same stuff, run through the same stuff yet you're on the edge of your seat. That's the thrill of rewatching favorite movies.

"You remember this one, babe?" Her pretty head angles, making her look more endearing. "I'll be so mad if you don't."

Her lips. Can't take your eyes off them. Brush your fingers on them, feeling their softness, and she giggles. "I do," you say truthfully, tipping her chin up, "but tell me anyway."

"Hmph. You just want me to tell you 'cause you forgot, right?"

"Please." Smile at her. "Pretty, why would I ever forget that night?"

She grins. It's maddening the way the ends of her lips tilt upwards to make her eyes small. All those flashy whites on display, she explains it to you.

"This was the movie we watched on our first date." She kisses your thumb that plays on her lip. Her eyes shine with the narration. "The Notebook."

That seems like so long ago, but it feels like just yesterday when you were nervously shuffling on your then sofa, with the most beautiful woman in the world right next to you. She was and still is so charming, those brows full and mouth always in a state of joy.

Rachel McAdams was your first crush, but Eunbi owns your heart. She has her position locked into the core of your chest for eternity. 

"Y-you asked me what my favorite movie was," Eunbi says softly, stroking the back of your hand, "and you bought me chocolate and popcorn so we could watch it together."

Yep. You were broke back in those days, but you were also very young—that only meant you fell easily for girls with a pretty smile and a soft heart. You hadn't tripped anymore since then. When you fell for her, Eunbi stood you back up and gave you that sweet little smile again, then told you there was no more falling from here on out.

That was why you made ends meet and bought the chocolate you always saw her eat before she took tests. You even talked a cinema worker into letting you get two large buckets of cheese-flavored popcorn for a crashed price, just the way she liked it.

If there was a will, as they said, there was a way.

Things changed since then. You now had the money to go by and support your wife and Yujin, but your heart kept its strings hooked on Eunbi. She had knotted them to her little finger and never left you once.

Remembering these makes you chuckle. "I was a loser, wasn't I?" It's no meaningless self-deprecation—your college student self was down bad for her in ways you can't begin to describe. "I acted so stupid in front of you all the time."

"But I haven't had a guy that willing to be mine."

"Damn. I really am the best, huh?" You stroke her hair. Direct her face to the television screen but she looks back up at you anyway, and when she does you notice her eyes are full with love.

"You are,” Eunbi whispers. She wraps her arms around your waist. "You are."

Your heart beats positively with feelings of wholesomeness for the girl you're so lucky to have. She's amazing, and you feel so fortunate to have someone who loves you the same way you love her.

"Did I mention you were so cute?" you say with a laugh. "You cried while watching it even though it was like the millionth time, and that's—"

"—how we first kissed," Eunbi finishes. She covers her face, humiliated by how she acted in those youthful memories that come back. "You kissed me because I couldn't stop sobbing."

"Even back then you were a crybaby, huh?"

She sulks. "You know me. I'm very emotional. I was so upset and then more upset that when you kissed me I was all puffy and sniffly and—"

"Shhh." You pull her closer and kiss her head. "It was the best kiss I've ever had."

Eunbi looks down with a smile. Content with that, nods understandingly. You resume toying with her locks of ebony while the movie goes on.

You're watching an old favorite, yes, the one that got you and Eunbi linked by hand and eventually ring. It's special to you, a foundation of some sorts. But by the unfocused serenity in her eyes, you can easily figure that Eunbi didn't ask to watch it just for the sake of it. She wants more than alone time.

She wants you.

Halfway through the movie, the look in her eyes is still there. Hence, stringing her hair in between your digits, you ask, softly, "You didn't really want to watch something, did you?"

Eunbi's cheeks flush. Looking down shyly, she shakes her head. "No," she says in a small voice. "I mean, I did! But it was supposed to be like buildup so it can lead to the actual… you know, but…"

You smile. God, she's adorable. You love it when she gets so small. It's an everyday look on her, but it remains as sweet as the first time you had the privilege to witness it.

You lift her up seamlessly and place her on your lap. Notice that the shorts she's wearing live up to their name with how they taper just barely at the beginnings of her soft thighs. They hide beneath the sweater that's twice her size, making her look cuter than she already is.

"Oh, Eunbi." Your hands hug her waist. It doesn't take much to figure out what she really wants. There's only one thing those watery eyes could possibly desire. "You could have just told me."

Eunbi realizes this and starts to whine again. "I'm sorry. I—"

"No, no." Your finger on her lips, you hush her before she could blame herself. "Don't be, understand? Just tell me what you want."

You want to hear her say it, to hear her tell you just how much she needs you. She looks at you nervously, and you rub down her thigh to encourage her. It's what the two of you are made for: to push and pull, go forward and take a step back. 

Eunbi stares at an odd spot on your shirt then sighs. "But you're so tired," she says wistfully.

"Listen: I never am for you. What is it?"

Silence full of hesitation and fear. 

Then, a revelation.

"I want you to fuck me, daddy."

She could have said that nickname alone and you would've known what she meant.

Eunbi's stomach presses against you. Each knee of hers is beside one of your respective hips. She's swallowing, clearly nervous, but continues closing herself to you. She finds comfort in the warmth of your body, and your encouraging timed squeezes on her waist.

Her breathing grows sporadic with every grope. She tenses up, too, and it's no use massaging her to help her loosen up when you swear to god she gets tighter each time.

"Daddy…" she moans, lip trapped under her teeth.

"Pretty?" You kiss the collarbone that peeks from the curved neckline of the sweater. "What is it?"

"Please, hold me. Take me to bed."

"Of course I will."

She whimpers when you take her into your arms and carry her again. Her little arms curl around your neck as you take her to your bedroom with the assurance that your daughter is asleep. Wouldn't want her to see how she was made.

You lay Eunbi on the bed. Kiss her. You're hung up on every aspect of her—her neck, her jaw, her collarbone. All those places deserve kissing since she's so perfect. Such a good girl, in every little way. 

But it's those lips that deserve yours. Her pink tiers are full and plump, and you dive into them gladly. Softness upon softness, you push her deeper into the soft resting place with how your lips ache to be engulfed with her. 

Eunbi closes her eyes. She's floating in the clouds. Your straying touch is too good, and your lips are more so. They know where to kiss so that she's giggling and squirming, know how to kiss so that her breath is gone. She's shuddering beneath you, and you have got to hold her steady as her soft whines fill your ears.

"You're so good, daddy," she gasps. "Oh, ohhh. So so good."

"You're better." 

Kissing Eunbi is always an ethereal experience. She's so eager and needy—she floats her back so her lips could clash deeper into hers and locks them so that they don't have anywhere else to go. Her hands are on the sides of your head, also locking it in place. You're going to be here forever, touching and feeling her.

You're okay with that.

"Not really," she says, shaking her head. She can't speak too well with your teeth nudging the skin of her neck. "Ah, I'm always so talkative and stuff and you have to listen. And you do, a-all the time."

"No no,” you tell her reassuringly. “I love hearing your voice, pretty. Mmm. Of course I would."

You're about to reach between her legs when you hear a soft bell sound come from your phone. Yujin's doctor? Your family? You don't know, but with the bell notification sound you reserved for messages from important people, it must be urgent. 

"Hold on." Stop and get up regretfully. Wipe your forehead of the sweat that accumulated from the heat of the moment. "I have to answer this."

"Awh." Eunbi isn't afraid to speak out her concern, even in a pouty little whine. 

"It'll be just a minute, I promise."

Ruffle her hair while checking your phone. Squint your eyes when you see that the notification is a text message from… Eunbi?

Open it. Then, your voice gets stuck halfway in your throat.

It's a video she sent. Just the thumbnail tells you this isn't just any video. The automatic run of the clip only proves that.

There, on your screen, Eunbi dances in your bathroom, a flimsy see-through cardigan stuck in a wet sheen on her body. The Burberry bikini stands out as it holds her heavy breasts. She's running her fingers down on her figure, eyes never disconnecting from the camera, as the spraying water runs down her legs.

The audio is a familiar sound to Eunbi. Deja vu connects two and two together, and soon her hands are on her face. Your smile extends to your ears.

"What's this, pretty?" You wrap an arm around her and guide her closer. Make her watch her sultry video. "Wanted to make daddy need you?"

"No… no, I'm sorry," she says meekly. Her eyes are all round and bright as they look up at you from behind curled fists. "I wanted to give you a gift, but then I thought it didn't go through since the internet got cut and—"

"You really thought to distract me at work? What if my coworkers see you on my phone putting on a show for me?"

"Daddy, I'm sorry." 

Your next command is blunt, almost intimidating: "On my lap. Bent over. Now."

It's supposed to be a punishment, but Eunbi's face lights up. She nods and does as she's told: she folds that amazing body on your thighs like it always does at your beck and call. Lift the ends of the sweatshirt so that her lower body is revealed to you. Her pretty backside is subjected to firm squeezes.

"Wanted this for so long, right, Eunbi?" 

You know her. You know she's been sexually frustrated all these weeks. You have been, too, but all these change today. You're actually going to work something out. 

The calm before the storm: your meaningful gropes on her supple ass cheeks. Fuck, no panties. Eunbi's just been waiting for it to happen all day, the naughty girl. She's looking back at you in anticipation as if this were something other than a punishment. 

"You waited, didn’t you? You wanted daddy to bend you over his lap and hit this perfect ass. I know you do." Your touch makes its rounds on her. "You're so fucking wet, too."

She nods. God, yes. She's been wanting this for so long. Working and caring for your daughter has held her up and left her deprived of your touch. You send shivers on her skin that's grown sensitive after weeks of no stimulation.

Then, it happens.

You raise your hand as high as it could reach, then throw it at the swells of her ass. Her cheeks bounce, a mesmerizing sight.

"Mmm, daddy," your wife purrs. Her backside blooms with red at your smacks. "That… that feels so good. Really good."

"You're a freak," you chuckle. Don't stop, though. Spank her again as hard as you could; she tosses her head back.

"Of course. O-oh my god." Her eyes float shut. "Fuck, yes, daddy. I'm so wet, I need you so bad."

"Do you now?"

"Yes. I want it, please."

"We’ll see. You wanna say you're sorry?"

"Sorry," Eunbi whispers, muffling her face into the mattress. Maybe she is. "Hnn. Sorry. Sorry."

"I bet you are. Count."

As time goes by, your blows on her ass grow harsher and she barely gets the numbers out of her mouth. You have a feeling she'll lose count along the way. She does. Of course. You've been with her long enough to know how she works, how she unravels.

For example: this spank guarantees sticky wetness on your fingertips. 

It does.

Second: if you grope her tits right here, right where they rest above your thighs, she'll moan louder.

She does.

Third: if you tease your finger on her pussy, slightly rubbing her clit, she'll scream.

She—

"Daddy!" Eunbi sobs, rutting on your lap. "Fuck, fuck, why does it have to hurt so good? Daddy—"

"I said count, pretty," you reprimand her. As much as you love to hear how desperate she gets for you, the rules are clear. 

"God, please…"

"I know I fuck your brains out until you can't think, but I promise you I'm not the almighty."

"So mean. So full of yourself. H-hnn—!" Eunbi retracts her ass from your hand once you deliver what would have been the final scolding slap if she weren't acting up. "Daddy, please don't stop."

She should be hating the idea of this when it's supposed to be a punishment. She should be quivering under your hand, promising to be a good girl, your good girl. Instead, she's sobbing, begging for more like the pain it brings is essential for her to breathe. Like if you don't slap and smack her rippling ass, she'd go weak.

She's weak with or without. Real tears leak from her eyes and her whines have reached the maximum point of need. You can feel her wetness on your lap. 

"Count," you sneer. "From the top. I'll only ask again."

"Sorry. Hah. One."

"Bet you love this, don't you?" Slap her butt so it bounces in response. "Your cheeks are all sore and red for daddy now. But you want more. Why do you think you want more?"

She grows delightfully wetter. Your fingers stick with her juices.

"Oh," she whines, shutting her eyes. "Two."

"I think I know why. You're weak for anything daddy does to you. I could fuck you on the desk, fuck you in the waiting room at Yujin's school, and you'd be such a good girl. You'd be bending over letting me do it. Am I right, Eunbi? I think I am."

A waterfall starts from between Eunbi's legs at your words. She wants you to use her, to know that everything you said is right. She is a sucker for every little thing you want to do to her. 

She has to take a breather before saying, "Three."

"I think I know something else, too: you just want to be daddy's pretty little girl. It's all you ever want that you'd let me kiss and fuck you dusk to dawn. You'd even let me smack your ass all day and make you weak at the knees. It would be a shame if you came just from this spanking. But I know you will."

She clenches yet she can't fight off your harsh blows and firm squeezes. She can't count that many! Her poor butt is red and aching. Stopping is not an option though, not when she's looking at you with watery bunny eyes full of want and denial.

"Aww, princess, gonna cum? You look so close. You're shaking so much. Are you gonna cry? Cry because you want to cum so bad? Then do it, Eunbi. Cum all over me."

She shakes her head. "W-won't, cum…" She purses her lips and squeals, trying to fight off what's already in store for her. "Won't… cum, da– daddy!"

It's the way she screams your name for help even if you're the one hitting her; the way she wails in your lap and remains there in spite of the spanks that follow each other at the heel; the way she screams out for you and a god that would have disapproved of what you two were doing. Eunbi kicks and struggles and spasms, actions ridden with tears. It's what drives your slaps to unfurl with a fury that you'd never dare do unto her if this setting were any different.

"Daddy, daddy! Ohh shit, please—"

Stuff your fingers into her small mouth and smack her rapidly. She screams and cries, clinging onto the last bits of sanity. You're too harsh with her. Shouldn't daddies be taking care of their baby girls? So why are you so mean?

And why is she loving it? 

"Oh no." Palm her ass. Gently squeeze its round globes then kiss her neck. "My poor, pretty little thing. Who did this to you? Who made you so wet and needy?"

It's the mixture of mockingness and concern that has Eunbi trembling on your lap. You could be so kind yet so cruel to her. Seeking solace in the gentle circles your hand makes, she whimpers out, "You, daddy."

"That's right." Nudge your erection to her mound. "And who's making me this hard?"

"Me." As she says it, her ears turn pink. You've praised her so many times and still her face grows warm with self-consciousness.

"Of course. You're too fucking pretty. Want to sit on daddy's lap?"

"Yessss, please." 

Eunbi wipes the tears from her eyes. Her legs are liquid, and you're required to help balance her when she stands up to sit down anyway on your legs anyway. 

She curls her legs into your lap and raises her fingers to her lips. You're rubbing her arm and telling her you're here, yet another truth. You'll always be here for her, even when you get rough with her. Don't mistake it all for merely lust.

This is what home feels like. 

Rock her for a while. Let her breathe. Carefully brush away a stray tear and kiss the place it used to reside. 

"I love you," you tell her. "I love you to death."

"I love you, too, daddy," she whispers. "My daddy."

She's trembling. You furl her into your arms more tightly and press your mouth to her hair. She pushes herself deeper into your touch appreciatively. 

With her hands returned on her lap like the good girl you made her and eyes tearful, she looks so cute. She looks like the girl who's exactly the type to get on your thigh and let you do whatever you want to her, and it couldn't be more accurate. She's perfect.

"Pretty girl, pretty girl. Eyes up here."

Eunbi's sniffling quietly, and you run your hand up and down her back to calm her sobs.  She redirects her focus. She's obedient now, following all the rules. 

You ask, gently, "Need to breathe?" 

"I'm okay, daddy," she says. She leans against your chest. "Thank you."

You nod. That's your go signal. Your green light.

So, your touch traces from her shoulders to under that big sweatshirt. Right there between those fantastic legs. The spanking left her weak and wet. Just a few rubs make you hear the slick sounds.

You feel her then, right there on her drenched core. She tenses up again. Her legs close yet you part them to gently, gently tease her nub. It only goes up and down like that but she's already quivering again.

That draws a gasp out of her. She looks at you, swallows, then closes her eyes tightly as you continue. Only soft whimpers squeeze past her lips. She's taking it all with such resilience that you're actually amazed. 

"That's it. So pretty and good for me. Maybe I should reward that, don't you think?"

Eyes still closed, she nods. Excellent. Test her limits with poking a single finger into her waiting pussy. 

That's how her eyes end up fluttering open. You finger her fast and hard, making the poor girl have to go through another bout of harshness. She's enjoying it in spite of it all; her pretty pussy just clenches perfectly around you, ever so wet. 

"Daddy." She says this with urgent breaths. "Daddy? Need you." Then her voice gets higher. "Daddy, please—p-please—"

"I'm here, hon," you say, reassuring her as you toy with her cunt. Her legs shake, but you carry on. "What does Eunbi want me to do?"

You're blocking her thoughts from forming. She lifts herself up and grinds blindly, but she knows she has to answer. She knows she has to tell you something, because that's what good girls do, right? And Eunbi's exactly that: your good girl. Your good, sweet little girl.

Oh, but she can't, she can't. She can't answer it when your fingers are all the way inside her, constantly shoving and pulling strings of moistness out of her. She turns to you and opens her mouth, but she never gets to say anything. 

It continues like this for lengthened moments, with Eunbi barely holding on and squirming on top of you, and your fingers neatly sheathing and unsheathing from her pussy. Her vulnerable expressions show that she can't talk or act properly—all she can do is moan and squeal and beg. 

It isn't a fair game. Recognizing this, you kiss the side of her head and propose, "Let's make this easier, pretty." 

And you make it anything but. You spread her legs and press her back snug to your arm. From there, you keep fingering her. Aim to ruin all the resistance in her pussy. Impossible; she's too damned tight. 

"Where would you like me to touch you?" you ask. "Your tits?"

Reach up under her clothes to feel her up. Squeeze her breasts. She squeezes up once more and sobs a little. The breaths leave her nostrils sharply when you start to grope her. 

"Mmm." Eunbi nods, but still looks unsure.

"Your thighs?"

Rub them down. They're always so meaty and soft. She purses her lips and nods at that, too.

"Or your ass?" you ask with a wicked grin.

Take one finger out of her and instead lead it to her asshole. Tap it teasingly. She scurries her butt into your hands.

"It could be anywhere, Eunbi. Just tell me."

Eunbi nods. But she needs to enjoy this for now. She lets you fuck her with your digits before settling for a decision. 

She touches your mouth with a quivering finger. "I need your mouth on my pussy, daddy," she says. "Please? I'll be careful not to hurt you, I promise."

You stop fingerfucking her. Place her gently beside you. Then, you move upwards before staying right below the headboard of your bed. Your back is flat on the mattress.

"No need to be careful," you tell her. She could break your neck and you wouldn't care. "Just come here and sit on my face."

Your blunt words make her blush. But she crawls up and spreads her legs. You're there to appreciate her beautiful legs and her shaven, pink little pussy. She looks down at you with concern, but you tap her thigh reassuringly. 

Convinced, Eunbi places herself gingerly on your mouth. The first contact is effective in breaking her again for she lets out a vulnerable little moan and raises her hips again, only to sit back down on you.

As expected, Eunbi tastes like everything sweet, everything beautiful. You slide your tongue up and down between her pussy lips, then flick it on her clit. She cries out, her hands instinctively going for your hair. But she remembers her promise to be careful. She's forced to have to bite on the back of her hand.

You make it more difficult for her. You love keeping her on her toes. Rest your hands on her thighs—her thick, full thighs—and pull her down. You don't care if she'll suffocate you; you'd give anything to have her reeling and crying. Her legs squeezing your head is your reward for eating her out so well.

"Daddy," she hiccups. She seals herself on your head and freezes due to the pleasure. "Feels so good, keep doing that, please."

How could you deny her of anything? She tastes so sweet and whines so prettily that you have no other path to go down than the way to eating her pussy harder. 

Kiss her labia lovingly, a teaser for the main thing, which is slipping your tongue all the way into her tight hole and circling it inside her. Waste no time in licking up and down, appreciating her folds. 

Her body barely weighs down on you. She remains afraid of hurting you, and you have to grip her hips to keep her down. Soon, it becomes a game of lifting and chasing, as if her cunt were a distant dream you only wish to attain.

You're determined though. Too determined for a dreamer. Your hands caress her fit ass to ease the pain your spanks induced and you reach deep inside her to trigger more juices into your mouth.

"Please, please, please—" Eunbi's voice cracks and she buries her face in her hands. She doesn't even know what she's begging for now. All her thoughts have vanished. You're dumbing her down into a shaky, squirting mess who needs only her daddy's mouth.

She's carefully grinding down on you, keeping herself slightly aloft so as not to crush you. But you insist on the opposite; you tug her down and seize her clit between your lips. Start to suck, hard.

She's not so careful anymore. 

"Daddy!" Her pussy crashes down on your face and begs for more of you, begging you to draw her needs beneath and fulfill it. 

Of course, you give in. You torture her clit with sucks that transcend control, keeping it latched tight between your lips, and grab your wife's hips to scurry her downwards. She can't go anywhere now.

"Oh—oh no, daddy," she gasps, her fingers curling around the headboard like ribbons, "don't do that! Don't do that, I'll cum!"

That's exactly your intention. Pulling down her thick thighs so that her pussy covers your face, you let your tongue dance and glide everywhere on her eager little core. Eunbi screams. Tears pour down her face as her juices spill down on you. You lap her nectar up the best you can, but some still slide on your chin, as well as the sides of your face. You make up for the lost drops and instead go for those that are dripping directly from her cunt—yes, this will make you a god. Feels accurate when you’re already in paradise with Eunbi’s legs around you and her screams filling your ears like prayer.

"Daddy, slow down a little!" Eunbi yells. Her thighs crush your head while her hips cringe to and fro. She purses her lips before letting out a feral cry. "Daddy!"

You follow up with a few last licks at her sensitive clit. Eunbi's out of breath, but you're not, despite being held captive by her thighs just a few seconds prior. That's why your lips still find her pussy, bringing it to complete weakness, cornering its sensitivity and preying on it. Eunbi sobs, wrists on her face, as you continue violating her pussy. You're never leaving it unattended.

"Daddy," she says tiredly. "Oh, daddy, too much, daddy—"

The natural flood of her orgasm overflows. You tap on her thigh encouragingly and open your mouth to taste her. "Yes, yes, that’s it, you’re so fucking delicious. Daddy loves when you cum on his face. Come on, baby, come on, my good girl."

Eunbi's legs give out. She moves away from your head in order not to hurt you and collapses on your bed. Her whole body is aquiver.

"Daddy," she calls out for you. "Daddy, please."

"You're alright, baby," then trail your thumb along her chin and jaw; guide her with demonstrations and soft words, "take a deep breath." 

The overstimulated girl quivers and mewls. 

"You're alright," you say. Kiss that forehead that's recently been covered with a cute fringe, and then kiss her mouth. "My pretty girl's alright. Daddy loves you."

It's a reminder that you'll make again and again without getting tired. Eunbi's so lovely that you want to make her know she's safe with you, that she's loved.

Her reply is expected but relieves you anyway. "I love you, too, daddy." 

Her breath catches as you kiss her. It's messy, torrid, too, when her hands hook into your head with a touch that's weak yet worshipful. 

“Mmm, my daddy, my only daddy.” She kisses you sloppily, almost drunkenly. One thing leads to another, and your hands are on her hips to lead her on your lap again. Her breathy bedroom voice turns you on so much. “I love you. Daddy, I love you so much.”

"Just wanted to taste yourself on my lips, didn’t you?” you ask. You see right through her.

She blushes. There's your answer.

“No problem with that. You taste delicious. Here.” 

Swiping up a line of slick from her delicate pussy, you guide your slick fingers into her mouth. She latches onto them and holds your wrist in place as her sweet mouth seeks to taste everything. 

"Thank you," she murmurs. "Love you. So good to me."

This is what paradise is. Eunbi's broken words spill from the sides of her mouth while she licks her cum off your fingers. Her eyes are closed, deep in worship for you. What a worst time to be religious. After having just spanked her and eaten her delicious pussy, she has no place to be saintly. Sacrilege at best. 

But you let her, since she's so good. Such a good girl for you.

"You’re good to me, too, pretty." The nickname has not once left your mouth with how it fits her so much. The bangs she sports and those naturally full, pouty lips make her the most beautiful woman in the world. "Since you're such a thankful princess, you deserve to cum again. You want to cum again?"

"Really? Daddy? Daddy, you'll let me cum again?" 

"You don't want to?"

"No, no, I want. I want it." Eunbi nods her head and looks up at you with desperation. "Make me cum again."

"So demanding," you reprimand her. "Guess you don't want me to go through and worship these?" 

Reach up behind her and touch her right where everyone expects you to: her large, round tits. They're what everybody looks at, and it honestly makes you feel a little possessive. But you always are reminded of how right they could be. They look so full even behind thick fabric.

"Daddy!" They're also where she's most sensitive. She lets out tiny squeals all while you're having your wicked way pinching the pink tips.

"Ohh, you like that, huh?" You squeeze; she locks her legs together and whines. "Makes you want to scream for me? Scream and yell like a needy little girl?"

You know how this goes. Given the sensitivity on her breasts, she'll whine out and beg more than she would if you touched her anywhere else. She'll probably even cum on the spot like she did when you spanked her. There's a common factor here, you think. Gotta place what that is.

Eunbi's eyes water and she says, "Daddy, please. I need you, don't be mean to me."

Found it. It’s you. Not to be narcissistic and everything, but it’s definitely you.

"Alright. Take your clothes off. Want to see how pretty you look under all of them."

She lifts her shirt up. Your mouth waters. Each bit of her perfect, curvy body is uncurtained—the flat of her tummy, the curves of her hips, the undersides of her breasts. Then her breasts themselves. The deep cleavage has your eyes coming out of their sockets, along with the massive recoil they do as they're released from the hem.

Her hair is messier now. The neckline and fabric did a number on them. The fringes are all over the place. 

Laugh fondly. Meanwhile, you straighten her bangs. "You alright there, pretty?" you say. 

"Mhm," she hums, giggling, too, albeit shyly. Then her eyes turn needy, their glimmer unmistakeable. "Please?"

You push her down gently on the pillows, pinning her back to the blankets. Her long hair is in a disarray behind her as you kiss her body. The flat of her tummy tenses when you press your lips there. What really gets her moaning, however, is your mouth on her tits. Her beautiful, perfect tits.

Press them together with a hard squeeze. Run your tongue on one of the hard nipples. She sharply gasps, looking down at your sinful little doings. You gaze back up at her with unwavering eye contact as you suck on her nipple as you did to her clit.

Same effect. She's whining again. 

"Daddy, daddy, daddy—" 

You've lost count of the many times she's said that. 

You don't mind adding a lot more to the list.

"What is it, baby?" 

Eunbi makes her desires known through bated breaths and little moans. "Now,” she says. “Inside me. Please."

It takes no time taking your pants and briefs off. It is painful, though; your cock is a rod solid and lengthy for the idea of fucking your wife after all those weeks of being held back. Her naked body waiting for you just tempts you even more. Her legs are spread, her face radiates need, and her pussy is dripping wet. You know she wants you the same way you want her.

So why hold back?

You can’t hold back your feral pump nor your groan either. Slipping inside Eunbi’s warm, drenched pussy is like reminiscing a wild memory. Her grip brings you back to all the times you’ve made love to her, right on this bed, until she curled up and begged you to go faster. It makes you promise to give it to her this time hard and fast, the way you know she likes it.

Give her every inch, then take them back. Give them again. Withdraw. You choose this cycle and Eunbi couldn’t love it more. You have to battle with the tightness her pussy inflicts all the time, and it’s both a pro and a con with how it hugs your length and caresses it with the texture of her walls while refusing to let you in. You can see Eunbi’s face twist as she tries to relax, but each part of you that she’s fed, she ends up tightening and moaning again.

“You’re fucking me s-so well,” says Eunbi strainedly. Her fingers sink into the sheets as she trembles with your unforgiving thrusts. “I missed this so much.”

You did, too. You missed controlling Eunbi sexually, having her weak and on her knees. You missed the comfort of her warm little hole that’s always skilled in its job of milking you dry. It’s still strong and exceptional in its talent.

Eunbi’s noises are loud and unbridled. She always drones on and on, something that makes her cuter than she already is, and there’s no difference in the bedroom. She moans and talks about how amazing it feels, how you’re penetrating her perfectly. And all the same, you love hearing her.

“So fucking tight,” you say. You just have to drive your hips upwards, to send her rocking to and fro. “Take it all, okay? I know my pretty girl can do it. She’s the perfect thing for daddy’s cock, isn’t that right?”

Eunbi’s ears grow pink. She nods, because that's another thing that’s true. She is your perfect girl, your only girl you’d take at night. Your husky words of praise go at odds with how you’re fucking her, with her ass up in the air and her legs in your hard touch, but it turns her on so much that she’s willing to do anything—anything for you to go on and have your way with her.

And have your way with her you do. You push yourself past her pussy lips and let them hug the sides of your length after you fill her up entirely. Her cunt pulsates, and it drives you to drop the whole of your hips in between her legs, flicking past her G-spot.

“M-mmm!” Even with just a hum, Eunbi stutters. Your hands on her tits kneading and tightening make her lose all common sense. Coupled with your cock ruining her insides, she can’t think straight. 

She doesn’t have to when you’re here to catch her. You’ll think for her so she’s allowed to lie back. Right now, you’re thinking of completely ruining her.

“Oh, oh my god, daddy,” she says the moment you thrust up into her with more precise strokes. She looks down at your cock swiftly drilling her. "That's—so—ffffuck!"

Eunbi begins to curl up, the heat overtaking her, but you spread her legs. Force her to take you by stuffing her cunt even more. Her tightness grows and soon she's yelling, almost in an episode of frenzy. 

You're humping her like you need it as much as you would water and food, without care for how much you're digging her into the blankets or how much she screams. There's only one thing you want and that is to be buried all the time in her sweet little pussy. You can tell that it's what she wants, too—her hips gyrate, weak yet determined, and she's filling the room with her screams.

"Yes, yes, yes." She places a hand over the back of your own that's on her breast. "Fuck me, hurt me, d-do whatever you want with me, I'm just your pretty girl—daddy, don't stop, please!"

To hear her talk about herself so lewdly and feed your mind with the idea that you could do anything to her makes you force your groin up and slam her legs on your shoulders. Fight against the resistance of her pussy, slap her bouncing thighs, push only forward to fill her up.

"I promise, Eunbi, I'm not stopping," you say, a new oath made. You lean in darkly and stare right into her eyes. They're that of a prey's; she had nowhere to go, nowhere to hide. "I'm gonna fuck you until you're squirting and crying, and I know that's what you want, right? To have daddy make you cum like he always does?"

"Yes, faster, please!"

"Fuck." You pause, and before she could complain, you place a hand on her throat and push her down. "Then you're gonna fucking get it."

She's talked to you about this before. She's proposed to have you pin her down and choke her, shyly saying it with a cutesy plea to her words, but you always refused. You didn't want to go too far. Now, however, you give her what she wants: 

Close your hand around her neck. The look on her face is immaculate—her eyes are wide with both bliss and thrill, and her mouth is open. For the first time, she doesn't make any noise. She's letting it all out in a silent, withheld scream. 

Squeeze. She gasps. There's a river of wetness inside her; it flows freely and limitlessly, pouring onto your shaft and the sheets. 

"God, pretty," you say lowly. "Your pussy gets so tight when I choke you. Like you want me to keep choking you until you beg and beg. What's with that now? I thought you wanted me to be gentle."

Your hips don't stop; they're almost invincible. They don't tire of pistoning in between her legs. And Eunbi doesn't get tired of squeezing, of crying. Her whole body's in desperate heat, and you're the bad predator giving in to it. You’re using her, violating her—and she’s sprawled out taking it all, loving each second of it.

You firmly pinch her nipple. Her frozen, desperate look is broken with her loud scream. Its volume is tightened when you curl your fingers harder into the flesh of her neck. That's the neck you've kissed before, when she wanted to make love and when she needed a hug—it's so out of character for you to suddenly be using it in depriving her of a breath she so desperately needs.

“What? Can’t speak?” you say. Words say themselves without your mind registering them first. Even so, Eunbi clings to each and uses them to roll her core harder into your erection. “Is daddy choking you too hard? You’re so fucking wet from me doing it, pretty. I should do this more to you. I’d fucking keep you here and choke the hell out of you.”

Oh, the fantasy is tempting. You imagine calling a day off from work, as hard as it is to register for one, and using it to fuck your wife in all the corners of the house. With Yujin at school and the schedule empty, you could fill her pussy with cum and have her bent in all the best positions, each done with your hand on her throat. By the helpless look on her face, you know she loves the idea, too.

“Yes, daddy!” she screams. Those are your words of affirmation. Her gasps for air leave her more often, yet you keep your hand pinned to the base of her neck. “More, I need more, please give me more!”

“Look at you. You’re crying so hard. I can feel your throat pulse. You need to breathe so bad. But you want daddy’s cock more. What should I give to you then, huh, baby?”

“M-make me cum! Make me cum instead, daddy, I don’t need anything else!”

You could do that. It’ll happen anyway. She’s far too tight for one person to handle, backfiring on her so much that it drags her closer to the edge. And you’re pushing her with each thrust, with no offer of rescue.

“Such a spoiled little girl,” you tut, leaning in to bite her ear, “but so fucking pretty.”

Pretty girls like her, no matter what they do, deserve to cum. Swing yourself deep in between the hanging pillars of her legs and cum she does. Mouth open and on the cliffs of desperation and submissiveness, she lets out a squeezed scream. Her fist is firm on your wrist, making sure it doesn’t leave her throat as the thrill of the danger makes her cum harder than she thought she would.

Finally, your hand loosens. She gasps. Her wonderful chest rises and falls, air finally entering her lungs. Her head feels light; it’s the most gratifying experience she’s had in a while. 

It’s the same for you. Maybe the sexual frustration that accumulated over the weeks was a good thing. You let it all out on her and now you’re throbbing.

“Daddy?” She’s a survivor of a storm who just emerged from the flood of lust.

“Yeah?” You soothe her, like you always do whether after sex or when she’s overwhelmed. “You want anything?”

“Think… you need to look at the time.”

“Let me run you a bath first, please, baby?” You lean down and kiss her forehead, rubbing the space on her chest where her heart beats fastly. It worries you, and for a moment you wonder if you should ever do this again. She’s catching her breath and failing. “You’re so worn out.”

“No.”

“No?”

“No, daddy, listen to me, please?” She closes her eyes to collect her composure that was lost after and while you fucked her.. “Look at the time.”

“It’s…” You steal a look at the digital clock sitting on your bedside table. It’s sometime after twelve midnight. “Midnight.”

“And you, haah, know what that means, right? Right?”

“It’s…” 

It hits you. The knowledge infiltrates your brain and suddenly all lust is gone. Your heart’s only filled with feelings of affection for the girl you’re incredibly lucky to share your love and home with. You welcome her into the depths of your embrace.

“It’s the twenty-seventh,” you murmur. “Your birthday.”

Your own heart starts to beat faster at the thought. Eunbi’s just spent another year with you, another year with Yujin. Your family grows everyday with love, and it brings you more satisfaction than your job could.

You look at Eunbi. Observe her sharp nose, beautiful hair, and lips that are always calling out for you. You realize in that moment that you can’t be more grateful that she’s the girl you married. There are plenty of girls out there who might have wanted you, but your heart doesn’t belong to them. It belongs to her, your wife. Your princess.

“Happy birthday.” Stroke her hair and gently tuck it behind a red ear. “Baby girl, I’m so grateful to have you, you know?”

She flushes. Eunbi loves that you’re always there to tell her she means something. “Thank you.”

You ought to do something special for her. She works so hard and loves so hard that it’s only right that her birthday is special. But your ideas are simple, and you decide to just let her choose. Anything she wants, you’ll give.

“What do you want us to do today?”

Eunbi takes a moment to inhale, then opens her eyes. She’s never looked more sure. Though her voice is weak, it holds conviction.

“I want us to stay here in this bedroom, daddy.” She clasps your hand and places it from her face to her pussy. “I want you to fuck me harder. I want you to do it until I can’t feel my legs.”

Your eyes widen. She’s never been this upfront. It’s rare to see that firm look in her irises.

“Then…” Eunbi pauses although she knows what to say next. She knows what she wants from you. “I want you to breed me, daddy.”

The silence from your end is lined with shock. You can’t say anything—your words are lost in the ends of your mouth due to the feeling of Eunbi’s slick, hot pussy under your touch. She’s as wet as she was before. She obviously wants more.

“You didn’t cum yet,” she explains. She grinds your fingers on her lacy, wet core, and whimpers at how hot it feels post-orgasm. “So when you do, I want it all here. Right here. It’ll fill me up so much that I might get pregnant.”

It’s been a while since you released inside Eunbi. You’ve always taken special care to practice safe sex, even unprotected. You’ve let her swallow your cum instead or unloaded into a rolled condom. Now, the offer she’s making—of bearing you another child, of letting you give her another little joy to take care of—has you speechless. Would she really let you?

“You’ll do it for me, right?” Eunbi rolls on top of you, her amazing body pressed to your skin. Although she’s above you, she couldn’t be more of a submissive, needy girl. Each limb of hers strains to be touched and controlled. There’s a reason she wants you as her birthday present. “You’ll pound me full of cum and drill it all into my womb, all so I could be your pregnant birthday girl?”

“Pretty…” you say, not knowing what else to tell her. Hesitation curls around your mind and body. You’re not totally convinced she’s sure about this.

Her large eyes are wanton with lust and her lower lip’s sealed beneath those teeth. She nods, happy that you finally responded. 

“Yes, yes, that. You always call me pretty, daddy, and… I really like it. But can you imagine how much prettier I could be if you gave me your baby? My tits would look even bigger, and they’d be so sensitive that if you sucked them, I’d cum on your lap instantly.”

How do you breathe again?

“And when people ask me about us, I’ll be the good wife at your side, standing there and saying I’m just so happy to have my daddy’s baby.”

The thought of Eunbi shaking as you overstimulated her by just playing with her nipples makes you warm on the inside and out. Additionally, that image she painted of herself: the silent girl, the pretty wife beside you who’s full with a baby and wearing a smile so innocent it deceives people of what she wanted today—it makes you feral. Not even warm or hot, just the pure carnal desire to knock her up.

“And you know what else, daddy?”

“W-what?” Now you’re the one who feels like they were just left in a chokehold minutes ago. Your mind just runs with ideas of fucking her senseless.

“They’re going to think we planned it all along. But no; what they don’t know is that it was by chance. That Eunbi asked for it suddenly, and you gave in. You gave her creampie after cream—”

Well, you could say that you’re easily convinced.

Eunbi’s prone when you switch positions, quickly taking back your lost power and pinning her back down. You press her legs together and push them down; she peeks from behind them, thrilled to see what you would do after she successfully riled you up. Obviously, you don’t give it to her just yet; you set your cock on her splayed pussy lips and start to grind down on her. 

“Thirsty brat,” you tell her. You tighten your squeeze on her ankles so she remains still while you hump her, but never really giving her the real thing. Groan; even without penetrating her, she feels wet and hot. “When did pretty become such a bad girl?”

Her clit throbs and you do, too. Why are you lying to yourself and acting like you don’t want to dick her down? 

“Bred, bred, bred. Need to be bred.” Eunbi’s lower body rolls. She’s panting. “Need to feel your big cock inside me.”

Fuck, you’re gonna give in anyway. You say: “What’s the magic word?” 

Eunbi swallows. You think you’ve seen that before. She was underneath you that time, too. “Please, daddy.”

The magic word is “please,” but if she says your favorite name with that, there’s a hundred percent chance she’ll get what she wants. She increases the chances with her downturned little mouth and her hands folded together. You don’t know if you should cuddle or fuck her. That’s your daily dilemma with Kwon Eunbi.

“Ahhh, so big!” 

Her shout of pleasure is instant, and it continues with the rhythm of your pumps. You don’t bother creating a buildup—it’s her birthday; she’ll get what she wants. And you know that Eunbi likes it rough and hard. Don’t mind the bruises and spots of red on her skin and ass; it’s what she craves more than anything.

You do, too. But this experience is more gratifying because you actually get to stay inside her hole when you cum. Your seed would go straight to her womb, and everyone would know that it’s you who made her pregnant. Moan at that concept which gives strength to your muscles to keep pushing, keep thrusting, keep bringing you to orgasm so your wife, who you’d do anything for, would get what she wants.

You make sure each thrust you inflict on Eunbi’s fertile body hits her cervix, a prophecy of what’s to come. She groans helplessly—her knuckles turn white as they grip the fabric beneath her that’s sure to be stained with both of your juices. Who cares, though? It would be a constant reminder of the night you made Eunbi’s birthday wish come true. It would be a memory of what brought your future child into the world.

“I want it deep, daddy!” gasps Eunbi. “So deep that I can’t feel anything, daddy, harder, please!”

She knows the power in her begging and how easily you fold for a girl like her. You’d give her another spanking for that, but you give her a punishment she benefits from anyway: rougher thrusts that slap your balls to her spanked ass.

But she’s the birthday girl. So you fulfill her desire and drive yourself into her core until your balls aren’t just slapping her ass anymore but are pressed firmly to her crotch.

“Oh yes! Just like that!” Eunbi levitates her back off the creaking cushions and screams. You’re starting to fear she’ll wake Yujin. Good thing she sleeps like a log. “Pound me, cum inside me!”

It seems like there’s degrees of roughness you haven’t reached yet. Your thrusts grow in speed and harshness as time goes by, and the strength is limitless. Although you’re only doing the same thing which is fucking Eunbi in hopes of breeding her, your tempo doesn’t stay the same. It hits her with a force impelled by lust, pushing the sins deeper inside her that it starts to corrupt her, too.

Your balls are heavy with an impending load. Slapping her thighs, you momentarily part them so you could rub her clit side to side, the way you know she’s weak for. Eunbi’s expression changes into bliss to paradise itself—her tightness chokes your length from head to base.

"God fuck!" Eunbi lets out a spray of wetness as her body thrusts upwards. "Cumming!"

Oh she’s cumming alright, but she’s also squirting. There’s no time to weep over not putting a towel beneath her; you’re stuck watching Eunbi’s pussy become soppier while it releases a messy jet of girl cum. You marvel at how more comes out if you give it to her harder.

Ever the crybaby even in sex, tears start to fall down in little droplets down her red cheeks. They source from all three: pleasure, pain, overstimulation. It’s destroying her and yet she relishes each hit.  

“Do it now, please, it’s too much! Breed me now—c-can’t—take—it!”

Shove yourself to the depths of her and unload. Your wife exhales repeatedly. There’s so much of your sticky load that it overflows inside her hole and creams her outer lips. Push yourself further and pull her legs up so it’s all guaranteed to go to her womb.

“Like this, pretty? Your pussy’s gonna take every drop, right?” Even in your craze of lust you could hear yourself weakening.

The cum that shoots into her never seems to stop.

“Yes, so much,” Eunbi moans quietly. Her arms are limp beside her. As her consciousness dies, her orgasm lives on. “Breed me, daddy, ohhh… breed me… breed… me…”

-

Yujin’s thick black hair, all inherited from her mother, looks perfect today. What makes it more satisfying is that those braids running down her head and the cute pigtails were fixed by you. 

“Wow, it’s so perfect!” Your daughter admires herself in the vanity mirror and grins up at you. “Thank you, papa!”

Her young yet advanced vocabulary makes you chuckle. As you hear it, you realize you can’t wait until she grows up and starts to talk even more beautifully, like the words she takes from the books you always see her nose buried in.

It’s 7:00 AM, and Yujin’s bus is about to come to the driveway. You’re lucky to have finished fixing her hair on time. That’s partly why you reciprocate the smile. The main reason is that your daughter manages to chip away your tiredness and make it all worth it.

“Of course, Yujin,” you say. “Be good at school, okay?”

“I always am, papa!”

Your daughter always carries this confidence wherever she goes. You’re glad you and Eunbi raised her properly so she isn’t doubtful of herself. She’s going places—the girl’s only six yet she speaks and multiplies better than you can. Not that you’re embarrassed; it makes you more proud of her.

“And behave for your mommy, okay? It’s—”

“—her birthday!” she finishes giddily. Yujin never forgets anything, especially birthdays. She just celebrated hers a month ago. “Can I greet her?”

Pause. Has Eunbi recovered or is she laying there getting off to what happened? “Maybe later?” you say, hoping not to sound suspicious. “Mommy’s… just having a sleep-in day. Just make her a card or write her a poem when you come back home.”

“Okay!” Yujin replies. She turns her head to the yellow bus peeking at the semi-circular window of the door. “Bye, papa!”

You tell her the same. Wave goodbye to her. You make sure she gets on the bus before turning away. Time to attend to your other princess.

Usually, you’d spend time admiring your house as you walk to wherever you need to go. You’re proud of the bookshelves and design, but today is a day different from all the others. You only have one clear vision the moment you open the door of your room with your wife.

She’s sound asleep. Her little body’s curled up under the comforter and her head is nestled in the hood of the zipperless jacket you changed her into the night before. She looks so adorable in it that you want to just take her into your arms and bite her cheeks. You have strange instincts when it comes to seeing your wife, who could switch between being a sexbomb to a girl you’d protect any time of the day.

Unlike Yujin, she’s a light sleeper, for she catches your footsteps seconds before you crash down into the mattress with her. 

“Daddy?” she asks sleepily. She reaches for you. You catch her hand.

“Too early for that, isn’t it?” You smile into her hair anyway. “Good morning, pretty. Happy birthday.”

The nickname isn’t sexual anymore. It’s a pet name now, a call for you to take care of her. And you do your duty well, gathering her into your touch and keeping her protected from the cold.

Eunbi says her thank you, then blinks.“Y-Yujin, she still has to dress—”

“I took care of it.” You gently guide her back down in your arms. “She's on the bus.”

The panic dissolves from her face. She turns around to hug you back. All she says is contained in a little whisper: “Thank you, daddy.”

She throws a knee over your hip and ushers you to herself. As expected, to be honest. Eunbi loves all forms of affection, especially the physical kind. So you give her all of it: a kiss, a tighter embrace, a touch that wanders but not too far. Like you said, it’s too early.

Eunbi hums into your neck. “I’m so happy.”

“Yeah?” 

“Mhm. You make me happy.”

“You just want to get bred again,” you joke. Kiss away the pouty look on her face. “I’m kidding. You make me happy, too, pretty.”

What you say is nothing short of the truth. Eunbi fills your life with purpose. You wake up and keep doing so to make sure she has someone. You work so she’s well provided for, even if she has her own job herself. You come home so that the nights aren’t lonely. You know a lot of men who couldn’t say the same about their relationship with their wives.

You’re happy to be the different one for once. You’ll always love Eunbi. Even after you die, you’d be looking out for her, if there ever is an afterlife.

“You and Yujin are the most important people to me,” you tell her. 

“Well, after you bred me…” Eunbi smiles slyly. “There’ll be another important person in your life, daddy.” A pause. “Maybe we’ll name them Wonyoung?”

You shrug. You don’t know. But then you’re overcome by the urge to kiss her. You act on it, pecking her. It turns into something deeper, and soon you’re on top of her again, rendering her whining once more.

As you kiss Eunbi, you realize that there’s no sure path to the future. But all you know is that you’ll stay with her along the way, and that you’re excited for all the good things to come.

[teatreeoilll]

ChildhoodFriend!Sukuna drabble-headcanon thingy part 2 | part I here w/c - 750 cw: manga spoilers (although I'm only on chapter 180 so if it kind of doesn't make sense with the rest I'm sorry!!)

ChildhoodFriend!Sukuna who wakes up a thousand years later, now trapped in a boy's body, unaware of the fact that you, too, had made a deal with the devil to satisfy your yet unmet need for revenge.

Hein Era

"You must be Kenjaku," you said, relief washing over your body. It has been three long years since you've decided to find the man, the journey wearing you out, turning you into an empty shell in tattered rags.

"May the traveler who knows my name introduce herself?" He proposed, not making the effort to turn around from his position over the cooking pot. The shabby hut you stood in and his mild demeanor hardly lived up to the reputation of the most vicious man to set foot in Japan in eons.

And so you do, with a deep bow and a mutter of your name, "I've come to an understanding that to kill the man I wish dead might take more than one lifetime," you proclaimed, "and I've been told you're the one to turn to."

Tokyo, 2018

ChildhoodFriend!Sukuna felt something strange the moment Itadori Yuji fell face-first into Tokyo Colony No. 1. However, he couldn't pinpoint what exactly it was, like the dull wistfulness of an old perfume. Itadori Yuji sensed it too, but had little time to muse over such things when he was too busy fighting to try to locate Higuruma Hiromi.

"Kogane, show me player Higuruma Hiromi," you order, looking at the information popping up, "his points are gone. Is he the one who changed the rule?" You don't wait for an answer before continuing, "It doesn't matter; he might still know something. Ikebukuro's close now."

You walk through the concrete and metal jungle; these people have built themselves miles upon miles of castles, you think, Sukuna probably enjoys watching them crumble.

When you approach the theater you were told Higuruma resides in, a boy walks out. As soon as he catches a glimpse of you, he halts, standing on guard on the other side of the road.

ChildhoodFriend!Sukuna has seen many faces, but yours was one that hadn't faded from his memory by the passing of time.

"I don't want to fight!" The boy exclaimed from across the road, but his shoulders were drawn back, fists curled near his pockets.

"I do not wish to fight either!" You shout back, thinking that another battle may wash off the remains of your strength. Besides, what good would it do to fight a young boy? Although only the look of his pink hair made your teeth clench and stomach tighten.

You watch the boy take a seat on the pavement, "Are you hurt?" You inquire, slowly drawing closer across the pavement.

"Just taking a breather!" He shouts, but you decide to approach regardless.

ChildhoodFriend!Sukuna who laughs. He howls like a maniac inside Yuji's head, sending strange vibrations throughout the boy's body.

"Are you alright?" You ask the boy, watching him nod as he gulps the water you handed him. The resemblance is striking, you think, but perhaps I'm just thinking too much of it.

"Thank you," he puts the empty water bottle by his side, "I'm sorry I drank all your water."

"It's nothing." You assure him, "Have you seen Higuruma here? I've a question for him."

"I don't think he's the kind to answer questions," Yuji reflected, getting up from the sidewalk.

"I won't leave him much of a choice." You asserted, watching the boy's doubtful expression, "Do you have any insight you may offer on his technique?"

"Well, I don't think I understand it, really, but.." Yuji starts explaining, watching your brows furrow as you nod along at his descriptions.

You thank him, parting curtly before turning away towards the theater.

"Wait!" Yuji exclaims behind you, "What's the question? Maybe I'll save you the trouble."

You doubt his words, but turn back to face him, "There's a man I'm looking to kill," you disclosed, "trust me, you'd want him dead too,” you chuckle, pausing for a moment, but deciding there's no harm in asking, "Sukuna, do you know where he is?"

Yuji freezes, his heartbeat quickening at the mention of the name, his wide eyes pointed straight at you.

"Didn't think so," you sigh.

ChildhoodFriend!Sukuna who pops out as a mouth carved in Yuji's cheek, causing you to jump back slightly at the bizarre sight while he taunted loudly;

"You're not going to tell her, brat?"

_

tag list: @saoirseirose, @marimeown, @http-dilflvr Thank you guys for the wonderful comments on part one, hope this one doesn't disappoint

[buckys-little-belle]

Hi!! I love your story’s and am always looking for little and daddy Bucky story’s!! I was wondering if you could do insecure reader who’s bigger. She has bigger thighs a bigger tummy and face. Could you do reader is scared to sit on buckys lap or for him to pick her up and carry her around the house. She’s too scared she’s heavy and will crush him and his legs. or that he will drop her because she’s too big. She also never cuddles and sleeps with him in his room always sleeping in her room after he puts her to bed because she’s scared about her breathing or how she sleeps.

Bucky gets her to tell him why and then comfort. Just fluff fluff fluff. If your not comfortable writing this I totally understand!!! If you do could you ad paci use? Thank you!!! Sorry for the rambling…

Strongest Man Alive

Bucky Barnes x Plus Sized!Little!Reader (She/Her Pronouns Used)

Notes - This is not my best work, and has been in my drafts for MONTHS, it's something cute, and a little angsty at the beginning, but it does get super fluffy at the end. It's a little bit different than my usual writting style, so I apologize for that, but I do hope you like it and if not I'm so sorry! I hope I did this ask justice, and I hope everyone is having a good week!!! <3

Warnings - Talks of reader being self conscious for being 'bigger', kept very vague as she uses the words "heavy" and "squishy" to describe her body type instead of more concrete descriptions, the use of a pacifier is very brief as it's something I'm not used to writing, though I would be willing to continue, mentions of reader eating food "snacks" and "sandwich" though never specified, FLUFF at the end, but there is a moment of angst, I DON'T KNOW IF THIS IS A COHEARANT STORY, it's from the drafts and I gave it a once over and I think it's 'good enough' so I apologize if it's terrible <3

SFW - Please keep all interactions with this post, and this blog, SFW.

. ☾ . ☆ . ☽ . ☆ . ☾ . ☆ . ☽ . ☆ . ☾ . ☆ . ☽ .

Y/n often spent their time at the Avengers tower sitting, standing, lingering around Bucky Barnes. It wasn't on purpose, the man just seemed to be the other half of some magnet imbedded deep in Y/n's heart. He just had some ability to pull her towards him.

Maybe it was the way he cut her sandwiches into perfect triangles, or the way his hand always found hers when she got scared. Maybe it was the way he seemed to be reserved around anyone but her that made her feel so connected to him.

He never sulked but always seemed to walk around with a frown stuck on his face, only ever changing it to a smile when she walked by his office or stopped by his room.

As much as Y/n felt like she was pulled to him, Bucky felt it multiplied by 100. His hands always aching to hold hers, his chest always feeling heavy when he began to think about her needing something and him not being around to help her.

The whole tower knew about Y/n's regression. Wanda and Peter often joined in, hanging out in little space and colouring in books Tony had provided, watching whatever new animated movie had just come out and sleeping over in makeshift tents in the living room.

Often other Avengers would help supervise activities, Steve loved playing action fighters in the common areas, Nat loved cuddle puddle on the couch, and Thor was always ready for a park day. Bucky on the other hand liked to stay in the shadows, buying stickers for the group of littles, making them lunch and dropping it off.

Bucky only stuck around if Y/n asked him to hang out with her. "Bucky can you hold my hand?" She had asked him when at the park, he of course grabbed her hand and helped her up the jungle gym.

"Bucky can you open this please?" She had whispered during a movie, her baggie full of snacks too difficult to manage on her own. He opened the baggie and held it in his own grasp, handing her a piece of candy anytime she had finished the previous one.

"Bucky will you colour with me?" She had yelled her ask one day when he was passing by the kitchen, Y/n sat at the island with markers scattered across the marble. He silently sat down and diligently coloured the page she had given him, helping her chase markers that had fallen.

He knew she was comfortable asking for what she wanted, and he knew she wasn't afraid of him ... so, it made his chest tighten every time she asked him to grab something from the top shelf instead of asking to be lifted like Wanda and Peter often asked.

He also felt off every time a little would come running out of their room after a nightmare, rushing into someone's room for a cuddle, yet Y/n's door never opened and neither did his.

Bucky was sure it was his fault she didn't seek him out for cuddles, he thought he had done something wrong when she never asked for a hug. Was it his arm? Was she scared he would turn on her? He couldn't figure it out.

That is until he realised she never asked anyone for a cuddle, or a hug. Nat, Wanda, and Peter would be all comfy on the couch and Y/n would be sat on the chair, a small frown on her face yet she never tried to find a spot next to her friends. And when she scraped her knee on the playground she declined Thor's offer of a "healing" hug.

"Y/n?" His voice was quiet but direct as he called out into the playroom, Y/n sat on the softly coloured rug, her stuffed animals scattered about.

"Hi Bucky!" She smiled, her pacifier tumbling out of her mouth and onto the ground.

"Hi." He sat down across from her, quickly pocketing the fallen pacifier before sought out the, now, dirty thing. "What are you playing?" His hands brushed a stuffed teddy, Y/n tilting her head in confusion as she looked around her.

"'m just dressen 'm up." She smiled at him, grabbing a stuffed unicorn and brushing it's fur back into place, shuffling closer to Bucky as she gathered a few other stuffed animals.

The moment her knees hit his she shifted back, so Bucky shifted his towards her again. Like clockwork she moved and left a small gap between them. "Y/n?"

"Mhm." She looked back at him, her smile one he could easily read through.

"Am I scary?" He asked calmly, not once loosing eye contact as she shook her head 'no'. "Do I smell?" He asked, this time with a laugh.

"No!" She giggled.

"Then why do you run every time I touch you." Instead of answering she bowed her head, hands running over the stuffed animal anxiously. "Why don't you hug Wanda or Peter?" He was worried that all the questions would make her want to run, but as she huffed and leaned into his space slightly he continued. "I know Thor was pretty sad when you declined his hug the other day." That one wasn't a lie, the man had gone on a rant about how he thought he had done something wrong, how he was sure Y/n hated him.

"I jus', I don' want them t' be mad." She admitted, huffing at the end of her sentence. "'m jus', 'm heavy, an' squishy. Wanda and Pete aren't heavy an' squishy." She admitted, eyes locked on the wall, the stuffed unicorn held a little closer to her body.

"What do you mean Baby?" Bucky asked, confused as to what she was alluding to.

"It's harder t' pick me up." She finally looked back at him, tears beginning to gather along her waterline. "And cuddling wif me wouldn' be th' same." She shrugged, trying to play it off like she wasn't bothered by her own words.

The tightness in Bucky's chest didn't ease up with his answer, his worry only growing. He had hoped it was an easy thing to fix, yet knowing Y/n didn't hug her friends, or him, because she felt too big made him hurt. "Baby," He began, not giving Y/n a second to doubt him, he picked her up and sat her in his lap. "you aren't 'too heavy' to pick up." He hated how quickly she curled into his chest, how clear it was that she was missing human connection. "I'm the strongest man alive, and you saying that you're too heavy is going to bruise my ego a bit, Baby." They both laughed, a few of Y/n's tears hitting the fabric of Bucky's shirt.

"I thought Steve was th' strongest man alive?"

"I let him win when we arm wrestle." Bucky admitted, causing Y/n to break out into a fit of giggles.

"'m gonna tell him!" She stood up, bolting for the door.

"Oh no you don't!" Bucky ran after her, lifting her off her feet in the middle of the hallway, Y/n pausing with a gasp, bracing for the two of them to fall, yet laughing along with Bucky as jostled her around, threatening to take her new colouring page off the fridge if she told anyone his secret.

After a pinky promise and some juice Y/n began to trust Bucky a little bit more. She let him pick her up at the playground, and gave him a hug before bed every night. She still worried her hugs were 'bad', that maybe no one would want to hug her because she wasn't 'little' but Bucky never once complained, instead asking for hugs in the morning too.

It took her a while to truly trust that Bucky wasn't lying when he said his back didn't hurt after picking her up, but eventually she became comfortable enough to run and jump into his arms, something she had always dreamed of doing.

It wasn't until a month later that Bucky woke up at 4 am to the sound of Y/n's hurried footsteps rushing to his door. Light creeping in from the opened door she didn't close as she ran to his bed. The sound of soft cries and whispers of "Nightmare" filling the usually quiet space.

Instead of letting her think too much about how she 'should' be cuddling, Bucky just scooped her up and tucked her into his bed, letting her know he'd protect her, and her stuffed animal. He liked having her in his room, it made him feel at ease knowing she was close.

After a few months of staying in Bucky's room, Y/n began to get out of her shell a bit more, hugging Wanda and Peter, and eventually accepting Thor's 'healing' hugs. She finally joined in during the weekly cuddle puddle, laughing along side Nat and her friends as they all got cozy on the couch. And for the first time ever she let someone else, the second strongest man alive, Steve Rogers pick her up. A pride filled movement the man would never forget.

Even though it took her a little longer than everyone else to be comfortable hugging and snuggling, she was happy to finally be apart of the group in ways she wasn't before. Bucky, the man who still often stayed in the shadows, helping from a distance, couldn't help but feel a little lighter every time he saw his girl get over her worries, knowing if anything got to be 'too much' she'd come running to him.

[lostinlovingrevery]

He's Definitely Obsessed With You (Series)

Origins! Logan X Fem!Reader

Plot: You're an army nurse, deep in the trenches of the Vietnam jungles, doing everything you can to keep yourself together, and the infantry that come into your tent. One day a soldier you aren't familiar with is brought in, and you find out something about him that leads to the start of an important relationship between you both that changes the course of your lives together...

A/N: This is basically the plot of Origins, but with my own spin on it with a Fem!Reader! This is my first time EVER writing an X reader, so comments appreciate! I plan to make this a series, but I wanted to put out a prologue first. Okay, it's not really a prologue and more like a chapter, and ended up being super long because I started writing and then didn't stop, and prologues are short- but IT'S MY STORY AND I'LL CREATE MY OWN RULES. The prologue is just how reader and Logan meet! (PS, there's eventual smut...Soon as I figure out how write it without getting embarrassed) Also, I'm still figuring out how to format on Tumblr, so please don't mind any funky design choices. Probably spelling and grammar mistakes somewhere in there

Warnings: Reader POV only (for now) Reader is female, also an army nurse, also a mutant- but powers aren't specified, blood mention, medical stuff talked about (like amputations), injury descriptions, Vietnam war and slight politics mention, probably a lot of historical inaccuracies i just googled things but I tried! implied reader could be religious but honestly there's nothing concrete to that. The only description of reader is her clothes and that she has hair, and wears makeup (lipstick). Reader has a hard on over Logan (she has a cruuuush), let me know if there's anything I missed!

Word Count: 4753

Series Masterlist

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Prologue:

Rain rapped lightly along the top of the large tent, creating a soothing sound throughout. A radio, playing an american music station, played a rock song, of some new band slowly making a name for itself, sat nearby on a metal cabinet. Stacks of manila folders and papers were disorganized and spread, almost completely covering a desk. A clock ticks rhythmically. The tent was lined with cots, tables, ratty mattresses, IV stands, and small tables covered with empty food trays, water canisters, and paper cups filled pills. Some of the beds were taken up by injured men, snoring and groaning as they attempted to sleep, only slightly more comfortable here in the medical tent than out in the muddy, rainy trenches. It was monsoon season in Vietnam, and you were at your wits end with paperwork in the middle of a small but-not-that-small camp, set up not far from an American fire support base.

You were sitting at the desk, half asleep as you attempted to fill out another request form for medical supplies. Halothane, Methoxyflurane, Morphine, Penicillin - are common medicines that you find yourself constantly having to restock. Of course bandages, gloves, needles, saline, tubing, multiple surgical supplies, other things you find yourself low on often too, considering the amount of amputations, large and minor, that happen around here. The medical tent that you currently reside in was a revolving door of soldiers, both American and Vietnamese, as well as nearby villagers who come for aid after the American presence near their homes led to viruses they can’t combat on their own, or other unfortunate injuries if war breaks out in their village. 

You were simply an army nurse, this was not your usual duty to perform, it was normally left to the assigned doctor of the camp. Your job was to assist the doctor, take care of the patients, administer medicine, IVs, change bandages, wet baths, feed them, and hold their hands as they cry for their momma and to God. You were busy enough, and the doctor, Doctor Frank Jones, who you were assisting had got shot by a stray bullet when out in the jungle, and had to be taken back to the main base, and back to the States. Due to a communication failure, his replacement ended up somewhere else, and transportation wasn’t an option due to the fighting happening.

 Fortunately, Doctor Jones had seen potential in you and believed you would be an excellent doctor one day - something you wanted to pursue after your service was fulfilled. He became a mentor, helping you study and learn medicine, and giving you skills that an average nurse- even an army nurse- wouldn’t usually have. Now, it was just up to you, and a few young army medics - teenage boys who were given no choice in going to war, and their skills were found best in assisting injuries on the battlefield, but they were eager to help, and their light-hearted jokes and company helped relieve some stress for you, especially with the pain you watch day in and out. You didn’t always have the luxury of their help though, as when patrols went out, they required at least one of them to join. It leads you to have to order around other grunts who have no idea how to even measure the proper dosage of cough syrup for themselves whenever a serious injury comes in, having to give detailed orders on what to do- usually just getting you the supplies and medicine you need, as the grunts are typically too distracted and upset over their fallen brother to assist you in anything medical and complicated. 

With being the only medical authority in the camp- as well as the only woman- you were well respected and popular. Your compassionate personality, and comforting presence, as well as your “Take-no-shit” attitude, led to soldiers of this camp visiting you all the time, usually making up excuses like having a cough, or a splinter in their finger, just so they could have the pleasure of your smile and encouraging words. The CO here made sure that they all treated you with respect, as a woman- and a nurse, so you never once felt unsafe- or unappreciated. Besides, a good section of this camp is young boys, too nervous about their situation to worry about trying to flirt with a woman like you. You're more of a comfort figure in these parts than anything else. Despite the stress and worry you face in day to day life, in the middle of the war, you were just happy to be doing something. You weren’t exactly a supporter of this war, but the moment you saw young boys lining up to go to war, something in you made you fiercely determined to follow, and do whatever you can to make sure those boys can go back home to their mothers and fathers.

The Rolling Stones was now playing on the radio, this was a band you were more familiar with - one of your favorites. Your foot tapped to the beat of the song, as you checked off another item you needed to be stocked up on- and hoped the supply chain doesn’t hold out on you again. For some reason, they seemed convinced that you must surely be lying about the supplies and will not send you the full amount of what you requested, leading you to storm into the CO’s tent on more than one occasion and rant to him with a few unsavory words about the supply lines commander.  He always listens though, and does his best to get you what you can- which you can appreciate. 

“Hey turn that up-” You heard one of the patients call out, and she smiles, reaching to the radio and turning the volume higher. She looked up from the desk to see one patient in bed moving his foot with the beat of the song, and the other, who asked her to turn it up, raised his arm in the air, hand in a fist as he rocked with the song. “This is a good one, hadn’t heard this one yet.”

“It came out in 65’ dumbass.” the other called out. “How’d you not know it?”

“I’ve been here since 64’ asshole! Think we always had access to a radio?”

They all chided each other, making you laugh as you shake your head, turning back towards your paperwork, determined to finish it today so you can send it out. It was rare you get these moments of quiet, so you appreciated it when you could. Things could turn on a dime in a second, especially since the fighting was getting closer to where this camp was set, and you’re hoping that you would get some help before anything serious came. You were just starting to get absorbed in the letter you were writing to the CO of the supply line, something slightly passive aggressive, when one of the soldiers yelled to you from outside. 

“Hey! Nurse! There’s some guys coming this way! They got someone injured-” 

You looked up, dropping your pencil, and turning the radio down as you readied yourself, brushing the pants of your army fatigues to straighten it out, and rolling your sleeves farther up your arms. You watched as the flaps of the tent get pulled open, as two men carry someone resting on a cot. You didn’t like how quiet the man was being.

“In here-” You lead them to another section of the medical tent, ment solely for treating wounded, in an attempt to keep something sterile and clean- well, as clean as you can get it. The soldiers set the man onto the table that sat in the center of the room, small trays and medical supplies, as well as a large overhead lamp that provided lighting to give you a better view at what you’re working on, surrounded the table. 

“We got ambushed on patrol, fortunately he’s the only one that got hit, a VC jumped out of the grass and stabbed him. We got pressure on the wound, and he’s still alive- for now.” 

You nodded as you went to a basin to pull on some sterile gloves, and walked over to examine the soldier. He was handsome- you couldn’t help but noticed but quickly put that out of your mind. A full head of deep beautiful brown hair, and a thick beard framed his face. He looked older, possibly in his mid 30’s. A sheen of sweat covered his skin, as his teeth were gritted and eyes cinched shut in pain. A wave of sorrow hit you, as you never liked seeing people in pain, it hits you bad enough to wonder why you chose to go into the medical profession of all things. Nevertheless, you push through, and began working on removing the uniform so you can see if you can save this one. At least he wasn’t screaming.

“Whats his name?”

“Logan ma’am. He’s Private First Class.”  The private responds, voice professional, but quickly drops into something softer. “He’s a good guy, and smart, usually quick on his feet, its surprising someone ambushed him…” 

“Need any help ma’am?” The other private who brought him in ask.

“No, I got it, thank you.” You tell them as you grab some sheers and began cutting through Logan's army garments. “Just make sure others are alright. See if any of the boys out there need water.”

They nodded, saluting- leading you to roll your eyes- and left your section of the tent, just as you manage to cut off the white wife beater he was sporting underneath his army garments, giving you a complete view of where he had been stabbed. You breathed a small sigh of relief, the wound appeared in the part of the torso where nothing vital was located and you managed to roll him to his side- seeing the stabbing didn’t go straight through, meaning this guy had a good chance of surviving, assuming he doesn’t succumb to infection…

“Alright Logan,” You turned you head to look at the man, who was still tense, eyes squeezed shut. He was somewhat awake, with his breathing and the way his muscles contracted, but he didn’t seem to be aware of what was going on, you still felt it important to talk to whoever you were treating though. You had to hold the hands of many scared soldiers, and quickly have learned the right things to say when comforting. “I’m going to take care of you, and in return, you’re going to need to be strong for me here.” You say softly but firmly to him, hoping that he’s hearing you through the pain, as you went and quickly grabbed a wet cloth out of a basin nearby, squeezing out the excess water, and gently placing it over his forehead, in order to soak up some sweat, and provide some more comfort to cool his skin that seemed to be burning hot. You couldn’t help but note that you don’t recognize him- you wouldn’t have forgotten his face that’s for damn sure, if he’d ever came to visit you, which most privates in this camp has at one time or another. You shook the curiosity out of your head, you had to move quickly, fighting the urge to wanting to take in the details of his face- his very handsome face, and moved to focus back onto the wound on his torso. 

You started by slowly removing the packed bandages, examining the blood flow to make sure nothing gushed, but he really wasn’t bleeding much anymore- actually, it didn’t look like he was bleeding at all now. Confused, you began cleaning the area of the stab wound so you could get a clear view of what you were looking at. At first, you thought you were losing your mind, you had to been because what you were seeing…

It was as if the skin was growing back, the wound, going inwards seemed to almost pop out, before the skin stitched together, going through what the bodys usual healing process would look like- except doing it within a matter of seconds. Turning from a bright red inflamed wound, into a baby pink scar bump that slowly faded off, you couldn’t even tell anything had happen there- except from the blood stained around it. You were blinking in disbelief, mouth slightly agape, before it suddenly occurred to you what you were just seeing.

Oh

Oh shit-

He’s a mutant.

You looked at the man, who’s muscles seemed to be relaxing now, as he took deeper breaths, the sweat on his face began to dry and disappear. You weren’t sure what to do at this point, you’re so used to every minute counting to fix someone, and this guy just healed himself in seconds!

And by god, he was so handsome. You thought that already, got to stop thinking about that. Turning away from his face, you went to examine where the stab wound used to be, gloved fingers gently pressing on the area- before the soldier- Logan, practically yelped- and sat up rushed on the table, startling you even more so than him, as you jumped back, hands in the air in surrender- as if you did anything wrong.

He was panting, the cold wet cloth you had placed on his forehead fell into his lap, as he looked around with wide eyes, pupils dilated, his nostrils flaring, he almost looked animal-like in this state. He turned to look at you. His eyes took you in, and suddenly you felt embarrassed by your army clothes you were sporting, green cargo pants, and a green collared button up shirt, tucked into your pants, making you feel less than girlish in them, despite their comfortability, your forehead was covered in sweat, and your hair pulled back in a bun neat bun with baby hairs sticking out everywhere. At least you had lipstick on to give yourself a little bit of a pop in your plain looking outfit. That should be the last thing you should be worried about. 

“You’re okay-” You finally found your voice, holding your hands out to him, “You got ambushed, but you’re okay now.” 

He blinked, then let out a small sigh, his whole self seeming to relax, his expression turned more human-like, as he faced forward, then looked down at himself. His hand went over where he had been hurt- seeing that there was no longer any injury there, although something in his expression told you he could still feel it. He swallowed, jaw tensing, before realization struck him, and his head snapped to look at you. 

“You saw- You know, don’t you?” He asks, his voice was deep, but sounded a little dry and scratchy. Still, it was enough to make your knees weak. 

You turned, going to a cabinet that held medicines and various other supplies, but on the counter was a pitcher of water and a few glass cups. Pulling off your gloves, you poured a cup from the pitcher, turning back and handing it to him. 

“Yeah. I saw.” You say cooly, holding it out for him to take. He looked at you, his deep and should you think gorgeous hazel eyes felt like they were piercing your soul; as if he was trying to decipher what was going on in your head, which you wish you knew as well because his stare was making your brain fuzzy; then glanced at the cup and finally took it from your hand, your fingers brushing together, making your heartbeat just a little faster, and you could feel a small heat blooming in your cheeks.

Jesus christ, pull yourself together 

You thought to yourself. You cleared your throat while he took several swigs of water, dropping his hand with the cup to his side as he took a moment to breathe once more. 

“Got anything stronger?” He asks, his low and smoother now, quirking a brow at you. You smiled, 

“Sorry, anything alcoholic you may want to drink in here, I gotta save for the guys who can’t heal themselves within minutes.” You say teasingly. “Supplies are low enough already.” 

You could see a small quirk of his lips, in something resembling a smile. He was still tense though, his eyes seemed to be somewhere else. He looked at you again,

“Does it…scare you? Me being a mutant?” He asks, his voice low

“Um….No?” You responded, confusion on your face, a small shake of your head, “Why would it?” 

He seemed relieved- and surprised by that answer, his shoulders finally relaxing, and he took another drink of water, eyes closing as he finished the cup, and handed it back to you, where you set it back on the counter. Wiping his mouth with his arm, he sat up more confidently, bending his leg as he brought his knee up to his chest, and propped his forearm over it, and leaned back on his other hand, taking a few deep breaths as he lowered his head down, then looked back up at you, his expression suddenly stern.

“You gonna tell them?” He asks. You knew he was referring to the army. Mutants weren’t well accepted in the world- much less the US army. The American government is actually sitting comfortably in the capital and writing out bullshit laws on mutant regulations, rather than trying to figure out a solution for the war here in Vietnam. You, a mutant yourself, albeit your powers were easy to hide and conceal, you still feared of a day that someone somehow discovers your secret. You’ve heard stories of American soldiers revealed to be mutants being killed, due to some bullshit excuse that they “lied” about who they were, and couldn’t be trusted. Whether those stories were true or fearmongering to keep mutants hiding their true identities, you didn’t know, but you certainly weren’t gonna find out yourself. You definitely wouldn’t put another fellow mutant, just trying to survive like you, in any sort of danger like that, even if he could probably just heal if he got put in front of a firing squad.

You pursed your lips together. Then smiled. “No. I’ll keep your secret.” You say. “All it means to me is that I have one less person to worry about around here. I was actually wondering why I hadn’t seen your face in this tent yet before, and now I know why.” 

He softened at that, but his face quickly fell back into something more serious and stern once more, which you’re starting to think might be his baseline. 

“You okay?” You asked, your voice was soft, and sweet, and borderline angelic for a man like him, who’s been in wars almost his entire life- which you don’t know about that. “That probably didn’t feel good, what happened.” He nodded. 

“M’ fine….Thank you.” He grumbles lowly, looking down at his hands. “I heard about you- actually I-I seen you around. You’re the only nurse on camp?” He asked, looking back up at you, there seemed to be a bit of curiosity in his voice. 

“Yeah. I’m pretty popular.” You say, in a teasing voice, blushing at the thought that he’s noticed you. Which shouldn’t be a surprise, you are quite literally the only woman around, save for the women in the village not far from here.  

“Must be busy.”

“Oh… Nah-” You playfully wave him off. “Some days are so slow, I’m actually bored.” You say matter-of-factly, but you both knew you were kidding. Another quirk of his lips. You smiled softly at him, but there was a voice in your head telling you, that since he doesn’t need your help, you should probably get back to helping the ones who do. Not that you want to leave, he was so damn handsome, you could stare at him all day. It wasn’t just his good looks though, his whole self drew you in with just a few words, and you find yourself wanting to get to know Logan, because the look in his eyes told you that he was someone worth knowing. Or maybe that was just your hormones talking. There was just this energy between you both, some type of unseen connection. His eyes trailed down you again, this time fully taking you in, stopping at your chest, and for a moment you were about to be completely turned off by this man being a pervert, but he nodded towards it. 

“Your necklace?” He asked. You looked down, oh, you thought to yourself. You pulled the string of your necklace, lifting the small coin that it held, string carefully wrapped around it so it doesn’t fall off.

“It’s a prayer coin. A priest gave it to me.” You explained. “It’s the archangel Raphael. A protector, patron saint of medical workers, like doctors, nurses.”

“Like you?” 

You nodded. He examined it, before you tucked it back under your shirt. You usually keep it hidden, but it must have fallen out while you were rushing. Now it was silent again, and you both weren’t sure what to do or say. 

“Well….” You took a breath, you glanced down at his abdomen, and suddenly your brows creased in concentration. 

“What?” He asked, by your sudden change in demeanor. 

“You can’t exactly walk out with no injury. Those two privates were pretty worried about you.” You say, putting your hands on your hips and pursing your lips together. You clicked your tongue.

“I can figure something out-”

“No no-” You held your hand up and looking around the room. “Those privates brought you in, there’s probably an incident report written right now, not to mention I have to write a report on your injuries too-” you explained. “I mean, how are you gonna explain it if you walk out, completely A-okay?”

Logan shrugged simply. “I can think of something, it isn’t the first time this happened.” You rolled your eyes. Men. 

You rather not waste bandages on a pretend injury, but you need someway to get his injury to look believeable, thats when you spotted your answer. His white tank top that you had drop to the floor, it was good enough to wrap around him, making him look as if he’s been all fixed up from his stab wound. The shirts cotton texture looked similar to the pattern of a bandage, and was good enough, especially considering no one would be looking hard enough at his wound anyway.

After a few minutes of “fixing him up” with your solution to keep his regenerative abilities a secret, you stood back examining the fake bandage/shirt that you tore up and wrapped around his torso, using bandage pins to hold it in place. Then shrugged. 

“It’s good enough.” You say. “You’re not going anywhere anyway, so it’s not like you’ll raise a bunch of questions. It looks like you have an injury, it’ll match the incident and medical report. You won’t get found out.”

“I’m not going anywhere?” He raised a brow. 

“Nope. You were injured, which means I gotta keep an eye on you. So you’ll be sleeping here, and you’ll have to pretend you’re in pain, whining and moaning and all that. Give it your best performance.” You encourage. “Take it, not many around here get a chance to get a break like that.” 

He looked at you, pondering what you were offering him- well, you weren’t offering, he was going to have do it because you weren’t gonna risk him revealing himself as a mutant, which for some reason you were now more concerned about than he was. A small smirk appeared on his face, “That mean you’ll be waiting on me then, hand and foot?”

You smiled, “Don’t get ahead of yourself soldier.” You say teasingly. “You can stay in here a little longer, rest up, maybe shed some tears to make it look like you’re suffering tremendously.” You added a little flair as you brought your hand up to your forehead, pretending to faint, before turning and walking away to leave the room, now knowing you really needed to get back to work.

“I don’t think I need to shed any tears.” He mutters, but there was amusement in his tone though. “Hey bub” He called after you as you were about to leave the room, lifting the tent flap, but you stopped to look at him. “Why are you seen keen on helping me out? Making a plan to make sure people don’t find out what I am…Seems like too much trouble to go through for you.” He frowned. 

“Well…” You dropped the flap of the tent, “Us mutants gotta stick together, right?” Logan looked surprised at first, eyes widening a bit, and jaw slacking, but then a soft, genuine smile stretched across his face, the corners of his eyes crinkling, leaving you thinking that was a smile you never wanted to go without again. Smiling back at him, you winked, and turned back before stopping and looking at him again, “Plus, you seem worth the trouble.” You add, before finally leaving him to himself.

Maybe it was too much trouble. You could leave Logan to figure it out himself. You two didn’t know each other, you weren’t friends. Yet you, the compassionate self you are, and also slightly bull-headed, was not going to leave Logan hanging alone. Maybe it was the fact that you were both mutants that urged you to help him, let him know that someone like him out there has his back, even if he had many brothers at his side watching his back too. Or maybe it was because you felt an undeniable pull towards him- and him towards you. 

While he stayed in the medical tent with you for about a week, the standard time for stitches to stay in. While staying, you both got to know each other better. You found a deep friendship with Logan quickly, both of you having an understanding of each other, not just as mutants but as individuals as well. You were able to laugh, usually at his snarky remarks to the other privates and even his comments to the higher-ups, surprising you in how he likes to occasionally challenge authority despite how quiet and reflective he can be some moments. You saw him as brave, smart, and he was protective, always going first in patrols, and keeping an eye on the younger privates. He’d hid it well, rarely making it seen, but he had a compassion that made your heart swell, especially when you came across him comforting a young private who was homesick and scared. He had a good instinct that seems to attest to his mutation- which he later revealed the full aspects of it to you later on, claws and everything- which did nothing but fascinate you, leading to a full acceptance of him he hadn’t felt or seen in a long time. He’d visit you in late nights when he wasn’t assigned guard patrol, bringing you something to eat or drink, and you’d both quietly talk about your lives, and how’d you ended up there. He listened to you complain about the lack of supplies, and how you got into medicine in the first place. You’d learn of his brother Victor- another Private First Class there at the camp, who you quickly learned a distaste for after meeting him, and how old they both really were- leading you to bombard him with history questions, that he simply answered “I wasn’t there bub.” There was an unspoken yet mutual physical and spiritual attraction between you both, but before anything could have gone further in your relationship, down in the thick muddy jungles of Vietnam, you suffered a similar fate as your mentor Doctor Jones. A stray bullet having shot through your shoulder while you were out, attempting to help a young private who’s leg unfortunately got caught in a dirt trap. You were okay, but orders sent you home on a medical discharge, saying you fulfilled your duty to the States. 

You missed Logan, and you also found yourself struggling to find your place back in civilian life again, the stress and the trauma of the things you saw weighed heavy in your mind, not to mention the worry you felt over Logan's safety while he was still over there. The only thing easing your worries was the letters you wrote to each other, until one day his letters stopped coming, and your own got returned back to you with no explanation, leaving you in fear of the worst….

[fear-is-truth]

void. ── patrick bateman x reader

⟢ WARNINGS: fantasying about violence, sex & murder ・ foul language・sexism・ reader discretion is advised .ᐟ

⟢ TAGS: bateman’s pov・fem!secretary!reader ・“y/n” used i’m so sorry

⟢ WORD COUNT: 1,875

a/n: english is not my first language, but i loved the book & movie sm (might write a part two.)

VOID

I flip through the pages of GQ, my attention divided between an article on the season’s latest must-have suits and the image that keeps surfacing in my mind.

Paul Allen’s assistant. She started working here a few weeks ago, and ever since, I can’t seem to get her out of my head. It’s irritating as hell. She’s not like the women I usually deal with—clones of one another, in varying shades of blonde. This new girl is different.

It’s not like she’s anything special—at least not in the usual sense. I remember watching her, studying the way she fumbles with a stack of papers, fingers trembling slightly. I wonder how they’d feel like wrapped around my cock.

She’s not like the others. Not like Evelyn, with her relentless neediness, or even Jean, who’s dependable but she is, well, Jean. Reliable, dependable, and utterly forgettable.. y/n—there’s something about her that feels different. Unspoiled. Innocent in a way that’s almost laughable in this city, like a virgin lamb wandering into a den of wolves, completely unaware of the danger that surrounds her. And it makes me want to ruin her.

It’s intriguing. It’s also fucking annoying.

I toss the magazine aside, the pages crumpling as they hit the sleek surface of the desk. My eyes drift to the window, where I can see the city stretching out below, a concrete jungle full of meaningless, vapid people.

My reflection stares back at me from the mirrored wall, and I adjust the knot of my Charvet tie, admiring how it complements my gray wool suit by Cerruti 1881. Everything is meticulously in place: my Valentino loafers shine under the soft glow of the overhead lights, and my skin is flawless, practically glowing from the morning routine of an intense workout and the application of a moisturising mask from Jean Paul Gaultier. I run a hand through my slicked-back hair, appreciating the perfection I’ve crafted.

I feel a pang of something—sadness? Anger? No, it’s more like emptiness. A void that no amount of money, no designer suit, no fucking (and later slaughtering) prostitutes can fill. I’ve been feeling it more often lately, especially when I’m alone with my secretary who’s in love with me. She’s always there, always willing to please, but she doesn’t challenge me. She doesn’t excite me. She’s just… there. I pity her, in a way, though I doubt she even realises it.

“Van Patten,” I reply coolly, leaning back in my chair. I feel the leather creak beneath me, a sound that irritates me more than it should.

“Going to Harry’s Bar later?” he asks, stepping inside without waiting for an invitation. Typical. I stare at him, considering the offer. Harry’s is fine, but the thought of spending the evening listening to these idiots prattle on about which bar serves the coldest martinis or which girl they’re planning to fuck next, makes me want to drive a nail through my skull. Still, there’s a game to be played.

“No,” I say finally, my voice flat. “I have plans.”

Van Patten shrugs, clearly not giving a shit, and turns to leave. But then he stops, his gaze shifting to the hallway behind him. I follow his eyes, and there she is—her, holding a stack of files that looks too heavy for her.

“Oh, by the way, have you seen Allen’s new assistant? McDermott’s been talking about wanting to fuck her her non-stop. I’d like to fuck that pretty little thing too.”

I don’t react outwardly, but inside, I feel a flicker of something—anger, perhaps. Not for her, but for myself. For the fact that I’m letting this get to me. Because I too want to fuck her. “McDermott’s an idiot,” I say coolly, eyes narrowing slightly. “She’s not his type.”

He snorts. “She’s not anyone’s type. Too shy, too pure. She looks like she’d freak out if you even touched her. You know how some guys love that innocent act. Wouldn’t last a day with someone like Bryce or Preston. They’d eat her alive.”

“Get out, Van Patten,”

My thoughts drift to Allen’s last dinner reservation—Dorsia, of course. Bastard. I can’t even get a table there without months of planning, but Paul Allen—stupid, oblivious Paul Allen—walks in like it’s nothing. It makes me want to crush him, to take everything from him. Including her.

Once he’s gone, I stand up and adjust my suit jacket, smoothing out non-existent wrinkles. I step out of my office, my eyes scanning the hallway until I find her.

She is standing near the copier, a stack of files in her arms, her head tilted slightly as she tries to figure out the machine. She isn’t flaunting anything, and yet, she still manages to catch my eye. The black dress she’s wearing is Donna Karan, I’m almost sure, though the cut is a bit too conservative for my taste. It clings to her figure, revealing just enough to pique my interest but not enough to satisfy it. Her shoes, I note with some disappointment, are Manolo Blahnik. Not quite as stylish as something from, say, Azzedine Alaïa— not predictable choice, though not without merit. The impression of someone trying to fit into a world she doesn’t fully understand. Cute.

“y/n,” I say, my voice cutting through the hum of the copier. She jumps slightly, looking up with wide eyes that are both fearful and curious. Interesting.

“Mr. Bateman,” There’s no coyness in her voice, no flirtation. Just that same goddamn innocence. My mind wanders, imagining what it would be like to run a blade across her soft, supple flesh and watch the light fade from those innocent eyes Her skin parting under the sharp edge of a knife, the warmth of her blood spilling out, the sound she would make. But as quickly as the thought comes, it dissipates, leaving me with a hollow emptiness that I can’t quite explain. It’s a thought that would normally excite me, but with her, it feels… wrong. Unnecessary. Maybe even wasteful.

I realise I don’t really want to hurt her. At least not in the way I’ve hurt others. Quite unsettling, I feel… disappointed in myself, as if I’m losing my edge.

“Call me Patrick, or Pat.”

I correct, though I don’t know why. I’ve never cared about what people call me before. I glance down at the papers she’s holding.

“Your boss is not in yet?” I ask, knowing full well he isn’t.

“No, he’s not,” her voice is breathless, carrying a slight tremor—I wonder how my name would sound on her tongue when I’m fucking her. I also wonder what sounds she’d make. Soft kittenish noises, maybe. Doesn’t seem like the type to spew profanity, but one can really tell.

“I’m just trying to get these copies done before he arrives.”

I nod, pretending to care.

“He’s lucky to have an assistant like you,”

A blush spreads across her cheeks, and she stammers out an thank-you, though I barely register it. My focus shifts to the gold chain around her neck—Tiffany. Cheap, sentimental. It doesn't belong here, but it suits her somehow, in that unsophisticated way.

“Though, if I were you, I’d be careful. He’s not exactly known for his discretion.”

“I’m…sorry?”

I smile, she’s taken the bait. “Paul’s habits aren’t exactly… discreet. Let’s just say he’s not very particular about who he spends his nights with. Or what he picks up from them.”

She blinks, the implication sinking in, and I see a flash of something in her eyes—concern, maybe disgust. Good. Let her think about that. It’s too easy to manipulate her, to plant seeds of doubt in that pretty little head of hers. I flash her a smile, one I’ve perfected over years of dealing with people who are far beneath me.

“I’m sure you’ve heard the rumors,” I continue casually, “about what’s going around these days. AIDS is a nasty business. You can never be too careful.”

“But don’t worry,” I add quickly, my tone lighter. “You seem like someone who’s smart enough to avoid trouble.”

She doesn’t respond, just nods slightly, still processing what I’ve said. I can see the effect my words have had on her.

“Did you know,” I say, shifting to something more conversational, “that Ted Bundy once worked at a crisis hotline? Spent his days talking people out of killing themselves. Ironic, isn’t it?”

I don’t expect her to catch the reference—most people don’t. It’s just another way to distance myself from them, to prove my superiority. But then, she surprises me.

“Yes, I read about that,” she says quietly, looking up at me with a mixture of curiosity and something else—understanding, perhaps?

“It’s strange, how someone can seem so… normal, but be so twisted underneath the mask of sanity.”

I pause, taken aback by her response. She got it. She actually understood. For a moment, I feel a flicker of something—something almost like respect. But it’s very fleeting, quickly replaced by the familiar emptiness.

“Exactly,” I reply, my voice smooth as glass. “People are rarely what they seem.”

There’s a brief silence, and I let it linger, watching her as she processes our exchange. I’ve rattled her, but I’ve also piqued her interest. It’s a dangerous combination, one that I’ll need to manage carefully. But I’m feeling bold.

“By the way,” I continue, “I was planning on having dinner at Dorsia tonight. Why don’t you join me?”

She looks up at me, confused, unsure, and I feel a twinge of satisfaction. She’s still trying to figure me out, to understand what I want. It’s amusing, really, how little she knows.

“I don’t know, Mr. Bate– Patrick,” she says, her voice faltering. Her innocence, her reluctance—it’s intoxicating like pure, uncut cocaine.

I smile again, this time more warmly, but it’s just a mask. “Come on, doll. It’s just dinner. Besides, it’s not like your boss will miss you for one night.”

“Okay,” she agrees quietly. There’s that softness in her voice again, that genuine gratitude that I don’t understand.

“Excellent,” I say, satisfied. I turn to leave, but not before giving her one last look. She’s already turned back to the copier, but I know that she’s not thinking about the papers anymore.

She makes me feel… something, though I’m not sure what. It’s frustrating, maddening even. But it also gives me hope. Maybe she’s the key to filling that void. Or maybe she’ll be another disappointment, like the rest. But tonight, at least, she’ll be mine to toy with.

Hopefully that will be enough to stave off the void for a little while longer.

read part ll here

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