#i know that i'm apparently taller than you

[allylikethecat]

You know what’s so funny? that picture of Matty & Adam, Matty looks so short. granted I’m not tall, but when I met him I was like oh! You are not a little nugget like I assumed! he’s like at least 5’9” & I am 5’0”. I met George at the same time though & I was like YOU ARE BIG HOT MAN. I didn’t say that but I thought it.

AHAHAHA I love it! I know we make fun of Matty for being tiny (and he does look tiny compared to the rest of the guys) but as someone who stands five foot four on a good day.... I totally get it like he is a lot taller than me as well 😂 i've never met any of them but if it makes you feel better... I met Bo Burnham once and literally, looked up at him and went "Fuck you're tall," and he instantly responded "fuck you're short," then was like "wait I'm sorry" and I was just so thrilled that Bo Burnham called me short I didn't even care 😂

Thank you SO MUCH for taking the time to send this ask!! I hope you're having a wonderful Thursday and a great rest of your week! It's almost Friday!!!

❤️Ally

[smol-tired-binch-blog]

Reading 'x reader' fic whilst picturing my proxy OC is so funny. "He towered over you" no he didn't

[lovegasmic]

 THE BEAST

⋆ wriothesley + fem!reader

( girl u in jail what did you doooo? /j it's not mentioned you probably stole a fonta idk )

⋆ mdni. heat cycles, knotting, praising, he fucks u hard rip that pussy. pet names: good girl, baby. reposting the fic I'm most proud of.

"you shouldn't be here"

"if you hate me that bad then…"

there's a chuckle resonating through the walls, metal rings around fingerless gloves clicking against the metal railing as the Duke makes his way down the stairs and next to you.

still at your side the man was a couple inches taller than yourself, bringing a slight feeling of nervousness around your body, or perhaps it was a natural response to the 'tiny' crush you had on him.

"your imprisonment is over, you're free to leave this place" Wriothesley mentions, arms crossed, eyebrows furrowing with a hint of scolding in his words to which you only shrug in return.

"i like to help Sigewinne in the infirmary" that wasn't a complete lie, but part of the reason for your continuous presence in such a place was due to the dark haired man currently standing next to you, whose presence was enough to get your knees weak and heart pumping wildly.

"mhm, I don't believe you" he mentions dully, fingers rubbing on the bridge of his nose yet his lips held a small smile on them, "I just wanted you to know I'll be out for a couple of days, a week at max"

"what?" you let out a high pitched sound, even though his erratic schedule wasn't news for anyone around, a week was far longer than any of his other absences.

"don't worry, Clorinde will drop by to check everything is in order" you stiff a huff, if anything, you weren't to admit the prison was the least of your worries.

"take care" was the only thing you managed to say. his hand felt heavy on your shoulder once he replied with a soft "you too"

a day passed and you already felt as if your 'not' lover left for war. the fortress remained the same as well as your usual activities at the infirmary, but the emptiness Wriothesley left alongside the usual meetings for tea and having lunch at the cafeteria started to burden.

but, on the other hand, a sense of pride bloomed in your chest since many of the guards went to find you and ask for advice regarding the fortress, quoting to their own sentences, you were the one his grace trusted the most.

"I am very sorry to bother you miss" one of the man said, "but since the Duke is out and miss Clorinde is still left to come back we decided it will be the best if you knew beforehand" strange rumors started to raise ever since Wriothesley left, some kind of 'beast' was heard from one of the pipes, and even though many guards already searched for clues, nothing was found.

"it's fine" you sighed, "please warn everyone to stay away from that place, at least until this issue gets fixed.

"it will be alright" Sigewinne smiles your way, trying to get your nerves on check while bandaging a man's scratched forearm, a match just took place due to the sudden influx of injured men, luckily no one was in mortal danger, but it was enough to keep you busy until your work hour was over.

but you should have expected that what the guard mentioned earlier was to keep you awake all night, to drag you out of bed and sneak past whoever was on patrol duty that night.

the mentioned zone was clear, no guards or prisoners looking for a challenge with an unknown danger, but especially, no sound besides the occasional water drop hitting a puddle on the floor.

another thing was the cool and smooth metal panels covering the walls, where your fingers slid trying to find any clue, knuckles hitting the material and ear pressed to find any possible hollow area.

and for what it felt like an eternity later, you heard a soft growl from behind the wall, right where your ear was pressed against.

you gasped by consequence, failing to stiff the sound so whatever was on the other side didn't hear you.

apparently, it did, since the growling stopped completely at the same time your back turned to flee and warn anyone nearby, as soon as your foot took a step, a hand covered your mouth and dragged you into some kind of dim lighted room before the door closed right in front of you, it was rough and calloused, and you could've had recognized it in the spot if it weren't because of the fear surrounding your whole body and freezing you in place.

"calm down" a voice rasps in your ear, an incredible mix of emotions running through your body in just a couple of seconds, starting with confusion since you were certain that was Wriothesley 's voice, passing to worry as to why is he in such place and lastly, flustering at the feeling of something poking on your lower back, his arms and chest warm and bare against your body.

"Wriothesley…" you pant once his hand leaves your mouth, "what is going on?"

he exhales heavily, letting you free from his embrace way too quickly for your liking, but allowing your eyes to take in his scar covered chest, drops of sweat dripping down his forehead and dampening the dark fabric of his half buttoned pants, and oh… he was hard. painfully you might add with how his trousers seemed to be about to burst.

"I'm sorry, I should have told you sooner" he starts and you think it should be you apologizing for thinking lewdly of him, "but you have to go"

"what?"

"it's not safe for you to be here" the man grits his teeth, backing up until the back of his knees touch a bed you failed to notice before, sitting on it with no care while his hands are in fists, tight enough to turn his knuckles white.

the threatening growl from man makes you flinch slightly, yet that doesn't stop you from taking a step closer, bared teeth with a single fang peeking from his bottom lip that buries in the lower until a single bead of blood pops up.

"tell me what's going on" you whisper in a slightly demanding tone, your relationship was close enough to mess and joke around, but watching him in this situation, and that he was so hesitant to speak broke your heart.

"i—" he swallows hard when you're close enough to smell your scent, a brief and almost imperceptible hint of arousal clouding his brain and stealing a hiss against his will.

unaware of the situation, thinking Wriothesley is in serious pain, you decide to rest a hand at the top of his shoulder, a friendly motion he often did with you but now, he just wanted to pull you by that hand and kiss you until you ran out of breath.

"I..." he starts again, gently holding your wrist and bringing it up to his mouth, smiling when you shiver visibly, "I go through heats, once every a couple of months"

"oh"

he chuckles, warm and genuine, raising his head to observe your expression, leaving you with shaky knees, his bright blue eyes a tone darker, hair damp and messy, inviting you to thread your fingers on it and kiss him stupid.

"that's why you're not safe here" the Duke whispers, still with his lips against your growing pulse, "I've been dying to rip your clothes off ever since I saw you, now it feels like I'd definitely die if I don't touch you in the next five minutes"

you gasp, surprised and turned on before replying, "make it one" and in the blink of an eye you're kissing him, hard and desperate while your body melts against his, pliantly letting him drag you down and sit you in his strong thigh where you're quick to grinding against, sloppily like the kisses you share.

"fuck" he growls and you moan, allowing his tongue to slip past your mouth while his thumbs press tight on your jaw, opening for a better reach while you can only take it and claw onto his nape.

his knee bucks up in a steady rhythm, one of his hands sneaking below your skirt, all the way up from your bare thighs to your soaked panties, "you're wet, I can smell it"

a pained moan escapes your lips, face burning in embarrassment but the look on his face is rewarding enough, pupils blown out, lips red and puffy letting out breathy exhalations. you barely get enough time to observe him before your eyes shut unconsciously at the feeling of a pair of rough fingers coming in contact with your clit through the flimsy underwear fabric.

"can I… please…?"

"yeah" you gasp, earning a whine from the man right onto your neck where he's nibbling, quickly getting rid of your skirt and half ripping your panties in the process, his pants get undone next, enough to fit his cock between your dripping folds flicking your clit with the engorged cockhead before pressing into your tight cunt.

he's big, bigger than you had imagined during sleepless nights of you touching yourself, but you're incredibly wet and doing your absolute best in taking a fat cock.

"oh fuck…!" you mewl, pressing your chin to the side of his head while Wriothesley continues to bite on your shoulder, careful not to pierce the skin as his hands find place on your hips, busy pushing your body down to take him whole.

"take it" he exhales, "I know you can take it, baby" and you whimper at the praise, thighs shaking from the stretch. his breath is hot against your collarbone, hips rolling forward that causes his cock to rub against the firm spot inside your cunt that leaves you limp, tugging your shirt from above your head so his hands freely get to palm at your tits once he's fully bottomed out, giving you a moment to adjust while he plays with your nipples.

"there we go" Wriothesley pants, hips snapping forward to fuck you deep, clutching onto the back of your head next to press his mouth against yours, bouncing your body up and down his cock in increasing speed.

"shit, shit!" Wriothesley groans, hips stuttering before stopping almost completely in what felt an attempt of self control, his tip coating your insides with immense amounts of precum, making you wonder just how much cum he actually held in those heavy balls that smacked against your ass in loud papping sounds.

"Wrio, you don't have to hold back" you whine through bitten lips, cupping his cheeks between your hands. and the moment where Wriothesley snaps will get forever burnt in your brain, starting from the deep rumbling groan, the twitch of his cock messily ruining your inside with hard precise thrusts, to the sudden movement of your whole body where he pins you down in bed, face down against the pillow with his hand pushing between your shoulder blades, ass up, face down while he successfully mounts you from behind.

his fat cock glides easily past your tight entrance, soaked in slick at the same time his thumb finds a place between your teeth, rubbing on your tongue the tangy taste of your slick.

"stay still" he grunts, dropping his forehead down between your shoulder blades while feeding your pussy the rest of his cock, "you smell so fucking good" Wriothesley is a mess of grunts and hisses, spreading out your ass cheeks to fit in properly inside your tight cunt, loving how the squelching sound comes louder in this position.

"too deep!" you scream, thighs shaking from the forcefully stretch of your walls around his cock.

"it's okay" he slurs, fingers pressing on your forehead to push you head up and kiss your temple, yet his hips continue to piston inside of you, dragging in your body with his on top of the mattress, his knees on each side of your thighs to perfectly fuck into you, driving his tip almost at your cervix with each thrust, "I got you, you're fine"

"Wrio" you sob, "feels so good"

"I know, baby, in know" he chokes out, eyes closed shut while pants escape freely between skin slapping, "you take it so good, my good girl, all mine"

"o-oh!" you whine, "Wrio please, you're so big, oh my god"

"don't say that" he grits, hips stuttering and pushing onto your waist so he gets to reach in much deeper than before, "I'm going to come soon"

"ngh" you moan, toes curling and pussy clenching.

"can I knot you?"

"yes" you reply way too quickly, digging your nails onto the sheets, pillow drenched from sweat and tears, "yes, please"

Wriothesley moans like a wounded animal, fucking you like one too with his hands on your head, pushing you down as if to submit you to him.

you can feel him twitching again, cunt fluttering in sync, clenching and begging to be filled with a scream of your own while you cum all over his cock, gasping loudly when his knot begins to push past your tight entrance.

"W-Wrio—" you sob.

"yes, I'm here, it's alright you can take it" he thumbs your clit, helping you ride out your high while his knot gets snuggled inside your cunt, digging his nails on the skin of your thighs while rutting into you, long and thick spurts of cum coating your walls.

"fuckin' perfect pussy, taking all of my cum" he groans, panting loudly and jerking his hips until every single drop of cum is stuffing your hole.

"are you alright?" he asks once you've calmed down, turning your body around to let you cuddle against his broad chest.

"yeah" you sniffle, overwhelmed.

"I forgot to ask how did you find me" the man grins, rubbing his cheek against the top of your head.

"people heard you growling like a beast" you sniffle again.

"... what?"

and you should have told him earlier, since you were certain now people might think that said beast was just some horny dog.

[hyhkai]

camboy! | c.yj.

[ 🎥 ] — after yeonjun's rise in the porn industry, an interview was something he agreed to for fun. however, after he saw you, the interviewer, he wished it was a fake interview where he gets to fuck you.

cw : pornstar!yeonjun. unedited word vomit fictional magazine company that apparently also exists in real life.

a/n ; i apologize for my sins i swear I'll change 🙏🏼 and this is a drabble, not a fic! i might turn it into one over time ♡

after you reached out to him a few weeks ago with greetings and compliments, and asking can I interview you some time? I'd like to know what it's like to be a person who earns through the adult industry, and with your fame, I know that you're just the right person., his first, honest reaction was to laugh. i mean, seriously?

he was laughing at the irony of the fact that he was being interviewed. i mean, who was willing enough to take out time of their busy, hectic schedule to interview a man who earns bread by having a dildo inside of him? he had to know. he wanted to know what this person was like.

he did think that this could be completely false and you could be a potential threat, trying to lure him into your little cage with cheese like he's a fucking rat, capture him and do bad things to him like he'd heard with various nefarious acts of people against people with 'easy' fame.

"can I get proof that you're actually an interviewer?"

to which he immediately got a response with a photo of a xerox copy of your identification document, namely at a popular company called mode de vie. he could see the black and white ink that framed the photo stuck on the top right corner, and he knew that he had to see that fucking face in real life. if that's how you look in a awfully captured picture, so captivating, bold, and confidence outlining your eyes in the form of sharp eyeliner, he had to see that face in front of him, asking him questions about his body count or something else he doesn't give two shits about.

he'd said sure to your offer almost immediately now that he saw that it was a real interviewer after him. and now that it was time, he drove to the place where you both agreed to be at — a café which was relatively close to his house and your office.

"I'm glad you came!" you said as you shook his hand that would eventually get sweaty from just sitting opposite to you. what the fuck? he seriously considered telling you to quit this stupid, serious job and just join him in his public sex life. you were stunning.

now that he saw your hair open, framing your face, and that fucking sharp-ass eyeliner, he was mad that he didn't dress up nicely and instead came in a hoodie. who wants to miss a chance of getting a baddie?

he thanked the lords he'd long forgotten when you told him this is just an audio based interview which will later be turned into a text format.

while you continued asking him questions about everything, from "fuck-a-fan" to "how did your mother find out?", he'd needed to ask you to repeat your questions several times. his eyes kept drifting down, down to your chest.

'why the fuck are you wearing a top so low-cut? is it to provoke me or something?' he'd think. he legitimately wants to put his hand on the table, pushing himself towards you and grabbing one of your tits. it's pissing him off he can't.

okay, so maybe he was a pervert like one of his friends liked to say. but it wasn't his fault when you were asking him questions about his sex life while looking at him with those eyes that were possibly tearing his clothes off.

in his world, that is.

'do you want to fuck me too, or am I trippin'?'

he knew he had to keep his filthy hands, his filthy thoughts, to himself. c'mon, it's a fucking interview, yeonjun. grow up. you've had plenty of girls and guys to fuck in your life. from small and petite, to taller than you. from fucking someone to getting fucked. you've done it all. why are you so captivated by this woman?

maybe it was the way you had your makeup done that had him wishing he could see it smeared all over with a new makeup product; his cum, or maybe it was your tits that were practically begging to be the thing he shoves his face in tonight. but no, it was the way you carried yourself.

there was this... this aura, this radiation of confidence that was magnetic enough for him to be pulled to you.

under the table, he was practically going to rub one out. he kept adjusting his pants, kept palming his dick that was straining against his pants and standing up against his thoughts of not fucking you ever.

ugh, just how fucking good you'd look on his bed, and he swears he could go above his rounds per fucking streak of 4 with you; from classic missionary to the amazon position, from sixty-nine to his foot on your face while he fucked your ass from the back. fuck, he'd even let you peg him, something he's always refused to do.

just how good you'd look while sliding your strap-on inside of him, his eyes going wide, as well as your smile at the sight of his pretty face. he thinks you'd like some crazy songs playing in the background, similar to the vibe of playboi carti.

fuck, he'd hold onto your tits for support, comfort, for just the fucks of it no matter who is topping.

"um, excuse me?" you asked when he spaced out in the middle.

"yeah?" he said, looking up from the table where both of your milkshakes resided.

"thank you for the interview. i appreciate it a lot!" you said, smiling at him, completely unaware of the junk he had in his brain about you. you put out your hand for a friendly yet professional handshake.

"oh, yeah, of course." he muttered out, responding to your hand with his that was definitely sweaty.

as you closed your notepad and stopped the recording, he looked up at your face finally.

"can I ask you a question too?"

"oh, yes, of course." you said, looking up at him with a face of genuine curiosity. maybe it would be something like —

"when will this be posted?"

"where can I read it?"

"will there be a hardcopy?"

"would you ever fuck me if you could?"

and suddenly, this was the first time you regretted not recording the aftermath of an interview.

[witchywithwhiskey]

if the fates allow

pairing: avenger!captain america!steve rogers x tall!shield agent!female reader

summary: steve rogers accidentally got drunk at the avengers tower christmas party, and you're the one tasked with helping him get to bed. it's a good thing you have plenty of practice keeping your crush on him a secret.

warnings: sexual tension, steve is drunk, reader is conflicted (nothing happens while steve's drunk), feelings are expressed, kissing, sleepy cuddling, i think that's pretty much it!

word count: 2.9k

a/n: here's my december 13 fic for @the-slumberparty's december daze challenge, using the prompt: "I didn't know the egg nog was spiked!" tried to keep this one short and sweet so that i can catch up, so if something doesn't make sense, just ignore it i guess! also this is my first time writing a specifically tall!reader and that was nice since i'm on the taller side 😅 hope y'all enjoy!! ♡

december daze challenge masterlist

“I didn't know the egg nog was spiked!”

Steve Rogers’ voice was louder than it needed to be, and so close to your ear that you winced a little. You kept walking, a massive arm looped around your shoulders while you half-carried the ungodly large body of Captain America and tried not to think about how good he smelled.

Why exactly you had been tasked with helping the very drunk Steve Rogers to his quarters after the Avengers Tower Christmas party was still a bit of a mystery to you. You’d seen Natasha Romanoff and Tony Stark with their heads bent close, like they were conspiring about something, and the next thing you knew, Bruce Banner was asking you to help Steve get to bed.

The phrasing of the request had sent your heart skittering in your chest, even under the less-than-ideal circumstances of its reality. You’d had a crush on Steve Rogers since you’d met him as part of your SHIELD assignment to Avengers Tower, and you liked to think you’d kept it secret from everyone.

But, well, you did work with spies for a living, and you had a feeling Natasha and Tony’s conspiring had something to do with your predicament.

You’d tried to protest Bruce’s request. Sure, you were one of the taller female SHIELD agents, but you were by no means the strongest person on your team, especially when it included Brock Rumlow. But apparently everyone else had gone home or they were helping someone else, and you were the only one who could do it. 

Frank Sinatra’s “Have Yourself A Merry Little Christmas” had been playing from the sound system of the Avengers Tower lounge as you’d made your way over to where Steve lay sprawled across the entire length of a sofa. He was singing along to the Christmas song—loudly and off-key—and nerves and excitement had fluttered through your belly like snowflakes on a winter wind.

You’d shoved your emotions away and put on the professional mask you always wore around Steve, pasting a polite smile on your face as you leaned over him and told him, in a not unkind voice, that you were going to help him get to bed. 

He’d given you a dreamy smile and did his best to help you lift his large body from the sofa while you’d ignored the way the snowflakes in your tummy had swooped at his happy expression and close proximity. 

With one arm wrapped around Steve’s waist and the other holding onto his wrist so his arm wouldn’t fall from your shoulders, you lifted a leg and kicked the elevator call button with your foot, only remembering to check to make sure no one was around after you’d done so. 

Oh well. If you’d flashed someone with the move, the most they’d see under the short skirt of your cocktail dress was the gun strapped to your thigh and the shapewear the tight, clingy garment had required you to wear. Thankfully, no one was around except the super-soldier draped across your shoulders, his head propped sleepily against yours.

“Of course it was spiked, captain,” you said, picking up the thread of the conversation he’d started. Your voice was patient and professional, if a little cold. “It was Stark’s Christmas party—he spiked all the egg nog with Asgardian liquor.”

The doors of the elevator slid open soundlessly and you huffed a sigh of relief as you dragged Steve in. You made sure he was propped up against the corner of the elevator, then stepped away to hit the button for his floor. As discreetly as you could, you wiped some sweat from your brow before turning back to Captain America. 

The expression on Steve’s face drew you up short. He was…not frowning exactly. Was that a…pout? 

You tilted your head to the side, your eyes poring carefully over Steve Rogers’ familiar features—the little pinched line between his brows, the dimmed sparkle of his blue eyes, the protrusion of his lush lower lip. You forced yourself not to linger on his mouth, even though it looked particularly inviting…

Yes, that was definitely a pout, you decided. 

Before you could wonder about what you’d said to garner such a reaction from Steve, he was talking. Or, rather, muttering.

“I don’t like it when you call me captain,” he grumbled.

The elevator was nearing Steve’s floor so you moved closer to him again, ignoring the way your body warmed when you pressed into his side and lifted his arm over your shoulder. The fresh scent of him wrapped around you like the most delicious blanket, and you wanted more than anything to be able to breathe it in until it lived permanently in your lungs.

“What should I call you then?” you asked, mostly to distract yourself from your body’s reaction to Steve. He was drunk, and you needed to get yourself under control.

You tried to pull him out of the corner, but you didn’t have enough leverage and instead of budging the big super-soldier, you bounced back into him, landing against his hard chest with a surprised little “oomph.”

Before that moment, you’d known, in theory, that you were only a couple inches shorter than Steve Rogers. But it was easy to forget because he had such a large presence, and he could very easily toss you around that mats of the Avengers Tower gym with his super-strength. 

However, in that moment you learned that the minimal height difference between you and Steve Rogers had a consequence you hadn’t considered. When you fell against his chest, your face was almost perfectly level with his—specifically, your mouth was almost perfectly level with his. 

You could taste the Asgardian rum on Steve’s breath and the thought of closing the distance and licking it from his lips was far more tempting than it should’ve been.

“Steve,” he rumbled, his arm tightening around your shoulders and hauling you even closer. “You should call me Steve.”

Your soft curves molded to the hard planes of his body and your breath caught in your throat as your mind raced, trying to figure out what he was doing. His blue eyes were dark, even under the bright lights of the elevator, and they were fixed very firmly on your lips—but they were still glazed from all he’d had to drink.

“Steve,” you said, his name soft and tortured as it fell from your lips, your eyes dropping to his mouth. 

You knew you couldn’t kiss Captain America while he was drunk, and you knew that if he tried to pull you any closer, you’d have to push him away. But you wanted so desperately to close the distance between your lips, the desire felt like it might incinerate you from the inside out. 

The ding of the elevator arriving at Steve’s floor brought you back to reality and you jumped away from the super-soldier, shaking your head at yourself as you grabbed his arm and heaved his weight onto your shoulders. You dragged him out of the elevator on stumbling feet, your mind spinning with what you’d almost done—what Steve actually had done.

For all the time you’d crushed on Steve Rogers, he’d never shown any indication of reciprocating your feelings. He’d always been just as professional and aloof as you’d been, and you’d taken that to mean he didn’t have any interest in you outside of work. But you were beginning to rethink your assessment…

Thankfully, Steve remained quiet and well-behaved for the trip down the hall to his quarters, and getting him inside seemed a bit easier after your practice with the elevator. You half-carried him to his bed and it took only a little push to have him sit down on the soft mattress.

Somehow, the movement left you standing between Steve’s spread legs, his arm curled around your waist from where it had fallen off your shoulder. His face was close again—closer than it should’ve been as he looked up at you from where he sat.

“Pretty…” he murmured, the fingertips of his free hand reaching for you but hovering just a hair’s breadth away from touching you. “You’re so…pretty.”

Heat suffused your cheeks and you ducked your head. “Steve,” you whined softly, your fingers wrapping around his wrists, trying to extricate yourself from his hold. “You don’t know what you’re saying.” 

“You’re the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen,” he said softly, your name falling sweetly from his lips. He brushed his thumb over your cheek so gently, it made your knees wobble.

You’d managed to get some distance from him, but the sound of your name made you stop. You looked at Steve, and his eyes were still slightly glazed from all the spiked egg nog he’d drank. 

You huffed a laugh that was sad and humorless. Of course the only time Steve had shown any interest in you, he was drunk.

“Tell me that again when you’re not drunk and maybe I’ll believe you, Steve,” you said, a little forlornly, and pulled his hand away from your face, dropping it in his lap. 

Stepping backward, you broke out of his hold, ignoring the way he was pouting again.

“Stay with me,” Steve said, his fingers catching the tips of yours as you turned away. 

The desperation in his tone halted your retreat. When you looked at Steve again, his eyes were a little clearer, and his expression was pleading. You didn’t know if it was the best idea to crawl into bed with Captain America while he was drunk. 

You were pretty sure he’d fall asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow, so nothing would happen, but you worried about your heart. If you spent a whole night sleeping in Steve’s bed, breathing in Steve’s scent, it would be that much harder to pretend you didn’t have feelings for him. And you couldn’t seem to imagine he had feelings for you, despite what he’d said.

“Please,” Steve said, his voice cracking slightly. His face was washed in the dim light of the New York City skyline filtering in through the windows, and he looked like a work of art come to life, flawlessly gorgeous features and perfectly expressive eyes.

Your heart thumped in your chest, and were helpless to resist his request.

“OK,” you whispered, twining your fingers with his and giving his hand a small squeeze while you smiled shyly. 

Steve beamed happily at you and then flopped back on the bed. A grin was still fixed on his face while he kicked off his shoes and fought to pull down the blankets so he could slide under them.

You bit back a laugh at his gleeful reaction, shaking your head as you went to the bathroom to clean off your makeup and strip out of your gun holster and shapewear. Thankfully, your dress was comfortable enough to sleep in for one night.

When you returned, you found Steve passed out under the covers still wearing all of his clothes. You took a moment to appreciate his handsome features, softened in sleep, and then slipped into bed beside him, leaving plenty of space between your bodies.

It took you a little while to fall asleep, but the quiet, steady snores coming from Steve helped lull you, and eventually you drifted off.

The soft wintry light of the morning sunrise was just beginning to peak over the Manhattan skyline when you roused, your body bathed in a nearly overwhelming heat that came from something pressed against your back and banded around your waist.

It took you a long, groggy moment to realize the source of that heat was Steve Rogers.

At some point in the night, he must’ve moved closer and wrapped himself around you because one of his arms was curled around your waist while his broad chest was pressed flush against your back. You were so close together, you could feel his steady heartbeat against your spine. 

You must’ve shifted even to wake him because you heard the tenor of Steve’s breathing change. He buried his face in the back of your head and took a deep breath before letting out a contented sigh. 

“Pretty girl,” he mumbled, the words muffled and barely discernable. His arm squeezed tighter around your waist, dragging you even further into the wondrously warm cage of his body.

The sound of you sucking in a sharp breath was loud in the silent bedroom and Steve suddenly tensed. Quick as a flash, he removed his arm from around your waist and shuffled back a few inches, giving you space. 

Cold flooded in, even while you were still buried under the blankets, and you had to fight off a shiver. You missed his warmth, but you also needed to understand what was going on. You took a deep, steadying breath and then rolled over, looking at Steve warily. 

He was propped up on one arm, his blond hair mussed from sleep and his cheeks tinged pink from embarrassment. But his blue eyes were clear and curious, watching your reaction with interest. 

“What did you call me?” you asked in a trembling, hesitant voice. It probably wasn’t the first question you should’ve asked, but you had to know if you’d heard him correctly, and if he’d known he was talking about you when he’d said it.

Steve must’ve recognized the uncertainty in your voice or on your face because his expression softened and he lifted his hand, his fingers tracing the air next to your cheek. He was deliberately not touching you, and you had the urge to close the distance and feel his warm contact.

“You said to tell you you’re pretty when I wasn’t drunk anymore,” he said, his voice low and rough with sleep. His eyes had been wandering over your features, like he was trying to memorize the way they looked in the wintry morning light, but his gaze caught yours before he went on. “Well, I’m not drunk and you’re still the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen.”

“Steve.” His name was a soft, desperate sound, your heart racing into a gallop as you tried to process the fact that Steve Rogers thought you were pretty. 

Before your mind had caught up, your hands were moving, reaching for Steve, eager to drag him closer. Your fingers were curling around the lapels of his dress shirt and you caught a glimpse of his crooked smile before you were both closing the distance between your bodies, his mouth slanting to yours for a kiss.

Heat and pleasure filled your body and soul, and you kissed Steve Rogers for the first time, your lips pressed together ungracefully in your excitement. After a few moments of blissful fumbling, you settled into a rhythm that was as delicious as it was delightful, made all the more breathtaking by the way you could feel Steve’s reverence for you in the way he held you.

It was a long time before you came up for air, and when you did, you laughed giddily when you saw the way Steve’s eyes were glazed over, a dreamy smile curling his lips, and you knew your expression matched his. He was drunk on kissing you, just as you were drunk on kissing him.

Steve dropped one last sweet kiss to your mouth and then he rolled you onto your side, tucking you into the warmth of his body while you both faced the windows, watching the sun rise over Manhattan. You were for a moment quiet as you enjoyed being with him, but something still bugged you. 

“I still don’t understand why Bruce asked me to help you to bed,” you said, your fingers playing with Steve’s hand that was clasped in yours. “But I’m glad he did, since it led us to this.” You pressed a kiss to his palm, marveling at how even that part of him smelled fresh and wonderful.

At your comment, Steve made a rough sound in his throat, something halfway between a cough and a laugh. It piqued your curiosity and you turned your head, catching his eye over your shoulder.

“That might be my fault,” he admitted, a faint blush spreading across his cheeks. “I may have confessed to Nat that I think you’re pretty—and she’s been trying to set me up for ages.” 

Suddenly, everything from the night before clicked into place. Natasha and Tony’s conspiring, the way your SHIELD teammates were all otherwise occupied, the fact that Bruce—the least devious, and therefore, least suspicious of all the Avengers—had been the one to ask you to help Steve. 

It was all a very elaborate setup, and you had to feel a little impressed with Natasha, even as you rolled your eyes because it didn’t need to be so complicated. She could’ve just asked if you were interested, and then set you two up on a normal date. Instead, she’d concocted an elaborate scheme, just to get you and Steve alone. 

But you had to admit, it did work…

“You Avengers can never do anything the easy way, can you?” you teased, grinning at Steve over your shoulder. You reached back, fingers twining in his hair and pulling him close enough to brush a kiss to his lips. 

“Now, where would be the fun in that?” Steve murmured playfully against your mouth, kissing you more deeply before settling back down on the bed. 

For the next little while, you watched the December sunrise with Steve Rogers, basking in the feeling of being in his arms while he idly hummed “Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas” in between brushing delicious kisses to your neck. 

You did have yourself a very merry Christmas indeed.

december daze challenge masterlist

[dcxdpdabbles]

I reread Dauntless Matchmaker recently and I love it, could you please make another part? Either that or another part for One Hell of a Bellhop, Legal Compensation, or Mr Flavors Soda, any of the above would be great, your choice ^-^

Danny skips up the stairs towards Wayne Manor's front entrance with a binder, a few notebooks, and his laptop tucked away in his carry bag. Humming under his breath, he raises his hand to knock. Before he can touch the wood, the door swings open to the beaming face of his fake boyfriend, Tim Drake.

"Hi!" The other gasps breathlessly. He adjusts his cardigan from where it had fallen off his left shoulder. Danny has noticed something about Tim. He was always so nervous and clumsy. The poor thing was taking his heartbreak badly.

"Hi, Tim." Danny grins. He holds up his NASA theme bag with pride. "I brought the stuff!"

His boss' brother lets out a string of nervous chuckles that slowly dissolve, coughing when he chokes on his spit. Alarmed, Danny started smacking his back in hopes of helping. He wishes he could say this was a one-time thing, but Tim, unfortunately, does this often.

"Master Tim?" Alfred calls from down the left hallway.

"I'm fine! Everything-cough-hack- everything is fine!" Tim screams back, entirely red and looking a tad bit mortified. Clearing his throat, he straightens to full height, back pin straight and looking every bit the young gentleman of his standing. "Shall we move to the viewing room?"

Danny knows he's only trying to save face, so he only smiles and steps inside. As they had agreed on two weeks ago, Danny loops his arm through Tim's, pressing himself close to the other's side, just as Alfred walks by.

The aged man seems pleased to see them so affectionate, which Damian said Danny had to play up because otherwise, it would not be believable. Tim only dated men and women who showed their care through physical touch, and he was often seen holding hands or looping arms with his partners.

As it is, Tim does his part well, beaming up at Danny. He was taller after hitting a second growth spurt, but sadly, he seemed to take after his mother rather than his father. Danny was only two inches taller than Tim.

On the other hand, Jazz grew like a weed. Once it became apparent, she took after Jack in height. Dan's appearance gave Danny hope that he would break the six-foot mark in a few years—you know, if the madness and devouring Plasmius didn't affect his development too much.

"What are you showing me today?" Tim asks as they stride past Damian. The younger boy makes a face, the same one Danny made whenever Jazz brought over a boy, and they were being sickly sweet. He offers his boss a smile in return, watching those intense green eyes roll.

"I brought evidence of why Yetis' healthcare is far superior to ours." Danny pats his bag with a satisfied smirk. "Nothing beats Frostbite."

Tim melts. "That's amazing. I can't wait to hear all about it. Then we could go get dinner. How does Divine Palace sound?"

"The upscale restaurant? I would need to change before I'm allowed in there. It has a dress code, doesn't it?"

Tim snuggles closer. "You can borrow one of my suits."

"You know it's bad luck to wear someone else's clothes?" Danny tells him they have just arrived at the viewing room. The projector is set up, and Danny is waiting to plug in his laptop. A sizeable plush couch is pushed in front of the large empty wall, where Tim plans to curl up and watch Danny's presentation.

Meeting someone who adored all the educational information about Ghosts and their culture was lovely. Danny's parents were more interested in the aspects of biology and anatomy than the sociology and anthropology he studied.

After he finished his slide show—sadly without pictures as ghosts disrupted the camera—he would show Tim his notes, which the two could flip through together on the couch. Since his PowerPoint lacked images, Danny settled for some drawings and blurry photos he had stored in his binder while exploring the Zone.

He started it when he was fourteen, gradually growing over the years.

"Why's that?" Tim asks, throwing himself on the couch and crossing his legs underneath him. He places his elbow on the meat of his thigh and leans his head on his hand, his eyes never leaving Danny.

They seem to be shining, utterly captivated by the Halfa.

"It makes it easier for ghosts to overshadow you," Danny answers promptly, unzipping his bag to take out the materials from his bag. He had to look away from his friend because the way he was staring was making him a bit flustered.

"Overshadow?"

"It's another way of saying possession, but it's more politically correct." He responds, plugging in the wires to his laptop and watching the lock screen of his computer appear on the wall. "My sister's first boyfriend attempted to do that to her. Gave her some of his girlfriend's stuff so she could form around her and use Jazz as an anchor to stay on this plane."

"And you saved her before he could succeed," Tim sighs adoringly.

Danny puffs out his chest. "I did!"

Tim pressed a button on the side of his couch. At once, the thing expands, pushing the backrest down and expanding the bottom until it forms an even flat surface. Danny initially thought it was a recliner, but apparently, rich people had couches that could turn into beds in seconds.

He lays flat on his stomach, kicking his feet and leaning on both hands as he smiles like a loon at Danny. "That's amazing."

Danny bites his lip, trying to be modes,t but it's hard when he's being praised by someone like Tim Drake.

"Well, it's just what a good brother does. All I really had to do was use his bad luck against him, and really, Jazz sort of snapped out it when he tried to punch me," He babbles while scrambling to log into his account. He needs to do something before he bursts from all the giddy, mushy feeling in his chest. "It was nothing compared to when I had to win a pie-eating contest against Baker."

"Hmm?"

"Baker is a pasty theme ghost that is shockingly powerful. He locked me in a battle for five days before I convinced him to switch to a food theme contest." Danny laughs, shaking his head at the memories. "I was stuck in bed for a day with the biggest stomach ache, but I won that day. And victory was sweet."

Tim swoons.

Just as Danny is booting up the presentation, his superhearing catches the whispers of Tim's other siblings from the hallway. Damian had instructed him not to let anyone else in the household learn the truth of his contract because it would eventually get back to Alfred.

After meeting the man, he completely understands the paranoia.

"Who is that?" He's pretty sure that's the oldest Dick.

"Tim's new obsession." Answers Steph with a smirk in her words. "Apparently, he's some paranormal-obsessed conspiracy theorist."

"Why does he always go for the crazy ones?" Jason sighs dramatically.

"Have you seen Danny's biceps? Were it not for his health issues, I would have thought Tim found a secret off-duty hero."

Danny hastily focuses on his first slide, trying not to show his fear. Tim continues to watch him kick his feet and play with some of his hair. He has a habit of twirling his hair. Tim almost always does that whenever Danny sees him.

[wetpussyju1ce]

the smallest Omega in town takes on the biggest Alpha.

+18 mdni

Alpha!König x Omega!fem reader

note: reader is described as skinny. small wrists and bony knees. shorter than the 141.

John's pack was known to be extremely loyal and fiercely protective over each other. They were nice though, friendly and liked to mingle with other packs and families in the village.

They were also extremely close to each other and in tune with each other's needs. And that's how the pack found out that König, their big, awkward Alpha, needed a bit of help when it came to ruts.

He usually spends them alone, much to his packs disagreement over those arrangements because it can't be good for you, it can't! Then they decided to take matters into their own hands and try to find König a rut partner. It was a very serious matter for them, they coaxed König out of details and descriptions about what he likes. They know he doesn't really have a preference if they're Alpha, Omega or Beta. So that's a good start.

He likes them pretty, soft around the edges and smaller than him, which could be literally anyone in the whole village considering his sheer size.

And that was about it.

So Johnny, Kyle, Simon and John went to work. Looking for willing unmated wolves to spend König's ruts w him. Surprisingly it was easy to find willing partners, they know König, have seen him around and the idea of being impaled on his knot was attractive to quite a few of them.

But the real problem started when König asked for a try-out, before his rut hits, because he knows that a knot of his size could be considered a weapon. And he doesn't want to feel the rejection and hurt during his rut when he realises his partner can't take him, or are scared of hurting.

So they accepted, all of them, pretty Alphas, shy Omegas and tiny Betas.

And it didn't go well, they all believed it could be achievable, like how big can he really be? Body-horror big, apparently because what the fuck.

Oh and König knew to anticipate this. The gods made a joke out of him when building him in his mother's womb. They gave him everything it was to be a perfect Alpha, and gave him the biggest knot that no Omega, or Alphsa/Beta could take. It was ridiculous.

He lost hope and decided to busy himself with rut preparations, stocking up one of their many cottages deep in the forest, away from everyone.

His pack was sad for their sweet Alpha, it pulled at their heart to smell his upset scent. he scented sad and defeated and they really wanted to try harder, to make it all better.

it got to a point where they had no idea what more could they do because obviously nobody could take his knot without causing themselves injuries. and their Alpha can't be alone forever, surely??? I mean, that's a bit dramatic but he obviously craved that type of connection and bond with someone. he can't knot his fist and someone's thighs, forever, it wasnt enough!

and when all hope seemed lost their doorbell rang.

and there she was. the tiniest Omega they've ever seen. well, she wasnt that small, but compared to them, she sure as hell was, dainty and skinny too, bony knees and tiny wrists. she was standing there, wearing a pair of shorts, boots and a t-shirt under a flannel, she looked like she just finished gardening, dirt stuck to her knees and caking her boots.

"Hello?" Simon greeted, confused.

"Is König in?" She asked, looking up at the taller man.

"No, why?" Simon raised a brow.

"Oh and I'm here for the rut partner try-out, thing. if that's still happening." She said, shrugging, all casual.

Simon's mind screeched to a stop, did she say try-outs?? is that how everyone in the village saw it as?? what in the hell??

"What the hell are you talking about?" Simon said, utterly confused.

"What? Did he find someone?" She tilted her head to the side, confused.

"No, no-- Just, what makes you think you can take his knot? You're fucking tiny." Simon went straight to the point.

She smiled, kind and unbothered, "I know he's big, I heard all sorts of things, but I believe I can help, and if it works, I'd also like an arrangement out of it, a heat partner if he'd be willing."

Simon feels like he should slam the door on her face. Just to save her guts from absolute and sure destruction by König's cock because no way in hell would she be able to take him. but then the Omega looks sure of herself. not cocky. just looks friendly and honest and she looks ready to help.

Simon maybe should have asked her to save her guts and go away but he doesn't. he let's her in, not knowing that she has spent years of her heats trying to shove as much of her toys inside her as possible. she doesn't even mention the fact that she ends up fisting her cunt every heat cycle. or when she has a heat partner w a knot, that knot ends up inside her alongside a toy at the same time.

the Omega ends up meeting König, says she would like to help. he disagrees at first because he's not in the mood to take her to the hospital, he really really doesn't want to hurt her. but then she begs him to trust her w the sweetest face he's ever seen, lets him scent honesty all over her and he agrees to give her a chance.

König n the Omega end up talking abt gardening and the sellers at the market and the prices these days. they quickly bond over growing vegetables and their shared dislike for that one guy that sells strawberries and swears that they're that naturally huge (and they're not even sweet, what the hell??)

they agree on a date, and a time, they would try to see how it goes before König's rut hits, and if everything goes alright, they'll spend it together.

when they meet, König's weary, she's not, calm and happy as a clam. she asks him to trust her, and it starts off easy, she holds his hands and König shivers because his are literally giant mitts compared to hers. she sweet talks him into relaxing, she sits on his lap and they start talking a little, then she goes ahead and kisses him and he realises very quickly that he likes that, he really does, her lips taste sweet and her scent is so sweet and delicious.

König's alpha quickly realises that this may actually work and he gets excited in record time, tents his trousers and gets his mouth on her tits, it takes no time for her to start leaking like a broken faucet. König's hand are slippery between her legs and he's about to pass out at the intensity of it all. she's everywhere around him and all he can do is suck on her breasts and purr.

then he gets a finger inside her tight and warm hole. it's wet and feels soft. then another goes next. and another. all the while she's making all sorts of noises, clawing at him, and the more fingers he can push inside her the more he's awed and amazed because for someone so tiny and fragile, she sure as hell can take so much inside her.

König wants a better view so he gets her on the bed, laying on her back and absolutely hammers his fingers inside her cunt, watching her stomach bulge everytime he drives his fingers in.

he's about to lose his mind at the sight alone, and then she cries, squeals and squirts all over his hand and arm.

König then gathers her in his arms, chest to chest, gets his arms under her legs, as they're pressed against her body, practically folding her in half, carrying all of her weight in his massive arms like she was just a doll to him, and finally dips the head of his cock between her pussy lips. he starts to push further in and she's moaning, clawing at his neck, he gets halfway in and he's sweating bullets because she's so tight and she's pulsing around him and yet, he knows she can take more. and he was right because he keeps dropping her on his length until it's all inside, to the root, and she wails, comes again, shaking in his arms and König is losing his mind, his knot swelling in record time. when he comes, he's dizzy and he's heaving like he ran a marathon and he hasn't even thrusted inside of her just yet.

they make all sorts of noises when fucking. it's animalistic. König sounds like he's about to pass out and the Omega sounds like that's what she's been waiting for all of her life. It was filthy, intense and so fucking loud that when Gaz was sent to check on them, as they used one of the many cottages John's pack owns, the moment the smell hits his nose, he freezes and turns back around, he does not want to be anywhere near them if that's how potent their combined scent is.

at least he knows they're having a great time. so he goes back, well, more like runs back to the house, a little bit scared and excited because finally their Alpha got to knot someone!

and when all that's said and done, and the Omega and alpha come back to the shared house the next day. König is out of it, nothing but statics behind his eyes while the Omega looks content, eats everything she's offered by König's pack, starved. but winces once in a while when she moves in a certain way. she scents happy, and König scents confused but content nonetheless. and that's everything his pack wished for.

[themultifanshipper]

Oscar was frozen to the spot. It took him a few seconds for his brain to catch up with what he was seeing, but as soon as it did, he saw red.

Warnings: this is a heavy one guys, army!oscar and army!reader, non descriptive sexual assault!!!, I tried to describe it as vaguely as I could so no details, I feel like this is obvious but just in case the SA is not with Oscar, angst, kinda hurt/comfort, then some pretty freaky smut, I despise the very concept of the military but I'm a whore for a man in uniform so… here we are, vaguely based on that one episode of ‘Lie to me'

You and Oscar were very competitive. Everything from punctuality to training exercices were a chance to one up each other.

He was taller and stronger than you so it made physical challenges his area of expertise.

But you were more agile, more analytical, and a definite asset to the team.

You loved a man in uniform, but Oscar was just so insufferable not even the way his broad physique filled out his fatigues could save your opinion of him.

He was cocky, arrogant, and hated being wrong.

You bickered constantly, and the only reason your fights never got physical is because neither of you wanted a dishonourable discharge on your records.

You were always out on missions with your squad, and right now you were in Afghanistan.

Your sergeant was a different kind of man.

Nice, but a little bit creepy, would sometimes walk into the female locker rooms without announcing himself…

But he was always sweet to you. He was exceedingly polite, and never made any passes at you. He never made you drive the front convoy car, even though everyone was supposed to take turns doing it.

Which in a way you were grateful for, given that it was the most dangerous position to be in, even though it was a bit unfair to the others. You’d heard rumours, but he never did anything to you.

Until today.

Your last day before returning home.

The temperature in your tent was stifling that afternoon, so you'd gone off to a local spring that was surrounded by walls of rough rock to cool off and relax after a stressful few weeks.

You were in shorts and a sports bra, nothing indecent in case one of your fellow privates came along.

And the sergeant had apparently followed you there, because as soon as your outer layers were off, he sidled up next to you and put his hands on your hips from behind, making you jump.

“Hello, beautiful”

“Wha-” You tried to turn around and push him off, but he was too strong and pinned you against the rock face.

You struggled, but he quickly insured you couldn't call for help by putting a hand over your mouth.

“I think it's time to repay me for my generosity over these past few weeks, no?”

You were stuck, body pressed between him and the rocks, and you felt utterly helpless against his tall muscular frame.

…

Oscar was looking for you. He wanted to apologise to you after your brief argument earlier. He'd been a bit of a dick and you called him out, nothing out of the ordinary.

He was rehearsing what he wanted to say in his head, because despite the two of you always being on the verge of hating each other's guts, you pushed each other to become better, and he wasn't going to lie, he did have a bit of a soft spot for you.

Which is why when he turned the corner and saw you and the sergeant pressed together, the first thing he felt was intense jealousy.

But the way you seemed to be squirming in his hold, and the way he was holding you down sent a jolt of adrenaline through his body.

He didn't even think twice, he sprinted over and dragged the other man off you, throwing him on the ground easily.

The half-second glance he spared you told him everything he needed to know. You were on the verge of tears, and there were a couple of scrapes and bruises forming on your skin.

He turned and stalked towards the man on the floor.

You were so shocked at the sudden turn of events your legs gave out and you tumbled to the floor with relief.

Your eyes filled with tears and you turned away to get your clothes, but your body didn't respond.

You were forced to watch as Oscar straddled the sergeants waist and landed a well aimed blow to his nose, breaking it instantly.

“What the fuck do you think you were doing to her?!” he hissed, anger seeping from him in waves.

“None of your business, Piastri” the other man said, earning him another hit.

“Don't you ever touch her again, you hear me?”

The sergeant tried to spit at him but Oscar just landed another, much harder punch, this time knocking him out.

He stood up with a snarl, landing a hard kick to the man's ribs for good measure, and made his way over to you.

You were curled up with your knees tucked under your chin and tears still blurring your vision.

“Are you okay?” he asked tentatively, crouching down in front of you, a hand hovering somewhere near your arm, unsure if you were okay with being touched right now.

You didn't want to appear weak, and you didn't trust your voice so you simply gave him a swift nod.

Unfortunately the movement dislodged a few tears, which fell down your cheeks.

His heart broke.

“I'm sorry, that was a stupid question, really” he sighed at himself “Let's find your clothes and get you back to camp, then I’ll contact-”

He was looking around for your clothes and you couldn't help it, you surged forwards to wrap around him in a tight hug, almost knocking him off balance.

He took that as a sign that he could touch you, and held you in his arms, cradling you gently as you sobbed into his shirt.

You don't know how long you stayed like that, but it was long enough for the air temperature to drop as the evening rolled around, and a chill ran down your back.

You shivered and he helped you grab your clothes before heading back together, leaving the sergeant unconscious on the ground.

He stuck by your side all through dinner, keeping an eye on you as you ate your meal in relative silence while the others chatted away about their excitement of getting back home, not noticing that the mood was very different at the other end of the table.

You looked so downtrodden, Oscar didn't think twice before asking “Do you want to stay in my tent tonight?”

It was a bit of a risky question when he thought about it, but to his surprise, you nodded immediately and smiled at him sheepishly.

“If you don’t mind… I don't want to be alone in case… well…”

He smiled and put an arm around your shoulder. “I understand, don't worry”

…

His tent was the same as yours, but somehow it seemed much smaller because of the mess that was in it.

Clothes (uniforms) and bags were strewn everywhere, and for some reason he had two sleeping bags.

“I get cold easily!” he whined defensively when you asked him about it.

You smirked. “Aw does little Osc need a hot water bottle to keep him warm at night?” you cooed mockingly.

He rolled his eyes at you and slipped into his sleeping bag to take his pants off without you watching him.

You raised an eyebrow at him questionningly. “Since when are you shy about getting undressed?”

He chuckled “I wouldn't want you to get a glimpse of my banging bod and fall in love with me” he joked.

You scoffed. You'd seen him in his swimwear before and he knew that.

You took your over clothes off in front of him nonchalantly, not bothering to hide yourself given that he had also seen you in swimwear, and he sucked in a breath and quickly looked away.

For a dick, he was being quite a gentleman, and something stirred inside you at that fact. You didn’t know he was capable of being a gentleman.

You slid into your own sleeping bag and sighed in relief, your body fully relaxing for the first time since this afternoon.

You were both lying there, in slightly awkward silence.

You thought back to how quickly Oscar had reacted, and shuddered at the thought of “What if? What if Oscar hadn't been out there at that moment?”

The distress must have shown on your face because Oscar asked “What are you thinking about?”

“Nothing” you replied a bit too quickly, avoiding his gaze that was burning into the side of your face.

“You're a bad liar” he muttered softly, not a hint of joking in his tone.

“You know you're probably going to get a court-martialed when we get back?” your voice trembled as you realised that the thought of not having Oscar around made you sad.

“I doubt that, I was protecting a fellow officer. If anything he's the one who should be getting court-martialed.”

You sighed. In a perfect world.

“That's generally not how these things go, you know? They'll probably find a way to blame me and then I’ll be the one in trouble…”

Oscar rolled over onto his side and stared at you with a serious expression.

“Look at me” he ordered. You turned your head to see a stormy look in his eyes “I will do everything I can to make sure that doesn't happen. And if it does I will quit the army altogether.”

You blinked at him.

“You don't have to do that”

“Of course I do.” He glanced down briefly at your lips. “If I don't who will?”

You felt tears prickle at your eyes again and you gulped down the emotions threatening to spill out.

“Thank you, Oscar” you breathed.

He smiled “No problem”

“No. I mean thank you for earlier… not every man I know would have done what you did”

His eyes softened as he looked at you.

He didn't need to say anything, you both knew it to be true.

You fell into a comfortable silence and you almost drifted off, if it weren’t for the slight movement next to you.

“You okay?” you asked, seeing that Oscar was searching around for his disguarded shirt.

“Yeah, I’m a bit cold so I’m going to put my clothes back on”

You watched him put his shirt on, and you felt sorry for stealing his sleeping bag.

“Well… you know the most effective way to maintain body heat?”

That made him freeze. Of course he knew, it was basic training. The best way to warm up was to share body heat with someone.

“You…”  he gulped “You wanna do that?” his eyes met yours. “For me?”

You smiled at him “Sure. It’s the least I can do”

He frowned at that. “I don’t want you to feel like you owe me anything, that’s not why I-”

You shushed him by pressing a finger to his lips. “I know, but I feel bad that you’re cold because of me so I want to help you get warm, simple as that”

Without another word you unzipped your sleeping bag, then his, and zipped them together to essentially form a big sleeping bag for two.

Oscar was a bit red in the face at your sudden proximity to him but he looked mildly impressed. “Ingenious”

You rolled your eyes and lay down on your side with your back to him. “Whatever, now shut up and get over here”

He grumbled something you couldn’t hear and shuffled over to you, his arm hovering awkwardly.

“Can I, uhh- you know, touch you?”

Thank god he couldn’t see your face or he would have seen how you blushed furiously at his words.

You had to scold yourself for your unholy thoughts.

“Of course”

His arm was draped over your middle, and you could feel the heat of his chest almost touching your back, but for some reason he seemed reluctant to press his body to yours, which was the whole point of this.

“Oscar, you do know the concept of spooning, yes?” you giggled, trying to lighten the mood. He mumbled out a ‘yes’.

“Then you know your body needs to be touching mine, yeah? Not just your arm.”

“I uh- I don’t think that’s a good idea right now” he whispered, and his breath on the back of your neck made you shiver.

“Why not? I told you it’s fine, we’re just sharing body heat”

He sighed. “I can’t. I have-  uhh, a problem.”

“What problem?”

“You know... A problem that would make it very uncomfortable for both of us to spoon right now”

Your breath hitched. “You mean…”

The silence stretched on and he didn’t say anything.

“You mean you’re… you've got- uhh…”

“Yeah” he breathed. “I’m sorry. I usually … you know, before I go to bed but you’re here, so… yeah”

Your face was burning now. You now had the image of Oscar getting rid of his problem swimming around your head.

“You can deal with it… if you want. I don’t mind. This is your tent.”

His arm twitched where it was lying against you. “No I’m not doing that while you’re here!”

“Why not?” you were feeling emboldened by the obvious stutter in his breathing “It’s a natural bodily response. Nothing to be ashamed of.”

Oscar had to thoroughly recompose himself, before saying something he’d regret.

“No it’s fine, it’ll go away in a minute.”

“Okay, suit yourself” you sighed, closing your eyes and your brain unhelpfully supplied the image of you helping him with his problem.

Neither of you said a word after that, you were both too busy trying to think of something else, anything else, rather than the ache between your respective legs.

It had been a while since you'd been in this close a proximity to a man, especially one as fucking fit as him.

And he was fucking hard. And probably big as well, if the size of his ego was anything to go by.

You felt him shiver behind you.

“Oscar” you turned around so that you were facing him. “It’s not going to go away is it? So either accept it, or get rid of it, but I don’t want you to be cold!”

His eyes were wide as he met your challenging gaze. You didn't know where this brazenness was coming from, maybe it was pure adrenaline, but you turned over again and huffed. “Now get on with it”

A beat passed without a sound, before he started shuffling around.

“You sure you're okay with this?” he asked tentatively.

“Yeah go ahead, pretend I'm not here”

Oscar sighed and reached a hand down over his underwear, giving himself the lightest squeeze. Damn, he was really hard.

“Shit, okay” he said, talking to himself more than anything.

He slid his boxers down enough to free his cock and wrap a hand around his girth.

He bit back a moan.

He was determined to do this quietly, for your sake.

You'd told him to ‘pretend you weren't there’ but that wasn't possible for Oscar in that moment. Firstly because the heat radiating from your body was impossible to ignore, secondly because when he closed his eyes all he could see was you, and all the past dirty fantasies Oscar had had about you when he got himself off.

He'd thought of what it would be like to see you on your knees for him, begging for his cock, or how you'd look bouncing on top of him while he sucked your tits.

He was just a man after all.

And he was so hard it hurt, and he was trying his best to not let any noises slip.

But you could hear the slight movement of his hand against the sleeping bag, and the way his ragged breathing was getting heavier, and then his almost silent whimpers.

And now you were getting turned on.

It's not like he was being loud. By any account it should have been easy to ignore him, but all of your senses seemed to have tuned in to him, and only him.

You could almost see him in yoir mind, lips bitten raw and eyes squeezed shut as he worked his cock frantically, trying to come as fast as possible while you were inches away from him.

The heat between your own legs was becoming unbearable, you needed some kind of relief, so you didn't think twice before sliding a hand into your own underwear.

The first touch against your clit sent an instant wave of relief over your body, so you carried on, sliding a finger through your folds, which were so wet it slipped right in with no resistance.

You flexed your wrist, careful to not make any movements that might alert Oscar to what you were doing.

It was filthy, rubbing one off to your friends sounds, but you couldn't help yourself. You were getting wetter by the minute and the pressure of your palm against your clit just felt so good.

 You were biting your lip in an effort to stop the noises coming out of your mouth, and you were doing a better job of it than Oscar, because he was letting out pathetic little whimpers.

“Fuck” he let out a quiet breath, and you almost would have missed it had you not been listening intently.

You clenched involuntarily around your fingers at the sound, and let out a high pitched noise of your own.

He froze, worried that he'd somehow gone too far.

“Shit- sorry… I'll stay quiet I promise”

You let out a breath, not stopping the movement of your hand.

“Oscar”

“Yeah?” he sounded breathless as his head whipped up to look at you.

“Don't stop, fuck-” you were so fucking needy you could feel yourself slowly creeping towards an orgasm.

Oscar's brain stalled as he realised exactly what you were doing, and his cock throbbed at the thought of you getting off to his noises.

“Are you…?” he asked, hand picking up the rhythm, aided by the steady drip of precome leaking from his tip. “Are you touching yourself as well?”

“Yeah… I'm sorry” you whined “You just sound so hot, Osc, couldn't help myself…”

His brain melted at the nickname, and at how fucked-out you sounded already.

“You have no idea how fucking hard I am right now” he groaned in frustration.

“fuck- I need you” you were trembling, you just needed a little extra push to get over the edge.

“Jesus” he gasped “What do you need?”

“Need you inside me, please” you begged so prettily, how could he refuse such a request.

His body finally made contact with yours, and you could feel him against the curve of your ass.

He reached around your body and replaced your hand with his.

“Fucking hell, you're soaked” he grunted as you quickly slid your underwear off and hooked your leg over his hips to pull him closer to you.

You took his cock in your hand and for the first time felt exactly how big he was.

“Fucking hell Oscar” you gasped.

He chuckled and lined himself up with your dripping cunt, rubbing himself through your folds.

“Fuck me Osc, please” he swiftly pushed inside, and the way he stretched you out so perfectly made your brain turn to static as he wasted no time, thrusting in and out of you shallowly.

You turned your head to the side and grabbed his face to join your lips in a messy kiss, panting as he buried himself in you to the base.

You shuddered as his cock kissed your cervix over and over, all the while rubbing your clit in fast tight circles in an effort to make you come before him, both of you being already so close to the edge you could taste it.

Neither of you lasted very long. As soon as you started clenching around him he was a goner, and he came inside you with a punched-out groan of your name while you whined into his mouth.

You were too exhausted to move, so he kept his softening cock inside you, and wrapped his arms around you to hold you tighter.

“Well, I'm not cold anymore, that's for sure…”

You giggled and slapped his arm playfully.

He responded by leaning over you and pressing his lips to yours in a passionate display of emotion that you were too tired to unpack right now, so you just enjoyed the moment, smiling into kiss.

You fell asleep like that, in each other's arms.

When you got back, you discovered that several complaints had been made about your Sergeant, and there was some kind of investigation involving lie detector tests.

He did end up getting arrested, and you were promoted for your troubles, and because you deserved it, of course.

Apparently he was the one that had been preventing you from getting that promotion, on the grounds that you were better off under his supervision, as he put it in his reports.

So you sued, and won, and Oscar was so proud of you he bought you an engagement ring, which he gave to you in Paris, on the Seine, while a accordionist played Careless Whisper behind you.

It was raining fucking buckets, and the accordion sounded dreadful, but to you it was absolutely perfect.

Oscar found it incredibly hot that you were now his superior, and often called you Sir to rile you up.

So naturally, you regularly had sex in your uniforms, because you were both absolute freaks about it.

[dreamertf]

Follow the Instructions

/hello! Hope you enjoy this one, im gonna start tagging ai as #ai tf so if you dont want to see any ai images in your tfs you can block that tag. Ill also be putting a disclaimer at the top of each post that has ai.

/contains ai images & video

/includes; muscle growth, suggestion tf, straight to gay tf

"Yeah, Im feeling fine!"

Jason was tired of how weak and scrawny his best friend Max stayed throughout their time in high school and now, college. So he had given Max a new black market roid that promised to "make him a bro." He crushed up a few of the pills without looking at the instructions and baked it into a cookie he gave Max.

Jason wasn't so bad himself, 6'4" and muscular, with a charming face. Little did he know that his height that he had since he was a sophmore in highschool would be changing.

Jason stared at Max as his skin started to ripple and shift.

"Are you sure?"

"Never better, bro."

Max ripped his shirt off as his muscles swelled. A deep canyon of rippling abs leading up to two giant slabs of muscle. He flexed and stretched as his biceps filled out.

"Sorry, im feeling a little hot." Max said non chalantly. His muscles continued to grow as he flexed them.

"Oh my god it worked"

"What worked?"

"Oh nothing, dont worry about it."

"Ok brah"

Their surrounds changed from school as it turned into a living room, a living room Jason had been in so many times before, Max's living room. All of a sudden, Jason felt a pull towards Max. He couldn't stop looking at him, like literally. He traced Max's outline as each muscle became more prominent. He stared at the giant as he grew taller and taller, but something wasn't right. It was like everything around Jason was getting taller too.

Unfortunately, Jason hadn't looked into how the roid actually worked. On the back of the small blue box, it read ;

Are you tired of being weak and nerdy? We got you covered. We believe the human mind is a powerful tool, and our Bro Pill helps you to use it to your full potential! Not only does it shift your mindset to be more focused on sports and the bros, but it also changes various other aspects of your life in order to fit your new you! We recommend taking one pill weekly until desired affects.

WARNING: taking more than one pill a week may intensify the effect you have on other people

Jason panicked as he felt himself losing muscle and height. His features softened as he turned from a rugged man into a young 20 something twink. It looks like the god of Jason's creation has type cast him as his twinky boyfriend. Making Max a jock apparently didn't override his sexuality.

"What are you doing to me?"

His voice was still deep, too deep for someone like him.

"Make that voice a little higher, and can you please quit being so worried brah? Be like me, stop thinkin as much little guy huhuhu."

A wave of relief came over Jason as he collapsed onto the couch. His body continued to shrink as he lost his height, becoming about 5'6" compared to Max's new 6'8". His musculature toned down more, not as defined anymore.

"Whatever you say babe" Jason giggled, his voice much higher and more flamboyant.

"Thats my pretty boy." Conversely, Max's voice became much deeper and demanding. Jason felt himself starting to get hornier.

"I'm so happy i couldfind you. Your ass was like made for my dick huhuhu" Max said as he spread his legs wide as his pouch grew bigger. He had one more explosive growth as his shoulder broadened and his pecs filled out more. Jason shifted in his seat as his ass grew more plump and muscular.

"What do you mean?" Jason feigned innocence, turning the ditziness all the way up.

"Come here and I'll show you, slut."

[endless-ineffabilities]

too soon to tell you I love you!

Ewan Mitchell x f!reader

a/n: another random Ewan oneshot, as a result of @seamaiden indulging my delusions 💛

main masterlist

It's not often that you bump into one of your favourite actors at the pub... or he bumps into you.

It is just another night out on the town, and your mates managed to convince you to have a couple of drinks out in Covent Garden.

There's a really good pub you haven't been to apparently, but you know your friends, and they would think a pub is stellar as long as there is free-flowing alcohol inside.

It's a pub, you typed in the group chat, what could be so special about it? I kinda want to stay in tonight.

It will be special cos we'll be in it, one of them replied.

And that was the end of it. No room for negotiation when a night out is involved, but you adore your close-knit band of rascals, so you're hardly fazed.

The three of you are snug in a booth, the first round of drinks already imbibed and wreaking havok in your livers.

"Another round, guys, c'mon," Paul says, slamming his hands down on the wooden table, ever the charming instigator.

"You want another, you be the one to fetch it," Gracie smirked, wagging a finger at him.

"But I got this one! Lay off me, mate. It's someone else's turn now, that's how the system is, let's be civil about this—"

"Oh my god," you cut him off with a teasing laugh, "you really will say anything to get out of getting another round, won't you?" You share a conspiratorial wink with Gracie.

Paul gapes like a blubbering fish. "Hey! But I got the first round—"

"Alright, alright, drama queen," you stand from your seat, patting his shoulder in a mock comforting manner, "I'll cover this round."

"Huzzah! I love you!"

You roll your eyes fondly. "Oh, get a grip. I'll be right back."

It's a Friday night, so traversing the cramped confines of the pub feels like walking into a battefield. You have to shimmy past patrons filing in and out, those standing around tables like flocks of flamingo instead of sitting as they should, lads too focused on the match on the telly to notice when you first mutter excuse me, pardon me.

Then someone, much to your increased annoyance, bumps right into you from behind. You're thrown off kilter when you feel an elbow shoved in between your shoulder blades, making you step on your own damn foot.

You turn sharply. "Hey, watch it—"

"I'm so sorry! Are you alright?"

"I... I..."

"Are you okay?" he asks. His sharp, angular face and intense, piercing gaze make him instantly recognizable. He has that quietly powerful presence, standing a bit taller than you expected, with striking cheekbones and the slightest smirk playing at his lips, framed by the littlest bit of dirty blonde scruff.

"Here, come on." He gently tugs at your arm, his other hand occupied with a full pint. You let him pull you away from the warm, inebriated bodies and into a more secluded corner to the side of the main bar. "Much better, eh? Sorry, I didn't think you could hear me back there. Pub's proper packed tonight, innit? But... yeah, I'm sorry for bumping into you like that."

"It's... not a problem."

"Really?"

You nod, forcing a smile, your throat so constricted you can barely form a coherent sentence.

"Well... I, uh... how about I make it up to you anyway, huh? I could get you a drink? And your mates too if they're around?"

"Yeah, they're..." You raise a hand and wave at your table, but they're already keenly watching you, intrigued looks on their faces. You'll never hear the end of this later. Or ever.

"Is that them?" He waves politely, smiling in amusement. He knows that they recognise him, and how could he not, when they're practically gaping in his direction.

And finally— "Oh, uhm, I'm... Ewan, by the way." You shake his extended hand, introducing yourself in turn.

"Nice to meet you," you croak, "and... uhhh... I actually—"

There's a spark in his eye, and either it's the ambient lighting or his cheeks turn flushed. "Do you watch the show?"

"Yes. I'm a huge fan of yours..." you exhale in relief, a weight off your shoulders as if some secret is finally revealed, but then you hear your words again. "...and the show! I mean, I love the show—"

"Thank you," he grins, saving you from blabbering on too much. He leans forward and nudges your upper arm in a friendly gesture. "Thank you so much, really. I'm glad to hear it."

"So can I ask what's it like to film—"

"You here with just mates or a boyf—"

"Oh, you go ahead," you quickly say, but he blurts out, "Sorry, what did you say?" at the same time. Again.

Just two cluckering hens unable to speak to each other.

Feeling your composure returning, you hold a finger up, telling him to listen for a moment. He laughs softly at your faux stern expression, and the sound is so warm and genuine that your attempted seriousness melts away instantly. You could so get used to that.

"I just wanted to ask, and I hope you don't mind, what is it like to film the show? To be Aemond?"

"Oh, it's an absolute dream," he starts, turning his gaze away for a brief moment as one does when they're tapping into a memory. His blue eyes are cast in another direction, and you're grateful for the momentary reprieve. You catch yourself letting out a shaky breath, no longer arrested by those magnetic orbs of his. But only a few seconds pass before you already miss gazing into them.

You get a hold of your thoughts, and tune in to his words as he continues, "Aemond has become very dear to me... Well, he's definitely a part of me now! And the cast is just the best group of people to work with and I couldn't be more grateful so... Who's your, uhh, favourite character then?"

"Well," you shrug, "you could say he's standing right in front of me!"

"Oh really? And why Aemond?" He places his pint down on the bar and takes a step closer, leaning against the varnished mahogany ever so casually. You have half a mind to chug his pint in order to deal with the intensity of simply being this close to him.

What can you say? Because he's the most beautiful boy you've ever seen? Because he's your tortured little war criminal who is precious and can do no wrong? Because you want to be his ladywife and consumm...

You decide none of those are usable.

So you jump into a brief explanation of how Aemond is a compelling character, a mix of ambition and vulnerability, constantly at odds with others and even himself.

All the while, Ewan stares at you intently. All the while, you pray that your heart won't stop.

When you finish, the smile that is already present on his lips stretches even wider. "You're not just saying that because I'm here, are you? Like, you wouldn't say Criston is your favourite if it were Fabien you bumped into tonight?"

You give a sardonic nod, a slight smirk playing at your lips. "Sure, Ewan. I can easily reuse everything I've said and apply it to Criston Cole. Is Fabien with you? Maybe he can bump into me, and we can start the whole thing all over again."

"No way," he says smoothly, "you're mine."

Your prayers didn't work. Your heart stopped.

He clears his throat, ears reddening. "I mean, you're on team Aemond, come on now. You must prefer him over Cole."

"Well, I do."

"So there, you are mine," he cheekily repeats. Shy then brazen. Embarrassed then flirty.

Just who is this man? You've seen dozens of interviews, heard many a tale of fan encounters, but with every passing second, you feel as if you're discovering someone new altogether.

And it's the type of exciting that stirs you at your core.

"Sorry, am I keeping you from company? I don't want to monopolise— "

He hurriedly shuts that down. "No, no, it's okay. I'm just here with my brother and..." A group of lads erupts in cheers at a goal. "...girlfriend."

"Oh," you mumble. Your heart did start working again, only to clench uncomfortably in your chest. "Well, you should get back to your girlfriend. It was really nice to meet—"

"Wait, hold on," he pleads, reaching for your hand to stop you from turning away, "Not my girlfriend. My brother's. I'm kind of third wheeling them actually. But he's only in London until tomorrow so he wanted to meet me anyway."

"Oh. Okay—"

"I don't... I don't have a girlfriend."

"Uhm, okay," you offer a small smile, unable to deny that his statement gave you some ease.

For no particular reason.

It dawns on you that his larger, rougher hand is still caging yours. When you finally lift your eyes to meet his, a gentle smile plays at his lips, his gaze unwavering.

He leans in, his voice dropping to a low, intimate tone meant only for you. "Listen, could I—"

Something flutters in your peripheral vision, distracting you, albeit you thought it impossible to have your attention diverted if you would ever meet Ewan.

But it was. You turn to see Paul waving an arm frantically at you, likely having waited far too long for his precious pint. Gracie, bless her, tries to get him to simmer down, reaching across the table to slap his arm. Her hand comes into contact with his skin, resulting in a smack loud enough to reach you across the pub.

"Ow!" Paul yelps.

"Leave her alone, mate!" Gracie snaps.

You can't help but laugh at their antics. When you turn to Ewan again, you lose track of what you were going to say, as he's watching you with an unexpected softness, his bottom lip caught between his teeth.

"So..."

"Hmm?" How Aemond of him.

"I think I should do my duty and fetch those guys a round," you sigh, jutting a thumb at your table.

"Oh, I'll get it," he quickly offers. "Don't worry about it, darling."

"Are you sure? I really can—"

"Wait here," he murmurs, his voice so close to your ear that a shiver ripples through you, goosebumps prickling along your skin in response.

You watch as he effortlessly navigates the line, his steady confidence drawing your attention as he orders three pints when it's his turn. You can't help but wonder how no one else has recognized him yet. Luck must be on his side, the footy match on the screens rendering everyone oblivious to the presence of a celebrity in their midst.

Their loss, your gain.

The aforementioned celebrity gestures to you with a tilt of his head, and you weave through the crowd idling by the bar to reach him.

"Here, hold this for me, darling," he says, handing you his own half-empty pint. He balances a full tray with both hands, heading to your table, where Paul has most likely turned into a dry husk.

"Thank you for buying a round!" Gracie exclaims, bouncing slightly in her seat. "You are Ewan from House of the Dragon, right?"

Ewan smiles, shirking slightly under the attention. "Yeah, and hey, I'm just doing my part," he replies with a friendly shrug.

As they gush about House of the Dragon, you try your hardest to disappear into your chair, feeling your cheeks heat. Paul, however—of course—has other plans.

"So, Ewan, you have to know that my friend here—" He gestures dramatically toward you. "—has the biggest crush on Aemond. I'm talking full-on obsession, really.”

"Oh my god, Paul!" you groan, burying your face in your hands, mortified. "Why would you say that?"

Ewan chuckles, and you peer at him to find him leaning back, a smug yet handsome look on his face. "An obsession, you say?" he teases, his blue eyes sparkling with mischief.

You shake your head, laughing despite your embarrassment. "Okay, okay, that's a severe exaggeration."

Ewan says with a grin, looking between you and your friends. "I'll have to be on my best behavior, then, won’t I?"

"Oh, absolutely," Gracie replies. "If you mess this up, you'll ruin Aemond for her forever!"

Ewan raises his hands in mock surrender, laughing. "No pressure, then! But, I hope you don't mind if I steal her away for a while," he says, turning his gaze back to you, his tone softening. "I'd really like to sit and talk to her more."

Alys Rivers has got nothing on you.

"What about your brother?" you ask.

"Oh, I see him all the time," he says, all nonchalant, standing from the booth and offering his hand for you to take.

"Are you sure? I don't—"

"Oh my god, just go with him, mate! You know you want to," Paul groans loudly, then he throws Ewan a wink, adding, "You two would look so cute together, you know?"

You're about to chastise him for yet another pert remark, when Ewan replies, "Oh, yeah, I know."

As the night wears on, he recounts behind-the-scenes stories from filming, your shared laughter echoing in the back area of the pub. You lean in, captivated by the way he animatedly gestures, and by the absurd fact that you're casually talking to Ewan Mitchell.

Your Tumblr moots are going to have an absolute field day with this if they found out.

"You wouldn’t believe how many takes it took me to get that scene right with Vhagar," he says, shaking his head.

You can't help but laugh, picturing the scene. He watches you with a look that sends your poor heart fluttering.

The pub has just announced last call when he places his hand atop yours on the table. "Listen, darling... can I ask for your number? I would really love to see you again sometime."

Does he even have to ask?

"Uh, yeah, of course!" When you hand him his phone back, his fingers brush against yours, purposefully lingering for a moment longer than necessary.

"Brilliant," he says, glancing up at you with that charming smile. "I'll text you right now so you know it's really me."

True to his word, it doesn't take long before your phone buzzes in your pocket. You're met with a notification that an unknown number sent you a message—

Hey, beautiful. How about you let me take you out on a proper date tomorrow night? – your obsession, apparently

Your head shoots up, and you lock eyes with Ewan, who is already laughing to himself.

"Ewan! Are you kidding me?" you exclaim, but surrendering to the humour of the whole thing, laughing with him.

"Please say yes, darling?" he tilts his head, pouting adorably, drawing nearer to you.

Yes. Of course. Most certainly.

"Well... since I'm obsessed with you, I guess you already know my answer."

[pure-smut]

pain and pleasure.

featuring: Coach Ukai x f!reader

contains: virgin!reader, college coach!Ukai, dubcon/noncon (reader is defo coerced), reader dumbification, power imbalance, missionary, groping, Ukai is not a good guy in this I'm sorry!!!

note: all characters are over 18!

MDNI | 18+ content

word count: 1.8k

masterlist

You can pinpoint the exact day Coach Ukai smiled at you differently than usual. His face remained as serious as always but there was something in his eyes that hadn’t been there before. A hunger. You didn’t recognise it at the time but you flush regardless.

You haven’t been on the college volleyball team for long but you practiced four times a week, so you see Ukai often. His t-shirt is fitted against his broad chest and you would sometimes gaze at his forearms, not sure why you enjoy them so much but savouring them anyway. He’s the kind of coach that girls swoon over, giggling and whispering to each other, “He’s so hot!”. So, when you looks at you, hungry, you’re flattered and smile back.

“Y/N,” he calls as the team files out. “I need a word with you.”

“Oooh.” The rest of the team laugh as you blush furiously. “Y/N’s in trouble!”

It’s true you had missed a couple of spikes and you’re still working on your receive but nothing you think you’d get in trouble for. You linger awkwardly, tugging at the hem of your jersey as everyone leaves. Coach Ukai cocks his head.

“Relax, Y/N,” he says. “You’re not in trouble.”

He crosses his arms and trails his eyes over you. It’s not the first time you’ve seen that look in a man but it’s the first time it’s caused butterflies to break out in your stomach. You lower your eyes, wishing you could shake off your awkwardness. But you have to admit, you’re enjoying his laser-focussed attention, even if you don’t know what to do with it.

“However,” Ukai breaks the silence. “You haven’t been making the progress I expect from you.”

“Oh.” You glance up, crestfallen at the idea of disappointing him, but he doesn’t look overly displeased. “I’m sorry, sir.”

Ukai crosses the few steps between you. He’s close enough to make your heart start thumping.

“It’s nothing serious – I think you need to work on the theory more,” he explains, his eyes never leaving yours. “I’m happy to tutor you in the evenings.”

You swallow, unsure what to say. Have you really been doing so badly you need extra tutoring. You manage to make yourself match his eye contact, aware of how much taller he is than you.

“Here’s my address,” he says, apparently unbothered by your uncertaintly, and passes you a piece of paper. “Come around at six.”

“Of course, sir.” You clutch the paper to your chest and leave quickly, breathless.

*

It’s a warm evening so you wear your sundress as you arrive at Coach Ukai’s house. He ushers you in quickly, showing you to his living room. When he offers you a glass of wine, you’re not sure but you want him to think you’re sophisticated so you agree.

You expect to sit at a desk but instead, he guides you to the couch where you both sit down. Ukai’s wearing an easy smile as he rests his arm on the back of the couch.

“You’re getting on well with the team,” he remarks as you take a small sip of wine.

“Yeah, I think so.” You nod, not sure what to do with your hands so taking another drink. “We’re friends.”

“And we’re friends too, right, Y/N?”

You nearly choke on the wine. Ukai smiles at you with that hunger in his eyes again. Not for the first time, you feel like prey under a predators’ gaze.

“Y-yeah. Of course.”

“I’d like to be more than friends.” He reaches out to brush a thumb across your cheek.

He’s so close you can smell his cologne. It’s intoxicating.

“More than friends?” you breathe. Your heart thumps against your ribcage.

“But it would need to be a secret,” he whispers, his face inches from yours. “Can you do that?”

“Yes.” You nod, closing your eyes. “I’d do anything for you, sir.”

Ukai’s lips are on yours, the roughness of his stubble at odds with the softness of his mouth. It warms every inch of you. He cups your face and pushes you back on the couch, putting both your glasses of wine to the side. You feel so small under his large form, so completely powerless under the weight of him.

Ukai kisses you deeply, hungrily, but with a slowness that suggests he’s savouring it. You arch your back, feeling so desired you want to close every inch between you.

“Good girl,” Ukai moans, moving from your mouth to your neck.

Thrilled, you raise your chin, allowing him better access to the delicate skin of your neck. He licks across your windpipe, leaving a trail of kisses down to your collarbone. His hand moves from your face down to the neckline of your dress, tugging it down. You only remember you’re braless when you feel the rough callouses of his hand as it closes over your breast.

“W-wait,” you gasp. “I’m not sure about this.”

You had never gone this far with anyone before, let alone someone fifteen years your senior. A stab of fear cuts through your excitement. But Ukai only continues to fondle you, his mouth on your neck.

“You wanted this,” he breathes against the shell of your ear. His fingers pinch your nipple in a way that sends a jolt through your body. “You came in here with no bra on, teasing me.”

Ukai’s words conflict you. Are you being a tease? Are you being unfair by flaunting your breasts and not allowing him to touch them?

Coach Ukai pays no mind to your hesitation, pulling down the neckline of your dress to expose both of your tits to him. You inhale sharply, the most exposed and vulnerable you’ve ever felt with someone. You automatically raise an arm to cover yourself but he grabs your wrist, pinning it above you. You struggle against him.

“Please, sir,” you beg.

“You’ve been throwing yourself at me.” He kisses your neck with a gentleness that contradicts with his rough words. “You want this so you can stop pretending and just enjoy it.”

You give one last struggle before giving up, deflated at his superior strength and his words. You had wanted this. How many girls would kill to be in this position with Ukai right now? He’s right. You teased him so it’s only fair you let him have his way.

Ukai feels you sag against him and kisses your lips again. You kiss him back.

“That’s a good girl,” he murmurs into your mouth. “Are you a virgin, baby?”

You nod, tears threatening to spill.

“Don’t worry, I’ll make it feel good,” Ukai assures you.

He repositions himself between your legs, forcing them apart, your dress riding up to your hips. You can’t ignore the hardness presses against your mound and you’re thankful you kept your panties on, if not your bra.

Coach Ukai moves his mouth down to your nipples, capturing one in his mouth and sucking with his hand massages the soft flesh. Despite your fear, your body is getting aroused and you know you’re wet already. Your clit throbs and you find yourself grinding against his hardness, your hips moving on their own.

“You want it, baby?” Ukai pulls his mouth away and unbuckles his belt.

You nod, tears finally spilling. You hate yourself for it but you’re start to become desperate to orgasm. Ukai pulls down his jeans and boxers, just low enough for his cock to spring free. You look down but can’t see much in the semi-darkness and through your wet lashes. But you do feel it slap against your clit, causing you to involuntarily arch your back.

“Look at you spreading your legs for me,” Ukai groans, running a finger along my clothed pussy. “Look at how wet you are for your coach’s cock.”

Ukai hooks a finger under your panties and pulls them to the side, his eyes fixed on your glistening lips. A grin plays on his lips.

“You really want it.”

He doesn’t phrase it as a question but you nod anyway.

“Yes, sir. Please.”

You feel a pressure on your pussy as Ukai lines the fat head of his cock up with your entrance, keeping your panties pulled out of the way. He smears his precum against your lips, mixing with your arousal.

“If you want to stay on the team, you’re gonna have these tutoring sessions with me every week,” Ukai instructs you.

His thumb strokes your swollen clit, sending sparks through your body.

“Oh, god…” you moan, so close to cumming you can’t think straight.

“Understand?”

“Yes, sir. Yes. Please, sir.”

You buck your hips against his thumb but he uses his other hand to press your hips against the couch, keeping you still. He keeps up the steady circles on your clit, his thumb slick with your juices, and begins to push himself inside you.

You expected your first time to hurt but it doesn’t. You feel Ukai stretch you but you’re so wet, it only provides further stimulation. He pushes himself slightly further before pulling out and sliding back in again, going deeper each time. The combination of his cock stroking in and out of you and his rubbing your clit sends you over the edge.

Your body tenses as waves and waves of pleasure course through you. Coach Ukai keeps up his steady rhythm through your orgasm, keeping you pinned against the sofa. He groans as your slick, hot walls contract around his cock, squeezing him tight.

“Good girl,” he grunts, only removing his thumb when you start to whimper from overstimulation.

He leans forward, grabbing the armrest of the couch to leverage himself as he starts to pound at you. His hips snap against the back of your thighs as he buries himself as deep as he can go. Ukai’s previous measured tenderness has gone, replaced with animalistic desire.

His calloused hands grope your breasts roughly as they bounce under the force of his fucking. He slaps them and pinches your nipples, enjoying the feel of your firm flesh under his palm.

You let him do what he wants, still dazed from creaming on his cock, obediently keeping your legs spread for him.

“So fucking tight, fuck.”

Ukai’s breathing quickens, his cock throbbing inside you. You don’t have time to realise what’s happening, that he’s not wearing a condom, before he buries himself to the hilt and spills inside you. Your half-lidded eyes snap open as you feel him, hot and sticky as he coats your walls with a groan.

Ukai collapses on top of you, his face in the crook of your neck.

“Thank you, sir,” you whisper. “Thank you for fucking me.”

Ukai raises his head to kiss you, his softness returning.

“Every week, you understand?”

“Yes, sir.”

[ghostsandguns]

141 as EMT maybe?👀

I'm in love with your firefighter au!!

YESSS I love this idea! Thanks for sending it in 🩷 Firefighter!141

Your head pounds, each throb sharper than the last. It's dark, and a cold sense of confusion grips you—you're not sure where you are. Suddenly, someone's voice cuts through the haze. ''Hey, can you hear me?''

Yes.

Where are you? Why is everything dark?

Oh. Your eyes. They're closed.

Open them. Open them. Open them.

Forcing your eyes open, you're hit by the blinding flash of sirens, their harsh light overwhelming your senses. What the hell happened?

Everything is a swirling blur, the nausea twisting in your stomach. The blurry shape that's been talking to you gradually comes into focus—a man with a worried expression etched across his face. ''There you are. Had me worried for a second'' His tone is light, but you catch the undercurrent of concern. ''Do you know where you are?''

You hesitate, your thoughts sluggish and scattered. ''I think...I was driving home...''

As you speak, he nods, his gloved hand reaching up to gently touch the side of your head. The contact sends a sharp sting through you, causing you to flinch and pull away. He gives you a soft smile as he apologises, his gaze shifting back to the wound. On his shirt, you notice a name tag reading ''Kyle''

''Alright, love,'' he says, grabbing some of his medical supplies, ''you were hit by another car at the intersection, and you struck your head against the steering wheel. We're going to need to take you to the hospital to examine you further and get you some sitches''

''Hey! Let me go!'' The shout catches your attention, and your eyes dart past the man to the chaos unfolding behind him. Your car is there, parked on the side of the road, its side sporting a massive dent. Lucky you...

A disheveled man, clearly intoxicated, is surrounded by two officers—the taller of the two holding him in the air by the back of his shirt as the man continues to trash and shout. Standing beside him, his older-looking colleague is slightly shaking his head, assessing the situation with his hands on his hips.

''You fuckin' idiot. You could've killed someone, getting behind the wheel with your drunk ass,'' the blonde officer spits out, shaking the man a bit and effortlessly dodging his feeble attempts at swinging. His fellow officer, apparently having seen enough, pats him on the shoulder, nodding toward the patrol car.

''Don't mind those two,'' Kyle states, answering your questioning look as he continues to clean your wound.

As the drunk driver gets cuffed and shoved into the back of the patrol car, the older officer notices you staring and begins making his way toward the ambulance. He gives Kyle a nod of acknowledgement, the kind shared between old friends.

''She alright?'' he inquires, giving you a quick once-over.

''Nothing too bad, '' Kyle replies, finishing up his work. ''She'll need stitches, though. Johnny and I will take her to the hospital. You can take her statement there, once we're done''

The officer hums in agreement before extending his hand, ''I'm officer Price. I'll see you at the hospital then.'' As he turns to leave, he glances back with a smirk. ''If it makes you feel any better, the bastard won't enjoy his time with my partner,'' he chuckles, then heads back to the car.

Kyle carefully helps you into the back of the ambulance, guiding you to sit beside him while making sure you don't lose your balance. Just then, the driver turns around, flashing you a wink. His ridiculous mohawk stands out on top of his head as he grins. ''Alright then, lass. Let's get ye patched up''

[willsimpforanyone]

Hey! Hope you’re having a good day, Can your please do a smutty dom/sub, dom Percy jackson x sub female Zeus!reader where it's an enemies to lovers but readers been being a brat and teasing the hell outa' Percy so he decides to "teach her a lesson" so he takes her to his cabin and they fuck and she has a thing for choking. . . ?

hi hello sorry for taking so long uni is hell and im so tired but apparently i cant focus on revising so im doing this instead ty for being so patient luv u

tis made clear they're both adults like literally i say they're adults is all good

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

"What's the matter, Jackson?" I grinned as I landed a bullseye on the target and heard a grunt from next to me. "Not really your speed, it it?" My voice dripped with faux pity.

Percy's shot went wide and I laughed. He rolled his eyes and nocked another arrow. "How old are you? I thought we were adults, not fucking kids." He loosed the arrow and just barely struck the target.

I shrugged, following suit and doing better than he did, if not hitting where I was aiming. "Maybe, but you make it so easy to fuck with you, it's like you're into it." I winked at him.

This kind of banter was common- one of us would be better than the other at something, flaunt their skill unashamedly and piss each other off until one of us left or someone else came in to shut us up. It was a familiar routine; loathe I was to admit it, Percy was better than I was at a fair few things so when I got the upper hand, I relished it.

"Come on, Perce, just give in." I cocked my head to one side, looking up at him. "Sea Daddy didn't give you this skill and I'm up by 6 points, you can't beat me at this."

He barked a laugh. "Sea Daddy? I should strike you down where you stand."

I waited until he nocked his next arrow. About to shoot it, I stood on my tiptoes, as close to his ear as possible. "Is that a promise?"

Percy's arrow flew into the ground, a faint pink staining his cheeks. I backed off, cackling. "Aw, too far?"

He stood frozen for a second. I paused mentally. It wouldn't be the first time I flirted with him, teasing him like this was just one of the weapons in my arsenal- I always made sure not to do anything too bad, just enough to catch him off guard. Maybe today was just a bad day and I'd gone too far.

Instead, Percy lowered his bow to drop it on the ground, stepping over his quiver of arrows to move towards me. There was a wolfish grin on his lips. "Not close enough, princess."

My breath caught in my throat. That was a new one; nicknames were sometimes used, sure, to annoy the other but 'princess' was new. And effective, apparently.

Determined to stand my ground, I stayed still as Percy crossed the short distance between us. He was a good few inches taller than me. I caught myself looking into his eyes and tried to school my face into something resembling superiority.

He smelled really good.

"No retort? Nothing to say, hm?" Percy's tone was slightly condescending and I don't know if it was the proximity, the nickname or the fact that I suddenly realised I had this incredibly attractive man focusing all his attention on me, but I felt a little weak at the knees.

Now is not the time to be discovering kinks, dammit.

"I-I..." I sputtered. "...Princess?"

Smooth.

Percy grinned, tongue just sweeping over his lower lip. "If I knew a little pet name would shut you up, I'd have done this weeks ago."

Well. Shit. Guess I'm going all in, humiliation be damned.

"Kiss me."

Percy blinked. "...what?"

I twisted a hand in the front of his shirt. "You heard me, Jackson." That's right, I still have some words left. "You started this, what are you gonna do about it?"

There was no hesitation. Percy pressed closer to me and slammed his lips on mine, hands coming round my waist and fingers digging into my back. I inhaled sharply, instantly dizzy with the rush of arousal that flooded my system.

Time slowed for a moment, just enough so that all I knew was Percy, Percy and his lips and his hands and his heartbeat hammering against his ribcage.

We broke apart, panting slightly, eyes locked. I was the first to break.

"My place or yours?"

Percy growled something that might have been 'mine' and grabbed my hand, pulling me after him. I stumbled a few times but we made it to the Poseiden cabin; luckily there were very few people around, everyone either in their cabin or busy. No one to see me eagerly following Percy into his cabin and definitely no one to hear him push me up against the door and press his lips to mine again.

My fingers ran through his hair, his hands back on my hips pinning me against the wood. Damn, I forget how strong he is. I tried shifting my position slightly and he merely readjusted his grip, I couldn't even lift away from the door. The knowledge that he was using hardly any effort to keep me still sent a fresh wave of horniness through my brain and I fought to keep a whine from escaping my lungs.

Yeah, I know we fight and tease and try to annoy the fuck out of each other but holy Hades if this guy isn't gorgeous and currently all I can think about.

Percy tugged at my hair, pulling to expose my neck and licked a stripe up my skin. "You okay with this?"

I did my best to nod.

Immediately, he stepped back, letting go of me completely. "No, do better, princess, yes or no?"

Gorgeous and respectful of consent, the gods really put effort into making this one.

I swallowed, forcing my brain to make coherent words. "Yes, yes, I am very okay with this, get back here."

Percy smirked. "So demanding." He went to sit on his bunk, leaning back on his hands and tilting his head to the side. "If you want it, you have to come over here."

Bitch, thinks he's in control. He's right, but I didn't have to give in so easily. I steadied myself.

"Oh, you think I'm that easy? We'll see."

I kept my eyes on him, shrugging my jacket off my shoulders and letting it fall to the floor. Kicking off my shoes was hardly sexy, but I kept going, getting a little closer to the bed. I thanked everything possible that I was wearing a dress, the soft material settling just below mid thigh. The shorts I wore under them were quickly gone, and I was left in a dress, underwear and a bra.

Percy's chest was rising a little heavier with each item of clothing I rid myself of and I knew just how to get a little of my power back. I moved to stand right in front of him and lifted the back of my dress. I winked and pulled my underwear off, one leg at a time, until they were pooled on the floor. To no one's surprise, there was a wet patch in the middle.

Percy groaned, hands fisting in the sheets. I stood in between his open legs, not touching but so, so close.

"Aw, you liked my little show, Jackson?" I giggled. "Gods, I bet you're desperate to see under here-" I played with the hem of my dress. "-am I right?"

In a flash, Percy stood, hefted me up and threw me on his bed. I bounced on my back, a breathless laugh punched out of me. Grabbing my thighs, he pulled me to the edge of the bed and flipped up my dress.

"Such a fucking brat." Percy's voice was low and slightly gravelly, fingers pressing into the flesh of my legs. I squeaked at the sudden movements and the slight embarrassment of being exposed so abruptly.

"Maybe this will teach you a lesson." He dove in between my thighs, licking a stripe up my pussy, moaning at the taste. I choked as he ate me out with fervour, keeping my legs apart easily even as I fought to close them around his head.

Percy's face was soaked, tongue driving me insane as it swirled over my clit. Two of his fingers pushed inside me and I slapped a hand over my mouth to keep from yelling. I felt him grin against me, not moving his fingers, just keeping them insider my pussy and laving his tongue over my folds.

"P-Percy, fuck-!" I reached down to grasp his hair in my hands.

He pressed a kiss to my clit, looking up at me with a smug smile on his face. "What is it, princess? A little needy?" I somehow felt myself get even wetter, and Percy noticed. "Oh, you like being called 'princess', hm? Cute, but you're gonna have to work for me to do anything else, baby."

I groaned in arousal and annoyance. "Wh-what do you want, b-bastard?"

Percy tutted, and withdrew his fingers. "Nope, c'mere." He stood and sat on the bed, reaching over and dragging me until I sat straddling his lap, bare pussy just touching his jeans. I clutched at his shoulders as he inserted his fingers into me again.

"Now, if you want to be fucked properly, you're going to fuck yourself on my fingers until you come and I'm not going to help, okay, princess?"

Oh, a cruel, cruel, insanely hot man. Damn my power, damn everything in me that wanted to push back at him, I wanted to come and an infuriating part of me wanted to please him. Fuck.

My cheeks were bright red, my dress covering the obscene sight of Percy's hand wet and his fingers inside my pussy, but slowly, slowly, I lifted myself a few inches and sat back down. Fuck, his fingers were so long. I repeated my action, a little stronger. A little faster, a little more, until I was riding his fingers and he was kissing me and despite his former promise he was pumping his hand and using his thumb to press circles into my clit.

I was so worked up it didn't take long for my orgasm to rip through me. I let out a choked sound and Percy used his other hand to press over my mouth to muffle my noises. "Fuck, you sound so pretty when you come, princess, but we gotta be quiet, okay?" My hips were still stuttering against his hand, but I nodded.

The flash of a thought shot through my orgasm-addled mind. I released one of Percy's shoulders and touched his hand across my mouth. Gently, I guided it to just rest on my neck, the weight at once comforting and dizzyingly arousing.

"This okay?"

He stared at my neck, at his hand reaching from one side to the other and very carefully he squeezed his fingers. My eyes rolled back in my head. "Shit, yes, very okay, princess." He gently withdrew his fingers from my pussy and brought them up to his mouth. He licked my come off his hand, groaning at the taste. "Fuck, that was so hot, you did so good, my good little princess, you want me to fuck you now?"

He was so deperate for me, it gave me a rush of power to have him like this even if I'd just ridden his hand because he asked.

"Yes, fuck, please fuck me, Percy."

He moved me off his lap like I was delicate, something he'd break if he wasn't careful, and stripped as quickly as possible. His cock slapped against his stomach and I felt my mouth water. Still a little shaky, I got up on my knees and pulled at his hips until he was facing me. I reached out and took his cock in my hand, licking at the tip.

Percy heaved a breath. "Oh, princess, as much as I'd love to have you suck me off, if I don't get inside you in the next minute I might actually combust."

I giggled. "Well, we wouldn't want that."

I watched him fish a condom out from the drawer by his bed and bit my lip as I watched him slide it on and jerk himself a few times. "Alright, baby, how do you wanna do this?"

Laying back against the pillows, I slipped off the straps of my dress. Percy got the message pretty quickly.

In a second, he was hovering over me, pulling the top of my dress down. He reached round to my back and unclasped my bra, throwing it somewhere in the room. He bent his neck and nipped little red marks over my chest, licking over my pebbling nipples and I inhaled sharply. "I've been good, haven't I?"

Percy nodded. "So good for me."

I wrapped my arms around his neck. "Then fuck me like you hate me."

He smirked, reaching down a hand to guide his cock to push into me inch by inch. "Well, since you asked so nicely..."

I barely had any time to adjust to him when he started pounding into me, hips pistoning and abs clenching. Moans worked their way between my lips despite my best efforts, unable to be silent at the delicious friction he ws giving me.

"So hard to be quiet, isn't it?" Percy panted into my ear. "Poor thing, let me help with that."

Not stopping his movements, he sat back on his heels, pulling my hips up to him and smoothing one hand down my body to rest heavy on my throat. My tits bounced as he thrusted hard into me, my hands clutching at the sheets, the pillows, his arm, the hand that promised to just slightly cut off bloodflow to my head.

My vision went slightly fuzzy, my head deliciously dizzy and all I could do was lie there and take it, take his cock hammering into my pussy and feel the build up of my second orgasm.

"Sh-shit, princess, you feel so fucking good, I'm gonna- I'm gonna come, fuck!" Percy hissed through his teeth. "Touch yourself for me, that's it, such a good girl, fuck."

I rubbed my clit harshly with as much focus as I could, feeling myself come from my toes, rolling up through my body and exploding in my lower stomach. Percy's lip was swollen and red from where he'd been biting it and I felt his hips stutter, flooding the condom as he came.

There was a minute of quiet, both of us recovering, breathing evening out. I squeezed my eyes shut against the overstimulation as Percy pulled out, shushing me gently. There was a moment where he removed the condom where I truly thought he was just going to leave and my heart squeezed painfully, but he returned almost immediately.

"Hey, sit up, baby, that's it." He helped me up to sit on his bed, summoning some water and pouring it in a cup he'd found. He handed it to me. "Drink at least half of that, please. I'm gonna get some new clothes, okay?" Pressing a kiss to my head, he wandered about the cabin gathering sweatpants and t-shirts for us.

Obediently, I swallowed almost all the water, waiting sleepily for him to offer me his clothes.

Percy slipped on some clothes, helping me stand and after getting my permission, slipped off my dress and helped me put on one of his camp t-shirts and a pair of warm sweatpants.

"Better?" He whispered, maintaining the soft atmosphere we'd managed to cultivate.

I nodded. "Mm, yeah, thank you."

He blushed, wrapping me in his arms. "No problem, princess."

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

ty for requesting, i hope you liked!!

[lqveharrington]

For your 2k celebration, I’d love something with peace by Taylor and Finnick Odair x reader. Love your work!! 🩷🩷

Peace | F.O.

summary: even after everything you and finnick have been through, peace would never be an option

pairing: finnick odair x fem!reader

includes: arguing, yelling, pregnancy, marriage, kissing

a/n: first time writing for finnick! 🫶🏼also i'm apparently a whole foot shorter than finnick, i didn't know that until i searched up his height (not sam. he's six inches taller than me)

In your entire relationship with Finnick, you never thought he would yell. You knew he was in the game twice, but he never yelled at you once and you didn't think it would happen. Especially if you were arguing over an important subject.

It was like his fight or flight instincts switched on. The danger that lived in him flashed red and he couldn't stop the fire that left him. Even if that meant blazing the trail your way.

“How is it my fault?” You run your fingers through your hair and look outside the cottage, biting your lip in frustration. It wasn't like you asked for it to happen at this very moment in time. All you wanted was to see him happy, but he reacted in the worst way possible. “I didn’t know!”

“We should’ve been more careful! Who knows if the games will ever happen again and I have to play for the third time?” Finnick paced the length of the kitchen before resting his arms on the counter, gripping the edge like it could break at any moment. His face contorted, small huffs leaving his lips. “What if you get chosen? What if we both do? Then what will happen?”

You shake your head at him and spin the ring on your finger, eyes full of exasperation. “What do you want me to do, Finn? Get rid of the baby?”

The rolling waves from the beach outside took over the silence as the wind blew strands of your hair away from your face. You didn’t know what he was going to say. He looked sick, but you doubted he truly was. You wanted something to be said — anything — until Finnick looked at you with a blank face.

“If that what it takes for you to be safe — yes.”

Your face instantly twists in disbelief, stepping away from the man you loved. “Unbelievable.” You turned and headed for the front door, pulling your shawl on tightly. As your hands reached for the handle, you spoke once more, voice so quiet he could barely hear it over the roaring ocean. “This used to be our dream, you know?”

Start of Flashbacks

“Finnick?” You rushed inside the cottage, looking for the blue-eyed man. You heard his voice from the bedroom and you quickly entered, sitting on the floor in front of him. “Annie just told me the champions are being chosen for the games again — “

“It’s a quarter quell.” Finnick murmured and took your hands in his, tracing invisible shapes into your palm. He sighed softly and kissed your knuckles, “They want to put in old winners to see who would win from the best.”

You blink rapidly and fight the tears already forming. You thought he was done with stressing over the games, but to put a winner back in was cruel and inhuman. Although the games itself were already tragic. “That shouldn’t be allowed! You’re the only male winner left in District 4!“

“I’ll be okay.” He tried reassuring you even if he wasn’t confident in his own abilities. He squeezed your hands softly and met your teary-eyed expression. “Just promise you won’t watch the games.”

Your face falls as your eyes searching his. You grip his hand tighter and shake your head, hands shaking in fear. “Finnick — “

“Promise me.”

You swallow a sob and nod, looking down at the wooden floor. You wished it would swallow you up rather than wait for Finnick to come home to you. “I promise, I won’t watch the games. But you can’t stop me from going to the reaping. I will go.”

Finnick let his free hand drift to your cheek, wiping a stray tear. “Sunshine…” He pursed his lips and pressed a kiss to the top of your heads, letting you calm down before he spoke again. “Once I get out and everything is over, we’ll start our own life together, yeah?”

You slowly breathe, listening intently to his words. The world you lived in was never at peace and you knew that his words were words until the action was completed. It’s just how Panem worked.

“The first thing I’ll do is marry you.” He whispered and watched your lips twitch up at the thought. “Maybe a mini you? Mini me?”

You let out a small laugh and tilt your head, playing with his hands. “More than one Finnick? That’d be a sight.”

He linked your hand together and pressed a kiss to the back of it, making your finally grin.

“I’m holding you to your words, Odair, be careful.

—

“You know, you’re going to get sick if you stay out here long enough with no coat, Sunshine.” Finnick's voice rang out from behind you, making you whip around.

Your eyes widened at the sight of him. It had been days — weeks — since you last saw the love of your life and there he was. His face was scratched and his hair grew a little, but otherwise, he was unharmed. Although you weren’t sure what happened mentally.

“Finnick.” You whisper and ran into his open arms, clinging onto him tightly — afraid that if you let go he would disappear. “I missed you so much. I forbid everyone around to tell me what happened in the games and I didn’t want to hear who died and who— I couldn’t—“

“That’s okay, you’re okay.” He ran his fingers through your hair and pressed a kiss to the top, holding onto you equally as tight. “I’m okay.”

“I was so scared.” You bury your head in his chest and squeeze your eyes shut, wanting to completely be one with him. “I thought you wouldn’t come home to me.”

“I’m here, see?” He slowly moved your hand over the left side of his chest and held it there for a minute, watching your breathing match the steady beat. “Heart still beating just for you.”

You give him a soft smile and open your eyes again, meeting his loving ones. You didn’t know what you did to deserve an amazing partner, but you sure as hell wasn’t complaining. You just smiled up at him and knew he was all it took to make you happy in the entire world.

“I missed you.” You whispered and brushed some of his hair away from his eyes, letting scratching his scalp. “Don’t leave me again.”

“I wouldn’t dare think about it.” Finnick kissed your cheek before pulling the drawstring bag to his front and began digging inside of it. “I have a gift for you.”

You take a small step back and raise a brow, scanning over his body to ensure he truly was alright. “You do?”

“From the Capitol.” He waved his hand around before producing a ring box from the bag, his eyes now locked onto yours. “I don’t know if you’ll love it, but…”

“Oh, Finn.” You covered your mouth and watched him get down on one knee.

He opened the box to reveal the prettiest ring you’ve ever seen in your entire life. You would bet your entire life savings that Mags helped him pick it out. You wondered where she was... You heard multiple people got out of the game, but where was she? She was like a mother to you.

“I said I would marry you the second I got out of there, didn’t I?” Finnick held the ring out to you and gave you a bright smile, your name falling from his lips. “Will you marry me?”

“Of course.” You whisper with so much devotion and love before tackling him to the floor of the front porch, kissing him deeply. “Of course, I’ll marry you.”

He caught you before you could both slam onto the wood, one hand on your back while the other around your shoulders. Finnick grinned into the kiss and pulled away, eyes bouncing around your facial features.

“I love you.” You murmur and watch him slip the beautiful ring onto your finger, the stones glistening in the sunlight. “Thank you for coming home.”

“Wouldn’t miss coming home to you.” Finnick kissed your cheek and let you rest your head on his shoulder. “Ever.”

End of Flashbacks

“What did I say about sitting outside with no coat on, Sunshine?”

You scoff and turn away at the sound of your husband, pulling the thin shawl around you tighter as sprays of salt water hits your exposed skin. You came outside to think, not get lectured by Finnick.

“I’m not talking to you, Finnick.”

He sighed before putting a blanket around your shoulder and taking a seat beside you, gaze shifting to the vast ocean he loved. He watched the waves crash into the shore for a few seconds before speaking.

“Do you remember when I got home from the quarter quell games? How you told me you were so scared for me?" Finnick asked as he played with the sand beneath his fingers, the grains slipping through every now and then. "Well, I'm scared for you."

He paused and shook his head, pulling his legs up and resting his head on his knees. "Everything has changed and I'm afraid everything will go back the way it used to be."

You sat quietly and took in his words, burying your head in the blanket. It smelled like flowers and citrus. It smelled like Finnick. You briefly looked at him and saw the tiredness under his eyes, the tension in his shoulders. All you saw was the toll the games and rebellion took out on him.

"I’m sorry I shouted earlier… I know we've been wanting this for so long, but it's terrifying." Finnick admitted and dropped all the sand from his shaking hands. "I'm scared to come home one day and you're gone from this world. I'm scared to leave you on your own, especially when you're pregnant."

You frown and take his shaking hand, squeezing it softly until he looked over at you. "I'm scared too, Finn."

He stared at you as you spoke, the blanket you wore now upon his shoulders as well. He looked down at your hands, the ones that wrote his name over and over again until the shaking stopped.

"You think I don't know how scary it is to not know what will happen to us?" You whisper and purse your lips, squeezing his hand once more. "But I know we'll be okay."

"Why is that?"

"Because we have each other." You brought his hand up to his face and flashed the wedding ring to him, making eye contact with him. "With all the hell we've been through, we always had each other."

You watch as his mind gears begin turning, giving him a small smile. "Our job now is to protect our child. We're not running or fighting. We've settled for them."

Finnick shut his eyes and kissed the back of your hand, thinking about his past. Ever since he was fourteen, he was never able to get past the horrors he’s seen and he wasn’t sure if he would ever come to terms with them.

"I could never give us peace." He met your eyes again, the blue in his eyes darkening with all the emotional turmoil in his mind.

"But you're enough for me." You take his clasped hand and place it on your lower half, his hand warm against you. "All I want is to be with you."

You rest your forehead on his and breathe, feeling him thumb the skin of your stomach. "That's my peace."

Finnick hummed and leaned in, giving your a quick kiss to the lips. "You really know how to make me fall for you."

"Well, I would like to think so— Finnick!" You gasp as he pulls you down into the sand, your hair now covered in grains of sand. He pressed a tender kiss on your lips, making your heart beat faster. When you separate, your vision is a little hazy and you blink it away, grinning stupidly. "What was that for?"

"A thank you and a promise." He brushed the back of his fingers on your cheek, dusting the sand off and ensuring you were alright from pulling you down. "I'll protect you and our child with my life."

You lean into his touch and look between his eyes, "I love you."

"I love you too." He pecked your cheek once, twice, thrice before pulling away and matching your bright smile. "More than you'll ever know, Sunshine."

©lqveharrington - all rights reserved. do not copy, translate or share my work on other media platforms

[golden-cherry]

deal - cl16 (17/?)

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x Reader

Series Summary: Your whole life has gone to shit. Your boyfriend broke up with you, you just lost your job and the Monegasque, who suddenly stands in your doorway, claims that it’s his apartment.

Chapter Summary: That's definitely not the goodbye you wanted.

Warnings: angst, jealousy, swear words

Word Count: 3.3k

series masterlist

previous part

A/N: sorry for this shitty chapter and sorry for keeping you waiting! feedback is appreciated! love ya.

It's not long before Charles falls asleep next to you. 

You hear his soft breathing, the way the bedspread rustles as he slides his arm under the pillow and bends his right knee. Apparently he's lying on his stomach, snuggled tightly in the warmth of the bed you'll share for the second and last time. 

That Charles has grown so close to your heart in exactly three days is something you would never have thought was possible in your life.

After Raphael cheated on you and your friends let you down, you vowed to take better care of yourself and your heart and never let anyone into your life so easily again. You resigned yourself to the fact that you would spend the next time alone until you could put your trust in someone again. And that had been perfectly fine with you, as long as it had kept further pain at bay.  

But the brunette Monegasque, without making any particular effort, has walked into your life as if God personally had opened the gates for him, and has taken up residence with you as if he were a virus that is taking you over completely. 

You turn away from him, but you can still feel the warmth of his body through the many layers of fabric that lie between you. 

The fact that he will spend the next few days in Italy is a good start to building the wall that will keep your heart from great harm. It will create some distance between you, buy you more time in which to figure out your feelings. And if it really comes down to you feeling more than simple friendship for your roommate, you'll still have plenty of time to think of some way to handle the situation. 

You're about to press your face into your pillow so it can stop the whirlwind of thoughts in your head when your cell phone lights up. 

Lando: Did you know that the Eiffel Tower is about six inches taller in the summer than in the winter?

Confused, but grinning, you glance at the screen. It's the middle of the night - why is he sending you such a strange message at this late hour?

You cast a glance over your shoulder to make sure Charles is actually asleep before releasing the key lock, lowering your phone's brightness to its lowest setting, and starting to type. 

You: Didn't know that. Why is that?

The "seen" with the little checkmark appears directly under your sent message, and a few moments later the typical three dots that appear when a reply is composed flash. 

Lando: Due to thermal expansion, meaning the iron heats up, the particles gain kinetic energy and take up more space.

You have to smile, even suppress a giggle. 

You: You googled that for sure. 

Lando: You got me. I didn't know the best way to start a conversation. 

You: I'd say the middle of the night is generally not a good time to start a conversation. What if I had already been asleep?

Lando: Then you would have woken up confused for sure and blocked me right after the message. 

You: Then you're lucky I'm still awake. 

Lando: I'm definitely lucky. 

Behind you, Charles moves a little, but doesn't seem to wake up. You feel him scoot a tiny bit closer to you, as if he realizes you're still awake. 

Lando: Have you ever been to Paris?

You: Unfortunately not. I'd like to go there sometime, though. And you?

Lando: I've been there before. Maybe we can go there together? Then I can show you the most beautiful places. 

You have to grin. Straightforward guy he is. 

You: Do you really think I would just travel to Paris with a semi stranger?

Lando: You're right about that. But that can easily be changed. You and me, tomorrow, dinner at 8?

You feel Charles rest his hand on your bedspread. It's like he subconsciously realizes you're about to go out with one of his friends. He exhales deeply, but doesn't move any further. 

You: That was very smooth, Mr. Norris. 

Lando: So is that a yes?

Without giving it much thought, you answer the Brit with a "Yes, I'd love to," whereupon he responds with a "Great. I'll get back to you tomorrow. Don't stay up too late and sleep well" back. You press the key lock on your phone and put it back next to your pillow. 

Time you do have. Charles isn't around, and you don't have a job to go to every day, so your days are as free as the beach in winter. And for sure it will do you good to spend time with someone other than the Monegasque. Lando is nice and friendly and funny. And since the two of you don't live together, and the level at which you're getting to know each other is much more superficial than the one Charles and you are on right now, you shouldn't be in danger of taking him to your heart as quickly as your roommate.

Who by now has moved so close to you that you can feel his warm breath on the back of your neck. It's steady, coming in waves and brushing your skin like a warm summer breeze. For sure he is sleeping well, maybe even having a nice dream. He doesn't even know yet that it's the last time he'll sleep next to you.

You close your eyes, almost press your eyelids together and force yourself to fall asleep. With the ulterior motive that the person who is dearest to you right now is exactly the one with whom you will soon have to keep the most distance.

-

Something rustles. 

The sound is close, but not so close that it could find its origin right next to your ear. It also sounds muffled, as if there is a thick piece of soft cotton between the sound and your eardrum, so you can't really hear what exactly is making that sound. 

You press your face a little deeper into the pillow. 

The rustling becomes louder. 

Tired and with your eyes closed, you pull the blanket higher to your chin to cling to sleep. And for a brief moment it works, your mind slips back into a gentle slumber - until you hear a loud, unmistakable rumble. 

Annoyed and above all confused, you open your eyes. Your cell phone reads 6:15 a.m. Who's making that kind of noise at this hour?

You sit up abruptly, as if you've been electrocuted, and the covers fall into your lap. Charles.

For sure he is packing up the last things before he wants to wake you up. To say goodbye to you. You're surprised you didn't hear his alarm clock. For sure he only rang it once briefly before your roommate turned it off so it wouldn't wake you up. Very kind and considerate. 

You swing your legs over the side of the bed and slip into fuzzy socks so your feet don't freeze. As you tie your hair so it doesn't look like you've touched an electrical socket, you hear keys jingle. 

Charles wouldn't leave without saying goodbye to you, would he?

Hesitantly, you go to the door of the room and open it slowly to make sure he's still there. And indeed, he hasn't left the apartment yet. 

But he has shouldered his travel bag, his feet are in shoes, and the apartment door is open, as if he is about to take the first step out. When he hears you, he turns around. 

Confused and still slightly sleepy, you stand in the doorway. You point your finger at the large bag. "Were you going to leave without saying goodbye?" you ask him, rubbing the heels of your hands over your eyes. Damn, it's definitely too early to be awake. 

Your roommate steps unsteadily from one foot to the other. "I didn't mean to wake you." In his free hand, he holds his key. 

You screw up your face. "But you wanted to say goodbye." You cross your arms in front of your chest. "You said you'd set an alarm so you could get up on time and we could say goodbye properly."

The situation is strange. You're standing in the doorway to the room where Charles shared a bed with you, as he stands on the threshold that separates this apartment from the rest of the world. It feels like he's trying to escape from what's happening inside these four walls. Like he can't wait to leave and leave you here. 

He doesn't even want to say goodbye to you. 

"I know, but-" he begins, but doesn't seem to know how to finish the sentence, which is why he just falls silent. His gaze wanders from your face to the room behind you before he lowers it to his shoes. He swallows once before looking at you again. "Can we talk about this another time?" he asks quietly. "I have to go."

What happened in the last few hours you were asleep? Did you do something to make him want to run away from here? To want to flee from you? The way he's standing there, he seems like he can't wait to finally leave the apartment. As if he had to quickly put as many kilometers as possible between you. 

The fact that he doesn't want to talk to you about it unsettles you more than you'd like to admit.

When you were with Raphael, there were many arguments, after which you both went to bed without clearing up the situation or talking things out. That oppressive, stomach-churning feeling was so devastating and caused such nausea in you that you told yourself that you will never again let an argument or difficult situation just stand.

You don't want to go to bed angry. And you don't want anyone to go to bed angry and mad at you either. 

"Did I do something?" you ask, letting your arms, which were crossed just a moment ago, fall to your sides. As a sign that you're ready to face whatever may follow. "Talk to me, please, Charles."

Of course, neither of you would go to sleep now. But the very thought that you won't see each other again for another four days, and thus parting, leaves a bitter taste on your tongue. Which you naturally want to get rid of as quickly as possible. 

Demonstratively, he glances at his wristwatch. "I don't have time. Let's talk about it another time."

"It's 6:25. I thought you didn't have to leave until 7?"

He clenches his teeth. "I want to drive now." He's visibly tense, his hand almost tightening around the key. Charles doesn't want to drive. He wants to run. From you. And you don't know why. 

Somewhere inside you, a small crack is opening up, uncomfortable, pressing on the pit of your stomach. Your discomfort worsens with each passing moment. 

"What have I done?" you try again to get him to talk. You cross the room until you're standing in front of him. "Whatever it was - I'm sorry. I don't know what it is that I could have done that upset you so much. But I don't want you to leave now and be mad at me when we won't see each other again for another four days. Let's talk about it. Please."

It's almost pathetic how desperate you sound. Your voice trembles like it's going to break at any moment, and you can feel tears gathering in your eyes. You try to blink them away. 

There have been countless situations like this with Raphael. It was always you who wanted to solve an argument. The one who tried harder. Who sacrificed more. And it has brought nothing. 

Even though you two have only known each other for a few days, this argument is much worse. Because you don't know what you have done, and therefore you can't change anything. You can't find a solution here. 

Charles doesn't seem to care that you are on the verge of crying. His gaze is hard and cold as he looks down at you. He looks at you as if you were a stranger just standing in his apartment.

As you reach out to him, he takes the last step over the threshold. The small crack inside you grows larger, now seems to have reached your heart, forming a great chasm. The wall that has been built so far has been of no use. It is completely useless. 

"If you really want to talk to someone, why don't you talk to Lando?" His tone is icy and his gaze sprays venom. 

Lando?

Charles seems to have picked up on your confused look. Annoyed, he rolls his eyes, which stings you further. "Now don't act like that. He texted me in the middle of the night asking what culinary cuisine you prefer for your dinner tonight." He raises an eyebrow. "And here I thought you'd already had an extensive conversation about it. What was it again? Canned soup and BigMac?"

Your discomfort gives way to an even more rotten feeling. Anger spreads through you like a wildfire you can't stop it. How dare he?

"What are you trying to say?" you ask calmly, even though everything is burning inside you. Charles interfering in this matter when he has no right to do so makes your anger spill over, but you know better than to take it out on him directly. You pull yourself together. Even though you'd like to strangle him, you don't want you two to fight. 

"Come on, Y/N." His smile is spiteful and ugly - even though he's the most beautiful man on the planet. "We both know he's just trying to fuck you. So what's the point of dinner? It's just a waste of money."

Excuse me?

"What do you mean?"

He seems to think for a moment, as if he were struggling with himself to say the next words. "After all, what Raphael did to you doesn't seem to bother you much if you're going to date someone new right away. And you said yourself yesterday that you weren't going to meet anyone on this couch." He extends his free arm and waves it in a semicircle in front of him. "Let's do it, then. Monaco is full of rich men. Then you don't exactly have to hook up with one who's my friend."

Never in your entire life have you wanted to smack someone so badly as Charles at this moment. 

He knows what Raphael did to you. And he also knows why your ex cheated on you. The fact that he now assumes that you would just jump into bed with Lando like that upsets you so much that you're at a loss for words. 

You don't recognize him. The Charles who lets you stay with him for free, who makes you laugh, and who is so close to you at times that you have to consider how to protect your heart, has dropped off the face of the earth. 

Opposite you is a mean and ruthless man you can't get away from fast enough. His words hit you harder than any blow could, and the tears in your eyes no longer originate in discomfort, but in pure rage. 

You don't care what you did to make him act this way. You don't care what exactly happened between you that caused this argument to degenerate like this. And you don't care if you go to bed tonight mad at him. 

This argument is different than the one over his phone call with Raphael or the one at dinner with his friends. It's too close, too personal, and for Charles to think of you that way, after everything you've told him about yourself, chokes your throat and makes your heart shatter into a thousand pieces. 

"You can have the apartment," you say emotionlessly. Your fire is extinguished, your anger is suffocated. The only thing left is a dull feeling of grief. 

How could you think Charles would be any different? That he would actually be a friend to you? You even showed him your favorite place. That wasn't even twelve hours ago. 

"When you come back, I'll be gone." Your gaze is fixed on Charles, letting him know how serious you are. Something flashes in his eyes, but whatever it is - you don't care. "I hate you."

Without waiting for an answer, you close the apartment door. As you turn around, you feel like an intruder in your own home. 

Which, theoretically, isn't even your home. It's Charles' home, it's his apartment. He's just been nice and let you stay with him. And he didn't do that because he saw a friend in you, but because he felt sorry for you, as you must now realize. 

Did this "good deed" make him feel better? Did he let you stay here to prove to himself what a good guy he is after everything with Annika? Is he really that selfish? 

Who exactly is Charles Leclerc?

You would like to leave the apartment immediately, because there is nothing that doesn't make you remember Charles. The couch reminds you of the evening when you drank wine and watched Cars. The kitchen table is where you eat pain au chocolat and croissants. The bathroom is where you grin at each other in the mirror as you brush your teeth. Charles is everywhere. 

He's especially in the dark bedroom, too, when you return to lie down in bed. His sheets are still where you found them when you woke up, and his smell is all over the room, making it hard for you to breathe. 

Pulling your own blanket up to your chin, you lie there staring at the ceiling, racking your brain as to where exactly you took a wrong turn. But for the life of you, you can't think of anything. 

You turn on your side and take a deep breath. Charles' smell hits your nose and only now, surrounded by darkness and silence, do you allow yourself to cry. Tears roll down your skin and one sob after another escapes your sore throat, which feels as if it has been laced shut. Your body shakes like it's electrified and somewhere inside you think your heart has stopped beating. 

The person you trusted the most has let you down. Your closest friend has dropped you without explaining himself to you. 

But that's not what hurts so indescribably. 

It hurts so much because it's Charles. The Charles you saw as your best friend after only a few days. The Charles who didn't judge you. 

You slide to the other side of the bed and slip under Charles' covers so that you are now completely enveloped in his smell. You feel so close to him, even though he's so far away, and even though the warmth feels like a hug, you feel lonely. You cling to that hug that isn't a hug, because that's the closest thing you have left of him. 

Tomorrow you would look for another apartment, maybe even move away from Monaco. And then you would pack your things and leave, just like you promised Charles. And you wouldn't break that promise - that deal, the way he broke his. 

Not long ago, you didn't want to share the bed with him anymore, braced yourself for it to be the last time you'd be this close. You wanted to build the wall that would protect, should protect your heart. 

But it's no use building a wall when your heart hasn't been yours for a while.

next part

[bigification]

Step Daddy

"You really need to get over your stepdad man." My friend tells me, concerned.

"Look, I'll try this one last thing and if it doesn't work then I'll give it up." I respond. "Did you bring the sunglasses?"

"Yes, but just remember he's like 25 years older than you. He's probably not going to be into you, even after this." He says as he hands me a pair of old pilot shades.

I told him I could let it go, but I can't. I'm just putting all my eggs into this basket, the sunglasses. Apparently they're supposed to transform someone who wears them mentally and physically to match my type. He already is my type, but I guess I wouldn't mind him bulking up a bit and growing some hair. It would be sexy if he got more charming, but he's already charming as it is. I guess there's only one way to find out.

I wait on the living room couch watching tv. He always gets home from work at the same time, so I know he'll be here any minute. I sit and stare at my reflection in the glasses. Am I really ready to change this man's life so drastically. My friend said no one else would take notice of the change, so it'll be like nothing happened. As I'm thinking over it, I hear the roar of his engine from the driveway. I try to calm down, but I can feel my body vibrate from the nerves. The door flies open.

"Hey buddy, hows it goin?" He asks me with his hot southern accent.

"Not bad. By the way, I found these sunglasses lying around, and assumed they were yours." I try to play it cool as I lie to his face.

"Oh, thanks. But these aren't mine." He responds.

"Well you might as well keep em, they don't fit me anyway." I try to convince him to take them without seeming too pushy.

"Well alright, thanks kid." He swipes the glasses and throws them on.

That was easier than I thought. As soon as he put them on, he stopped moving. His jaw slacked as if there was not a thought running through his mind. It started slow, his button up started to look a little bit tighter. His once flat chest started to push against his shirt and the shape of a belly started to show. Then it started to speed up. His chest started to pulse, growing in size with each one. They grew until the button on his collar popped off, then another button popped, then another and another. His juicy pecs flopped down after being released from his shirt. His stomach was next. His midsection widened and his stomach grew into a respectable beer belly, straining against his shirt. It wasn't long before more buttons began to pop, until his shirt was completely open. His arms also looked like they doubled in size, filling out his sleeves with thick muscles.

Next his legs start to look like they're gonna burst out of his dress pants. I can hear the rips ripple through his pants as his thighs grow inside of them. His ass fills out all the space in his pants and proceeds to rip open his fly and snap his belt in half. I can tell his underwear is barely staying in one piece as a large bulge formed in between his legs.

Finally his face begins to change. His once skinny face fills out with fat, giving him a rounder look. I can see that hair is falling out of his hat until he is left completely bald under there. Though in return his clean shaven face grows a bushy beard. But the hair doesn't stop there. It continues down his chest and to his belly, and presumably the rest of his body. He finally regains control of his body. He sighs as he stretched out his arms and cracks his knuckles before looking right at me.

"Come here, son." He says in a deep buttery voice.

A shock travels through my spine as I think he might know what I've done to him.

"What'd I say boy!" He raises his voice.

I jump a bit before I walk closer to him. I realize how imposing he is up close. He must have gotten taller because he seems well over six feet tall now, and at least 250 pounds.

"Daddy had a stressful day, why don't you help him release some tension." He says as he pushes me to my knees.

I blush, this is everything I wanted from this, it just happened so much faster than I thought.

"Don't be shy, boy. This will be our little secret." He says as he pulls his underwear down.