#i waited patiently for his release this year

[trippinsorrows]

my all + oneshot

authors note: this is all deranged, dysfunctional, toxic, and unhealthy. i condone none of the shit ya'll are about to read. none. inspired by this ask.

words: 8.7k

song inspo: 'my all' by mariah carey. because solana is just as down bad as mariah was singing this shit about a young derek jeter.

warnings: smut, violence, some angst. age gap relationship (10 years). a bit of a daddy kink. breeding kink. blink and you'll miss it cum play. toxic relationship. rough sex. roman is dominant and possessive. solana is passive and a bit of a nympho for him.

Solana Miller knew the minute she laid eyes on Roman Reigns that he would be trouble. Without even knowing his story, his case, or the reason he was serving a 10 year sentence, she just knew he would be a problem for her. 

It started with the first man that he sent to her infirmary. Badly beaten. Multiple cracked ribs. A ruptured kidney. Eyes swollen shut. 

The reason for the vicious attack?

Because he could.

The man ended up needing care beyond what Solana could provide, hence being transferred to the main hospital.

And that was just one of several. Over the course of four weeks, several men who found themselves on Roman Reigns' bad side—if a good one even exists—laid on her bed. Bloody, beaten, unconscious. The more inmates she saw, the more severe the beatings. His cruelty seemed to know no limits.

And, Roman himself wasn't even the one who'd caused such mayhem. He had people working for, and inmates doing his dirty work for him. Even behind bars, he was still running shit.

It was the final inmate to need intense, urgent medical care beyond her clinic that Solana had to ask, had to inquire as to why. The how this kept happening. How Reigns hadn’t earned himself at least a good month or two of solitary confinement.

The answer?

“He’s untouchable.”

That was the only answer she received from her direct supervisor, the medical director of the prison, Dr. Trish Stratus.

And, it made sense. Because one look at Roman and one just knows he’s bad news, anyone who’s anyone knows exactly who Roman Reigns is.

The Tribal Chief. 

The Head of the Table.

The Capo.

He has many names, many titles, but all lead to one thing.

Danger.

Roman Reigns is the personification of danger.

The feared, brutal leader of two of the biggest crime syndicates in the world. His stint in federal prison only occurring due to betrayal from within his inner circle and a freshly appointed DA who thought he was hot shit by bringing down “The Big Dog.”

Solana knows it’s only a matter of time before he “mysteriously” disappears. Any sign or trace of him most likely to be found in the form of scattered body parts. If anything at all is to be left. 

Just like she knows it’s only a matter of time before Roman is someway, somehow released. A man as powerful as him can only be kept in chains for so long.

It'd been a little over a month since Solana first locked eyes with Roman Reigns in passing as he was being escorted to his cell. A brief, powerful, memorable thing. The faintest hint of a smirk on his handsome face as she redirected her gaze to her shoes.

Avoid.

Solana was determined to avoid him at all cost.

A difficult, almost impossible thing to do when one day she walked into work to find him sitting on the patient bed in her room, waiting for her almost, wearing a smug expression. 

The reason for his presence?

“Said his chest was hurting.”

Solana had never felt so disgusted with a person before when she received that bullshit answer from the guard. The guard who not only left her alone with Reigns, door closed, left him alone, completely unshackled. No cuffs on his wrists.

It was….unnerving, to say the least.

She’d heard the gory tales of his brutality. Knew what he was capable of. And, she’d been left alone with him. 

Wonderful.

Solana swallowed, doing her best to show no fear as she placed her bag on the hook behind the door. “Take your shirt off for me.” She issued her command while washing her hands, taking longer than what was necessary, already knowing she was bound to be distracted by the sight of such a man shirtless.

And, damn, was she correct.

Roman sat, still smug, shirtless, rippling muscles on full display. His tattoos, almost entirely tribal in nature, decorating half his body. A beautifully sculpted body.

Solana’s resolve had never been tested as much as it was in that awful moment.

“What’s your name, pretty girl?” It was the first thing she heard him say, the deep timbre of his baritone voice shaking her in an unsettling way.

Solana managed to avoid eye contact, drying her hands and answering. “Solana.” Throwing the used paper towels away, she added, “you can call me Nurse Miller.”

Roman shook his head, a teasing smile growing. “I like pretty girl better.” Fuck. “What’s a nice, young thing like you doing working in a place like this?”

“What are your symptoms?” She asked, somehow, someway maintaining professionalism despite the burning of her cheeks. She’d never been spoken to so boldly. 

Roman’s gaze was assessing, causing Solana to suddenly regret bypassing picking up a new set of scrubs. Having gained some weight over the past few months, she found her work uniform a little too snug in all the places one wouldn’t want attention in. The same places his eyes seemed to focus on. “You’re too innocent to be here.” He spoke, proudly and easily not answering her questions. “Too pretty. Too damn fine.”

Solana cleared her throat. “Mr. Reigns—”

“Roman,” he interrupted. “Call me Roman.”

Oh, fuck.

Solana’s suddenly shaky hands moved to grab the stethoscope off the counter as she walked over to him, managing a quiet, “just relax.” The same advice she tried to tell herself in being so close to him, the scent of his cologne, strong and masculine, just as distracting as his perfect face and body. Solana assessed his vital signs, hearing nothing abnormal. 

Clearing her throat, she moved to step away only for him to grab her. She froze as he tugged her in between his spread legs.

Her stomach dropped. “Mr. Rei—”

“Shhhh.” His index finger moved against her lips. “Roman.” He corrected once more, just as his eyes lowered to her chest. His tongue dipped out, licking his bottom lip. Solana utilized all sense of self-control to keep her thighs from clamping together from such an innocent act. 

Eyes never leaving her, he stood up, slowly. The height difference between them enough to make her head crane back to maintain that contact. Why she would even want to maintain it? She hadn’t the slightest clue. 

Solana’s mouth went dry as Roman grabbed his orange discarded shirt, laying it on his muscled forearm. She went to back away, the distance between them too suffocating, too cumbersome. 

But, the minute she did, his hand was on the small of her back, holding her, keeping her near him. 

Her eyes shut when he lowered his head, mouth near her ear. “I’ll see you around, pretty girl.”

A whispered promise followed by a light slap of her ass before he separated from her, walking out the door without another word.

—------

Solana would love to say that was the one and only time that happened. 

But, that would be a lie.

A big, fat lie, because that man earned himself an undeserved visit to her medical bay more often than any other patient she’d ever had. And not once did he come with any medical necessity. His reason always the same. 

“I wanted to see you.”

To her credit, she tried her best to maintain those boundaries. Corrected him every time he called her “pretty girl.” Ignored him whenever he made an inappropriate comment or innuendo about her body. Avoiding him seeing the blush on her cheek when he referred to indecent acts.

She truly did her best, but with each visit, her resolve crumbled. A straight face slipped into a small, shy smile. Physically assessing him with her hands, while limited to the usual, medically approved checkpoints, shifted into something else. When he grabbed her wrist and slid her palm over his heart, it rested there for longer than what was necessary. 

The personal questions he asked shifted from being ignored into being answered, though some information was omitted.

And, the physical distance she did her best to keep between them minimized with each encounter. He was breaking her, and he knew it.

She thought of going to Stratus. Even briefly considered asking for a transfer. But, something about it, something about him, prevented her from doing so. Prevented her from putting an end to it all, because another part of her, a stupid, naive part liked it.

She liked the attention he gave her.

She liked him.

And almost a month into this game of cat or mouse, it all came to a head. 

—----

It was the usual routine of him lying and forcing his way into her space, but the air about it was different. It felt different. 

Right away, she knew he had other intentions.

Roman’s big body eclipsed her last glimpse of the door closing, the two guards outside of the room instead of one inside and one outside, as protocol dictated. 

A protocol that’d been disregarded from the moment he stepped foot into her infirmary.

But, instead of sitting on the bed as usual, he remained standing. Nearing her, watching and studying her.

Nothing but lust and desire dancing in his beautiful eyes. 

Solana swallowed, partially already knowing what was about to happen.

Didn’t stop her from asking.

“What—what are you doing?” A question that should have been laced with fear and concern. Roman is a monster. A cold-blooded killer whose ledger is soaked and dripping with blood. 

He was also standing directly in front of her. 

He said nothing at first, head tilted as he effectively backed her against the patient bed. Solana’s ass bumped into the end of said bed, preventing her from going anywhere. He had her boxed in. 

“Giving you exactly what you want.”

His answer was hard enough to process, followed by his big hands reaching down and grabbing her, lifting and placing her onto the edge of said bed. Solana gasped, going to scold him, “Mr. Reigns, this is inap—”

“Shut up.”

Solana would be lying if she tried to deny she hadn’t thought of what it would be like to kiss Roman. A monster he may be, but ugly, he most certainly is not. Visually speaking, tall, strong, dark, and handsome, he checks off every single box a woman could be looking for.

Except, she didn't push him off when he smashed his lips onto hers. Didn’t shove him away and scream for help, for one of the guards to restrain him and keep him away from her.

She pulled him closer, ignoring the smirk of his full lips into their passionate kiss. A kiss she found herself not wanting to end as he shoved his tongue into her mouth the same way he’d shoved himself into her life. Without request and without protest.

Solana moaned when his hands moved down to squeeze her breast, his thumb peppering over her hardened nipples that felt brick solid, poking against the fabric of her scrubs. 

Her attraction for him and enjoyment in their passionate make out couldn’t be denied even if she tried. So much so that she doesn’t bat an eye when that same hand previously groping her big breast jumped down to start tugging her pants off. 

Solana moaned into the kiss, as Roman expertly rid her of her scrubs, ripping them past her sneakers, that he also removed, all items discarded onto the floor. He pried his mouth from hers, full lips swollen, pink tongue darting out and glossing over his bottom lip. 

“Lay back.”

Two words. A single command. One response.

Never mind the consequences, the repercussions, the career ending outcome that could stem from such a major fuck up. A mishap or mistake were too watery of terms to use. Too downplaying of what should easily be the biggest regret of her life, because so much, all, stands to be lost with just one knock or entrance of the right—or wrong—person.

Fraternizing with the prisoners was one thing, but sexual conduct with said prisoners was entirely different.

Solana could lose her job, could lose her license, could lose everything she’s worked so hard for.

And, yet none of that prevented her from doing a damn thing to stop this man. 

Solana laid back on the patient bed, sitting up and resting her weight on her elbows as she watched him drop to his knees before her. Heart rate erratic, she lifted her hips just enough when he started tugging down her underwear. As expected, they were thrown to the wayside, just as her pants and shoes were. 

An inconvenient obstacle preventing him from his destination. 

His warm eyes lifted to hers at the same time he grabbed her by her calves, forcing her down on the bed and right onto his waiting mouth.

“Oh, fuck!”

Solana had always enjoyed this part of sex. Tried to enjoy it, at least. Consistent good head had always been hard to come across. It’d be great at first and lackluster every time after. Or, the usual of way too much theatrics and not enough actual performance.

None of that was the case with the man before her. 

Roman didn’t ease into anything. It seemed like a trait that felt applicable across several areas of his life. Including with sex. Because, he ate her pussy with a ravenous, carnal, sinful need. The sounds of him sucking and licking on her clit battling with the moans that left her mouth and the withering of her body on the bed. 

The minute his thick, talented tongue circled her sensitive nub, Solana was off her elbows and on her back, head reclined from the delicacy of his exquisite mouth on her most sacred parts. 

“Oh my God.”

Solana was too caught up in the bliss of it all to care when he pulled back, humming almost. “That’s it, sweetheart.” He brought his fingers to toy with her arousal, thick finger teasing her tight hole. “Fuck my face.”

It was only then Solana realized how her body moved against him, how one hand fisted in his hair, holding him right where she wanted him. To stay.

Forever.

“Shit, Roman,” she cursed when he went back to work, sucking and kissing her pussy like it was the best thing he’d ever been blessed to experience. “Don’t—don’t stop.”

He moaned against her, hands moving under her ass, tugging her even closer. Solana cried out from the euphoria of it all, continuing to grind against him, an eager, needy nympho for his fix. 

And, he continued to provide it, continuing to grace and grant her with a level of delight she never knew possible. Roman ate her out within an inch of her life, Solana’s attempts to pry him off her only met with him forcing her hands away, further burying his face into her safe haven. He continued to torture her, never retracting or stopping, even as her orgasm coursed through her, practically knocking the wind out of her.

Never in her life had she come so hard. 

Or so much. 

She was a discombobulated mess, the only thing pulling her from that post orgasmic daze was the sight of Roman lowering his orange pants and black boxers, freeing what had to be the biggest dick—outside of porn—that she’d ever seen.

The excitement and libido was momentarily altered by an understandable amount of trepidation.

“I—” Solana wasn’t quite sure how to say it, especially as he rubbed the massive mushroom head of his equally massive sized cock against her slippery, wet folds. “It’s—it’s not going to fit.”

She knew this well. Basic science and common sense. Maybe some fear as well.

A lot of fear.

There’s no way he could get that inside of her. Not without her landing in someone’s emergency room from vaginal tearing. If not worse.

But, her apprehension didn’t extend to him. Roman smirked in response to her overt concern. “Yes, it will.” He prompted with his chin, one hand stroking that beautiful, long dick. “Lay back.”

She swallowed. “Roman.”

“Trust me.”

Her eyes widened slightly. Trust him? She shouldn’t have even be doing that with the man, let alone trusting him to fuck her without causing great bodily harm. It was crazy. All of it. One of the most dangerous men in the world, serving a ten year prison sentence, a man who had run this place like he owned it since starting his sentence. A man who’d gradually made his way past her wall, albeit weak from the get-go, standing before her, about to fuck her in the infirmary where she was supposed to be working. Like the guards outside the door who were also supposed to be working but had turned a blind eye, like almost everyone has with Reigns’ outrageous conduct.

It was fucking ludicrous.

And yet, she did exactly as he directed.

She laid back, demonstrating an undeserved and unearned amount of trust. 

Her stomach doing all kinds of somersaults, also in battle with the desire that still coursed in the depths of her belly. The wonderful sensations that came from him continuing to coat his dick with her essence, their makeshift lube in absence of the actual product.

Not once did she think to ask about protection. Or anything else, really, because all she could think about and focus on was the immediate, almost painful feel of him as he started to enter her.

Her eyes clenched shut, her fingers gripping the bed underneath her. “Shit.” An almost burning sensation, something similar to what one experiences when being split or cut open.

An accurate description. 

Solana felt a shift and a sort of weight on top of her, followed by Roman’s soft, full lips on hers. Nasty, tongue kissing accompanied the gradual descent of him inside her, providing a salacious and needed distraction. Inch by inch, he stretched her walls, forcing her cunt to accommodate his big dick.

Solana clutched onto his shoulders, moaning into his mouth when he spoke against her lips, “that’s it….let me in, baby girl.” Her eyes didn’t need to be open to see the haughty expression on his face. It seeped through his deep voice. “Let me ruin you.”

Concerning words that should not evoke the kind of moan it did. But, it did. The same way Solana couldn’t stop herself from realizing at some point the pain and discomfort of her taking someone of his size and girth transcended into something delicious and pleasurable. That it moved into her rocking against him, eager for more and all of him.

Something most definitely noticed by the man above her.

“Am I in there?” A possibly rhetorical question that was followed up with a more demanding question. “Where am I? Tell me, baby.”

An easy question, but one that was a struggle to verbalize as Roman had eased into a slow and steady pace. Solana hugged him closer as one hand moved under her ass, holding her up a bit while he fucked her. 

“My—my stomach, oh my God.” The only answer she could provide, the one that felt the most truthful, cause God, he was so deep. If not for rolls and pudge of her belly, even more profound from the position they were in, she’s certain she could have seen his sizable dick driving into her. Balls and stomach deep.

“That’s right,” he growled. Solana’s head fell back, wincing when he kissed and bit down on her neck. Equally painful as it was delightful. “Can’t nobody fucking beat your shit up like this but me.”

Another true statement she couldn’t deny or even try to. Solana couldn’t do much of anything with the way he was pounding into her. Wild, animalistic, uncontrolled. 

Fucking into her with a sense of need and urgency. “Fuck, your pussy feels amazing.” He grunted, leaning over, sucking on her neck. “Tight ass cunt….”

Her thighs locked around his waist, hungry for him, begging to feel his dick continue to dive into her. She’d never had a sexual partner hit and feel as deep as Roman was and felt in her. “Keep fucking me like that.”

Roman’s smirk was loud and proud. “This what you been wanting?” His tone cocky and knowing as he flicked her nipples through her top. “Me to stretch this pussy?”

Her response was a moan as she gripped his arms, holding him tighter and closer. “Y–yes.”

He made a sound, hiking her up further, Solana crying out from the angle of the thrust. The tip of his dick repeatedly knocking into and nudging her g-spot. “God, yes, right there.” Words in Spanish tumbled out of her mouth at the way he rocked into her, over and over again, driving her mad with delectable ectasy.

“Pretty girl just wanted me to slut her out on my dick, huh?” More bragging. Well deserved, because the way he was digging her out, pounding into her, should be studied, framed, and preserved for all eternity. “Wanted to be fucked by a real man.”

Another undisputed fact. 

“Fuck.” His hissed curse drew her gaze to him, Solana biting down on her bottom lip at the sight. Eyes shut, tension evident by how he was clenching his jaw, he looked like he was enjoying it just as much as she was. And there was something empowering about that, something that got her off even more. Knowing that a man as powerful as him, in all the ways, could be brought to this level of bliss because of her.

It had to be what emboldened her to bring her hands to his face, forcing their swollen lips to lock once more as she demanded, “you like how my pussy feels, baby?” Such an uncharacteristic thing for her to say, in the middle of being fucked numb, or not. Regardless, it’s exactly what she said. 

Roman’s response was to grind his hips against her, as he answered almost darkly. “Yes.” Solana nearly came right then and there from a single answer. “The Tribal Chief loves it.”

Another orgasm inducing acknowledgment that had that familiar sensation building and budding inside her. “Roman…”

“I know,” was his only response. He could feel it, too. “Not yet.” He said more to himself than her. “I’m not ready...”

Solana had a good feeling about what he was referring to, but it did nothing to slow down the autonomous response of her body. Unless he stopped fucking her like that, there was no stopping it. 

A whimper left her mouth as she dug her nails into his cheek, their foreheads pressed against each other. “I can’t….”

“Yes, you can,” he encouraged, slowing down the pace of his thrusts. She couldn't tell if that helped or hurt. “Don’t come on daddy’s dick just yet, pretty girl.” The ‘pretty girl’ most definitely didn’t help. It never did. “Let me feel this good ass pussy a lil’ longer…”

She wouldn’t be opposed to feeling his good ass dick inside her a lil’ longer as well, but wants oftentimes can’t stand up against needs. And, what she needed was to come.

More than she’d ever come before. 

It felt almost impossible, but Roman talked her through it. Kept her from tipping over the edge just long enough, so that he could catch up with and reach her, where they could climax together. And, they did. God, they did. Solana holding onto him, mouth ajar, connection to reality momentarily severed. Her orgasm was otherworldly. Too good and grand for her to even put into words, to be fully, physically, emotionally, and spiritually present.

All so earth and world shattering that it never even occurred to her how Roman came inside of her. Ropes of his cum, combined with her own, filling and spilling out over her used and battered pussy. 

She was partially cognizant to when he eventually pulled out of her, dazed look in his eyes as he brought his finger to her vagina, pushing some of their cum back inside. 

But, she was very aware when he used that same hand and brought his hand to grab her jaw, squeezing just enough to force her mouth open. That same hand, those fingers, still with their juices on it, entered her mouth. The unspoken command obvious. 

Solana sucked his fingers dry. 

Imagining it was that big, beautiful dick of his instead.

His look of pride at her obedience was followed by him removing said fingers. His mouth back on her, Solana shared the taste of them on her tongue and lips. An erotic, nasty exchange of sorts that had her pussy fluttering. 

It was all so kinky.

Roman broke the kiss, looking down at her with something she couldn’t name, but something that had her both aroused and fearful. 

And with all the conviction in the world, he laid his claim. “You’re mine now.”

—-----------

That first time was the start of something inescapable and avoidable.

Something sinful and forbidden.

An affair.

Four months deep, even if Solana wanted to get out, she couldn’t. It’s a known, open secret among several of her coworkers and colleagues. Something that once shamed her, embarrassed her. Now, she can’t seem to think or see straight beyond Roman. 

Even now, as she sits in the trailer, the place intended for prisoners who have an exemplary record, who have completed the Extended Family Visits (EFV) Program, that allows prisoners to have family time with loved ones in this separate space on prison grounds. 26 hours to live as normal a life as possible.

It’s a resource Roman has now commandeered for their alone time, adding to their visits that still happen at least three times a week.

For almost four months now, this has been the routine. Short, not as long meetings in the prison followed up with the Friday into Saturday she spends with him in the trailer almost weekly.

The closest sense of normalcy she’ll ever receive in such a fucked up situation.

But, the moment Roman arrives, she knows. 

Knows that something is wrong.

He’s upset with her. She can tell from the minute he walks in. Big body and tall frame almost too large for the trailer. Nicer and even bigger than the average, it’s just too small for him. Too simple. Too basic. A man like Roman demands and requires only the best of things. 

A difficult task, however, given the situation he’s in.

The situation they’re in.

He heads straight to the shower, which is the norm for him. However, what’s not the norm is the way he doesn’t even ask—or tell—her to join him. That’s usually how they kick things off. In the shower. Her washing him. Him washing her, and then her legs wrapped around his waist as he pounds into her her, her on her her knees, her body propped up against the wall, then on the bathroom counter, and eventually into the bedroom.

The normal trajectory of things. 

But, not tonight.

No, tonight is clearly bound to be different.

For a minute, Solana considers just leaving. It’s obvious he’s in a mood, and she doesn’t feel much better herself. It’s probably just best if she goes home. The smart thing. The right thing.

She doesn’t do it.

She remains there, sitting and waiting on the bed, wearing an old Selena shirt, a gift from her cousin back when they were in college.

And, she waits. For what, she’s not entirely sure anymore.

She just waits.

Roughly 25 minutes pass from the time he entered the trailer and the minute he walks out of the bathroom, nothing but a thick white towel wrapped around his waist. He’d clearly used another to dry his hair as best as possible given its damp, but not wet, appearance.

He stands at the end of the bed, ringlets of water dripping and traveling down his body, that sculpted, divine, fine work of the Gods. And, he looks at her. Says nothing. Just looks.

Suddenly exhausted and minimally frustrated, Solana runs her hands through her blown out hair. “Roman—

“Did you fuck him?”

And now, she’s looking at him. Of all the things he could say, of all the things he could ask, that….that was most definitely not on her list.

Confused, but maybe not, she asks, “what?”

 “You should know by now I don’t like repeating myself.” His expression is hardened. The perfect match for his voice. “The same way I don’t like when people lie to me.”

Both things that she knows. Solana has treated the brutal, gruesome wounds of the men who had to learn one or both of those lessons the hard way. And yet, she remains staunch in her partial confusion. “Roman, I don’t—” She’s silenced by him grabbing her ankle, yanking her down to the end of the bed. The action causes her shirt to scrunch up, revealing her blue thong.

His favorite color.

Not that she wore it for him. No….not at all.

Roman’s gaze briefly drifts to that same thong, and she sees the flash of desire that builds only to be squashed by frustration. “Don’t test me, Solana.” A dangerously delivered warning combined with his hand loosening its hold, only for him to gradually move it upward. “Did you think I wouldn’t find out?”

Her eyes never leave his traveling hand. “F–find out what?”

He stops only for a second. “You’re a terrible fucking liar.”

Solana says nothing, unable to disagree. She’s heard variations of the same thing over the years. Doesn’t mean she’s willing to cave.

“I know you went out last weekend with your friends.” And, there it is. Though startled, she remains unmoving. “That you went clubbing.” There’s an undeniable disdain in his delivery of that last word. A marked contrast to his hand that’s now in between her thighs, fingers hovering around the perimeter of her thong. “That you were dancing and talking to some piece of shit.”

All things she can’t and won’t deny, partially because it’s true, mostly because it’s practically impossible to focus with his hand so close to her pussy.

“So, I’m only going to ask you one more time, sweetheart.” Her eyes shut, lips parted, mouth drying as he travels his thick, long fingers past the band on her thong, collecting and playing with her arousal. “Did you fuck him?”

The him comes out at the same time he moves two fingers inside of her, evoking only a moan for a response. 

It’s the wrong answer. 

Solana cries out in protest when he hastily retracts his fingers, leaving her yearning and wanting more. 

“Ro—”

“Shut up.” An angry silencer accompanied by his big hands moving to grab her hips, tugging her forward even more and hurriedly turning her over. Solana is hoisted up on the bed, guided on her hands and knees. 

“Ro—”

Solana is once again silenced, but not by his words this time. By that same big hand coming down on her backside, the sound echoing throughout the room, her ass jiggling in the recoil. 

“I said shut the fuck up,” he reiterates. There’s not going to be a third repeating. A mixture of confusion and excitement fills her at feeling and hearing him move behind her. The drop of the towel from around his waist, the way he snatches and rips her underwear clean off her body. His moan that’s followed by her own as he drags his thick dickhead up and down her folds, collecting her arousal.

It’s all so dysfunctional and wrong.

And, she loves it all.

A loud shout and moan falls out her mouth the minute he plunges his long, girthy dick inside of her. No build up. No preparation. Just the massive intrusion of his sizable member in her tight opening. 

And, he’s relentless. 

Solana’s body jerks back and forth from the force of his thrusts. Angry. Possessive. Jealous. 

“Roman,” she moans. “Baby, please.” One hand reaching back to push him away is quickly snatched and held against her lower back as he starts fucking her harder.

“You’re mine,” he growls, leaning over, deepening the feel of the delicious dick inside of her. It hurts so good, feels so bad in all of the right, wonderful ways. “You belong to me.”

More possessive statements accompanied by his hips slamming against her big, round ass, jerking in and out of her, like each thrust is another assurance of his ownership. “Your pussy is mine.”

A decree followed up with a switching of his pace. Roman opts for slower, deeper thrusts, his hips grinding against her as one hand goes to slap her ass once more.

Solana moans, head down on the pillow, her other hand snatched and restricted behind her back. He’s got her pinned down as he continues to fuck into her like a man on a mission.

“Did you give him my pussy?” There’s an edge to his voice, like anything but the right answer could easily send him over the edge.

And, it just might. 

“N–no,” she finally answers, praying the truth of her response translates despite the weariness of her voice. He always fucks her in a way that makes her feel so exhausted. “It’s—it’s your pussy, baby.”

His. All his. Every part of her. The good, the bad, the somewhere in between.

His.

“That’s right,” he grunts. Solana’s eyes burn with unshed tears. Never in her life has she been fucked like this. Fucked so good. It’s almost impossible to resist. To deny him this. To deny herself this. “Who do you belong to?”

She’s about to reply when he frees one of her hands only to fist her hair, forcing her up, head back, burning gaze on her. “I asked you a question.”

An easy answer but a difficult answer given how he’s fucking her right now. “Y—you, baby. I’m—I’m your—shit—only y–yours, Ro.”

“Damn right,” he huffs, releasing her hair. Roman moves her shirt up, exposing her big, heavy breast, gripping them, fingers playing with her nipples. “My pretty girl is mine and only mine.”

Eyes fluttering closed from being fucked numb, she can only blindly nod and agree, stuttering from the impact of his unforgiving his pace. “Y–yes, daddy.”

Head lolling back against his chest, Solana moves her hands atop his as he continues to grope and play with her titties.

His mouth near her ear, kissing and nibbling, his deep voice rumbles, “you’re gonna give me a baby.” If not for her sex fueled haze, Solana would have done a double take. Eyes wide, mouth ajar for an entirely different reason. “Gonna fill this tight, little cunt up with my seed and put a baby in you. My baby.”

Crazy.

She should call him crazy. Delusional, even. But, she can’t. She can’t, because his statement isn’t also sex fueled, the result of being caught in the throes of passion. 

It comes from her.

Came from her.

Was a request straight from her mouth.

Solana had asked Roman to give her a child, to give them a child. Has done nothing to prevent said child from occurring organically given the numerous times she’s let this man come all in her without a single form of protection.

“That’s what you want, right?” He taunts, his heavy balls slapping against her from the force of his thrusts. “Me to put a baby in you? Why you let me come in you every time?”

Truthful words that should bring her to shame. But, they don’t. They just turn her on even more.

“Yes, Ro.” She moans, ass moving in tandem with him, swallowing his dick with the hunger the fills them both. “Oh, fuck, you fuck me so good, baby.”

“That’s right.” His hand squeezes her booty, jiggling and slapping it once more. “My pretty girl is a dirty cum slut for me and only me.”

Continuance of filthy truths that reveal all the ugly, tainted things about herself that only become evident when she’s with him. The secrets of her desires that could only come to the light because of him. The things she’s not sure how to get back into the box.

Or, if she even wants them to. 

As he does most times, Roman puts her in any and all positions he wants to. On her hands and knees. Propped up on his dick as he watches her ride him. From the front and back. On her back. On her knees as she deepthroats him till she's on the brink of vomiting. Her knees up against her chest, juxtaposed to her ears. One leg over his shoulder, the other held up against his waist as he relentlessly pounds into her. It never stops. His sex drive is endless, his hunger and desire for her is insatiable. Always has been.

It’s only when she tells him she’s too sore, that the pleasure is completely gone, pain and discomfort the only sensations she has left inside of her is when he lets up off her. A constant thing. The minute it’s no longer pleasurable for her has always been his stopping point. 

As intense and dominating he can be in the bedroom, he’s always been mindful and respectful of her consent. When she says stop, he listens. 

Every single time.

When she taps out for good, he accepts it.

And, she is completely tapped out. 

Roman carries her to the bathroom where he turns on the shower, bringing her under the running water as he washes her and then himself. A type of gentleness that’s a stark contrast to almost everything else about him, but a normal thing when it’s just the two of them. Both clean and cleansed from the mess they’d made of themselves, he kisses her forehead and brings her back into the bedroom. An extra blanket is laid over the bed, over the other mess that was made.

He lays her down first before climbing into bed with her, another clean blanket on top of them. Solana presses her naked, clean body against his own, head on his chest as he kisses her temple, encouraging her to rest.

And while her body enjoys the much needed respite, her mind cannot.

She can’t find a way to settle her many, racing thoughts at this. At all of it.

Madness.

This whole thing is a type of madness that makes no sense when she’s not with him and all the sense when it’s just him. That’s the power this man has over her. Solana can’t see or think straight when it’s Roman. He’s clouded her judgment, turned her into a version of herself even she can’t recognize.

She’s yet to tell if that’s a good or bad thing.

It’s all bad, according to Jade, Solana’s older cousin and confidant. 

Well, prior.

Because the minute Solana made the mistake of confiding in the woman she thought she could tell anything, she learned just how wrong she was. 

“Solana, have you lost your goddamn mind? You’re fucking a prisoner? A mafia boss at that?”

That was probably the nicest of the response she received. Everything else was a lot of judgment and lack of understanding. Or, trying to understand, at least.

Needless to say, the conversation didn’t go well, and every outreach attempt Solana has made in the weeks that have passed have gone without a response.

It hurts. For sure. But, Solana can understand. 

Jade also works as a nurse in the local hospital and most likely doesn’t want it to get out that she knew about this illegal, forbidden affair and played any part. Distance is probably for the best.

But, the conversation and aftermath did get Solana thinking. Forced her to consider all she stands to lose should this ever reach that point, and not even her professional standing and achievements.

Her family. 

What would they think of her? They’d be disappointed for sure. 

The child her family never had to worry about suddenly boosted to the top of that worry list.

A dangerous thought that led her stumbling into even more dangerous territory.

Solana will never say she has a bad family. Ever. She loves her parents. Loves her siblings. Her family is good.

However, the youngest of five siblings, some of them hitting rough patches at various points in life, there were definitely moments where she just felt….there. Like, she was just another member of the family. Another Miller kid. The “good” Miller kid. The one who always had it together, for the most part, thus not needing as much attention from her parents who were already stretched thin from their other children. 

And, that was pretty much the dynamic her entire life. Solana did well, did okay, and that was that. Her parents would acknowledge they were proud, but it almost always felt like a distant thing. Like, they were saying it as a pleasantry, distracted, too busy helping out DJ with his custody battle for his daughter. Occupied with finding Isabella a good therapist for her anxiety. Stressed out by Zuri and her refusal to comply. 

Solana was just the child they never had to worry about which, unfortunately, translated into her being the child that often felt forgotten about.

Enter: Roman Reigns.

The attention of a man like him is one thing. The interest is something entirely different. 

And, she’s managed to nab both. He should be the last person she wants to see and be intrigued by her, but that’s exactly what’s happened. Not only does Roman make her feel seen and heard, he makes her feel wanted, something she didn’t realize she lacked so deeply until him.

He makes her feel cared for.

Protected. Another, interesting, sad thing she also never realized she was missing, wanting, yearning for. 

Like the guard, Knight something, who continued to pester and bother Solana, even going as far as groping her ass as she walked past him one day. An impossible, unavoidable situation as he’d been there for years compared to her six months. Something she just accepted she’d have to tolerate.

She was wrong.

Because not even 24hrs after Roman happened to catch a glimpse of the harassment she was dealing with, Knight was found dead in a prisoner’s cell. Beaten to death. Castrated. Eyes gouged out. 

A gruesome ending for a man she couldn’t find herself feeling sorry for after learning he had a record of harassing nurses. And sexually assaulting female inmates at the prison he worked at before then.

Ignoring his willingness to kill or have people killed for her, which probably should disturb her more than it does, Solana could talk to Roman for hours and never tire. Because his gaze is always on her, eye contact consistent, attention devoted solely to and on her. She can’t count how many times she’d be trying to talk to her parents or siblings about something, anything, only for them to always find something more important to redirect their focus to. 

“I’m sorry, Sola.”

“There’s just a lot going on, sweetie.”

“Can we talk about this some other time? We will. I promise. I’m just….”

Reasons, when she was younger. 

Excuses, now, at 27. 

And, she doesn’t fault them, isn’t upset with them. It’s just realizing what void that caused for her is such an experience, especially when that void has been filled—and more—by a man ten years her senior and miles beyond what and who she usually goes for.

Amenable. Introverted. Lover of the arts. All qualities she could use to describe her exes, none of which could describe Roman.

Strong. Quiet. Brutal. There’s a strength about him she admires and gravitates to that has nothing to do with his massive build and rippling muscles. A story behind those warm brown eyes she could most definitely get used to waking up to. A man beneath the thing that is Roman Reigns. 

A…..a man who, in the throes of chaos and destruction, sometimes seeks the silence and calm. A space she knows she provides him. 

“It’s simple with you.” He’d once said as they lay in bed together, his strong arms around her, her head on his chest. Her fingers danced across the plane of his stomach.

Something told her he wasn’t talking about the silence of the room they lay in, either.

At the very beginning, she tried to tell herself he didn’t care. That she was nothing more than a source of entertainment for a man who has nothing better to do while waiting to be released from a sentence he “shouldn't” even be serving in the first place.

That thought process helped her justify her outrageous behavior just a little.  

But, it was a thought that quickly started to be debunked when things started happening. 

Like her being at home, in her quaint little apartment, only to receive a knock at her door one day with a delivery. Beautiful pink roses from the local florist. A card attached that simply read.

For my pretty girl.

-R

Moving past the shock of such a thoughtful gesture, Solana chalked it up to a singular act of kindness. Underserved, in her mind. But, appreciated, nonetheless.

And, then it happened again.

More flowers. 

Flowers morphed into gifts. Expensive gifts. Someone who had a few select Kate Spade bags and a Michael Kors backpack gifted during college, Solana found herself on the receiving end of designer brands so fancy she couldn’t pronounce. And, the flowers remained a weekly thing as well, something she valued slightly more than the six to seven figure gifts. 

Because he’d asked her what she liked, and she’d told him flowers. She told him, and he remembered. Not only did he remember, but he’d seemingly made it a mission of his to make it a thing. To make a small act of kindness a thing of normalcy. 

And while she tried her best to not make too much of it, a man in prison showing her more adoration and appreciation compared to any of her exes, who were most definitely not serving a decade long sentence, is something she can’t avoid. 

Can’t not acknowledge.

Doesn’t mean she hasn’t tried, because she has.

Solana has tried to break free from the addiction that is Roman Reigns.

Tried to avoid him as much as possible. A difficult thing on so many levels. Especially when he always seems to find a way inside of her infirmary and especially inside of her.

It was why she went out last weekend. Willing to test out that age old theory regarding how the best way to get over someone is to get under someone else. 

It didn’t work. It was, somewhat, even as she made out with the random man whose name she can’t really remember. Melo, or something like that. But, the minute he started “stroking” her and boasting about how good it probably felt, it was a wrap.

Her thigh. He was stroking her thigh.

Solana went home alone that night, left early, needing to just be away from it all.

But, the fact that Roman knew about some of it, clearly not everything, comes at no surprise.

She knows he has people watching her. Has noticed the cars parked outside her parking complex. Seen the men that are almost always in not too far distance whenever she goes out. Even at the club that night.

He has a security detail on her. 

Has had one on her for a while now. 

Ever since that happened.

A fight broke out among inmates. Nothing out of the norm. A few were injured, hence several being transferred to medical. For some reason, she’s still unsure as to exactly how, a few of the prisoners weren’t properly secured. They weren’t shackled or cuffed, and it was as Solana went to disinfect a cut on one of them, he headbutted and punched her so hard that it knocked her out cold. 

Solana came to hours later in the local hospital where she wasn’t released until the next morning, being treated for what she considered minor injuries. Though the nasty bruise that marred the left side of her face was far from minor.

As recommended by Dr. Stratus, she took the next few days off. It felt a bit unnecessary. Solana didn’t feel too impacted by what occurred. Having been in the nursing field a few years now, she’d seen and experienced a lot. It wasn’t necessarily the first time she’d been hurt on the job, but it also wasn’t something that kept her up. That had her feeling traumatized.

There was some level of anxiety when she returned to work a few days later, but it quickly subsided when she learned that same prisoner who attacked her was dead.

Found tortured and murdered in his cell.

That shook her a bit. But, not as much when Roman was brought to the infirmary, her room, and the first thing she noticed was the scraped skin of his knuckles. For all of the many times he finessed his way into coming to see her, never had he actually come with anything requiring any kind of medical attention.

And even then, there wasn’t much that needed to be done outside of some disinfecting.

But, he didn’t seem to give two shits about that. 

He only seemed concerned with her. The minute the guards closed the door, he was before her. His big hands gently cupping her face, carefully turning her head to the side, examining the bruise that not even her most full coverage foundation could conceal.

His expression was a mixture of fury and regret. But, the fury couldn’t be felt not one bit as he pulled her into him, Solana initially confused but easily melting into comfort. She relished being in his strong embrace.

He kissed the top of her head, holding her, voice low and heavy with something unknown. “I’m sorry.”

To this day, she doesn’t know what exactly he was sorry for. She just knows that ever since that day, she’s had a security detail. It felt a little unnecessary and not even applicable, given she was injured on the job. Her “bodyguards” of sorts can’t really do anything to protect her when she’s on the clock.

But, Roman can.

It’s why she put two and two together, realizing Roman himself killed the man who hurt her. Every other life he’d claimed had been done indirectly. He’d used and ordered other people to carry out his fatal orders. But, this time….this time, he took it into his own hands.

He used his own hands to end the man’s life. Violently. Brutally. Graphically.

Why?

For her.

To send a clear message regarding what happens to anyone who dared to touch or try to hurt her.

Solana isn’t entirely certain, but she has a nagging suspicion that that was the moment it happened. 

The moment she realized she was falling in love with Roman.

Roman, for all his faults, and there are many, is good to her. He protects her and gives her a sense of belonging. Makes her feel wanted, something she didn’t really realize she was craving so deeply until him. 

Where she always just felt one of many with her family. With him, she’s one of one. She’s all he sees and all he wants. 

The same way she feels about him.

While the sex is phenomenal and in the plenty whenever it’s just the two of them, he talks to and with her. Asks about her, about how she’s doing. He’s always been so interested and intrigued about all the things that make her her. And, he commits it all to memory. Locks it away for sake keeping and points of retrieval. If she casually mentions working on an art piece, the next time they’ll see each other, he’ll ask how it’s going.

If she mentions not feeling the best during an interaction at the prison, their EFV visit won’t be used for a “sexscapade.” They’ll talk, she’ll learn more about him, he learns about her. It’s almost entirely domestic. He won’t touch her, unless she asks, and even then, he’s intent on making sure that she’s sure it’s what she wants.

And, it’s those moments that make her realize somewhere along the way, she stopped falling in love with Roman Reigns. 

She’s in love with Roman Reigns.

It’s all so fucked up. Everything about it. But, she’s too far gone, too deep into it to turn back now. 

And a part of her still worries that this is all performative. That he’s saying and doing all the things he knows she wants to hear and receive just to get what he wants from her. That the moment Roman is finally released will be the moment she never hears or speak to him again. He’ll be back on his throne, and she’ll be left all alone, heartbroken, life in ruins, trying to put it all the shattered pieces back together.

Potentially with a baby in her stomach.

It’s a reality she should probably consider more than she does, if at all, but it’s a reality she refuses to acknowledge. 

If that ends up being the devastating case, she’ll cross that bridge when they get there. When she gets there. Until then, she’ll enjoy this. Enjoy him. Enjoy them.

Because she’d give her all for him. 

Even if just to be a distant memory.

[snail-noodle]

still can't believe he's coming home soon. oh my oh my... he's so handsome and he knows it too 💖💕

let's see how many scenes they end up drawing for him 💙💙💙 I hope there's a good amount

if there's an animated scene I'm going to dieeee!! 😫💙💙💙

[polygondotcomvideoproducer]

It's that wonderful time of year when music review youtubers release their end-of-year best and worst lists and I find out what the fuck america was up to when the rest of us weren't looking

[arminsumi]

Betting your girl's mouth on a basketball game was crazy — and Suguru was all for it.

After taking a loss that may or may not have been deliberate, jock!Suguru wears a dirty grin on his face while watching you suck his best friends virgin cock like a good girl, loving the nasty wet noises you make while slurping up and down nerd!Satoru's pulsing shaft, slowly stroking himself to the sight of you on your knees, making cock disappear in your mouth like magic.

And Satoru — the poor boy — is losing his mind because he's never felt a woman's lips around his dummy big cock before. He used to tell you that sex is beneath him — now he's throwing his head back, gritting his pearly whites, curling his toes and biting his bottom lip 'till it's all red, totally surrendering to your little mouth — it's just so funny to you, 'cause he's been the know-it-all bastard telling you "... you're just Suguru's slut. If you paid as much attention in class as you did to my best friend's dick, maybe you'd amount to something. Do you even remember what we learned yesterday? Exactly. But I do — that's why I'm the top student and you're just — "

Bla bla bla... Satoru's now showing you how much precum his dummy big cock leaks — it's a sticky mess oozing out of his tip all over your quivering tongue. You looked up at him and winked, and he seethed inside because god he's hated you for so long but now your lips are wrapped around his cock and your mouth is taking him to heaven.

He's whining, biting into his fist, knees all wobbly. the texture of your tongue drives him nuts — then it clicks. oh, this is why my best friend is obsessed with his girlfriend. This is why he can't shut up and stop oversharing his sex life with me.

'Cause heaven really does exist on her tongue.

"fuck, slow down..." Satoru tries to ease his cock out your mouth, feeling his orgasm threatening to erupt at any moment.

But Suguru pushes you back down on his cock, filling your cheeks again, "nah, keep going baby, he's gonna cum — aren't you Satoru? You're gonna cum in my girl's mouth, huh? Come on, big boy, I know how long you've wanted this. Fill this little slut's mouth with your cum."

Those taunting words push him over the edge. His heavy balls tighten up as he feels you suckling his swollen head, and then white ropes come bursting out.

"Ahh—gh! Fuck... nn!"

Satoru's legs give out and he moans like you've never heard a man moan before, releasing all the cum he's worked up for you like he's been waiting years to do this. Actually, he has been waiting years — waiting patiently to find an opportunity to make your jaw ache and eyes well up with tears.

"Baby, you gonna swallow my best friend's cum f'me?" Suguru encourages, stroking his cock lazily against your cheek now.

He watches you compliantly swallow Satoru's seed, and Satoru twitches at the sight.

Huffing, Satoru comes down from his high and brushes his white wispy bangs out of his eyes. He's glaring down at your mouth.

"... still fucking hate you... " Satoru mutters to you in a voice still shaky with the after-effects of his orgasm.

"I still hate you, too." you smile back at him.

His heart flutters and bottom lip twitches. He can't stop staring at your lips, your eyes, your hips, your thighs.

"Ah, Satoru, quit your act — you're the one who proposed this idea in the first place."

You went red in the face. It was Satoru's idea? The mister goody-two-shoes, know-it-all, all A+++ report cards, 'sex is beneath me' Satoru?

"Huh? I thought this was your idea..." but before you can express your surprise you're already feeling Suguru nudge his cockhead against your lips.

"Sh sh, now it's my turn, baby. Open wide."

[screampied]

❛ PHEREMOANED ?! ❜ t. fushiguro

☆ sum. after three long years in the slammer, toji returns home to you—his pretty sweet fiancé. to surprise him, you decided to spray on your new expensive pheromone perfume. was it the best idea? probably not. you wanted to tease him, not make him feral.

warnings. fem! reader, ex-convict toji, pwp, feral toji, scent kink, unprotected, manhandling, size kink, cúnnilingus (he eats it from the back), toji has a tongue piercing, brēeding, marathon séx, choking, spít, impact play, hair pulling, overstim, tummy bulges, overstim.

wc. 6.2k

toji fushiguro never knew how to stay out of trouble—he had a temper and that wasn’t really a surprise.

he’s lucky he got released early on good behavior. three years, one thousand and ninety-five days, twenty six thousand hours and thirty six months spent apart from him. regardless though, you were patient—making sure to visit him during visiting hours and all. but the day he gets released, you get an idea. scrolling online, you read an article about pheromone perfume and skimmed across some pretty eye-catching stories. you ordered it about two weeks prior, waiting for his release to actually try it. spritzing a few good sprays on yourself, you wait by the front door where one of his friends, presumably shiu was dropping him off at.

creaaaak, the wooden door opens and there stands toji. he’s still in his orange jumpsuit, tresses of shaggy sable bangs brushing down his eyes, briefly occluding his vision. “hey, girl,” he gruffs, catching you in his arms once you tackle him into a hug. his big big arms cage you in before he kisses the top of your head. “missed y-”

toji pauses, and you let off a gasp once he abruptly digs his face inside the crook of your neck. “hn. . new perfume, baby?” good, so it really does work. his scarred hands rest toward your hips before he starts to sniff all down your neck, groaning against your skin.

“y- yeah,” you stammer, feeling his hands grip against your blouse. “you like? it was on sale.”

“i love it but it’s damn strong,” he murmurs, and out of nowhere—he lifts you up, tossing you over his shoulder. a giggle nearly leaves from your lips as he starts to trod toward the bedroom, loud boots clanking against the marble-made floor. “did you spray it between your legs too? fuck, you’re just asking to be ruined tonight, baby.”

well shit.

everything happens so fast,

one second you’re hugging your fiancé who just got released from prison and the next, he’s tossing you on the bed, making you spread your legs.

you’ve seen a lot of different faces of toji but this, this was entirely new. he’s got the type of look in his eyes where he wants something and he won’t hesitate to take it . . even if that something is you.

seeing you like this, sprawled all out on the bed with that cute perplexed expression of yours, fuck.

three years. three years without any kinds of physical contact he had to endure, and with the addition of your new pheromone perfume. perhaps you had some kind of death wish.

“spread ‘em,” he huffs, clicking his tongue. toji’s eyes were already hooded and half-lidded. he’s panting already and he’s not even looking at you.

just from staring between your legs, he could almost taste you on his tongue - his tastebuds were already salivating at the carnal thought. toji’s verdant dim eyes stare straight between your legs, right near the very crevices. “wait, no,” and you gasp again once he flips you over, making you flop down on your chest. “ass up baby. i don’t wanna look at you right now. wanna look at her.”

his hands were so hot, quite literally.

his bare palms had all kinds of scars painted near the centers with such rough texture as he feels against your ass. you try to suppress an incoming moan as your back willingly arches forward. your cheek’s being smushed against the silky red cover of your own pillow before he leans in.

toji’s wetly kisses against your ass cheek, nearly ripping your skirt in two. “mhm,” he groans, and even now, he’s still smelling you. your legs start to shake and quiver once he’s smelling every part of your thighs. toji drags his nose up and down, he’s making sure he can take in all of your perfume, he even licks down your legs. you’ve seen him feral before but never like this. his palm continues to rub against your skin before the button tip of his nose reaches toward your panties. “fuck, don’t know how much i missed you, princess.”

“t- toji,” you whine through gritted teeth, and he’s flicking his tongue against the lace pad of your panties. your smell, it was so good - he just couldn’t get enough.

it scratched a obscene itch in his brain, making him so aroused—so much so that you weren’t helping the strain in his jumpsuit sweats at all. toji’s boner was almost painful, it prods against the thin fabric of his jumpsuit and your scent only made his throbbing so much worse.

his hair tickles against the corners of your thighs as you feel his warm breath ghost against your sopping entrance. oh, right. you were kind of sort of a bit drenched—you had played with yourself out of pure boredom. you failed to make yourself finish but he didn’t have to know that.

toji noticed right away and he raises a brow, two pinching fingers pulling your panties to the side. “she’s soaked,” he utters in a low voice—he sounds almost offended. “wonder why that is.”

you let off a broken moan once he peels your panties to the side with just his teeth, dragging a fat swollen thumb right down your drooling slit. “fuckk, smell so good baby but i bet you taste even better.”

and within seconds, his tongue delves right between your legs. once he starts—there’s no prying him off. whenever it was pussy involved, toji was an animal.

he could eat you out for hours, no breaks, not caring at all if his jaw locks and tightens. he ate you out as if it wants some sort of competition, and he’d always get a gold medal. every single time. .

you’re facing the opposite way while he’s eating you from behind, two open palms squeezing against both soft cheeks of your ass. the tiny ball of his piercing gradually flicks against your clit and you nearly let off a shriek. the stimulation has you gasping for air and it felt so good—you’ve never felt more sensitive.

toji spreads your ass wider, dipping his lengthy wet tongue in and out before spitting down your entrance. “ptf,” and it’s a glossy slimy trail that dribbles straight down the cracked slope of your ass before oozing near your puffy pussy. it’s so sloppy, he laps it right up before spitting on it again and again.

toji hasn’t tasted you in forever, three years felt like forever and he wanted to make sure he’d make up for lost time - with his tongue.

“mhm, keep squirmin’ doll, see where it gets ya,” he’d gruff in a husky tone, feeling your entire body starting to writhe and shudder all from his mouth.

despite his jaw already locking—his face was flushed and tears of sweat sprayed against his forehead. even still, the dark haired man showed no signs of fatigue. you just tasted so sweet, and your loud pheromonal smell made things worse.

you slouch back against the cushioned mattress, peering behind you to see him sloppily give your pulsating cunt three second slurps. fuck, his tongue. it was so long.

you felt every extending inch of it trace and curl all throughout the swollen walls of your pussy. he had to make sure your pretty pussy remembered who it belonged to. his rosy pink tip swirls around and around, side to side, up and down—he makes it toy in every witch direction. toji then starts to merrily spell out the thirteen notorious letters of his name over and over.

t - o - j - i - f - u - s - h - i - g - u - r - o.

once his tongue curls in such a slick spiraling manner, your tummy heaves once he spells out the letter ‘s’ with his tongue. it twirls from up to down, and he even grumbles out the letters under his breath in that low, raspy voice.

two big hands cling onto your rickety thighs before he spanks your ass once he sees you trying to reach down between your thighs to touch yourself. “watch it, little girl,” he snarls, the sudden pitchy tone in his rough voice making you throb right on his tongue. he’s practically making out with your cunt now, french kissing your slobbering entrance. toji’s just casually nose deep, taking every few seconds to smell against your clit. “she’s mine.”

“tojiiii—” you moan, continuing to rock your unsteady hips back into his face. toji’s patchy stubble rubs all over against your skin until it’s just profusely dripping from your slick juices.

the scar that runs down the right side of his lip smears against you also. it feels so rough as it scraps against your folds. your pussy twitches as he starts to drag his face back and forth against your slick and you gasp once his tongue slides further up.

up, up, up until it reaches there.

“ah, now what do we got ourselves here,” he whispers, and you moan once he plugs a fat thumb against your puckering hole.

your teeth dig into the cottony fluff of the pillow that’s sat right in front of you. toji’s thumb, he circles it around before lolling out his tongue. even though you’re not directly facing him, you can just hear how wet it is—how wet you are.

you’re squelching so loud that it bounces off the walls, ricocheting against every peeling corner.

the syrupy saliva that departs and smacks from his lips once he open his mouth. “god, ‘yer fuckin’ wet, baby. just for me,” he murmurs, and he creates a long slippery slicking trail from the starting point of your throbbing clitoral hood all the way until he reaches your hole. he pauses as sheeny drool following his mouth. saliva continues to slip away from his wry crooked lips as his lips open and close. he’s fucking sloppy.

it was no secret—toji fushiguro was feral, happily smearing his face against your cunt whilst his tongue multitasks, licking near your ass.

it’s a sensation that almost tickles but oh, you weren’t laughing. your toes curl up in pure ecstasy and your face scrunches as he’s just devouring you whole like the starved man he was.

“ngh, tojiiii,” you whine, feeling the luscious twirl of his fat long tongue run over against every part of your pussy. your estatic nerves felt it all, he was very precise and never missed a spot.

toji’s lip scar that swoops down the right curve of his mouth faintly brushes up near your clit as his head continues to move. he hears you ‘ooh’ at the ticklish feeling and he chortles darkly. he likes to loll out his tongue even further, repeatedly thwacking the center of his tongue against your clit just so you can grow dumb from his piercing.

with your chest continuously dipping and heaving, you’re shivering against the as he’s got a face full of your ass—he feels you reaching from behind, grabbing near his overgrown unkempt strands to give it a nice mean tug. you’re dragging his head against your pussy now, even if your grip was a bit weak. “ohmygod, ‘s gonna make me cum too quick, toji.”

“taste so sweet, he grumbles, your viscous slick gluing all against his reddened scarlet lips. toji continues to dip and delve his lengthy flat tongue in and out of your sweet puckering hole before trailing it back up towards your cunt.

you let off a pretty mewl that lasts for multiple seconds, feeling dewy saturated strings of his spit run away from his own two lips and slabber all over your wet flaps. if it’s one thing toji does, he makes sure that you’re always wet for him.

you’re biting your fist until your knuckles split, occasionally hearing him spit against your cunt again, using a clammy palm to smother it everywhere.

“my wet girl,” his lips purse, soft pants of breath fanning right against your slick. you’re frantically quavering—shaking, and those warm ghostly breaths that waft by your rear doesn’t make things any better. various tingles roam through your body as he’s eating you out from behind, savoring your taste entirely. “mhm, don’t get lazy on me now. shake y’er ass against my face, baby. fuck me back.”

you moan once he gives your right bare ass cheek a firm squeeze. cupping it into his palm, he spanks it before you obey his command. jolting soft skin recoils and jiggles against his face and toji snickers, lying his wide tongue even flatter against your exposed wet pussy.

“uh huh, atta girl, lemme taste all of you,” and as he’s slurping, it doesn’t take long before you’re shooting utter blanks yet again.

interrupting static deafens your ears as a roaring wave crashes through your veins. your knees abruptly buckle until you’re collapsing forward in the mattress and its silky sheets. only then do you now finish on his tongue, letting off a shrilling whine.

“mhm, there it is, there’s my sloppy baby,” and a lustrous stream of your sweetened juices spew down his chin. his chin’s now shiny, and your glistening slick even decorates his stubble.

“fuck,” he takes a moment to breathe, flicking his tongue against his lips. so sweet, toji’s dark eyes rove down at your cute elated state as you slumped into the pillows. you’re trying to crawl away but with two hands, he’s reeling you right back into him. “oh, no ya don’t. get back here, pretty girl,” and your lips part into an ‘o’ as you gasp, feeling his teeth playfully nibble against your pussy.

and toji doesn’t let you escape his grasp. not yet anyway, he was starving. he missed you, and his tongue showed that.

you hadn’t realized how much time’s passed whilst he’s between your legs—you’d guess it’s been a few hours since it was almost dusk now.

toji was a eater, he’s got you lied flat on your back now as he’s slurping you clean. his tongue flicks underneath his bottom lip, tasting the mess you caused that’s pouring down his slick chin. it’s probably been your fifth orgasm and your legs can barely hold themselves up.

“mhm,” and he’s just munching your pretty pussy, glossy strands of his own saliva mixing with your sap continues to dribble down his chin. he’s made such a mess, all because of you. “you sprayed between your legs, didn’t you baby?”

“n- no,” you lie, dragging his head back and forth against your cunt. you did, but to be fair you didn’t think it’d work. you thought it was just another scam. but it wasn’t — toji was here, eating you out as if your pussy was the last edible thing in world.

make no mistake, he was a filthy man. his entire chin’s cascading with a stream of your syrupy mess and he barely bats an eye. you didn’t know how much more you could take before he chuckles, finally departing his lips.

“you’re a bad liar,” and his voice grows deep again. you meet his eyes and that’s when toji makes you get on all fours again. “ass up. y’know the drill. atta girllll,” and you almost shiver from his touch. toji stares at your perked ass, bringing a palm towards your left templed cheek. smack, you moan from the abrupt sting before he later caresses it. “god, i missed you. those idiots wouldn’t even let me touch myself, baby. thought about you the entire time i was rottin’.”

and as he speaks, your cheek presses further against the pillow. toji tugs on his the sweats of his orange jumpsuit—the fabric writhes against his slim waist before falling down, now exposing his boxers. he watches as your ass writhes and he hums, springing out his thick cock. “shit, you don’t even realize how good you smell, do ya?”

“no,” you breathe, feeling a lump circle near the inside of your throat once he brings his tip towards your entrance.

it’s sopping wet, weeping with honeyed tears of slick before he smacks it against your puffy hood.

“fuuuck,” you whine out, the feeling of his bulbous mushroom tip bringing you so many memories. he brushes it down your sensitive slit and you feel the slimy remnants of precum that oozes off his frenulum. a hand of his wraps around his veiny length, giving it a few striking pumps before toji groans. “fuck me toji, f- fuckin’ hurry up.”

“now girl,” he brings another smack towards your rear. this time it’s harder, the recoil rings through your ears and makes you chew the inside of your cheek. “don’t rush me,” and as the bass in his voice pitches lowers and lower, you feel yourself pulsate right between your sprawled out thighs.

toji’s aligning himself, hearing your sloshing weeps sloppily exit out of your pussy. a wry smile compresses against his lips before he wraps a few fingers over the back of your throat with his free hand. “ ‘m gonna take my time with you. so, do me a favor baby. arch that pretty back ‘n shut the fuck up.”

it was such authority in his voice—despite his tip barely even being in, he felt your cunt twitching almost right away.

it makes him snicker to himself, caressing your stinging back side with a scarred bare hand.

“good girl,” and he leans further in, taking yet another whiff of your salaciously rich scent. “here it comes,” he lowly purrs, and you bite your lip once he’s finally entering inside of you.

toji’s slow, purposely. he loves more than anything to see your patience wearing thin, squirming and just aching for a crumb of dick. as he’s perfectly aligned, his swollen angered cockhead gradually starts to disappear inside of your pussy.

“biiiiig stretch, there we go babygirl. take it.” and you’re moaning at each ridiculous inch burying its way inside of you. with little to no ease at all, he’s mending your squashy walls and shaping them all due to the size of his thick cock.

he’s so big, so big that his dick makes your tummy cave in a bit and your thighs start to rattle.

toji’s got a fat delicious hook that always curves inside of you as he’s going in. it’s so good - so good to where you’re feeling butterflies brew up inside of your stomach . . unless that was just his bulge.

“toji, ohmygodohmygoddd,” you babble out, gasping with slick parted lips at the gaping barrage he makes with his dick. he’s only halfway in and yet you feel so full. you almost forgot what it was like for him to fuck you, and oh did you miss it. “you’re not—ngh, not gonna fit.”

“silly girl,” he huffs, already starting to feel himself break a sweat. his forehead’s starting to get clammy the more he’s easing his way in. the raven haired man towers over your jittery body before you feel his hungry gaze rove down your back. “we’ll make it work, princess. just like we always do, i trained this pussy well.”

squiiiissssh!

right after he speaks, you’re already gushing from his cock being so deep inside. his tip gets covered with your slick and he hums in amusement.

“even she agrees with me,” he hoarsely utters, preparing his sharp keen hips. you’re just so wet, you nibble down on your tongue as he’s losing himself further inside. it feels like forever until toji’s finally fully in. you hear a ringing ‘pop’ and that’s when you knew he was fitted nice and snug. “there we go, told ya. i always make it fit just for you—oh fuuucckk.”

your scent’s filling up the room now and it’s just driving him crazy. it gives him a headache, the kind of headache where he actually likes the pounding.

he can’t get enough of you, whether it’s your perfume, your body, or just you in general. all he knew was that he missed you and he was gonna show you how, with his deep pivotal thrusts.

“hngh, toji fuck,” you whimper out, and it doesn’t take long before he’s starting up a fast pitiless pace. the bed immediately dips from the harsh amounts of weight and pressure. toji’s got both hands glued to your hips.

his fat tip rudely thrashed at your sweet pulsing cunt time and time again. he’s simply relentless.

as he’s moving with such speed, you feel his full swollen base tap against your ass over and over.

you almost drooled, imagining how much he’d cum inside of you this time. his fingerstips dug so far into your skin that he left brief marks - it wasn’t too bad, but he’d definitely look back at it later just to tease you. “mmph, fuck toji. right there, that spot, baby.”

“i love you sweetheart but you talk too much,” he grouses, and you’re caught off guard once he pauses mid thrust just lean up close against you.

with your back still turned the opposite way, he pulls down your panties all the way, stuffing them in your empty mouth. “there, keep those pretty things in. only sounds i wanna hear is from y’er pussy, she’s the star tonight.”

toji’s cock was just merciless.

if you thought he was mean in bed, his hips were even meaner. ruthless, you’re being fucked against the springy mattress that’s creaking and the same babbles come out of your lips every time.

those same pathetic cries of his name. . it was like music to his ears. you couldn’t see yourself but you just knew you looked a mess.

you were drooling all against the satin pillow case as your eyes were just bulging out of their sockets. toji always knew how to stretch you good and stretch you right.

he was thick, driving his hips into you at such barbarous force that you were almost sure he was gonna break you. he wasn’t lying when he said he missed you. being away from you for so long was practically torture, and yes it was entirely his fault for getting locked up in the first place but still.

“ugh, mmph!” you whine, your noises becoming muffled from the bawled up panties that were stuffed inside of your puffed cheeks.

he was unapologetically drilling into your cunt as if he was a construction worker. if it wasn’t thanks to toji’s grip with hands, you’d probably fall of the bed and land flat on your ass.

“squeezin’ me so fuckin’ tight—shit,” he growls, his dark brows curling up together in frustration.

your walls were so clingy, they always were. his dick knew just the right spots to make you scream. after a few sloppy hits, his sweltering hot crown starts to break through your walls, pounding in and out until you’re just dumb full of cock.

you were stupid, entirely dumbfounded—and not a single thought crossed your mind as he’s hitting against that same sweet spot. you feel your toes curl up all the way until they feel numb and you let off a inaudible squeal. “pussy’s such a crybaby, look at how much y’er sobbin’ on me, princess.” he points out, purposely slowing his thrusts down just to ogle at the glimmering cobwebs of your own slick streaming down his cock.

it’s so pretty, you’re drenching his length each second and he feels himself twitch - you feel him twitch inside of you.

as he’s still vigorously delving his fat cock in and out of you, you feel toji’s grip around your neck softly tighten. silvery fingers stroke against your tender skin and you moan, a cock drunk smile spreading across your lips whilst your mouth’s full of your own damn panties.

you even taste yourself and it leaves a bittersweet taste in your mouth. toji then suddenly raises your ass up just a bit more.

“hey,” he grumbles, swatting a hand against your ass. you’re snapped out of your own lewd thoughts once the sting meets against your rear.

dark sly eyes flicker toward your body that’s twitching underneath him and he hums. “fuck back against me. don’t be a lazy girl,” and your cunt’s so close, you’re on the very verge and almost every nerve that’s buried between your thighs prepares itself for its elated finish. “fuck. me. back.” he repeats, his words an almost growl.

you whimper, quickening your hips again and he stares at your ass that’s gluing against his sharp pelvis, smack smack smacking away. the recoil was always his favorite part, he groans at how good you stick against him, luxuriating in your sweet filth.

you’re clinging onto the creamy white sheets for dear life while you’re also just casually getting the life fucked out of you.

toji always fucked like he hated you—of course, he didn’t. he loved you, he even put a pretty rock on your finger and couldn’t wait to take your last name. or vice versa.

alas, whenever the conversation went towards the bedroom, that was an entirely different story.

he was mean, sharp angered hips would plowed into you like he hated your guts. his tip’s a crimson red, kissing up against your sweetest spot that’s buried so far deep inside of you that it leaves a mark. your stomach continues to seize as he’s driving himself in and out of you, leaving a little bulge that prods near the lower part of your tummy.

“aw,” he glances at you trying to feel near the exact spot with your hand.

toji grunts lowly at the sharp twinge near his thigh, he’s almost out of fuel but he hasn’t had enough of you.

not yet.

“feel me there, yeah? ‘m really that deep, princess,” he whispers in a raspy tone, and you can hear just how out of breath he is. every few words were broken up and he’s panting right with you, pinching the bridge of his nose to suppress his own moans. “our future baby’s gonna be riiiight in here someday, princess. gonna make you the prettiest fuckin’ mommy.”

“mmph—mmph!”

“oh, right,” he cackles darkly, leaning in to pull your panties out of your mouth. once he does, you’re matching the drilling speed of his pants.

toji keeps jackhammering into your sopping wet cunt and you’re just hysterical. a raw squeal dies out from the back of your throat before you abruptly end up cumming.

it’s quick, you cream all down his cock and your eyelids fatally flap shut. “the fuck,” he pauses, and you feel yourself throbbing all around him. you’re shook, your eyebrows twist together in pleasure and you’re just trying to gasp for any breaths you could get. you pout once he stops his hips all of a sudden, still shoved numerous inches inside before he releases his hand from your throat. “i know you didn’t just cum on me baby.”

you gulp, still heavily sensitive. your body’s practically on fire and you hated that he suddenly stopped.

toji didn’t like whenever you came—without asking first at least. “ ‘m sorry,” you moan, hearing his heavy pants directly from behind you. there was a sweet bratty lie underneath your two words and he knew that. toji fushiguro was no idiot. “sorry toji, didn’t mean—”

“oh, babygirl i’m sorry too,” and you’re confused for a moment before he makes your face squish even further against the pillows. a hand of his lightly pushes your head back into the mattress. you whine once you feel him starting up again.

your pussy resumes to freely constrict around his length before he’s starting up his insane pace again. toji feels you trying to crawl away again, weakly trying to paw your hands at the edge of the bed but he’s pulling you right back.

your ass slams against him and you moan, feeling him thrash against your beloved g-spot yet again.

“nah, we aren’t running today. get back here ‘n take this,” and he talks over your sweet babbles and mewls, speaking in a faux tone to match yours. “you’re a big girl aren’t ya, yeahhh? so whatcha runnin’ for?”

as toji reels you back to his raunchy rude hips, they snap into you at full force and you’re just choking on your own mewling whimpers by this point.

hours past, many many hours of you being fucked in any and every position.

toji’s got you screaming at the top of your lungs from each delirious orgasm that he coaxed out of you. he tells you to give him one more, just one more—but that ‘one more’ ends up being at least six more.

you’ve never felt more dumb out of your mind, and every few seconds he’d run his nose down your back just to get another whiff of your sweet enticing scent. by now, he’s lost count of how many times he smelled you. whatever perfume you were wearing, it was now his favorite.

he had you creaming down his cock again and again, your legs shook in defeat and you moan once he prepares to start up again.

but that’s when you lie him back.

“ugh,” he falls back, and his arms rest over the headboard of the bed. there you’re met with the eyes of a very feral man. toji’s jumpsuit was half on, barely even on at this rate. you take a chance to look at him and he’s just so swole. your eyes roam down his beefy body. he’s definitely got more toned since the last time you saw him. his body, it’s as if he was a sculpture. his and were similar to a greek god, droplets of sweat race down near his sharp v-line and you were mentally drooling. you peer down at a few of his tats that ink into his skin, a few veins running down his forearms. “now, that’s pretty damn rude, baby. pushin’ me over like that. oughta—”

“shut up, toji,” you murmur, still trying to get over your most recent orgasm. your ears rang, so loud that it’s putting bells to shame. with hooded eyes and that same sleazy grin, he holds onto your waist as you make your way on his lap.

toji snickers, a palm of his hand squeezing your ass tight. “oh, so y’er gonna ride me. ‘s that what this is, princess?” and you could hear the smug in his tone.

he didn’t think you had the guts. .

the dimples that poke against either side of his lips confirmed his haughty expression. “cute, but fine. go ahead then, girl,” and he spanks your ass, burying his face into your neck, licking against your sweet skin. “ride me.”

you barely even last a few minutes—toji’s just too fucking big.

you’re babbling yet again at how he’s not gonna fit and he just wryly grins at you. seeing you struggle to take him for the umpteenth time continues to feed his annoying ego.

but like the gentleman he was, toji helps you.

big firm hands attach to your waist and he helps you align yourself once more. your cunt’s profusely drooling, aching for more despite the overstimulation that’s continuing to dumb you down.

“such a baby. gotta help ya with everything,” he whispers, hiding his face inside the crook of your neck.

your scent was still so loud, the smell of you alone made him throb and you felt it from the inside of your gripping pussy.

your clingy walls clamp and squeeze around him tightly before you start up your frantic hips again. twisting your brows together in lewd rapture, you whine—tossing your arms over his broad shoulders. after a few seconds, then do you start to move your hips. “fuck, that’s it baby. ride me good, yeah. move those hips, shiiit.”

he groans, feeling his pumping cock drag its way through every part of your slick walls. he never misses a spot, and he sticks his tongue out, dragging it down your collarbone.

“mhm, fuck me. ride it like you want it, princess.” he spanks your ass, hearing the bed wail and creak out frail groans of its own. your hips threw itself in a circle as you’re on his lap, taking in every inch of his thick heavy cock. toji closes his eyes, inhaling your scent for the nth time, and it’s almost as if the second you started riding him, your smell got even stronger.

your slick glosses down his cock entirely, and it’s so pretty. every chance you get, you stare down between your legs just to see the sloshing mess that’s slapping right directly right underneath you. strands of glistening juices blissfully mix with his and just it’s filthy.

it even tangles into a mere cobweb the quicker you bounce up and down his dick. “f- fuck, fuck,” you stammer, and you’re so full—full of nothing but long girthy inches.

again, his maddened plump tip was just rude.

it’s smacking against your spongy sensitive spot constantly, dragging out those cute whimpers from your throat. your fingertips claw down his back whilst your hips becoming incredibly sloppy. “toji, ‘m gonna cum again. fuck, gonna cum again. hngh, please lemme c-cum.”

“let me think about it,” he sighs, and your face cutely drops at his teasing. toji nips small minuscule bites near your neck as his cock stills inside of you. “hmmmmm,” and he even hums over your pleading whines. burly arms wrap around your waist before he squeezes near your ass. he waits for a good seven seconds before darkly chuckling, lapping his tongue directly underneath your chin. “fine. go ahe—fuck.”

toji groans because right as he speaks, he ends up cumming right with you. his teeth bites into your skin as he’s dumping in a fat load inside, creamy globs filling you up almost right away.

his body violently erupts, feeling a ripple of vibrations jolt through his body and you feel the exact same.

you felt a spark surge through your veins and your brain just turned into complete mush. as your dead hips feebly writhe against him your jaw is just hanging open. “hngh, ‘s full,” you wheeze, feeling him continue to overflow your pussy with such thick amounts.

it’s a lot, so much to where it’s drooling all down your thighs, matching color against the ivory colored sheets.

it was so warm - hot even.

you hear the sloshing spurts that it makes and you’re panting just as much as he was.

toji saved so much for you.

his jaw tightens as he leans back, one hand still glued to the right cheek of your ass. “god, i fuckin’ missed you,” he groans, feeling a tingly sensation at the way you swallow every drop with your drooling cunt. your hips waver over him, and once toji brings his face up to stare at you again, he cups your face. “you alright, princess?”

“y- yeah i—” but before you could even finish your sentence, he pulls you in a deep passionate kiss.

it’s sloppy more than anything, and you feel his hands creep down toward your tits, squeezing against your plump swollen mounds. you whine in his mouth as both tangled tongues move in tavern. shaggy bangs brush against your forehead as you wrap your arms around him. as he’s hungrily shoving his tongue down your throat, that’s when he feels your hips slowly starting to grind again.

after a few long seconds, toji pulls away, watching the lustrous trial of saliva leave from both lips. he’s still so sensitive and so were you.

“baby,” he says, raspy and out of breath. he leans in, giving you one more sniff before groaning in your neck. the insides of your thighs were sticky, glued to the very crevices with his hot gluey cum and you definitely milked him. “i need more—fuck, i need more.” and you gasp once you’re suddenly flipped over on your back.

leafy green eyes bore into your ass and you moan once toji drags a big thumb down your cunt that’s slobbering with milky globs of his seed.

“shit, look at this mess,” and he slides his tongue across his lip - specifically, across the scar that runs down his sly crooked lips. “hah, y’er tummy’s not full enough yet, princess,” and you can almost hear the pout in his voice as he’s stood behind you.

toji vertically smears his thumb against your cunt that’s weeping with such thick velvety amounts of cum. he inches his face toward your rear before bringing a kiss towards your wet entrance.

“before i give you more though, ‘m gonna have ‘ta clean this mess,” and you let off a surprised gasp once he dips his tongue back into your pussy again, the cold pierced ball that lies on his tongue making you whimper. “so be a good girl ‘n bend over again for me,” and he starts to nibble against your clit, feeling you ardently pulse against his tongue.

“heh, but i gotta say, this food right here’s so much fuckin’ better than the shit they serve us in prison, princess,” and toji spits right on your folds one last time, giving it a playful smack. “so much better. . ”

[thebibliosphere]

Every time someone well-meaning suggests I see a chiropractor for my migraines, I have this little moment of "ah, you're new here. You weren't here prior to 2018 when a chiropractor very gently adjusted my neck for my migraines, and I ended up having to get an emergency MRI because the ensuing symptoms were indicative of a brain bleed."

It wasn't a brain bleed. The muscles on the entire right side of my neck "just" tore (Spoiler there is nothing "just" about that kind of traumatic injury. I am still in physical rehab for it), and I couldn't hold my head up, see straight, walk or do any of the things I'd previously taken for granted until several weeks later when the area finally started to heal.

This was before I knew I had Ehlers Danlos, btw. But this is true even for people who don't have a connective tissue disorder: Don't let chiropractors touch your neck.

There are a lot of vital nerves and blood vessels there, and even gentle adjustments of the area can have life-threatening consequences.

I know chiropractic care can be pain relieving--I still get it for my lower back and hips because I work with a chiropractor who knows about Ehlers Danlos Syndrome, and sometimes my hips need to be popped back in at short notice, and it's easier to hop walk in and see her than wait for physical therapy--but it is a short-term relief that doesn't actually correct why something is happening.

If you can afford it, physical therapy will likely help more in the long term. I know not everyone can afford it, and that's why chiropractors have such a booming trade in the US, but please, I'm begging you, don't get your neck adjusted.

The spinal cord specialist I saw after my injury told me the number one reason he used to see people for traumatic brain injuries was car wrecks, followed by other major roadside injuries. He said those numbers were still the highest, but after that, the majority of his patients were survivors of chiropractic injury.

Do Not Get Your Neck Adjusted.

It's been over 5 years, and I still can't move my neck properly on my right side. I still struggle to eat and drink because my muscles will randomly seize up. It feels like my skull no longer fits on top of my spine because of the scar tissue. Please. I just want people to be safe.

And if you are a chiropractor reading this and thinking, "Well, I've never injured anyone, skill issue." No. You Have Gotten Lucky. Rethink how you apply your trade. Please, you can still help people while recommending safer options for specific body parts. Learn to do pressure point release and acupressure. Teach patients how to stretch and relax the area safely. Just fucking stop cracking people's necks like pop rock candy.

[heathermason6060]

Daryl Dixon x F!Reader Smut: Teasing will get you Somewhere

Gif found on Pinterest unknown credit

Warnings/Mentions: Blue balls, Dark/Rough!Daryl, sexual teasing (Daryl receiving) rough sex, spitting, choking, manhandling, biting, blood blisters, spanking, bruising, it might smell like dubcon but it's not

Summary: Reader wants to see Daryl at his breaking point, teasing and depriving him of release until he gets there. 

Notes: I loved writing this so much. While trying to think of a plot for dark!Daryl I remembered this idea/prompt someone had like 5 years ago where the reader teases a guy until he cracks and just goes crazy. I think it was a fanfiction, but I looked through my bookmarks and ao3 history and couldn't find anything like this so if you know what I'm talking about please let me know!!

All you wanted from the start was to see Daryl snap. He was such an aggressive loudmouthed man, but not in the way you wanted him to be. 

He'd started flirting with you to appease Merle, the man who'd instantly noticed how you swooned around Daryl. The younger Dixon didn't believe him, of course, but he approached you to avoid the harsh blows of Merle calling him a ‘belly-up pussy’ along with more distasteful slurs. 

His way of “flirting” was a lot like Merles at first. Offensive, inappropriate, you know the rest. You'd been patient enough to politely explain that you weren't like the type of women that would fuck Merle after he called them a 'sweet piece of Georgian ass', and he took the hint. 

Daryl was shockingly sweet after that. He was less verbal after learning vulgar compliments weren't the way to go, but it turned out alright for you in the end. He began looking after you like you were his full responsibility. Making sure you were fed first, bringing home clothes specifically for you, along with any other treats he thought you might like. 

It was great, aside from him never making a move on you. He gawked like you were an alien when you started dressing for his gaze, Bobby Brooks shorts, pretty tank tops, even shaving your legs once in a while. But he never made a move. 

That simply wouldn't do. 

It was late one night and you'd slipped into his tent. 

“The hell you doin'?” He cursed, wiping the sleep from his eyes as you zipped up the flap behind you. 

“Can't sleep, Carl won't stop coughing.” 

You'd been sharing a tent with Lori and Carl ever since you arrived with T-Dog. It wasn't a complete lie, Carl was coughing up a storm, sick with some chest cold, but that wasn't the reason for your lack of sleep.

“I got some earplugs.” He sat up and began shifting through his bags. 

“No, it's okay. Can I crash here tonight?” You asked innocently, kicking off your casual flip flops that you saved for night time piss breaks or trips to get water. 

Daryl tried hiding his surprise . The stutter in his voice gave him away. “Uh, sure, I guess. S’long as ya dun snore.”

You behaved for an impressive amount of time. Lying in silence, not moving an inch, waiting for him to loosen up before quietly shifting backwards until your back was pressed up against his chest. 

His heart felt seconds away from collapsing in on itself when he felt you. He'd popped a semi when you'd taken off that big T-shirt he'd given you, and now it was bordering on a full on erection.

You waited until you felt his body relax, which took longer than you originally estimated, and then wiggled your hips. 

The reaction was immediate. He sucked in a breath through his nose and made this choking sound. He grabbed your hips, only for a split second before yanking his hands away like he'd been burned. 

You wiggled again, pushing back until the feeling of the outline of his dick against your ass was ingrained into your memory. 

It didn't take long to wear him down, not at all. He let out a strangled groan and rocked into you, his self restraint long since thrown out the window.

And then you stopped.

He nearly gasped at the loss of friction. The feeling was so devastating that it sobered him, and his cheeks burned with embarrassment. 

“Wha-” he panted. His fingers loosened their hold on your hips and twitched against the fabric of your pajama shorts. “Why'd ya stah- stop?”

“I'm sleepy.” You said plainly, pulling the thin sheet up to your shoulders in emphasis. 

Daryl caught his breath behind you, struggling to make sense of it all through his confusion and disappointment. He grumbled something that sounded like it held an attitude, though sadly that was the extent of his protests. 

You needed more. You needed him to tear your clothes off and ravish you like the animal you knew he was. The Daryl that feverishly humped you like his life depended on it was cute, but you needed the Daryl that he was in his daily life. 

The only way you could think of was to force it out of him, even if it did torture the poor man in the process. 

You kept up the innocent teasing for a while. You took a break after Merle went missing, you knew your limits and his. You weren't a total selfish piece of shit. Only when you arrived at the farm and he began talking to you again did you resume your game of “teasing Daryl until he cracks”.

“How's it look?” You gave a cheeky smile as you turned in a circle with your hands on your hips. 

You'd put on the pair of green cargo shorts he'd found you. They weren't very practical, holding only four pockets, which was less than normal cargo shorts, but they were scandalous. The fabric hugged your ass tight enough to look damn near pornographic. 

“Didn't realize they were that tiny. Christ.” Daryl muttered with pink cheeks. “Jus’ give ‘em ta Beth. 

“Oh god. Can you imagine her face? That girl is still wearing pants in late summer. Her daddy would kill me.” You snorted and turned back to face him. “I'm keeping these bad boys. The fabric is soft. Wanna feel?” 

“Already felt em when I took em.” Despite his words, he set down his knife to free up his hands. 

“Give me your hand.” 

The poor boy was so eager to feel you that he practically threw his hands in yours. When you placed his palms on the sides of your shorts he seemed to snap to life, dropping the nonchalant attitude to rub his thumbs over the fabric covering your hips and thighs. 

You tried to keep the smug smirk off your face, and failed miserably. He was turning himself on just by touching the clothing that covered your pelvis. 

Suddenly, you pulled away, feeling your heart lurch in your chest at the way his face dropped.

“Thanks again. I've been needing new shorts.” 

“Yeah. Uh-huh. S'nothin.”

It went on like that for a while. 

One night you climbed into his tent again with the ruse of being cold, and he didn't mention the fact it was a warm seventy degrees that night. You were wearing nothing but an oversized T-shirt and panties, and made sure to make Daryl aware of this when you slid your knee over his thigh. 

Nothing happened that night either, nothing other than pretending to sleep while he palmed himself through his jeans. 

Another time you put on those green cargo shorts and offered to tidy up his camp, an offer he was quick to accept just so he could watch you needlessly bend over to grab random objects to place somewhere else. 

Once you even made out with him. Late at night in his tent, things got hot and heavy and you straddled him, wearing the same oversized T-shirt and panties, washed since then, of course. 

He was nervous at first, you could tell by the way his hands trembled on their way up your sides. You kissed him slow and sweet, nothing too extreme, not until he pushed his hot tongue against your lips. 

You let him in and groaned at the enthusiasm he showed. He kissed you like you were still teenagers, up in the loft of some barn hiding away from Daddy. 

“Shit.” He panted against your lips. He moved his hands down to your waist and pulled you down hard, groaning when he got that first taste of friction he so desperately craved.

“Slow down.” You breathed. Your body betrayed your words, your hips rolling down gentle and slow, just enough to feel the outline of his aching cock through your clothing. 

“Why?” He muttered before pressing another kiss against your lips. “Wha's stoppin’ ya? I got condoms. Glenn's got the pill. S'fine.” 

You pulled up and away from his lips. He looked so pretty beneath you all desperate like that. It still wasn't what you wanted. 

“I don't know, Daryl-” Your voice choked into a whine when he moved under you, the friction momentarily rendering you speechless. 

“Can't ya feel what yer doin’ to me? Huh?” He snapped his hips again, forcing out another whine. “S’all for you. C'mon now.”

“Not here Daryl.” You tried to keep your voice level and firm. “Not in some tent where we have to be quick and quiet.” 

“Le’s go somewhere then. Anywhere ya want, don't care. Tell me. I'll take ya.” 

Truthfully, that almost made you give in. But it still wasn't the Daryl you wanted to experience. He was desperate, but not desperate enough. 

“Not tonight, Daryl. It's too late and Shane's on watch. He'll have my ass if he catches us sneaking out.” 

Daryl growled in frustration, wiping the back of his hand across his forehead. “Won't get caught.”

“Yeah, sure. Let's just wait another night.” You pressed a kiss against his cheek, innocent enough, contrasting painfully with the way you ground down against him one last time before sliding off.

Part of you started doubting your plan. Daryl was too reluctant, too full of self doubt, too terrified at the aspect of losing whatever fun thing you had going on by pushing your limits. Even though you had no problem pushing his. 

His patience amazed you. Any other man would've thrown you to the side after the first few times, or ignored your “wishes” and dove right in. He didn't know that's what you wanted. You couldn't blame him. 

How could you tell someone like Daryl “I want you to fuck me with enough desire and aggression to give a nun a heart attack”? He'd been too gentle during foreplay, too submissive, you were beginning to think he was a virgin. 

Maggie gave you a dress. You didn't know who it once belonged to, her or her sister, but it was one of the cutest things you'd ever laid eyes on. A pretty moss green that went right below your knees, laces up your stomach the same color as the dress, and thankfully, no sleeves. 

The domestic look had Daryl in shambles. You looked like a farm wife from a damn magazine, it took everything he had in him not to fuck you behind the barn like he wanted. 

He took you out that day. On a ‘food supply run’, as he called it. You weren't anyone's first pick for runs, which you understood, you were easily distracted. It was your biggest fault.

So when he asked you specifically, and you alone, you were barely able to contain your excitement. 

The first place you stopped by was an old farmers corner store to pick up enough food so you didn't come back empty handed. A few canned goods, stale snacks and three cans of soda. 

He left that in the back of the truck when the two of you stopped by a house. A very nice house, to your surprise. 

“Can't believe this place hasn't been trashed.” You commented while rummaging through the kitchen. “No more food, but there's some lighter fluid.”

“Hm.” Daryl grunted. After securing the front door he found you still in the kitchen, chewing on a mouthful of gum. 

You'd shoved about three long sticks in your mouth. “Want some?”

He eyed the gum wrapped in silver paper before taking it from your outstretched hand with a gruff thanks. 

It was hard to focus on, his heart felt like it was in his throat, it was hard to swallow, and his jaw ached from his aggressive chewing. He'd done everything you wanted, got birth control; condoms and plan B. He found this nice house that same morning, almost immediately after seeing you walk outside in that dress. He even cleaned up the master bedroom for you, dusting off the sheets and beating the pillows, opening the windows to air out the room. 

There was no way you could wave him off now.

Oh, but you found a way. It was a talent that needed to be fucking studied. 

You were digging through the dresser in the upstairs bedroom when he approached you. You ignored the sound of the door shutting and locking behind him, pretending to be very interested in the contents of the bottom drawer. 

His hands found your sides. Your skin tingled as he pulled you to your feet and pressed you against the dresser with his palm on your lower back.

He went to kissing the back of your neck. His lips were light and soft, contrasting the anxiety bubbling in his gut. 

“Hmm.” You hummed. He brushed your hair over your right shoulder and went back to kissing your neck, peppering them all the way to the point of your left shoulder. 

“Missed ya'.” He muttered, pushing his hips forward to drive home his point. 

You tried not to laugh with pity at the feeling. He was already hard? Poor thing. 

“We're supposed to be looking for food.” You chided playfully. You shifted your ass and earned a low grunt of appreciation for the friction. 

“Then why’re ya in the bedroom?” He challenged. When you didn't respond he smirked against the skin on your neck. 

His hands didn't wait for permission. He bent his knees so he could grab the bottom of your dress, gathering it in his fists and pulling it up and over your ass. He sighed at the sight, you were wearing the type of panties he'd only ever seen on a clothing rack or behind a screen. Black soft fabric, tight and with lace around the hem, hugging your curves just right. 

“Daryl, come on.” You chuckled, but made no attempt to move. “They're gonna wonder where we went.”

He laughed, the sound dry and humorless. “Don't give a shit. They'll survive.” 

“And what is it you wanna do so bad that's more important than feeding our people, huh?” You mused, placing your palms on the dresser he was pushing you harder up against. 

“Ain't my people.” He quipped and ground into you, dying to make you feel how desperate he was for you. 

You choked back a moan. “You didn't answer my question.” 

“Want ya. Right here.”

“Want me to what?” 

Daryl sighed and released his hold on your dress to grip your waist. “Wanna fuck ya nice an’ good. Make y’feel what y’been missin’.”

You groaned. Your grip on the dresser turned white-knuckled as he pushed against you again. 

“Yeah?” Your breath trembled past your open lips. “What else?”

Daryl pressed himself closer, until his mouth was right at your ear. “Wanna feel what ya’ been keepin’ from me. Taste ya'. Shove my dick in that pretty lil’ mouth n’make ya sorry.” 

His words had an obvious effect on you. Your knees trembled and your breathing was louder, more shallow. 

But he still hadn't cracked. 

The curiosity was eating you alive. You couldn't give in now, not when he was so fucking close. You turned to face him and gave a ghost of a smile, trying your best to look sympathetic.

“Maybe some other time.” 

His eyes widened and his eyebrows scrunched tightly together. His nostrils flared as his pupils darted over your face, looking frantically for the slightest sign telling him it was a joke. He looked hurt, confused, like you just slapped him in the face and called him a slur.

There it is. 

“You-” he choked out, “Y’aint serious?” 

You forced a nod. 

“Why?” The way he raised his voice sent a bolt of pleasure through your core, and you had to fight back a whimper. “Got everythin’ ya needed. Went through the trouble’a findin’ this place, ain't gotta be quiet, ain't gotta worry ‘bout walkers or someone hearin’, the hell else you want from me woman?” 

You couldn't stop yourself from whimpering. You bit your bottom lip and tried to steady your breathing, but when you stole a glance at his face and saw the expression held there your lungs shifted into overdrive. 

He looked so fed up. 

“What are you gonna do about it?” You whispered. 

Daryl sneered in contempt. “The hell can I do ‘bout it? Not gonna beg.”

You swallowed hard. You slowly shook your head, your chest rising and falling dramatically, your body still trapped between his arms, his hands on the dresser behind you. 

“Don't want you to beg.” 

You pressed a hand between his legs and he let out a strangled groan, his elbows swaying as they threatened to give out. You flexed your fingers to massage his length, and pulled away. 

His eyes shot open and just as quick his hand wrapped around your wrist, yanking you back to his bulge and nearly breaking your fingers in the process of shoving them down the waistband of his jeans. 

After unbuckling his belt he was able to cram your hand down deeper, forcing you to feel him. 

You gasped when your fingertips made contact. You didn't know a dick could get that hard. It felt just as firm as any other extremity. 

“Daryl.” You let out a long sigh as you gave a half assed attempt to pull your hand out. His grip on your wrist tightened. 

“Hmm?” The teasing tone of his hum made your clit throb. 

“We can't-” You didn't get to finish your sentence before he scoffed and picked you up. Like actually picked you up in his arms, bridal style. He threw you on the plush bed where you bounced a few times, and dove into you.

“S’enough.” He muttered. He pulled your dress up over your waist and looped his fingers through the sides of your panties. You thought he'd hesitate, take a look at the expression on your face and back off, but he didn't. He tugged them down your legs and tossed them off the bed in a random location. 

“Ain't some pussy ya’ got on a leash.” His fingers snaked between your legs, beelining for your cunt. He groaned in surprise, his eyes rolling back at the feeling. You were beyond wet at this point, his aggression had your folds like a slip n slide with lube instead of water. 

You bit back a moan. His fingers spread your folds, smearing your wetness around, his thumb pressing down against your clit. 

“Fuck!” You gasped. Your hips instinctively shifted to the side from the overwhelming sensation, but a firm grip on your waist quickly snatched you back. 

“Think y'can do whatever the hell ya’ want, and I'll jus’ sit back an’ let ya’?” He didn't give you time to answer. He pushed a finger inside you, and both of you hissed at the feeling. “Ffuck. Shit ain't like that no more, princess.” 

Any other time you would've snapped at the insult, but his finger digging around inside you had your mind blank. 

“Wha’s wrong? Huh?” He twisted his finger and you cried out. His voice was sickly sweet, something that should've pissed you off but only fueled your arousal. “Got nothin' to say?” His finger curled, a movement that held no thought behind it, though the way you gasped and arched your back had him repeating the action. 

Then he started mocking you. “Oh no, not now, it's not right, I'm not ready!” He scoffed in disgust. “Like ya’ a lot better when ya’aint speakin’.” 

Oh, god. You should be fuming. You should be spitting venom right back at him, but this is everything you'd wanted from him. It was all going according to plan. 

Maybe he knew that, or maybe he didn't. Either way he was behaving just as you'd imagined countless times, rough, mean, cruel and demanding. 

“C'mon, try a little bit.” He growled after leaning down to bite at your open neck. “Go on. Tell me it ain't the time. Tell me.”

You were nothing but a puddle under him. Your hands became too restless and reached up to grab at him, balling your fists in the back of his shirt.

Never in your life had a man treated you like this. No matter how bad you teased and gave subliminal signals. They would either indulge in your teasing, respect your wishes and back off when told to, or kiss and plead until you relented. 

Finally someone was fucking you like you had always wanted. Or, they were about to. 

The knuckle of his thumb had been digging into your clit for a good minute now, and despite how uncomfortable it could feel at times, you came quickly. 

You sucked in a sharp gasp and locked your legs around his waist, trying to pull his finger in deeper, or make his knuckle grind harder. 

Daryl groaned into your neck as you came around his finger. His hips jerked forward and bumped against his hand between your thighs, knocking his digit in deeper. You yelped, not expecting such a sharp sensation during your warm and soft climax. 

He withdrew his finger and you whined. 

“Sh-sh-sh.” You didn't think a hush could sound so condescending. “Got somethin' better. Gonna make you regret not takin’ it sooner.”

You said it before you could stop yourself. “You don't have it in you.” 

His eyes flicked up to your face as he pulled his zipper down, a look on his face that sent chills across your bare legs.

There was slight amusement, slight relief, as if someone finally gave him permission to show off and prove himself. Lips parted into a breathy smirk, tongue peeking between his teeth, and one eyebrow raised. 

Your eyes dropped to his pants when he pulled his cock free. It looked just as you imagined when you'd touched it only minutes ago, standing at full attention against his lower stomach.

You let out a sigh when you saw it reached his navel. 

Daryl leaned down until he was level with your pussy. You heard it before you felt it, the sound of him spitting, and then warm drool dropping right on your sensitive clit.

You squealed in protest, trying to raise yourself on your elbows, but he stopped you with a hand on your chest. With his free hand he smeared his spit over your already soaking folds, even going as far as to push some inside you with his finger. 

“Ew!” You gasped. 

You felt a tingle. Subtle at first, you just assumed it was the salinity of his saliva, and then more prominent. You were close to panicking until you saw the wad of white gum shoot out of his mouth, landing with a smack against the hardwood floor. 

At least you knew the source of the tingling. You swallowed your own gum, the same way you'd completely forgotten about.

The skin around your cunt buzzed when he slapped the tip of his dick on your clit, and you squirmed beneath him. He steadied you with the same hand on your chest. 

“Wait.” You inhaled deeply. He didn't wait though, he just pushed into your clenched hole, ignoring your whines.

“Ssss-shut up.” His voice trembled. He used his free hand to wrap around the base of his dick, holding it straight as he slowly pushed in further. 

“Y-you said you had condoms.” 

Daryl let out a loud groan as he sank into you. His right hand on your chest increased in pressure as more and more of his upper body weight bore down on it, forcing the air from your lungs. 

He was so thick, and it had been years for you. The burn was incredible, in such a pleasurable way that you should've felt ashamed to enjoy. You tried to moan, but nothing came out aside from a strained breath. 

“Ain't nothin' gonna make me feel rubber instead’a this.” He grunted. He rolled his hips forward and finally pulled his hand off your chest to roll the dress up and over your body. 

“F-Fuck.” His whimper was strangled in his throat. Being completely naked under someone who was fully dressed had you clenching around him, earning another whimper from said man. 

“Should feel ‘shamed, keepin' all this from me.” 

You didn't. Not one bit. 

“But I know ya'aint.” 

You furrowed your brows, momentarily stunned by his apparent mind reading abilities. He jerked his hips forward and your face fell slack, your jaw dropping and your eyelids falling shut. 

His thrusts were harsh, but far too slow for you to get anywhere. You grabbed his shirt and used it to pull him down, desperate for more stimulation. 

Daryl happily obliged. His breath was hot on your ear before he took the lobe between his lips, sucking and licking the flesh. You gasped as he bit down on it, and you could sense the smirk on his lips. 

“Daryl?” You breathed, the name breaking on your tongue with another thrust. 

“Jesus.” He groaned, thoroughly annoyed. He released your ear and pulled back to look at you, frustration evident on his face. “What?”

“Thought I was gonna regret it.”

Your words had his upper lip twitching and his eyes widening ever so slightly. 

“Yeah?” He huffed. “S'gonna be like that?”

He rose from your chest, shifting until he was sitting on his boots. His hands grabbed onto your hips and yanked you down on his dick, forcing a cry from your dry throat. It took him a few seconds to position himself, leaning back just a bit, his grip on your hips tight, and then he started fucking you in a ruthless pace. 

It wasn't what you were expecting. Your mouth dropped into a long gape and your eyes shot open as he pounded his pelvis against yours, driving his dick so deep it reached places your fingers never had. 

Each thrust had a gasp burning in your lungs, and those gasps quickly grew to embarrassing moans. Now that you were ashamed of. If you had the ability to stop it you could, but the way he was thrusting into you rendered you utterly unable to control yourself and the sounds you made. 

“Get up.” 

You weren't sure why he even spoke, because he was moving your body by himself before you could process his command. He pulled you to the side of the bed and turned you over on your stomach, bending you over and shoving his dick back inside you so fast you shrieked. 

Your feet flew up behind you, smacking against the back of his thighs. If you could've seen it you would've laughed. 

The new angle was paralyzing. His dick was no longer tilted against the spot under your stomach, the spot that had you a drooling mess seconds ago. Now it smashed against a deeper part of you, a part that had you groaning with each frustration fueled thrust. 

“Fuck.” Daryl groaned, his pace slowing to give momentary reprieve. He wasn't as young as you, and even though he was always out there doing a hundred times more labor intensive activity, he needed a second to catch his breath. 

There was still an itch yet to be scratched. While he regained his bearings you fought to think of a way to say it without actually saying ‘i want you to hurt me and fuck me till I cry’. You'd already humiliated yourself enough. 

When he began picking up the pace again, you reached for the hand beside your head and bit down on his knuckles. Not gently, either. You bit down so hard he could've ripped a tooth out with the way he yanked his hand away.

“The fuck?” His voice was barely below a shout. “Ya’ crazy bitch!” 

There was no retaliation besides a particularly forceful thrust, to your irritation. 

“You baby.” You managed to grunt out. “Barely bit you.” 

“Barley bi-” he scoffed, looking down at the hand he now had splayed across your lower back. There were deep pink imprints from your teeth over his index finger knuckle, and the skin around it turned a bright red. 

You felt his fingers wrap around your wrist, pulling your hand away from its grip on the bed sheets. Your heart hammered quicker than his thrusts when his breath tickled your skin, and then he bit you. In the same spot you bit him.

It wasn't nearly as hard as you bit him, but you still whimpered at the ache. 

“Point stands.” 

Daryl couldn't believe what he was hearing. His jaw set and he dropped your wrist. 

The smug smirk you'd been keeping to yourself fell when your hair was suddenly twisted in the fist of his right hand. With just that leverage alone he pulled your upper body up, and his left arm snaked around your torso to keep you flush against his chest. 

He yanked your head to the side. You gasped. 

“This what ya’ wanted, huh sweetheart?” He breathed against your ear and drew back until his dick nearly slipped out before slamming back in.  

“Mmm-oh god yes.” You blurted out between moans. 

“Jus' had to ask.” He managed a chuckle. 

“More.” 

He furrowed his brows, but kept up the slow and deep pace. He couldn't imagine what else he could give you. He was fucking you hard enough to bruise, he was pulling your hair, what, did you want him to start beating you? 

He dipped his head down to bite your shoulder, holding back just enough so that he wouldn't give you an actual wound. 

You have to consider that biting someone with enough force to actually break the skin takes a lot. Skin isn't like the flesh of a fruit. It's tough, and would require chewing to break through. So for him to stop right before that point meant he was biting you so hard you got blood blisters, and the pain was all you could focus on. 

Your wail of genuine pain had him pulling back like he'd been shocked. His thrusts slowed, and through ragged breaths he spoke, “Shit, m'sorry. M'so sorry.” 

“No.” You gasped. Your shoulder felt like it was on fire, and your walls cleaned around him in response. “So good. Feels so good.”

Daryl let out a huff in relief. “Ya’ weird as shit, yanno that?” 

“Mhmm.” You groaned, pressing your ass back tightly against him. “More.” 

He took a deep breath to steady himself and pushed you back down on your stomach. He had to work himself up to it, the idea intimidating. Once his thrusts were back to their former sharp pace he raised a hand in the air. 

You tilted your head to the side so your cheek was pressed against the blanket. When you saw his right hand held up, your heart leapt. You never nodded so quickly. 

Daryl ground his teeth together, glancing down at your ass, your face, and back to your ass again before smacking his hand against it. 

It was barely a love tap. 

You groaned, wiggling your hips and earning a moan from him in response to the feeling on his dick. 

He took the hint and gave another smack, harder, but still not giving that burn or satisfying ‘smack’ sound you wanted.

“Daryl, please.” You whimpered. “Hurt me. I'm not made of glass.” 

You barely got the last word out before he slapped you. Open handed, fingers spread and slightly curved to mold perfectly against your asscheek. You yelped and instinctively tried scooting up the bed, held back by his left hand on your hip. 

It clicked in his head then. No wonder people liked spanking so much. His palm tingled and he could see a faint handprint start to color your skin. And the way you reacted, that sound you made, your body trying to get away from him, it made his dick twitch. 

“Fuck!” You cried out after another hard slap. The pain fully distracted you from the ache in your shoulder, white hot pain spreading across your ass and up your spine. 

“Such a baby.” He meant it to sound patronizing, but he was still too amazed by the new turn on he'd discovered, and the words came out breathless. 

Your whimper bled into another cry as he spanked you again. 

And again. 

Again, again, until you were on the verge of tears, sobs bubbling from your wet lips as you tried to squirm away from him. 

As if you actually wanted to. Which you clearly didn't. You were practically gushing around his dick. 

He rubbed his palm over the deep red skin, barely soothing the blinding burn he'd left behind. “Goddamn.” 

“M'gonna cum.” You were literally drooling. 

He snapped his attention away from your ass and back to you. “Whaddya want, huh?” He quickened his pace once again, jolting forward to press his body against your back. You whimpered at the way he moved, his dick pushing deeper inside you. 

“More, please,” you stuttered, trying desperately to work your hand under your body, which proved to be difficult due to his weight on top of you. 

Daryl noticed and lifted your hips with his hands. He shoved your eager arm out of the way and rubbed your clit with his own fingers, fast and deep in a way he assumed you'd like. 

You moaned under him, arching your back, feeling him slip in further. It was as if he grew another inch every five minutes. Or you grew another inch deeper, and he was staying the same. Either way he was deeper, and it felt immaculate. 

The rise to your climax was slow, but powerful. You were fully prepared to gently tip over the edge and slide down in bliss. 

That was before he slapped your pussy. Then you fell down gasping. 

Daryl held onto your body like you were a wild mustang, trashing and twisting under him in ecstasy. He withdrew his hand and grabbed your hips again, resuming his brutal pace, clamping his teeth down on the back of your neck to keep your bodies anchored together. 

It took a while for you to come down from your high. When you did it was violent, the pure bliss smashed away by burning overstimulation. 

“Fu-uck!” You heaved in deep breaths. “Daryl s’too much, can't, wait!”

“Ever since that night ya’ came in my tent, blue ballin’ me like that,” he growled against your neck, “-been dreamin’ ‘bout havin ya’ like this. Fallin’ apart. Face full’a tears. Ain't stoppin now.” 

He wasn't bluffing. He didn't stop. He grabbed your wrists and pinned them above your head, ramming into your abused cunt, only slowing to shift in positions so you were on your back. 

The air felt amazing against your chest. Daryl ripped that feeling away with gnashing teeth, biting your hard nipples and alternating between sucking and pinching.

The house had to be surrounded by walkers by now. There was no way it wasn't, you were crying and moaning like you were getting paid for it. 

“Oh, god.” You wailed as another orgasm built up quicker than ever inside you. “Oh please, fuck, god!”

A jolt of pleasure shot through your core when Daryl's hands wrapped around your throat. 

Now, Daryl was no stranger to strangling someone. He'd choked plenty of people out before.

In fights.

He was unaware there was a different type of choking for pleasure. Instead of squeezing the sides of your throat with his thumb and fingers, he wrapped both hands around your neck and fucking strangled you. 

You squeezed your eyes shut so tight they ached as you came. Your orgasm had started off blinding, overwhelming every inch of your body, but Daryl's crushing grip soon muted the tail end of your climax and filled your ears with a deafening ringing. 

Daryl pulled his teeth off your nipple and panted against your ear. “Lemme cum inside ya’, sweetheart.”

You could barely process what he'd said. You forced your eyes open against the pressure induced burn, trying to find his face, only to see the side of his head. 

“Can't pull out.” He growled and released some of the pressure around your throat. Oxygen and blood flooded your head, leaving you dizzy and with black around the edges of your vision. 

“Can't, m'sorry. Oh, huh-  fuck!” His voice was strained as every muscle in his body tensed up. His hips surged forward, stuffing his dick balls deep to coat the end of your walls in his cum. “Mmm-fuck s’good. So good. Ohhh, Hah-” 

He choked on his moan. He moved his head, replacing his hands around your neck with his mouth, kissing and biting at the tender skin as he spurted ropes of hot cum inside you. 

Your body broiled under his crushing form. Your thighs relaxed from their clamped position, falling off his waist and dropping to the bed beneath you. Your lungs ached and your throat was raw, but your pussy buzzed so intently it felt like you had a vibrator pressed against it. 

“Oh, god.” The tone was full of dread and you forced yourself to focus on Daryl. 

“What?” You croaked. There was a stabbing pain in your neck from Daryl choking you out like you were a man his size. 

“Yer all fucked up.” He whined. He traced his fingers across your throat. “S’bad. Oh fuck.”

“Calm down.” You sat upright after he pulled back enough for you to do so, his dick dragging out against your trembling walls in the process and making you hiss.

“It's okay. I'll just tell em a walker got the jump on me. We've all seen them grab throats. It's fine.” You pressed a kiss to his worried lips. 

“Gonna tell em a walker did that too?” He pointed an exhausted finger at the bite mark on your shoulder, which was now in the early stages of a deep bruise, not to mention the blood blister in the shape of his teeth.

You laughed softly. “Fuck no. I'll just skip the tank tops for a week or two.”

That seemed to settle him enough and he nodded, moving to lay on his back. 

“That was amazing.” You broke the long silence. “Seriously. You're the first man to ever… you know.”

Daryl furrowed his eyebrows and looked up at you. “Huh? Y’never…?”

“No! I mean…” you sighed. “Never had a man make me come.”

Now he was at full attention, sitting upright and leaning back on his palms. “Nah, no shit.”

“I'm serious.”

He let out a light scoff, shaking his head in disbelief. “Jesus.” He chewed on the inside of his cheek as he watched you climb off the bed to grab your thrown panties. “Me too.”

You glanced over your shoulder as you stepped into them. “Really? You never…?”

He nodded, going back to biting his cheek. 

“How'd you last so fucking long?”

A cocky grin crept across his lips at the compliment behind your words. He was worried he didn't last long enough. And you just asked him how he held on so long.

“Jerked off like, ten fuckin’ times today.” 

That meant he knew he was going to fuck you today. Heat spread through your core again, despite how worn out you were. You smiled and climbed back on the bed to smother him with kisses. 

“You're so fucking hot.” You mumbled against his lips, which were moving weakly against your own. 

“Says the bitch that wouldn't fuck me.” He chuckled. 

“Just wanted you to make the decision for me. It's a lot hotter that way.” You hummed, pulling your swollen lips away from his. “It worked.” 

“Psh.” He rolled his eyes and began stuffing his soft cock back in his jeans. “Put yer clothes on. Place is probably crawlin' with walkers. Le’s get the hell outta dodge before anymore show up.”

Now that Daryl was in on your little game, you couldn't wait to play again. 

@ophelialaufey @carlgrimesgfofficial @theskinniestjackson-denny @dilfish-daydreams @my1fx @jinx-nanami

[miupow]

한지성 ─── 𝗦𝗔𝗡𝗧𝗔 , 𝗕𝗔𝗕𝗬 !

you have a little christmas surprise for your boyfriend...

★ 𝗽𝗮𝗶𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴。。。han jisung x fem!reader 𝗴。⧼ 🔖 ⧽ ⸝⸝ smut, pwp

𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 。。。lingerie kink・est. relationship・lap dance・bondage・sensory deprivation・blindfolds・dirty talk・sub!jisung・begging・dry humping・cumming in pants・degredation kink・praise kink ⸝⸝ ‎ 𝘄𝗰。1. 2 k | 𝘁𝗼 𝗹𝗶𝗯𝗿𝗮𝗿𝘆。

♬ santa, baby 一 laufey

notes from lia。happy early skzhop hiptape release!!! so excited for it's drop at midnight teehee <33 to celebrate here's a lul xmas drabble with jisung!! this was based off of an idea given to me by @sheerfreesia007 ... thank u so much for infecting my mind with this i love u so much

“come on babe, take this stupid blindfold off! I wanna see you!”

“Shh, be patient, Ji!” you giggle, adjusting your grip on the bathrobe as you bend over to turn up the volume on your speaker. “I told you it’s a surprise— be a good boy now, okay?”

Jisung whines at your words, squirming restlessly; truthfully you’ve given him no opportunity to be anything other than patient, with his wrists and ankles tied to the arms and legs of one of your dining room chairs with sparkly holiday ribbon. They were thin and flimsy, and jisung could most likely break out of them with ease, but you were certain your boyfriend loves to be played with far too much to even consider the possibility.

Soft music fills the room as you turn to face him, a sultry rendition of santa, baby that made jisung sit up a little straighter in his chair. Slowly, you make your way over to him, intent to put on a show even if he couldn’t see it quite yet— your hips swing from side to side to the rhythm of the music, sliding a teasing hand up and down jisung’s sweater-clad chest as you circle around his chair. His breath hitches beautifully, his head lolling back to let you ghost your fingers over the curve of his adam’s apple.

…I’ve been an awful good girl, santa, baby, so hurry down the chimney tonight…

With a flourish you kick your leg over jisung’s lap, seating yourself perfectly against the swiftly growing bulge in his pants. You can’t help but grind your clit against his fly, the sensation far too much and not enough all at once— jisung whimpers pathetically in your ear, clued in on the fact you were wearing only flimsy panties underneath that robe of yours. Achingly slowly, you untie your robe and let it fall off your shoulders down to the floor. It pools in a heap at jisung’s bound feet, leaving you bare except for the “surprise” you had prepared for his Christmas gift.

“let me see you…” jisung begs quietly, tugging weakly at his restraints. the pout on his plump lips is just too cute, you can’t help but coo.

…Santa, baby, a ’54 convertible too, light blue… I’ll wait up for you dear

You can’t keep denying him any longer, for both his sake and yours— you peel the red silk blindfold from jisung’s eyes, tossing it haphazardly to the floor along with your robe. He blinks a few time to adjust to the light, his heady gaze falling onto you when his eyes finally open.

“oh fuck…” jisung sighs, his brown puppy eyes widening as they trail down your body, soaking in your outfit… or what could barely be considered one.

…Next year I’ll be just as good, if you’ll check off my Christmas list…

You were dressed in a skimpy santa costume, barely enough fabric covering you to be anything more than lingerie. Your little fuzzy skirt did nothing to cover your sparkly red thong, your ass out and your weeping cunt perfectly visible through the sheer material.  Jisung gulps heavily, his adam’s apple bobbing, shifting and squirming and fighting his restraints in a desperate attempt to touch you. he cants his hips up off the chair, the bulge of his hardening cock grinding against your swollen clit. The barely-there pleasure makes you moan lowly, your gloved hands sliding up your bare torso to squeeze at your bikini clad tits— exactly what you know jisung wants to do himself, his pretty lips falling open as he watches your movements in erotic rapture.

…santa, cutie, and fill my stocking with a duplex, and checks… sign your x on the line…

“you look so sexy, baby, fuck!” jisung warbles, his hips continuing to move on their own, building a delicious rhythm that makes you both pant and whimper. “wanna touch you so bad, holy shit, please let me touch you—”

“nuh uh~!” you chide, wagging your finger in front of his face with an evil giggle. “I said be a good boy, remember? If you stay perfectly still for me maybe I’ll untie you…”

You plant your heeled feet on the floor for better leverage, bouncing and grinding in his lap as your hands move from your tits down to his belt buckle. Your own patience is running thin, your cunt throbbing with need and wetting jisung’s lap, but teasing him is just too much fun; you make no real movements to unbuckle his belt, only sliding your fingertips across the leather to dip beneath his waistband. Jisung’s hips buck wildly when you begin to caress the warm bare skin of his hipbones, nearly toppling you over onto the floor. Your santa hat begins to slide off your head, so you grab it and tug in onto jisung’s head instead. He looks so cute like that, peeking up at you so sinfully from underneath that goofy floppy hat.

…come and trim my Christmas tree, with some decorations bought at tiffany’s…

Finally, you pull his belt free from his belt loops, letting it fall aside with a metallic clink. his cock strains obscenely in his boxers when you pop the button open and tug the zipper down, a wet spot clearly visible where his head was trapped in the fabric. Jisung whimpers lowly when you retract your hands back to his shoulders, leaving him untouched and desperate.

“come on…” jisung whines through grit teeth, his chest heaving and his covered cock throbbing. “fuck me, baby, please…”

Santa, baby, I forgot to mention one little thing, a ring, I don’t mean on the phone…

“can’t hear you over this music, sungie. You’re gonna have to beg better than that!”

You grind against him harder, faster, making jisung choke and splutter—his thighs shake underneath your weight, a telling sign that he’s close to coming. It surprises you a little, him getting so close to the edge from hardly anything at all, your pussy pulsing with need and excitement. You need to see him cum in his pants. If this is his gift for the holiday season, that would be yours.

"baby-- fuck, fuck, I--" jisung can hardly string together a sentence, his eyes unfocused and hazy. "p-please! please, baby, please, please, please--"

“oh my god, ji, are you gonna cum?” you jeer, a wicked smile spreading across your ruby red lips. “I’m barely even touching you! you’re so cute, sungie, cumming in your pants like a teenager just from some grinding…”

“i—I--!” jisung stutters, his eyes rolling back in his head and his mouth stuck open in a permanent moan. He shakes his head rigorously, like he’s begging you to reconsider, but you’ve already made up your mind.

“go ahead and cum, ji! If you cum I’ll untie you, okay? And then I’ll fuck you, since you’ve been such a good boy for me—!”

Jisung is just too easy, you know him and his body far too well for him to fight back— he cums with a broken cry, sticky hot cum staining his boxers and mixing with the copious amounts of slick that gushed from your needy pussy. You help him ride through his climax with your hand tangled in his dark messy hair, knocking the santa hat aside as you tug at the strands. his moans turn high-pitched and shameless, his body shaking and twitching underneath you as his cock spurts out his last few ropes of cum.

“nasty boy,” you coo to him, staining his jawline and neck with red lipstick marks, “ready for more? This is just part of your present~”

Hurry, hurry, my santa, baby!

[hannieehaee]

CLOSER (teaser)

18+ / mdi

summary: after making it all the way to your final year of uni still having not experienced a single orgasm, you decided to take matters into your hands. your solution? asking your best friend wonwoo to teach you all he knew.

content: f2l!wonwoo, softdom!wonwoo, virgin reader, unrequited crush (not really lol), pov starts with reader but moves on to wonwoo's, basically just smut and almost no plot lol, like three separate smut scenes oops, smut, afab reader, dry humping, oral (m and f receiving), thigh riding, handjob, penetrative sex, etc.

(^ no actual content warnings in the teaser)

wc: 477 (teaser); 12.9k (full fic)

RELEASE DATE: july 12th

or you can check it out on my ko-fi or patreon today by subscribing to either one!

a/n: this was longer and way messier than anticipated but i hope u guys like it!!

masterlist | kofi/patreon

support me through a one time tip<3

"You're crazy,"

Those were Wonwoo's last words before scoffing and walking away, completely disregarding your presence.

"Wait!," you raised your voice, attempting to prevent his departure, "Just hear me out," you pleaded.

"'Hear you out'?", he scoffed, "You just asked me – out of nowhere – to 'teach you how to have sex.' The mere question was the end of the conversation," he deadpanned and continued walking away, you trailing behind.

Despite how cold and direct he was with his words, you knew him well enough to assess that he wasn't neither mad nor offended, just entirely uninterested in the proposition. He simply continued to walk away, far too indifferent about your admittedly strange request.

"Let me at least explain," you whined as you walked side by side with him.

He merely hummed, seemingly a bit annoyed at the fact you were still going on about such a silly prospect.

"Listen," you began, "You're the only person I can ask. You're the only one who knows I'm a virgin," you whispered the last words, as if any of the other students walking by would care enough to listen in on your conversation.

"Why do you need me to take it from you?", he grumbled, "Just wait til you meet some guy you like and lose it to him."

You let out a groan of annoyance, "Have you met a man before? They all suck! You're the only guy I trust," you added, "Plus, I'm 22. No guy is going to be patient enough with me not to traumatize me. They all assume I'm experienced already."

His speed did not diminish, but he turned to look at you after hearing that, a semi-serious look on his face, "Has anyone done anything-"

"No! It's just ... They kinda expect me to already know what I'm doing, and when I try to explain it they either get super horny or they just ghost me," you cringed at the sudden resurgence of failed attempts at dating through the past year.

"Okay, so, you want me to take your virginity just for research purposes?"

"Yes! Exactly that!"

"Just watch porn, then," he deadpanned once more with a scoff.

"Wonwoo!," you slapped his arm in annoyance, "Please, at least try to take me seriously."

"Fine," he grumbled, "I'll take you seriously if you actually make some sort of methodological plan for me to assess. Only then will I actually try to come to a decision."

Spoken like a true nerd.

Unbeknownst to Wonwoo, his nerdiness was kind of part of his charm.

"Okay, fine, fucking nerd," you retorted, "You. Me. My apartment. This weekend. Meet me at 10 and I'll have your dumb 'procedural documentation' awaiting your approval," you spoke the last few words with a nasally tone in order to mock him, getting a chuckle out of him.

"Great," he smiled, "See you then, virgin."

...

you can check it out today on my ko-fi or patreon by subscribing to either one!

[mutable-manifestation]

Ghost Chirps AU Part 4

A little treat in these trying times

Part 1 & 2

Part 3

***

The first time Daniel chirps (to Vlad’s knowledge, but it’s actually the fifth, he was just out of range in the GZ all the previous time) Vlad responds immediately. 

The boy attacks him just as viciously as ever, and Vlad assumes from then on that the boy is merely taunting him, crying out for family only to go “no, not you.”

Vlad ignores it from then on. It isn’t particularly frequent anyway.

When he hears him chirping back and forth with some other ghost somewhere on the East Coast he feels his eye twitch. 

He dismisses it, however. No doubt it is one of Daniel’s little ghost allies helping him try to antagonize Vlad into showing up just to be rejected again.

Well, Vlad won’t fall for Daniel’s petty tricks. He would be Vlad’s son in time one way or another, no need to indulge the boy’s temporary sense of superiority.

It is grating when it wakes him up in the middle of the night, but he goes back to sleep quickly after.

Midday, he thinks he might have to track down Danny’s little friend for a nice long chat about Not Doing That. But that’s an issue for later.

Before “later” can arrive, Vlad finds himself taken into “temporary custody” while the police search his house.

He goes peacefully, assured that they’ll find nothing amiss, all of his ecto materials tucked neatly away in a lab that is inaccessible any way other than phasing. And wrapped in lead just in case.

He does not notice that a member of the Justice League is involved, nor would he care, certain that none could find his lab. And utterly unaware of the JLD’s existence.

Not that the JLD is needed in this case.

Despite his best efforts to change every copy of the construction crews’ blueprints both digital and physical in order to eliminate knowledge of the inaccessible room, there’s no accounting for memory.

Officer Roger worked in construction before joining the force, and it was only less than a half a year ago that Masters’ Amity home was constructed. Officer Roger still remembers the doorless, windowless box they built alongside the small mansion itself. It’s nowhere to be found on the property, so he brings it up with his superior.

Orphan questions it - nearly giving the whole team heart-attacks in the process - but a simple “I used to work in construction” seems to be enough to satisfy her curiosity.

A two hour sweep with some metal detectors finds nothing.

Then Orphan reappears from the shadows, providing another jumpscare, before pressing a hand silently to the side of her head.

The crew watches in silence as well, giving their pulses a chance to slow.

A ten-count later Orphan’s hand drops, and she strides confidently to the rear-left corner of the mansion and points at the ground.

“200 feet beneath the foundation,” she says before disappearing back into the shadows.

The crew shares a look and gets to work.

The time it takes to dig up the cube is just more time spent in a cell for Vlad, where he waits patiently, assured he’ll be released soon enough.

The lab itself would be only a minor problem - there would be fines and inspections and a heavy watch until everything was brought up to code. Questions about how he accessed it would be a larger problem.

But worst of all, in the comfort of his lab? He’s not much for hiding away incriminating documents. 

Of which there are many, given his propensity for keeping extensive records of his experiments, which include unethical cloning and what sums up to human experimentation. 

Once they find the actual facilities for the experiments in his Wisconsin home? It will all be over for him.

Being a ghost he could, of course, simply flee the cell and start anew somewhere else, with a new identity or even in a new dimension altogether - so long as he could nab Maddie and her children to bring with him.

But within his labs, he also keeps extensive records of himself.

A copy of the Plasmius Maximus.

Other ghost- and halfa-capturing restraints.

When he hears steps approaching his cell 2 days into his stay when it is clearly not a mealtime, he thinks “finally” assured that he is about to be released.

He only registers that it is Batman after he’s been hit by the Plasmius Maximus - cut off from his powers for at least the next two hours.

He has no chance to complain, as he is subsequently tranqued unconscious to be taken to a more secure location.

***

It’s an hour and half after school let out when the cops - who had taken to trying to distract Jazz and Danny with cards games and work stories while they waited - step away to answer their radios. 

When they return, they tell them that it’s “time to go.”

The siblings share a look, then shrug.

It wouldn’t be the first time the cops had to drive them home - rare though it was, there were at least 4 such occasions in their memories. It wasn’t a big deal.

They were less than enthused when the cops explained that they’d be heading to take them to the station instead of to home. Still, they chalked it up to the whole “questions about the Red Hood” thing and moved on. 

At least it meant they could dodge a home visit like Danny had wanted.

Except when they get there, they are taken to a cushy room and introduced to their social worker, a woman with a kind smile and a soothing voice who introduces herself as Bethany Scott, sits them down and explains, very gently, that their parents are currently under investigation.

To her credit, she isn’t condescending. She doesn’t try to hide away the truth; when they ask why, she tells them.

It’s a surprisingly long list of charges. Of everything on it, the violation of the meta protection acts comes as the biggest surprise.

Their parents were obsessive about ghosts, but they were also good at it. They never attack anything that doesn’t have ectoplasm.

Well, barring a few misfires.

Another surprise comes then: the Anti-Ecto Acts don’t exist. Ghosts are covered by the MPA by design, the AEA would never have gotten off of the ground in any legal capacity. It is solely a creation of the GIW, an extreme “‘real’ humans only” supremacist group that had worked at every level to pull the wool over the eyes of the small town’s citizenry so thoroughly that they’d been thought a real government agency - the imitation of which would be just one of the many charges that every member they managed to capture would be facing.

Then Mrs Scott starts talking about placement options.

Their Aunt, they are told, is not an option. 

It comes as a surprise to Danny. On quiet nights, when no ghosts showed up to interrupt him and Sam and Tucker weren’t up to distract him with a game of Doomed, his mind would sometimes wander back to that darkest of timelines.

He’d wondered how Vlad had ended up with custody. Being his godfather made him an option, but Danny would’ve wanted to go with Alicia. Will be damned, Danny would’ve plead on both knees with the judge to go with his aunt. Grieving or not, he’d have wanted as much distance between him and Vlad as possible,

He’d assumed Vlad must have done something to her or paid off the judge to rule in his favor.

To find out it was because she simply wouldn’t take him?

A part of him understands. He doesn't - Aunt Alicia is a kind person, yes, but not particularly loving or caring. When his parents brought up the subject of children with her on one of their rare visits, she described herself as having “less motherly instinct than a starving axolotl.”

Not an encouraging description after he read a book on axolotls for context. 

With their options being “Aunt in a small wood cabin in the middle of nowhere with the emotional sensitivity of a bull in a china shop” and “Rich friend of the family who would enable them to stay in contact with their friends and could hire them therapists even if he’s personally useless for helping them through the grieving process” she probably also figured marking herself down as a solid non-option would just expedite them getting the help they need (because she does care, even if she herself can’t - won’t - be there for them in that way).

He doesn’t hate her, but the knowledge burns. To know that there really was no avoiding Vlad - in that horrible future and in the now - makes him sick to his stomach.

Except-

Except before he can spiral, Mrs Scott tells them that Vlad is also not an option. Because he’s also under investigation.

A hysterical giggle bursts past his lips before he can think to stop it.

“Why?” he asks, ignoring Jazz’ disapproving grimace.

It’s less funny when they’re told that he’s under investigation under suspicion of mostly the same violations as their parents - including MPA violation, given the whole “million dollar ghost” incident and related propaganda. As the mayor especially, he should’ve known the AEA weren’t real and that the GIW were frauds and it was his responsibility to do something about them.

Depending on how he’d interacted with the group, he might be looking at aiding and abetting treason - or just outright treason - charges.

“If Aunt Alicia and Vlad both aren’t able to take us, then where are we going to go?” Jazz asks, shoving her emotions aside to deal with the matter at hand.

“Ordinarily, we would call up a few local fosters and see if one could take you in for a few days while we look into more long-term options. Worst case scenario you would have to spend a night or two in a hotel suite connected to mine while I found someone,” she answers. “But the two of you are in luck; Batman is the one who brought the case to our attention - apparently some erratic behavior from Red Hood brought them here, don’t ask, I don’t have all the details - and offered to run your parents’ DNA to check for other relatives that could take you. There was a match.”

The siblings share another look.

Both grandparents on their mother’s side had been only children and both were dead. Aunt Alicia had already said no and had no children of her own. Their father had been disowned by his family, and even if their other Aunts and Uncles would have been willing to take them in it didn’t matter, because all 5 had died in various accidents on their “hunts.”

“Apparently your uncle, Jerry Fenton, had a fling before he passed with one Ms Sheila Haywood. Their son, Jason, was thought to be the son of Willis Todd and Mrs Haywood until the DNA test today. He was raised by Willis and Mrs Catherine Todd until his subsequent adoption by Mr Bruce Wayne, and is currently living in Gotham.”

And it sounds wrong - the only thing most Fentons could love was mystery and danger - thus why only one out of six had survived. But they don’t know enough to dispute it.

Also. The involvement of another billionaire is setting off alarm bells. On the one hand: this could be a fruitloop paying someone off in order to forcibly adopt them. On the other hand, maybe Jason Todd really was a Fenton and being adopted by fruitloops was some kind of curse on the current generation.

“We contacted Mr. Todd the moment the connection was made. He has expressed an interest in taking you in, and flew out immediately to come and meet you. He arrived not five minutes ago.”

She paused and gave them a sympathetic look. 

“I understand that this is all a lot to take in. Please know that placing you with Mr. Todd is not the end of my duties; even after he takes you, I will be following you to Gotham. I’ll be looking into counselors for the both of you, and we’ll have a follow up on that topic in a maximum of a week’s time. I’ll also be doing regular home checks to ensure you’re both settling in well and that you’re being taken good care of. 

Even with what little I’ve gleaned, it is obvious that the environment you both grew up in until now was neither a safe nor a healthy one. It is my job to ensure that doesn’t happen again. If you have any concerns about your placement home now or in the future, please do not hesitate to bring them up with me. If you worry something is not “important” enough to mention, rest assured that if it bothers you in the slightest, then it’s important to me.”

She gives them each a long look.

Then she brings in Jason.

[456-is-the-way]

A/N: Hello everyone it has been a while since I have done any sort of fanfiction. I want to try and get back in the groove for this new year. There are so many fandoms I want to write for. I want to try and get all my drafts and inbox requests cleared out by June but who knows if that will happen. Right now I will focus on them one at a time. But for now I want to focus a bit on Squid Game since the new episode just released. This will be a two part fanfiction.

PART 2 IS UP

Squid Game Masterlist

Triggers: Mention of death, Gore (part 2), smoking, alcohol use, age gap (reader is 25 , Seong is 50,) and SMUT (PART 2)

Seong Gi- Hun x Reader

Game of Hearts pt.1

Seong Gi- Hun had his heart, mind, and soul set on finding the person who currently ran the Squid Game. He needed to find not only their leader but the island he was sent to in hopes of stopping the horrid games once and for all. His first step was to find the salesman who recruited him. Gi- Hun needed a team searching everyday for signs of this recruiter, and with his money he could afford anyone he desires. That is how (Y/n) (L/n) landed an invitation from Gi- Hun to discuss a partnership. Doing his research on possible hires, her name somehow kept finding its way to the top of his list. (Y/n) (L/n) came from an international family who of course aren't exactly on the right side of the law. Gi- Hun normally would not converse with people such as this but he needed someone discreet. It is possible this foreigner may be just the thing he needed to give a different perspective, and if they were caught it wouldn't connect back to him.

Gi- Hun sat patiently waiting for (Y/n) to arrive. His leg bounced nervously as the anticipation continued to grow. He was eager to get his mission started and this was only the first step in his plan. So many doubts ran through his mind. Everything that happened, all the friends lost, and worst of all the betrayals. A gentle knock at the door instantly grabbed his attention. “You may enter.” He spoke in a monotone voice. A cricking sound echoed in the room as (Y/n) entered. Now Gi- Hun had seen many beautiful foreigners in his life but this woman took his breath away. A feeling was rekindling he never thought possible again especially with how things ended with his ex wife whom Gi- Hun used to harbor feelings for. (Y/n) was a decent height, not taller than he was. Her sharp (e/c) eyes had been the first thing that captivated him. A look someone in power gave and it made him almost fall to his knees in front of her. (Y/n) held her head high taking a seat in front of him. She crossed her legs elegantly ready for business. Suddenly his lips were dry he quickly wets them taking a breath in.

“Are you just going to sit there and sweat all over the place or talk business?” Her tone that made him hang off every word spoken.

Gi- Hun nods,” Forgive me. I am looking for someone and I believe your team has the skill set needed to help.”

“Sure, do you have a picture of this suspect? Do you want them dead or alive?” (Y/n) got straight to the point.

“No I don’t have a picture but I can describe him, maybe even draw a reference up, but I do need him alive. This man is very dangerous. I didn't plan to go into detail about him. I do think you need to know what I have been through…” Gi- Hun then goes into details about how the salesman looked and tells her the synopsis of his time in the Squid Games. In honesty he simply needed to vent to some who might listen. Like any normal person of course her facial expressions changed throughout the entire hour he spent rambling on. Just as she was about to call him a lunatic and storm out for wasting her time Gi- Hun pulled out a case of money. The sum only one could achieve if his story was true. He looked like a desperate man needing someone, anyone to believe him.

“I’m in.” Those are the words that sealed their fate.

_1 Year Later_

The first year was rough for Gi- Hun who struggled with no progress. The pressure built on his shoulders as (Y/n)’s team searched. No leads, signs, or any traces of this guy or any others recruiting for their sadistic game. He is currently lighting a cigarette leaning back in his chair. It was time for (Y/n)'s weekly update. She walked into the room. The once stone cold eyes now turn soft seeing Gi- Huns distress. It was easy to notice he was worked up, especially today because it happened to be the ‘anniversary’ of him winning the games.

(Y/n) had also opened up with Gi- Hun the older man constantly turned to her for conversation. Normally she would dismiss clients' interests in becoming more than just professional partners… However this man , using those sad puppy looks made her professional code crumble after the first 3 months. Today Gi- Hun started their normal conversation about who went where and searched what stations including all the evidence of their searches that had been submitted via picture. (Y/n) in the middle of their debriefing took a bold step behind Gi- Hun’s desk gently placing both of her soft hands on his shoulders. At first he tensed up, unsure of her movements. Little by little her hands began to move , rubbing his shoulders.

“What…why are you doing this?” His voice shakes from the amount of relaxation he was drifting into. She chuckled at his response and applied more pressure at the base of his neck earning a moan. “You are trying to kill me aren't you?”

“Gi- Hun if I wanted to kill you and take all of your money I would have done so already. But I wouldn’t ever think of doing that. After meeting you nothing feels the same… I want to meet more than once a week. I can see this is tearing you apart. You have been at this for a year… we may not have much progress… but I know destiny brought us together and it's just begun. I won’t leave your side.” She could not stop as her heart took over.

Gi- Hun is speechless gazing up into her large (e/c) eyes that sparkle in the dim light of this run down hotel. “It's dangerous, I am dangerous. All the people that were killed… I hated that I even got you involved… you are the closest friend I have made in a very long time.”

Friend… just like that her world crumbles this whole time she had only been a friend to Gi- Hun and nothing more? All the late nights thinking of him. How (Y/n) casually would scroll through their texts… Each sweet compliment or kind gesture from Gi- Hun meant nothing but… friendship… (Y/n) refused to let her emotions show now.

“Yeah, what are friends for! I know you would do the same for me if the roles were reversed… or at least I would hope so.” She felt her cheeks warm up as he stood gazing down at her. Gi- Hun pulled her into a hug needing more physical contact. (Y/n) quickly embraces him as well, feeling the need to act as if this was no more than a friendship.

“I don't know what I would do without you.” He whispered. It was breaking Gi- Hun to tell her this was nothing more than a friendship because he craved more. But he didn't need to put a target on her back. If she got caught up in these horrid games… if they killed her… Gi- Hun wouldn't be able to move on.

“I should get going. I have some more paths to lay out with my men. They need to know where to head for next week.” (Y/n) pulled back, turning to leave.

Gi- Hun grabbed the small of her forearm, “Wait! How about we get some drinks tomorrow. It's an off day… I would really like to treat you… Come here and I’ll take you somewhere nice… as professional friends of course!” It took a moment for her to respond properly, she had to make sure her voice did not waver, not in front of him anymore.

“Yeah I would love that. How does around noon sound?” She asked after receiving a confirmation from Gi- Hun (Y/n) left returning to her apartment tossing herself in the bed with a sigh. Why is she putting herself through this? The desire to cancel this meetup was close but she had to see him… She craves Seong Gi- Hun.

-To Be Continued.

[alsofoundinpeas]

Rewind the Goodbye

Summary: One night is all it takes to unravel everything Y/N and Spencer had carefully built over the years of their relationship. But sometimes, the things we break can be mended once more.

(Basically an AU for the events of season 15 episode 6 Date Night)

Requested fic!! 🥳: Can we get a smutty Spencer Reid x reader reunion? It's them passionately coming back together after a messy breakup (JJ's confession or Cat's date night). Basically Spencer grovelling and worshipping reader. Happy/hopeful ending!

CONTENT WARNINGS: 18+ MDNI!! This fic is intended for adult audiences. Cat Adams (she's a warning all on her own). Really intense argument (both Spencer and Reader say some pretty mean things). Oral (f!receiving), fingering (f!receiving), unprotected PinV sex (do not actually do this k thanks!!), creampie (can we pls find another word for this pls), crying during sex (both Spencer and reader oops), groveling/begging man (Spence, I'm looking at you babe), heavy praise, multiple orgasms (f!receiving) and slight overstimulation (both parties). Angst turned happy ending!! Ex's to lovers!!

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader/afab!reader

A/N: My very first request!! :') Thank you so very much to the anon who requested this <3 I hope you like it! :) I chose to go with the Cat storyline because I had to prove I am NOT a JJ hater LMAO plus I felt like it was a really interesting dynamic to play off of because I always felt it was odd how chill Max was about her family getting kidnapped and him making out with an actual psychopath in front of her (I get that Max is simply a chill girl and beyond super understanding, which we love!! I’m just saying I personally would’ve tweaked a smidge (not on him, just overall LMAO). This was as fun as it was heart-wrenching to write and I truly hope you guys enjoy it. As always, please like, reblog, and share with your friends if you enjoy it. I love you all! K <3

Y/N remembered the night everything fell apart as if it had happened only yesterday.

She'd been on edge all evening, knowing Spencer was only on the date with Cat for the sake of his job and for the sake of rescuing her father and sister. It didn't make the plan any easier to swallow. Her mind raced with worry as she paced the apartment, waiting for him to come home. All she wanted was for her family to be safe. For Spencer to be safe.

Things had been strained between them ever since Spencer got out of prison. Y/N knew he couldn't be the same person he was before. She understood that. But she hadn't expected this—his detachment, the walls he'd built between them.

He stopped talking to her, stopped sharing his thoughts, retreating inward until the pressure became too much. Then, he'd snap—lashing out in bursts of anger, throwing things, slamming doors, yanking at his hair. He never turned that anger on her directly, but it didn't matter. Seeing the man she'd once known as calm and steady unravel before her was jarring and heartbreaking, especially after years of him being the embodiment of composure.

Y/N remained patient through it all. Spencer had endured more in his short life than most could fathom. The least she could do was offer her empathy and support, no matter how much he pushed her away, reacting like a wounded animal desperate to protect itself. She was determined to do whatever it took to help mend the beautiful, fractured man she loved, even if it meant enduring a few emotional scars along the way.

Y/N never expected those emotional scars to include all of this.

She could feel her heart shattering as the door to their apartment creaked open, revealing her fiancé passionately making out with the most vile woman to walk the Earth. His hands were cradling her face, pulling her into him as Cat stared straight at her.

It was more affection than Spencer had shown her since his release, and quite frankly it didn't seem like he was putting on much of an act.

The only reason Y/N was at the apartment instead of searching for her sister was because the team had located her father—thankfully, he was safe and unharmed, aside from a few bruises—and had contacted her with a plan that Spencer wasn’t aware of. They had uncovered Cat’s hidden agenda: Juliette had been watching Spencer and had discovered the one secret he’d managed to keep from Cat—her. Now, Cat wanted to destroy his life one final time before she died.

The team anticipated that Cat would want to return to their apartment to flaunt the fact that Spencer was 'hers.' Once Cat's ego was satisfied, she'd be more likely to slip up and reveal information about her sister's whereabouts. Y/N agreed without hesitation. After all, she’d do anything to ensure the safety of the people she loved—even if it meant putting herself in an uncomfortable and potentially dangerous position with a psychopath.

JJ had coached her on how to mask her emotions in front of Cat, preparing her for the inevitable confrontation. What JJ hadn't prepared her for was watching the love of her life shove his tongue down Cat's throat like he'd never felt the touch of a woman before.

Y/N braced herself, locking eyes with Cat as she adopted a detached, nonchalant demeanor.

Internally, she felt sick to her stomach. She wanted to curl up and sob into her knees until this nightmare was over. She had already felt powerless when Spencer was wrongfully imprisoned, and now the guilt of her father and sister being taken by Cat’s former cellmate was gnawing at her from the inside out.

All of that pain and heartache for a man who clearly no longer loved her.

Y/N remained composed for the rest of the evening, leaving with Emily as soon as possible to be with her dad and sister now that it was all over. She didn’t spare Spencer a single glance on her way out, choosing to fight that battle later.

And a battle it was.

When Y/N saw her sister's tear-streaked face and her father's defeated posture despite trying to put on a brave front, she knew she needed to stay with them for a few days. She ignored all of Spencer's calls and texts, replying only with a terse I'll be home by Friday. Though she tried to rationalize it as something Spencer had done out of necessity to save her family, the image of him kissing Cat haunted her, and she couldn’t bring herself to face him right now.

As Y/N stepped into their eerily silent apartment Friday night, she immediately realized how much of a mistake ignoring Spencer had been. She quietly closed the door behind her, slipped off her shoes, and placed them on the rack. But as she turned to head toward their room, she was met with the sight of Spencer right behind her, so unexpectedly close that she yelped, her heart racing as she nearly jumped out of her skin.

"Jesus fucking Christ—"

"Why have you been ignoring me?"

Spencer’s voice was cold, his eyes filled with pain as he looked down at her. Y/N felt a rush of guilt at the expression on his face, her resolve faltering for a moment before she reminded herself why she had been avoiding him in the first place. That guilt hardened into anger, her eyes narrowing as she glared up at him.

"Why did you make out with a deranged criminal?"

Spencer stood frozen, his mouth slightly agape as confusion flickered across his face. Y/N brushed past him, heading into the kitchen. Her purse hit the counter with a loud clatter. She knew she wasn’t being fair, but the hurt and exhaustion weighed too heavily on her to care.

"Y/N, I didn’t have a choice—" Spencer protested, trailing after her with his hands raised in frustration. "I didn't know you'd be here! That was the last thing I wanted to happen, but I did it for the sake of the case."

She rolled her eyes, a bitter laugh escaping as she leaned against the counter, arms crossed. "So you can tongue-fuck her for the sake of the case... yet you won’t lift a finger to keep your fiancée?"

The words had left her mouth before she could stop them, but she meant them.

Spencer stood across the kitchen, a look of disbelief on his face. "What are you talking about?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper. "Why would I be losing you?"

Y/N chewed on her lower lip, casting her gaze to the floor. If there was ever a time to finally let it all out, now would be it. So, with a deep exhale, she began.

"Spencer… I’ve tried to be patient, and I’ve tried to understand, knowing what you went through was unimaginable. I'm not at all saying I expect you to be who you once were, because I know that's impossible. But most days, I feel more like your doormat than your fiancée. You only talk to me in short, half-hearted conversations, and I’m the one who usually has to start them. I feel like I have to beg for your time when you're home. We haven’t been on a date in months. You won’t even talk to me about the wedding anymore…" Y/N’s voice cracked as a tear slipped down her cheek. "I’ve tolerated all of that, and yet I’m supposed to just accept that you kissed the woman who not only destroyed your life, but mine too—taking the man I love and turning him into this… hollow version of who he used to be?"

All she wanted was for him to truly listen, to finally acknowledge how things had been between them, and to try—just try—to make an effort to fix them.

Instead, he did the opposite.

"Are you seriously playing the victim when what I did was to save your family?" Spencer snapped, disbelief in his voice. "Did you even consider for a second how traumatizing that whole night was for me? Going on a date with a woman who tried to kill my mother, who framed me for a crime I didn’t commit that left me rotting in that hellhole for months? But I’m the villain because I’m processing my own trauma, and I’m not up your ass planning a wedding I never even wanted?!"

Y/N's heart sank as his words cut through her, tears welling up in her eyes. A wedding he never wanted? The hurt and frustration she’d been suppressing for months bubbled to the surface, and she fixed him with a steely glare, her anger flaring.

"My family never would have been in that situation if you had a normal fucking job!" she shouted, her finger jabbing at him in accusation. "And as for the wedding you never wanted, fine. We won’t have one!" With a fierce motion, she ripped the ring off her finger and slammed it onto the counter before storming down the hallway toward their bedroom, tears streaming down her face.

Spencer’s chest rose and fell with heavy breaths as he stared at the ring on the counter, his pride battling his guilt. Despite knowing he was in the wrong, he couldn’t bring himself to stop. Y/N had been nothing but loving and devoted to him, yet something ugly inside him had taken over, and he couldn’t control it.

"That’s not what I meant," Spencer said, his voice tight as he went after her. "But if that’s how you want to spin it, fine—what are you doing?" He stopped dead in the doorway, his heart sinking as he watched Y/N hastily pack a duffle bag. What was he even doing?

"I can't do this anymore," Y/N sobbed, lifting the duffle bag onto her shoulder as she turned to face him. Her plan was to spend a night or two with her best friend to let everything die down between them so they could talk rationally.

She had only meant the fighting, but Spencer took it as the end of everything between them.

"Then leave! Since that's clearly what you want so badly," Spencer hissed, his voice sharp, though the tears welling in his eyes betrayed his anger. The last thing he wanted was for her to walk away. Why had he said that?

Y/N just shook her head, pushing past him and out of the room. She grabbed her purse from the kitchen counter and, with a furious shout of "Fuck you!" down the hall, slammed the front door behind her.

For the rest of the weekend, Y/N stayed with her family, retreating to her childhood bed every night where she cried herself to sleep. By Wednesday, she had found a one-bedroom apartment across town that was available to move into immediately. She checked with Emily, confirming that the team was away on a case (thankfully, Emily didn’t ask any questions). Y/N spent that week packing up her things, and moving out while Spencer was gone. On the day she left, she placed the key beside the ring on the counter, taking a final, aching glance at the symbol of everything she had once hoped for. Then, with a heavy heart, she closed the door, leaving everything she’d ever wanted behind.

Now, standing in her pajamas with her mouth slightly agape, Y/N found herself staring in disbelief at none other than Spencer Reid on her doorstep.

She blinked rapidly, ensuring she was awake and not caught in another dream. But she wasn’t dreaming. Spencer was standing before her—real, panting, and drenched. It was the first time she’d seen him since moving out three months ago, and 'exhausted' didn’t even begin to cover how he looked. Her mouth opened and closed, struggling to find the words.

“…How did you find out where I live?”

Spencer looked down, his hand nervously rubbing the back of his neck. "I… I asked Penelope to find your new address."

Y/N scoffed, shaking her head as she reached for the door to slam it in his face. The nerve of him, having his coworker practically stalk her and then showing up after breaking her heart—

"Y/N, wait—please!" Spencer called out, wedging his foot in the door as she tried to shut it. "Just hear me out. Please?"

Her shoulders slumped as she paused, torn between the urge to shut him out and the pull to let him in. After a moment, she opened the door just wide enough for him to step through. As much as it pained her to face him, her love for him—and the ache of missing him—was deeper than words could ever express.

"I'll get you a towel, and then we can sit," Y/N muttered, rushing toward the bathroom as he stood by the door, slipping off his shoes.

Her heart clenched at the sight of him when she returned, their fingers lightly brushing as she passed him the plush towel.

Spencer was soaked through from the pouring rain, shivering as the damp fabric clung to his skin. She could see the discomfort in his posture as if the wet clothes were grating against him. He reminded her of those heart-wrenching shelter dogs in commercials—lost, vulnerable, and desperately needing care. He looked so pitiful… and all she wanted was to take care of him like she used to.

“Go sit on the couch. I’ll be right back,” Y/N instructed quietly, her expression softening as his weary eyes met hers.

Spencer furrowed his brows in confusion but complied, folding the towel and sitting carefully to keep the cushions dry. Y/N disappeared down the hallway, returning shortly with a pair of pajamas in her hands. As she offered them to him, a sharp pang of jealousy shot through him. He glanced down at the men’s clothes, then looked up at her, his expression filled with quiet hurt.

"Oh, come on," Y/N sighed, rolling her eyes as she sat beside him. "They’re yours. I… found them mixed in with my things and just kept them in my drawer."

That was a lie. She had carefully packed them, clinging to the smallest piece of him when she left. But what he didn’t know couldn’t hurt him.

Spencer unfolded the clothes, the knot in his chest loosening as he recognized them as his missing pajamas. The jealousy that had gripped him slowly faded, replaced by relief. "Sorry," he said softly, standing up from the couch. "Where can I… um, change into these?"

"The bathroom's down the hallway, to the left," Y/N said, gesturing vaguely toward the dark corridor.

Once Spencer was changed into the dry clothes and not trembling like a leaf, he stiffly sat beside her again. Y/N frowned, taking a moment to really look at him, and a wave of concern washed over her. His once bright, maple-syrup eyes—eyes she used to gaze into with such love—were now dull and shadowed by dark circles. His stubble had grown out, and he sat hunched, as though the weight of the world was bearing down on him.

"Spencer… what are you doing here?" Y/N asked, her words cutting through the thick silence that had settled between them.

His gaze shifted from his hands, nervously twisting in his lap, to meet her eyes. There was a quiet, desperate longing in his gaze as he studied her, almost as if he were reacquainting himself with the woman in front of him. It had only been three months since they'd separated, but even a single day apart from her felt like an eternity.

“Y/N…” Spencer’s voice faltered, his lower lip trembling as he drew in a shaky breath. “Three months ago, I made the biggest mistake of my life. You tried to tell me how you were feeling, but I—” His words broke off, and he swallowed hard, eyes lowering as a single tear slipped down his cheek.

Y/N instinctively reached for his hands, unable to stop herself, her heart aching at the sight of his pain.

“I never meant a word of what I said that night. I swear I didn’t. I just— I lashed out, Y/N,” Spencer confessed, his voice breaking under the weight of his words. “I was scared. I sabotaged myself. I let the anger take over, convinced that Cat had finally won—that she’d ruined everything by taking away the one thing I couldn’t live without… you.”

Spencer’s tears flowed freely now, his face streaked with grief. He gripped her hands as though they were his last lifeline, afraid that if he loosened his hold, he'd flatline right there on her couch.

"But this is the one thing I can't blame on her… Despite everything she’s done, I was the one that pushed you away. I had convinced myself that once I came home and you learned what I had to do to survive, you’d be disgusted by me… that you’d hate who I’d become. So I shut you out, thinking it would spare me from that. But regardless of everything, you were still there—supportive, patient, loving... And I just... I was such an asshole."

Spencer clenched his eyes shut, his throat tightening as he struggled to pull himself together.

"I was so wrapped up in my own fears, convinced of something that wasn’t even real, that I ended up making it happen. When you tried to talk to me that night, I was sure you were trying to end things, so I panicked and ended everything like an absolute idiot. I didn’t give you a chance to explain. I should’ve just listened."

Y/N’s eyes widened, a small gasp slipping from her lips as he moved from his spot beside her on the couch to sink to the ground in front of her. He let go of her hands, gripping her hips and digging his head into her lap as sobs wracked his body.

"Y/N, please," Spencer's voice cracked, his eyes searching hers with desperation when he looked up. "I know I hurt you, and I can’t undo that. I don’t think I’ll ever forgive myself for it… and I’ll spend the rest of my life making up for it, but I can’t live without you. Please... take me back. I'll do whatever it takes. I need you more than anything. You’re my everything." His words were a soft, broken whisper, and his eyes filled with tears as he looked up at her, hoping for a chance to make things right.

Y/N felt her heart break all over again as she looked down at Spencer, her trembling hands coming up to cradle his face as she exhaled deeply.

Even though the pain from everything that had happened still gnawed at her, his explanation dulled some of the grief and filled in the gaps of her confusion. Over the three months apart, she hadn’t come to hate him as she’d feared. In fact, it was the opposite—being without him had only made her love him more. Now that she knew the emptiness of life without him, she couldn’t imagine a future for herself that he wasn’t a part of.

"Spencer… I never stopped being yours," Y/N whispered, her thumb brushing away his tears. "I’m still hurt, but I can’t picture my life without you. You’re my heart, my forever... Nothing will change that. So, if you're willing to put in the work to fix your mistake, then I'm willing to give us another chance."

Spencer looked up at her, his heart racing with a mixture of relief and disbelief that she wasn't turning him away, but giving him the chance to return. "I don't deserve you," he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. "But I’m so, so thankful for you, Y/N. I love you. I love you more than you’ll ever know." He sniffled, his breath shaky as he gently pressed a kiss to her wrist.

Y/N smiled wistfully, letting out a soft, watery laugh as she felt his lips on her skin. "Come here, Spence," she whispered, gently pulling him up to meet her before pressing a tender kiss to his lips.

The moment their lips met again, after months of separation, a spark ignited between them, breathing life back into their souls as they lost themselves in each other. Within seconds, their kiss shifted from gentle and heartfelt to intense and all-consuming. Every emotion they'd felt while apart transferred between them through the brushing of their tongues, translating into action as their hands began to roam.

A simultaneous moan filled the air between them, fueling Spencer as he broke the kiss to stand from his awkward positioning on the floor to lift Y/N into his arms in a surprising show of strength. She squealed, wrapping her legs around his waist as he began to carry her down the hall toward her bedroom. With an impatient shove of his foot, the door opened, allowing them to stumble into her dimly lit room in a fit of breathless giggles.

The storm howled outside, lightning slashing through the darkness, briefly lighting the room with each strike as Spencer laid her across the middle of her bed, pressing a passionate kiss to her lips once more.

“How did—“ Spencer’s lips left hers to trail down her jaw. “I ever—“ A soft moan fell from her as his lips made their way to the crook of her neck. “Think I could live without this?” A sharp gasp escaped into the night air as he sucked a possessive mark into her skin.

Satisfied with the bruise blossoming across her skin, his mouth dragged upwards back to hers. “There isn’t… a single lifetime… or universe… where every atom in my body…. wouldn’t be irresistibly drawn to you,” He murmured reverently between kisses, pressing her further into the bed as he hovered above her. A moan rumbled in his chest as her fingers tangled into his damp hair, her mouth moving frantically against his.

“Spencer—“ Y/N whimpered, breaking the kiss and arching into his touch as his hips rolled against hers. “I need you—“

"I know, sweetheart. I know," he whispered softly. "But I've got so much time to make up for. I'm going to take it slow, and I'm going to show you how much you truly mean to me."

Spencer slithered down her body, kneeling on the ground and pulling her toward the edge of the bed until her legs dangled over the side, pressing a kiss to each of her knees as he settled between them. “Going to worship you the way you deserve,” He breathed, his fingers finding the drawstring of her pajama pants and untying them slowly as he kept his eyes on hers.

Y/N sat up on her elbows, her breath hitched as he dragged the fabric off of her body. Hot, open-mouthed kisses peppered up and down the inside of her thighs as soon as the pants hit the ground, his fingers tracing up her goose-bumped skin until they found the edge of her panties. He leaned forward, unable to hold himself back any longer as he dragged them down her body with his teeth.

A shiver ran down her spine as he trailed his lips up her leg, the anticipation heightening her sensitivity. Before she could beg for him to just get on with it, his mouth latched onto her clit, lapping furiously at her arousal.

“Oh— fuck!” Y/N cried out, her hands shooting out to thread through his hair as he began to devour her.

Spencer groaned against her skin, his hands gripping her hips so tightly she was sure there would be small, fingerprint shaped bruises the next day. His eyes were squeezed shut, a look of pure ecstasy on his face while he buried his face in her folds. He lapped at her as though she herself were an aphrodisiac, dizzying and potent and all consuming in a way that left him helpless to her effect on him.

Y/N writhed underneath him as he pulled her into him, soft noises slipping unabashedly from her lips as pleasure seared through her.

He released one of her hips to bring his fingers up to her entrance. Slowly, he slipped his middle finger into her warmth, his tongue flicking against her clit in tandem as he began to thrust the digit into her. He soon followed it with his ring finger, curling them in the way he knew would have her shaking against him.

“God— I missed this. Missed you,” Spencer groaned, turning his head to nip at her thigh as he panted against her skin. His fingers thrusted harder, repeatedly brushing her G-spot as she cried out for him. “Are you going to cum for me, sweet girl? Hm?”

Y/N whined, nodding frantically as her grip tightened in his hair. “I’m... please, I’m so close—“ she panted, a guttural moan wrenching its way from her throat as he returned his mouth to her clit.

That’s all it took to push her over the edge. As she crumbled beneath him, a thunderclap reverberated through the walls, its timing almost poetic in its synchronization with her climax. Her thighs clamped around his head as her hips bucked into his touch, trembling as he worked her through it.

“That’s it, honey. Fuck, you’re divine—“ Spencer cooed, hovering above her again as his lips pressed to her forehead. “I need to be inside of you. Need to feel you. Please, sweetheart?”

Y/N’s chest was heaving as she panted, still reeling from the first orgasm she’d had in months. Dazedly, she nodded, looping her arms around his neck to pull him into a kiss. “Please, Spence. Need you so bad, baby—“

Spencer whined, breaking away from her to hurriedly lift her shirt over her head. The sight of her, bare and flushed from her orgasm, had an almost feral wave of arousal crashing over him. Before him lied the woman he loved with every fiber of his being, trusting him with her heart again despite the pain he'd caused her before. This time, though, he was determined to protect it— to show her, day after day, just how deeply he loved her, ensuring she'd never feel forgotten or neglected again.

He stripped away his own layers, trembling with anticipation as he crawled over her. Y/N shifted, her thighs parting to make room for him between them as she laid back against her pillows. The tension in the air was palpable as he braced his arms on either side of her head, lowering himself so their chests brushed together.

"I love you, Y/N. More than words can ever say," Spencer murmured, resting his forehead against hers as he lined up his aching cock at her entrance. "You are the reason I breathe, the reason I wake up each day. You’re my saving grace, my redemption… I love you."

Y/N’s eyes shimmered with unshed tears as she cradled his face, their noses brushing in a soft, intimate touch. "I love you, Spencer,” she whispered, her voice thick with raw emotion. “Every version of you. Always and forever.”

Their mouths dropped open into a silent moan as he slowly began to ease into her, inch by inch as Y/N re-adjusted to the stretch of him. Spencer's eyes fluttered shut at the overwhelming sensation of finally being inside of her again after so long, inhaling sharply through his nose as he bottomed out. Her nails dug into his shoulder, the sting only heightening the intense pleasure coursing through him.

"You feel so good, sweetheart," He moaned brokenly, hissing as she wrapped her legs around his waist. "So, so perfect for me."

Y/N whimpered, wriggling her hips in a silent plea for him to start moving. Her head tipped back into the pillow at his first thrust, a soft gasp falling from her lips as he repeated the motion. Her hands left his shoulders, finding purchase in his hair as she pulled his mouth to hers once more as he found a steady rhythm.

Spencer moaned into her mouth, rocking into her with short, hard thrusts. Tears slipped down Spencer’s face, falling softly onto her cheeks as he held her close. He couldn’t contain the overwhelming rush of emotion, savoring the warmth of having the love of his life back in his arms. He never thought he'd feel this again, and he couldn’t be more grateful as he pulled back to stare at the woman beneath him.

Tears streamed down her face as she gazed up at him, her eyes full of reverence. The silent mix of their tears spoke volumes, each drop a reflection of everything they had been through and everything they were now.

Y/N's nails dragged down his back as his hips began to pound into hers, the bed creaking with each sharp thrust he delivered. Spencer was murmuring into the crook of her neck now, needy moans slipping free between the soft praise he rained down upon her as she cried out for him.

"You're so beautiful, sweetheart. My sweet girl. I love you," he crooned into her skin, panting as he neared his climax. "Love how you feel for me. So fucking wet. So tight."

Their moans mingled together as he shifted above her, resting his weight on one arm as the other pressed her knee toward her chest. The change in angle drove him straight into her G-spot, causing her to cry out his name as he drilled into her.

"You're everything I could ever need. You have every part of my soul, all of it. I'm yours—completely and utterly yours."

Spencer's words triggered her second orgasm, her walls clenching around him as she sobbed her release. He groaned loudly, the feeling of her cumming around his cock sending him hurtling off the edge as he sank as deeply as he could inside of her, giving her everything he had.

His hips rolled into hers gently as they came down from their highs until they were both whimpering from the oversensitivity, finally slowing to a stop as he collapsed on top of her. His lips softly pressed against her skin, a flurry of kisses landing on her face and shoulder. She laughed, trying to wiggle away from him, pushing him gently as she playfully squirmed beneath his affection.

As they cleaned up, tender kisses and gentle words passed between them, the heavy burden of the past few months slowly lifting. In the stillness, a quiet peace settled between them, a mutual understanding that no matter what came next, everything would be okay because they had each other once more. They crawled back into her bed, cuddling together as they listened to the storm start to die down.

"So… I can ask Emily for some time off next week, and we can get you moved back in?" Spencer suggested, his fingers lightly tracing up and down her back as they lay together.

Y/N tilted her head, a smirk playing at the corner of her mouth as she looked up at him. "You do realize I’ve still got three months left on this lease, right?"

Spencer waved his hand, a hint of urgency in his voice as he shook his head. “I’ll cover the rest of it. Then you can break the lease, Y/N. Just come home, please.”

Her heart warmed at the depth of sincerity in his voice, knowing he meant every word. Sighing softly, she gave in, nodding as she nestled closer to him, feeling the exhaustion slowly take over. They exchanged quiet, tender kisses and murmured goodnights, and soon Spencer’s breathing slowed, signaling he was asleep. Once she was sure he was resting peacefully, she carefully pulled back just enough to press a gentle kiss to his forehead, her lips lingering for a brief moment before she whispered into the stillness of the room.

“You are my home.”

Continued A/N's: I think this was quite honestly one of my favorite fics I've written so far. I love love love some angst turned happy ending and I LOVE a man begging on his knees 🙂‍↕️ Again, thank you so very much to the anon who requested this!! I have two more requests lined up after this that I can't wait to get written and posted. :) <3 K

REMINDER: I do NOT give permission for my work to be re-uploaded to any other platforms (c.ai, Tiktok, ao3, etc.) under any circumstances. If you'd like to translate my work, then please ask me before doing so. I know it sounds whiny, but I (as well as many other fanfic writers) spend so much time on these and it's genuinely not okay to take credit for work that isn't yours. It's insulting and completely unnecessary. If I do see my work uploaded anywhere without explicit permission, I WILL say something.

[mediumgayitalian]

“Oh, fuck.”

The clatter of her practice sword on the ground is almost louder than the crunch that rings out from his wrist. He inhales sharply, biting back a shout — no matter how many times it’s happened, he will never get used to breaking a bone. That shit hurts.

“Fuck, fuck fuck. Fuck, Seaweed Brain, is it broken?”

“Think so,” Percy grits out. He tries for a smile, and Annabeth matches it, small and worried. He leans into the hand she cups over his cheek. “Not too bad, though. If I just dump my water bottle on it —”

“Absolutely not. Water healing leaves you achey when it rains, you know that.” Shifting to wrap her arm around his waist, she helps him stand, shouldering some of his weight like it’s his ankle that’s broken. He lets her, reaching down to squeeze the hand resting on his hip — I’m fine. We’re good. She turns her hand to wrap clasp their hands together — Okay. If you’re sure.

They walk together to the infirmary, taking their time. Aside from the pain pulsing from his arm, it’s not too bad — camp is as balmy as usual, and the spring break energy is practically visible, it’s so potent. The Demeter cabin has plants growing everywhere, flowers and fruit trees blooming as bright as a box of new crayons, and the air is filled with shouts of laughter and teasing. Annabeth’s steps fall in time with his, and she’s a comfortable warmth at his side, pressed from shoulder to hip.

“You still okay?”

“Yep.” He catches her eye, smiling crookedly at her. “Doesn’t even make my top fifty.”

She rolls her eyes, hipchecking him. “Don’t I know it, ya klutz.”

“Not sure I would call being flung from the St. Louis Arch being a klutz. Or exploded in a volcano. Or crushed under the sky. Or slashed by giants. Or chased by —”

“You’re talking, but all I’m hearing is Annabeth, please, please pinch me, as hard as you can —”

“Hey! Get those claws off me, gods you’re worse than an empousai —”

“— and when you’re done pinching me please put me in the tightest headlock you can manage —”

“I am injured! You are beating up an injured person right now!”

“— and then please just bite a chunk out of my shoulder —”

“Cut it out or I’m telling Mom!”

“Wimp,” she taunts, finally releasing him. “I don’t go running to Sally every time I lose a fight.”

“Wha — you do so!”

She ducks through the infirmary door, smirking like she can’t hear him.

“You literally — you snitched on me last week! I got grounded for two days!”

“And you deserved it,” she says primly.

He gapes. “I did not!”

“Anytime you two are done,” Kayla drawls, shoving a clipboard at them. They accept it with matching sheepish grins, cowed at her perfectly arched eyebrow and slowly tapping foot. “I got patients to deal with and older brothers to harass. Let’s get this moving.”

She is shockingly good at humbling people for a thirteen year old. The two of them turn to their clipboard, chagrined, letting her stomp away with an exasperated He’ll be with you soon! Don’t set off the sprinklers again!

“That was one time,” Percy mumbles, ears reddening.

Annabeth pats him on the back. “There, there,” she says mockingly. “The fact that it was one time definitely negates the fact that you flooded the entire Big House because you got jumpscared by a child.”

“Harley can be sneaky, okay. Let me live.”

“Literally no.”

Annabeth does most of the paperwork for him, ‘cause she’s a nerd because his wrist is far too swollen for him to write properly, so it takes maybe half the time it normally would. The infirmary is crowded as Hell, though (he knows, he’s been), so they settle in for the wait, amusing themselves by tearing little pieces off of a blank form, balling them up, and tossing them in increasingly harder places. Percy is winning 7-4, although Annabeth might just pull through if she manages to toss her paper ball into Travis’ wide-open snoring mouth.

“Hey, guys. Sorry for the wait.”

Aw. She missed. Percy was looking forward to that.

“Hey, Will.”

He drags his attention away from the son of Hermes to greet his friend, but frowns before he can open his mouth.

“Woah, dude, you good? You look exhausted.”

Will snorts. “Welcome to spring break, man.” He holds his hand out for the clipboard, scanning it briefly. “Sparring injury? Oh, thank the gods. I could use a break. Here, face me.”

He climbs up onto the minimal left over space on the cot, tucking his legs under his thighs. Percy turns to mirror him, hesitantly sticking out his arm — A break? he mouths to Annabeth, meeting her eyes over Will’s head.

She shrugs.

“Just spent four hours putting Jake’s nose back on his face,” Will mumbles, placing a careful hand on his fingertips and his forearm. Percy flinches — his skin is blisteringly hot. Like someone just dropped a hot stone onto him. “I never want to sing a skin cell hymn again in my life.” He prods at Percy’s wrist for a moment, gentle enough not to hurt. “Okay, hold still, I’m gonna fix ya right up.”

Healing hymns are familiar, by now, but Percy will never get tired of them.

The cool thing about ambrosia and nectar is that as pleasure food for the gods, it’s pleasant. It’s whatever taste you want, whatever you need to have most, you get it. But healing hymns are intentional the way nectar and ambrosia aren’t. Ambrosia and nectar happen to be healing for demigods — healing hymns were constructed to knit you back together, like you mother smoothing a bandaid over a skinned knee. They’re warm and sweet and deeply, endlessly comforting in a way most things simply cannot claim to be. They don’t feel like a medical procedure or a hasty patch job, they feel like someone gripping you tightly and promising you’ll be okay. They feel like getting carried to bed when you fall asleep on the couch. They feel like sitting down after hours of standing, like a drink of water when your throat is drier than sand. Healing hymns draw the pain and sick and ache from your body, and they feel like relief.

But this time, Percy can’t focus on it.

With every word, Will seems to get a little duller. Nothing like the horrible ash-grey he went in the war, dragging the poison from Annabeth’s body, but like his usual sunny disposition was dialed down a few notches. Enough that Annabeth frowns in concern, drumming her hands on her thighs, watching him closely.

“There,” Will says, pulling away. Percy turns his now-healed wrist, noticing the slight pant to Will’s breath, the strain to his smile. The shake of his blistered fingertips.

“You look overworked,” Annabeth says quietly.

Will holds his hands up in a what can you do gesture. “Spring break.”

“You said.”

“It’s just busy, is all.”

“Yeah, but —”

“Guys,” he interrupts, smiling tiredly, “there are two hundred ADHD demigods at this camp right now who have been trapped in a classroom for six months. There are three of us. I’m going to be a little drained; we’re all a little drained. But I’m fine, okay?” He gives them a second to scrutinize his expression, eyebrows raised in amusement. “I have been running my infirmary for years. I know how to pace myself, and I certainly know how to make sure my siblings are pacing themselves. If something goes really wrong, Chiron is a whistle away. I can go longer than you guys without sleep, anyway. Apollo kid health.”

“If you say so,” Percy says reluctantly. “I just — I can wear a wrist brace, man. Not every injury needs to be handled when it happens. You can tell people no.”

“I appreciate that, Percy, and I’ll keep it in mind. Anyways, I’ve got more patients. Stay off that wrist for the rest of the day, okay? It might be tender for a bit.”

Percy turns to Annabeth as Will leaves, frowning. He’s has never noticed the so-called spring break stress before (his camp spring breaks are usually a blast, but now that he’s thinking about it, he can’t think of a single spring break where he spent any time at all with Will, which is odd), but it can’t be good for him. There’s gotta be something they can do to ease some of the bruising under their friend’s eyes.

“I could set off the fire alarms again,” Percy suggests. “That’ll certainly get this place cleared out.”

Annabeth snorts. “I think that’ll cause more harm than good, Seaweed Brain. It’ll just fall in him to clean it all up, after.”

“Shoot.”

Percy counts nine of the forty cots currently unused. Will, Kayla, and Austin are rushing from cot to cot, handing out nectar, wrapping bandages, rattling off hymns at light speed. All three of them look exhausted, squeezing shoulders when they pass each other, knocking hips, exchanging tired smiles. This is so clearly something they’re used to.

Annabeth’s head rests on his shoulder.

“It wasn’t always like this,” she whispers. “When it was fully staffed…”

Percy exhales heavily. Yeah. He remembers. There was a lot less complication, once upon a time. The most chaotic the infirmary would get was when Lee would challenge his siblings to Hymn Karaoke — trying to heal with pop songs. There was a lot more laughter, at one point. A lot more people.

Percy sighs, squeezing his eyes shut. It never does well to dwell, but he — gods, he wish they all had more time. To sit with it, to acknowledge…everything. Siblings. Friends. A camp that’s smaller than it’s supposed to be.

Annabeth squeezes his hand again, and he squeezes back, resting his head on top of hers.

“Hey,” she murmurs after a moment, pursing her lips at the front door. “Look.”

Slinking through the entrance like a criminal is Nico, in all his dork ass black camp shirt glory. He looks around shiftily, like he’s trying to make sure no one sees him, and when his gaze lands on Percy and Annabeth his eyes widen. Annabeth smiles at him, but it does nothing to ease the spooked look to his face, back arched like a startled cat. He turns to leave, but before he can slip back out the door —

“Nico!”

The son of Hades whips back around so quickly he brains himself on the doorframe. Percy ducks his head and bites his lip, hard, because he can feel Nico’s glare at the side of his head like the press of hot coal, and if he laughs as badly as he wants to then the infirmary is about to look like a Spirit Halloween.

Will turns back to his patient, squeezing his eyes shut and rattling a hymn off so quickly it makes a burst of light pop from his whole body, and rushes over to where Nico’s standing. He only trips over two things, which is remarkable for him. Percy would be proud if he wasn’t a little embarrassed on his behalf.

“Nico! Hi!”

“He-ey, Will,” Nico says, voice cracking badly on every vowel. Annabeth shoves her face into Percy’s shoulder, body shaking.

“I didn’t know you were coming! I thought you were in the arena all day.”

Nico shrugs, shoes scuffing the floor. “I am. I just — uh, I got hurt? So. Came to see you.”

Will’s beam is so bright it hurts to look at, a little. Percy squints and realises that’s not just the excitement, actually — he really is glowing, faintly. His hands flap slightly at his sides.

“Well, you’re in the right place, then.”

“Yeah.”

Neither of them say anything for a minute, rocking back on their heels. Will watches Nico closely, biting his lip. Nico looks resolutely at the floor.

“We weren’t this bad,” Annabeth whispers, “were we?”

Percy shakes his head. “Nah, there’s no way.”

“Gods. It’s so — I don’t know whether to smile or take a dip in the Lethe. It’s embarrassing and endearing at the same time.”

“Painful to watch, but I can’t stop looking,” Percy agrees.

“What’d you hurt?” Will asks, finally. “Did you pull your shoulder again?”

A look of panic flits briefly across Nico’s face until he smooths it to something neutral, aloof.

“Yep. Totally. During — sword fighting, I swung — I did this really big thrust, actually. Just — hugely powerful, training dummy exploded on impact.” He clears his throat. “Some might say too powerful. If you can imagine.”

Percy cradles his head in his hands. “Oh my gods — ”

“Don’t laugh don’t laugh don’t laugh,” Annabeth chants, “oh my gods, don’t laugh —”

A light flush dusts Will’s cheeks. He brushes a strand of hair behind his ear, fiddling with his earrings. “Woah, really? I’ve never heard of that before.”

Nico smirks, standing up a little straighter. “Well, it’s not the first time. I tend to go pretty hard.” Remembering his supposedly hurt shoulder, he exaggerates a wince. “Too hard sometimes, I guess. Could you do the — the energy thing?”

“Oh — gods, yeah, sorry. Hold on.” He stares at Nico’s shoulder, hesitating. “It, um, works better with skin-to-skin contact.”

“I have seen crystal vases less transparent,” Annabeth says, aghast. “In two years he’s going to remember this and try to drown himself.”

“I will be counting down the days,” Percy says gleefully.

On rare, rare occasions, the gods answer his prayers. Clearly, both Nemesis and Aphrodite are looking at him kindly today. Percy makes a note to scrape some of the good stuff off his plate for them both today. Hell, maybe he’ll skip the portioning and toss them an entire roast chicken each. Or something. They deserve it.

Will places both hands — interesting, Percy notes, his wrist was snapped cleanly in two and he only needed one hand, wonder why that was — on Nico’s shoulder and closes his eyes, screwing up his face in concentration.

“Huh. I’m not feeling much damage. You said it was your right shoulder?”

“I heal quick,” Nico says loudly. “I mean, some of the damage might have — um.” He clears his throat. His face glows a faint crimson. He clears his throat again. “Y’know?”

Will’s face is a similar shade.

“Right, right. Yeah. Um, brace yourself.”

Instead of starting to sing, Will closes his eyes, holding completely still. After a moment, the tips of his fingers begin to glow; soft, ambery yellow, flickering like lit candles. He opens his eyes again and focuses intently on Nico’s bare skin, tracing patterns around every defined muscle, leaving a trail of light behind. He lingers, for a moment, when he connects the last string of light, waiting until it has faded entirely from Nico’s skin to remove his hands and shove them in the pockets of his coat.

“That better?” he asks softly.

Nico swallows. “Yeah.”

“Good. I’m glad, Nico. It means a lot that you — came to me. When you needed it.”

“I trust you, I guess.” Nico looks away. “You know what you’re doing.”

“I think I just threw up in my mouth a little,” Percy says thoughtfully.

Annabeth laughs, shoving his shoulder. “Don’t be mean.” She pauses. “Me too.”

With a sigh that can only be described as besotted, Will steps reluctantly away.

“I have patients,” he says, in the same tone of voice Percy usually says I have midterms. “So I gotta…”

“Yeah, no, go. Do your —” Nico gestures vaguely. “Doctor thing.”

“Right. Yeah. I’m gonna — go.” He turns, walking back towards a group of Hephaestus kids who appear to be tightly entangled in some kind of net. After a few steps, though, he pauses, biting his lip, then darts back over to Nico, pressing a lightning-fast kiss to his cheek — “Um, bye. Thank you for visiting. Bye,” — and then runs back over to his siblings, shy smile on his face.

Nico’s jaw is brushing the floor of his father’s palace. He stands, still as a statue, for four entire minutes.

“I think he just died,” Annabeth observes, eyebrows climbing higher and higher up her forehead with every passing second “Damn. Survived so much only to literally die because a cute boy kissed his cheek. A true hero’s end.”

Percy, because he is a kind, concerned friend, clears his throat loudly.

“Yo, di Angelo, you alive?”

Nico startles so violently he falls right over. Percy shoves his fist in his mouth to keep from cackling.

“Shut the fuck up,” Nico hisses venomously, scrambling upright. “Both of you, shut the — not a word —”

Percy and Annabeth make the mistake of looking at each other and simply erupt. Percy can’t feel his stomach. His lungs have abandoned ship. He’s glad as hell he’s in the infirmary because he is heaving for breath, tears streaming down his face, entire body convulsing. Nico stands in front of them literally shaking with rage, entire body redder than one of Apollo’s sacred cows, trying and failing to string together a threat that will ease any and all of his suffering. Annabeth screeches, almost falling off the bed as she cackles. Percy cannot even find the strength to catch her, his muscles are so weak.

“I fucking — I hate you! Both of you! You’re dead to me!”

“Your face!” Percy shrieks.

“Percy Jackson, I am going to turn you to fucking dark matter! I despise your very essence! I —” He stomps his foot. “I’m leaving, and I’m going to leave a rotting corpse in your cabin! Screw you!”

“Oh my gods,” Annabeth wheezes, digging her nails into his arm. “Oh my gods, that was —”

Percy wipes a tear from his eye. “I love being alive. I love being alive so much.”

“It really is great.” Composing herself, and biting back the leftover giggles that keep bubbling out, Annabeth looks back towards Will. He stands much straighter, now, smile back to full brightness. His siblings, too, look rejuvenated, snickering to each other and making kissy faces behind Will’s back. “So many beautiful things to witness. I’ve never seen his face go that red.”

Percy sighs. “This is genuinely going to carry me through the semester. I think his soul died a little. And Will just — gods, that kid is bold.”

“Oh says you, Mr. Do I Get A Good Luck Kiss.”

“Hey, I earned that.”

Annabeth grins, punching him in the shoulder. He grabs her wrist and tugs her towards him, chasing the curve of her smile. She laughs into his mouth and it taste like strawberries and freedom, and he presses a kiss to her cheek, to her jaw, and the side of her neck, resting there, breathing against her skin. After a moment her hands come up and slide in his hair, gently untangling the knotted mess.

“He is one thousand percent going to put a zombie in your bed, you know,” she says after a moment.

Percy snorts. “Yeah, I know.” He smiles. “Worth it.”

[alwaysanundertone]

Day 14, bet's on | rosekiller

@yourfiendlyneighbourspiderman sent a request for this one <3

smut

TW: NSFW, oral (fem and male receiving), bondage, piv, multiple orgasms.

part 1, part 2 will be released after kinktober

“… and he wanted to go back to his apartment, but obviously I refused and then he lashed out, saying I’m a prude and stuff, and it’s just so unfair” You were on your friends’ bed, there were many bottles of beers discarded on the floor. It was typical for you to hang out like this, talking about everything and anything. “I mean, it’s not like I am some type of prude-“

“Y/N, you are”

You widened your eyes, surprised, then shot Barty a dirty look. “Am not, thank you very much”

Evan rolled his eyes. “Oh, come on, stop lying to yourself and admit it. When was the last time you did something adventurous?”

You rolled your eyes, but, if you had to really think about it, you couldn’t find any examples: maybe they were right, maybe you had become a prude. Still, you couldn’t let them win. “I’m drunk and my brain isn’t co-operating, but there are plenty of examples.”

“Prove you’re not a prude, then.”

You scrunched your eyebrows. “How?”

They both exchanged a look. “How about a little game? You’re going to watch our next game from here, in our apartment: for every goal that we score, you’re going to take off a piece of clothing. If you run out of them, you’re going to tie yourself up, and you’ll be waiting patiently for us here, on our bed. When we’ll come home, we’re going to have free access to whatever part of your body is exposed”

You sat up straight, staring at them, your mouth agape. “What- What”

Barty chuckled. “Evan, I think we broke her. We understand, Y/N, you’re not that adventurous, it’s okay, it’s normal”

You felt your blood starting to boil, you never were the one to back down from a challenge, and you weren’t going to start now. “Okay, bets on. You’re going to score two goals maximum, anyways”

They exchanged a surprised look. “We’re going to see about that.”

You just turned up the tv, anxiety clawing at your stomach. Sure, they couldn’t score that many goals, right? It was nearly impossible; you were going to be just fine. For the first time, you wished their time would loose.

As they started to fly on their brooms, you saw Evan scoring the first goal. Hell, not even a minute had passed.

“And just like that, Rosier scores the first point…” You tuned out the speaker’s voice, seeing how Barty and Evan shared a smirk, the camera focusing on their high five.

“Okay, Y/N, it’s a single piece of clothing” You took off one of your socks.

But as the game went on, you found yourself quickly only in your panties and bra, feeling extremely nervous, praying for them to stop scoring points.

It wasn’t that they both weren’t extremely hot, the prospect of them both focusing on your body making you feel hot and bothered; no, it was the fact that you hadn’t experienced any sexual interaction in more than two years, and, even worse than that, you didn’t know how you would have reacted after the sexual intercourse. When they were finished with you, would you be feeling clingy? Would you develop a crush on them? What if you already were crushing on them?

Before you could pity yourself more, Barty scored another goal, followed by Evan, and you swore you could see them winking at the camera. With shaky hands you took off your panties and bra. Now you had to deal with the damned ropes.

At a certain point, you had fallen asleep, tied up on their bed. You startled awake when you felt a hand caressing your stomach, your eyelids fluttering quickly.

“There she is, our angel”

“Evan?”

He chuckled. “What a good girl, doing what she was told to do. Hope you’ve slept well, because the night has just begun. If it gets too much or you feel uncomfortable, say ‘red’ and we will stop.”

As you were about to reply, you felt a tongue licking up a stripe from your hole to your clit, making you whimper. Barty smiled up at you from between your thighs. “Look at you, so responsive. We’re going to have so much fun”

Evan kneeled, staring at your eyes, his gaze dropping to your mouth before dipping his head to kiss you. You moaned; he smiled in the kiss. “Sounds so cute”

“Rosier, get your ass down here and taste her” The blonde guy rolled his eyes, obeying to Barty. Suddenly, two tongues were feasting on your core, the stimulation making your brain turn to mush. “Oh, God, what the fuck”

The boys chuckled. “Yes, sweetheart, tell us how good we make you feel” You felt their tongues meeting over your cunt, then they stopped giving you attention. As you looked down, you saw them making out sloppily directly over your core, seeing them like that was probably the hottest thing you had ever seen.

You whimpered, catching their attention. “You like seeing us like this, don’t you? Naughty, naughty girl” They went back to focusing on your pussy, and you already felt really close to coming, your moans getting progressively more high-pitched.

“Are you going to come on our faces like a good girl, mh?” As soon as Barty inserted a finger in you, curling it upwards, you knew you were gone for. You let out a loud moan, your mind fuzzy, filled with fireworks and fucking rainbows as they worked you through it.

As soon as you came back, you saw in the corner of your eye Evan undressing, and suddenly you felt uncomfortable. “Yellow” They both focused immediately on you.

“What’s up, sweetheart? Do you want to stop?”

“No, but” You felt embarrassed to tell them this, but you knew you had to. “Thing is, I haven’t done anything in a while, and” You didn’t know how to continue, but they seemed to understand.

“It’s okay, we can go as slow as you can, do you want us to undo the ropes?”

You blushed furiously, shaking your head. They both exchanged a look. “Oh, so you like them, huh? Going to keep this in mind in the future”

You didn’t have time to make sense of the innuendo, because Barty was starting to pump his fingers into you, making you moan. He curled them, hitting a specific spot into you, making you mewl. “Evan, I think I found it” He proceeded to caress it repeatedly, working you up once again, but suddenly his fingers were gone, making you whimper in disappointment.

“I know, Barty’s so mean, love” You felt Evan’s dick at your entrance, he was dragging it up and down slowly, making you feel crazy with need. He put in just the tip, staying there for a minute or two, making you feral.

“Evan, please, pleasepleaseplease, I’m going to be good, just” You weren’t even controlling your words anymore, you just knew that you needed him inside of you, and you needed him now.

“Are you hearing this, Barty? She’s going to be good” He mocked you. “What if I stayed like this?” You whined; you would have pushed it in yourself if you weren’t fucking bound. He kneeled down, kissing your nose and entering you altogether, your breath catching in your throat. “Just kidding, you’ve been such a good girl, it wouldn’t be fair to punishing you”.

Once he started picking up the rhythm of his thrusts, Barty slightly slapped your cheek with his cock. “Open up, sweetheart” You did, starting to suck on the head of his dick, hollowing your cheeks, looking up at him innocently. “Fuck, Evan-“ You sucked him even harder, making him whimper. “Fucking hell, I won’t last”

“Neither will I” Evan called out from between your thighs. “She’s so fucking tight, it’s a miracle I haven’t come already”

You were a moaning mess, Evan was somehow capable of hitting all of the right spots, you felt your mind starting to black out as you came on his dick.

“Switch” You widened your eyes as the two boys switched places, the prospect of possibly coming again in such a short period of time making you squirm. Barty entered you with one violent thrust, making you loose your breath.  He positioned his index and middle fingers on your clit, making you mewl. “You’re going to come on my dick like a good girl”

You shook your head, Evan giving you a break to speak. “I… Can’t, it’s too much”

Barty cooed at you in fake sympathy. “Awe love, you have to get used to it, just because you’ve been with little boys who can’t make a woman come, doesn’t mean you won’t start now. You will come on my cock, and you will enjoy it” His words were making you even wetter, when he started attacking your G-spot you knew that you were gone for, coming all over him, both og the boys following you.

As you were cathing your breath, Evan started undoing the ropes, while Barty wetted a washcloth and started cleaning you. He smiled up at you. “Guess you aren’t a prude, after all” You scoffed, pushing him away slightly. tags: @sxmnc @peterparkerspersonalplaything @riaaavm @iamawkwardandshy @eeviee4 @mysterialee @famouscrusadeluminary @el1smells @rishofkf @mooonyxoxo @happymaeday @yourfiendlyneighbourspiderman @whyshouldihaveanam3 @amazing-bobinsky @barnesandmetal @just-here-for-ff @remussbitch @sammyreid

[vxnuslogy]

— what does it mean to be a star?

pairing: sunday x gn!reader

premise: sunday has stayed with you and the stellaron hunters for a few years. your lives has been filled with many adventures, both good and bad. but like any other story crafted by elio, they must come to an end eventually.

– warnings: slight angst if you squint, implications of committing suicide, not proofread that much.

– author’s note: one final (?) stellaron hunter!sunday fic before he gets released. ive missed writing for this man. art credits to 冒火锅海台 on Weibo for the art. | 1.9k words.

— tags: @ryescapades @mitsvriii @https-sourlimes @dazaisms ; if you'd like to be tagged, please let me know by sending an ask off anon or filling out the forms in my pinned !!!

“what do you think makes a star, a star?”

elio asked you that question decades ago. and only now have you arrived at one final answer. out of curiosity, you asked each hunter the same question over the years that have passed, each of them giving one answer that didn’t quite match the rest.

“to be the top player of course!” silver wolf exclaimed, her tone in a matter of fact manner as she didn’t even look up from her console. you only shook your head in amusement, jotting her answer down in a new journal your boss had given you as a present.

“a star you ask,” kafka tilted her head curiously at you. eyes freed from her usual contacts and makeup followed your movement as you stirred the coffee in your cup. “well, a star for me would be something that captures the attention of others without much effort. stars often piqued your interest, didn’t they?” you only smiled in response and nodded. you made a mental note to write it down later before you went to bed.

firefly took a little longer than the last two to answer. you patiently waited, spooning pieces of cake to your lips as the girl in front of you was deep in thought. “a guide. even in your darkest moment, a star will shine as a guide for you to follow so you don’t stray from your path.” she answered in a whisper. eyes wistful as she played with the dessert on her plate. 

“a star,” blade’s gruff voice cut through the night like a knife. a few bottles of local xianzhou wine separating you two as you sat on the roof overlooking the stars above. you hadn’t expected blade of all people to humor your questions, but here you were, grateful in his presence. “it means to burn. so brightly you are unrecognizable, to others and yourself.”

“you have a sad answer,” you mutter, taking a sip of the wine from the small cup as the man huffs. 

“time takes a heavy toll for both you and i,” the wind sways his hair in a deathly dance. he brings his cup to his lips and drinks in one go. you don’t mention how you can barely finish a cup with how strong the drink was—blade could not feel the pain of it in his throat, and he never will. “you’ve already burned through the remains of your past self. it won’t be long before you look in the mirror and be unable to recognize your reflection.”

you frown at his response. “you’re pessimistic.”

“and you’re hypocritical.”

you have no rebuttal to his accusation, after all, at the very core of your character, the word “hypocrite” hangs like a thorny crown. 

“tell me, starcatcher,” red eyes reflected the conflict you’ve been massing deep within the columns of your bones. they crash onto your being like how the oceans do to the shores—unrelenting and loud. “are you that afraid of losing another that you love them as if tomorrow they’ll die?”

you fled the roof that night. unable to face your hopelessness head on after a fresh wound of death lingers by your heart. another attempt, another reminder of the welling darkness that swells from the tip of your fingers and slowly corrupts your entire body. it drowns you and you can’t help but fear that time is clutching your shoulder, weighing you down to the ocean floor as it laughs at your predicament.

“so it’s decided then.”

but that’s no longer the case. no, not anymore. it's been decades since then, and you’ve changed.

elio sits by his office chair, typewriter moved to the side as he personally penned the final bits of your songbird’s script. you were elio’s editor and proofreader. you don’t exactly remember when it started but when you were still an unwilling understudy—an actor who refused to acknowledge the stage—he would trap you in his office and force you to read over his script to make sure there were no errors.

a small and sad smile tugged at your lips as you read the pages of inked fate. “this is for the best.”

“the best, yes,” elio ceases his writing. compiling the papers into one bulk and staring right at you. “but it's not the ending you wanted.”

you shook your head, “my preferred ending isn’t relevant to how the story ends. it’s not my story to tell.”

“yes, but it's a story you’re meant to read,” there was pity in his eyes. your heart felt too heavy with realization to even feel offended by such a look. “you have the right to feel dissatisfied.”

“thank you, elio, truly,” you only gave destiny’s slave one final smile before standing. you quietly made your way to the door, forcing your steps to sound quiet and lacking sadness. but you can’t do that, you never will. building up walls will only prove to be a waste of effort. not when elio knows every brick by heart.

with a heavy sigh, you linger by the office door before making your way to your workshop. memories from years ago flood your mind as the halls fill your senses. photos from vacation, missions, and simple outings hang by the walls while certain trinkets and relics from bygone travels litter the many desks and drawers. time did take a heavy toll just like blade said. kafka’s skin started to wrinkle a bit, silver wolf started growing taller, firefly grew paler and paler, and blade looked more like death with every breath he took.

time was a painful thing to remember—it’s not infinite. and even if it was, it's never always kind to everyone. and you? you are worse than time and death itself. you were the inevitable–finality. 

“good morning, [name].”

a voice from behind greets you like a new sunrise–a reminder that a new day is here. you couldn’t help the smile that tugged on your lips. seeing sunday in blade’s shirt hang over his body like a blanket, firefly’s hair ties on his wrists and a spare console from silver wolf in one hand brings you so much joy. 

“sunday, good morning!” you sounded breathless. tucking both hands behind your back to hide your shaking as he joined you on your way to the workshop he’s made as his makeshift nest.

sunday smiles—filled with all the hope you’ve craved and lost. it stings your heart like a needle but you don’t show it. you’re first to look away, like all the other times in his presence, unable to face the way his wings flutter and smile twitch in concern.

when you reach the workshop, you flicker the lights on and sunday makes himself at home. sitting by the windowsill as you sat down by your table. scattered fabrics for sunday’s final mission lay in your hands, and you’d be damned if you messed up now. even with a heavy heart, you willed your hands to work, all the while ignoring the concerned stare of the angel sunbathing by the window.

the two of you spend the first few hours of morning in each other’s quiet presence before your tongue itches to ask him a question. “sunday,” you call his name and you curse the flutter in your chest when he immediately looks at you. he noticed his overly quick response and covered half of his face with a fist, pretending to hide a cough instead of his coloring cheeks.

“yes?” he asks, attention solely on you as you pin the needle back on the cushion and smooth out any creases.

“what does it mean to be a star?”

he blinked owlishly at your question. a soft hum escaped his lips as his fingers tapped on the rim of his cup in contemplation. “is there…” he tests the waters—seeing if it's too hot or too cold. “any particular occasion for you to ask me a question?”

you shake your head in amusement when his more formal tone slips out. “no, not at all. just a little tradition is all.”

“well, then,” the words die out on his tongue. every once in a while, sunday would peer at you like a lost child but you’d only nod encouragingly. “a star means to be remembered.” he looked out the window, watching the clouds pass by in a blur. “even if they aren’t always there, you know they exist.”

sometimes you wonder if it's possible for sunday to look at himself through the lens of your eyes. he was beautiful like the praise of idrila, happiness like aha’s laughter, and the curiosity for adventure like akivili. sunday wasn’t just a star, he was the entire universe. and he remained blissfully unaware of it.

“[name], is everything all right?” 

you’re snapped out of your daze when you feel his hand on your cheek. lost in the replays of sunday’s image in your mind, you didn’t notice the stray tears that had betrayed your image of an unbothered editor. 

“please, don’t cry,” he whispers, pressing your foreheads together. his thumb gently wiping away the tears that escaped your eyes. you can’t help but chuckle. sunday truly was like a sponge when it comes to others’ habits.

“what hurts you so?”

“what makes you think i’m hurt?” quite frankly, you were hurt. so incredibly hurt by his eventual departure but your heart knows his stay was only temporary. but that didn’t mean you never hoped. 

hoped. over the course of a few years, sunday had succeeded in the mission the other hunters failed at. he made you hope again.

“kafka is cooking everyone’s breakfast. it’ll surely brighten up your mood.” he states taking your hand in his and tugging you in the direction of the dining room and kitchen. sunday maneuvered through the headquarters with such ease your ribs began to clamp on your heart again.

this was his home, his respite. but only for a short time.

when the two of you enter the room, you notice his frown. the emotions of everyone were palpable—it felt suffocating. your eyes met blade and you just smiled. one deep breath in and you snapped back into your joyous self. bringing temporary light to the room.

even as you ate and chatted, there were undertones of sadness. sunday nudged your side and quietly asked you, “are you quite sure everything is alright? everyone seems sad today.”

you look at them one by one. kafka’s eyes are slowly being accompanied by eye bags and wrinkles, silver wolf is nearing blade’s shoulder, firefly looks paler, and blade’s hand shakes as he holds his chopsticks. you look at sunday’s eyes, and smile. even he was a victim of time with the way his hair grew longer and face filled with more life.

“they’re just worried,” you look away first like always. meeting blade’s gaze halfway and smiling to yourself when you see him huff in denial. “your next mission is here.”

what does it mean to be a star? elio asked you that question a long, long time ago. and you only found the answer in the form of an angel with wings behind his ears and eyes that shined like the sun. the star you’ve grown to love burns brighter than the sun but still requires rest when night falls. 

to be a star means to be remembered, even in the face of departure. you remain bright and unforgotten. left in the care of a conductor and an express you’ve once loved.

to be a star means to face the inevitable that sunday was meant for greater things than being just a fugitive venturing the universe.

© vxnuslogy 2024. please do not copy, repost, or translate any of my works.

[lordprettyflackotara]

noise || the bloody painter || maid!reader || 𝓕𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓴𝓵𝔂pasta au ||

SMUT MINORS DNI 18+. tw: hella exhibitionism

You thought over your numerous sexual encounters with the members of the Slenderman mansion. You recalled the roughness, the various positions. You catered to their every need. As you sat awkwardly in the center of an art room, a frail white sheet covering your exposed body, you couldn’t help but remember it all. You had been instructed by a man with bright yellow eyes that floated to sit on the stool and wait. You didn’t bother glancing at him twice, you were sure you’d become well acquainted with him after your interaction with Helen. Apparently, Helen was an artist according to the endless art supplies that sat around the room. They were all labeled and arranged neatly, not a single paint brush out of place. You had been blindfolded up until this point, the rest of the Trenderman mansion being hidden from you.

The cover up of you being a maid was stripped away from the moment you stepped into this mansion, considering the mansion smelled like cleaning supplies. The rays of sunshine came through the open windows, a breeze causing your nipples to perk up. You had been informed by Jeff it was Helen’s birthday and that you were the gift from the Slenderman mansion.

So you sat on the stool patiently, wrapped like a birthday present in all its glory.

The door opened slowly, a clean cut man presenting himself before you. He shut the door behind him, locking the old fashioned door with a key. His crisp blue eyes landed on you, examining you. “I must say you’re a sight for sore eyes. I’m a bit envious that Trender didn’t find you first,” He admitted. He walked up to you slowly, his loafers clicking against the floor with every stride. “I’m Helen. I’ve been told by Jeffrey you’re my birthday present,” He said. Helen then stood before you, grabbing your chin with his gloved hand. His gloves were a borderline silk material and a pearly white, the material gentle against your skin. “I suppose I am,” You agreed. He tilted your head to the side, noting the faint hickies that stained your neck. “I see you get around,” Helen commented. If you weren’t aware he was a cold blooded killer, you would’ve rolled your eyes.

“Thats one way to put it,” You replied. Helen was truly studying you, soaking in every inch of your body he could see. “I must say Jeffrey spoiled me this year. You are quite the work of art,” He complimented. Helen guided your head to the other side, his eyes narrowing at the sight of finger shaped bruises wrapped around your throat. “I’ll tell you what. You seem to have quite a bit of fun. I won’t keep you. I’d rather have you kept on a canvas forever,” He concluded. The name ‘Bloody Painter’ was running through your head. Your face must’ve gone pale, a chuckle escaping Helen’s lips. “Relax my dear, all I want to do is watch and paint a portrait of you for my private viewing,” He said, releasing your chin. He could see your perky nipples poking through the sheet. Truthfully Helen was aching to touch you, but he did not believe he deserved the privilege of doing so. However, you putting on a show for him was the next best thing he could ask for.

“Take the sheet off for me and spread your legs darling,” Helen ordered. Although his tone was kind, his words sent an ominous chill down your spine. He may have presented himself as friendly and gentleman like, but you knew he lived here for a reason. You were a lot of things, but naive is not one of them. You allowed the sheet to fall to the ground, leaving you completely exposed in the sunlight. You spread your thighs, the man before you silently craving to fall to his knees and crawl towards you like a stray dog. Instead he straightened out his suit, walking over to his canvas. “Wonderful. Now i’ll give you specific instructions. If you follow them this transaction will be quite easy,” He said. He picked up a paint brush, dabbing it in a fresh cup of water to dampen the bristles. “Start touching yourself like you usually would,” Helen told you. You felt your face flush red. This was quite different than anything else you had done. Usually the men were apart of the action, but not Helen.

He wanted to memorize you. He watched as you licked the pad of your index and middle fingers, before bringing it down to your clit. Helen would’ve assumed it would be hard for you to become aroused, not having any source of pornography or physical touch. Yet you seemed as wet as a river, your cunt glistening in the sunlight. All from his observation. He began to paint you slightly, a choked groan escaping your throat as you swirled your clit. “Doesn’t this kinda ruin the painting?” You asked. Helen chuckled, painting your plump thighs first. “Quite the opposite. Your ethereal features deserve to be deserve to be praised again and again. What’s a better way to do so?” He countered. You whimpered at his words. His praise and will to let you have freedom, to control your orgasm. It was liberating. You began to draw faster circles around your clit, watching his eyebrows furrow as he painted your thigh crease. “Be a lamb and finger yourself for me,” He said mindlessly, as if he was commenting on the weather. You leaned back on one hand, the other dipping down between your folds and sliding into your entrance. You curled your fingers inside of you, your gummy walls clinging to your own digits.

You let out a moan, your eyes threatening to flutter shut. “Nuh uh, look at me. Need to paint your eyes darling,” Helen ordered calmly, rinsing his paintbrush in the glass jar full of water. You whimpered as you maintained eye contact with his icy blue gaze. You tried to reach further into yourself to hit your g spot, your smaller fingers failing to do so. “Not deep enough,” You admitted, biting your bottom lip as he curiously peered over his canvas at you. “Not deep enough?” Helen repeated. You nodded, your fingers just grazing right before your g spot. Helen hummed to himself, before strolling over to one of his art shelves. He grabbed a paint brush with a thicker handle, walking back over to you. “Try this,” He suggested. His cock was aching against his black slacks, your doe eyes looking up at him. “W-what? But I don’t know where that’s been,” You say meekly. Helen grinned, handing it to you. “Everything in here is clean and pristine. I prepared for your arrival. Jeffrey spared me no details of his interaction with you. You can handle this. After all, it’s my birthday,” Helen mused. You took the paint brush, the dark green handle looking back at you. Helen whisked himself away back to his canvas, resuming what he was doing.

You removed your fingers, slowly lining the end of the paintbrush handle with your entrance. It felt cool and unusual, the sight making Helen’s pupils expand. “Thats it. You know what to do,” Helen grinned, flicking his wrist as he painted on his canvas. Your walls clung around the paintbrush handle, the handle just thick enough to feel satisfying. You groaned as it brushed against your g spot, your face burning from embarrassment. Helen didn’t understand your embarrassment, but he did soak in the red tint of your cheeks and begin to paint it onto the canvas. “Make as much noise as you’d like, the residents here have been expecting your arrival,” He cooed. You began to fuck the paint brush into you, your other hand gripping the wooden stool. You were so desperate to cum, it felt like you had been edging yourself for an eternity now, all for a painters amusement. “You can fuck yourself harder dear. You have no idea how badly I want to hear you cum for me,” Helen told you. You bit your bottom lip, fucking yourself faster. You could feel the knot inside of your stomach tighten, your body hooked on the feeling.

“Such a beautiful piece of art,” Helen mumbled to himself. His cock was straining against his slacks, dying for attention. He knew he shouldn’t touch you, but it becoming increasingly harder as your eyebrows scrunched together from your pending orgasm. You tilted your head back, sputtering a moan as you came around the paint brush. Admittedly you felt humiliated, but the wave of euphoria overrode the embarrassment. Helen was a gentleman if nothing else, allowing you to catch your breath before striding over to you. “Please get on your knees and stick out your tongue,” He ordered. Shakily you tossed the paint brush aside, gathering to your knees. The polished wooden floor was rough against your bare knees, but you were silently glad it didn’t prick at your skin and threaten to leave splinters. Helen began undoing his belt, the sight mouth watering. “Good dear, now just sit there and look pretty. You don’t have to do a thing,” He purred. You watched as he took out his cock, a little bead of precum decorating his tip. You went to touch it, Helen pushing your hand away. “Nuh uh. Stay still. Flatten out that tongue of yours,” He ordered firmly.

Obediently you set your hands on your knees, staring up at Helen. He took off his gloves with his teeth, tossing them aside before stroking his cock. He began to jack off in front of you, small grunts escaping his lips as he peered down at you. You were such a beautiful specimen, he couldn’t help but envy that Slenderman had found you first. In a different universe he was sure your body would’ve been used for far better, including becoming one of his works of art. Surely, he could make that happen in this one, right? All he needed to do was let go. You were dying to suck his cock, your wetness ever growing as he jacked off before you. He could feel himself growing closer to the edge. “When I release, you need to stay absolutely still, understand?” He questioned. You nodded, your tongue still flattened. Helen released with a groan, his seed releasing and splattering across your lips, tongue, and both cheeks. He peered down at you with his blue eyes, admiring his work. You truly were a masterpiece and perhaps the best birthday gift he had ever received.