#look I work in compliance

[auspicioustidings]

Oh and another thing! Reader who works in admin, whose job is to handle compliance for the military and pmcs. Like you are yourself a contractor but you are super busy because you have a good reputation for safety and are excellent at wrangling arrogant soldiers to get their paperwork done and do their training courses.

The thing is though, this is all done via email and phone. You have seen photos of most of these people because you need copies of ID for their files (you wonder about the ones without photos) but they have no clue what you look like.

It feels like you spend so much of your time being passive aggressive when Captain Price won't just renew his damn first aid course or Commander Graves is trying to convince you that you don't need to properly onboard his new shadow or Keegan is a dick making sure you always go to voicemail and the message is something along the lines of "leave a message, if you're some pretty little idiot office girl at least make it worth my while".

And honestly for a lot of them, while you don't realise, you are a little slice of soft domesticity. They can pretend you are a wife or a sister nagging at them. They can flirt to try and make you give them that long suffering sigh or annoy you to try and make you snap (you never properly snap, not professional, they take it as a challenge).

Imagine the carnage when people start getting an out of office when they email or call saying that you aren't available as you are unwell. A few days sure, but after a few weeks? You are getting all sorts of visitors all of a sudden and you are so out of it and wait don't you recognise those voices? Absolutely dying of the flu and the first thing you say to the man who just broke in is "you'd better have your first aid certificate".

[seventh-district]

Dying Star

In the back of your mind, you recall something you once heard, something about light, and time, and distance. Space. Something about... how you can still see a star that's already burnt out, because its light hasn't reached earth yet. The ghost of a star that's already died. Only still perceptible thanks to time, and distance.

You remember Sam's words, once whispered to you on this very roof.

"Whatever your choice is... I'm not gonna live forever. I made that decision a long time ago."

You think about dead stars.

You think about time.

- - - - - - -

Sam’s words have been weighing heavy on your mind ever since you discussed your shared future and the various forms it could take. You didn’t realize just how heavy they were until it all came spilling out of your tired mind on a late night spent together beneath the stars.

Pairing: Sam x Darlin' / Reader

Word Count: 4,053

Contains: [angst] [a dash of humor] [a hint of chubby!Sam bc i like 'em strong and soft] [crying] [cuddling (dub-con cuddles with Quinn in the past & consensual ones with Sam in the present)] [emotional hurt/comfort] [implied/referenced dub-con sex (nothing graphic) (in the past between Darlin' and Quinn to be specific) (refer to my Ao3 notes for further explanation)] [mentioned Quinn] [not quite Dissociation i guess but Darlin' does zone-out/get lost in thought more than once] [pet names (Darlin' (obvs.) and honey)] [Reader is Darlin'] [Sam wears a cowboy hat bc i said so] [some passive suicidality from Sam if you squint (hell, maybe you don't even have to squint)]

A/Ns: Well, well, well, here I am, the person who said they wouldn't write any Redactedverse fanfic. I recently felt a mighty need to expand upon the blurb I wrote in this post, and I'm braving my fandom anxiety by sharing it here. pls be nice 2 me abt it

Timeline-wise, this fic takes place sometime after the ‘Talking About the Future With Your Vampire Mate’ audio but sometime before their presumed eventual departure from the house that William gave Sam, given that they've already had the 'turning' discussion but are still on the same roof in this fic.

This is a songfic, inspired by and quoting verses from 3 songs. Those being:

‘Dying Star’ by Ashnikko feat. Ethel Cain

‘Fix What You Didn’t Break’ by Nate Smith

‘No Plan’ by Hozier

The roof of Sam’s house is far from a ‘cushy’ place to relax. But as you lie here next to him under the stars, a knowledge settles within you that you wouldn’t trade the rough shingles beneath you for the softest mattress in the world. Not if it meant there’d be anyone other than him lying next to you.

Some people might counter that it’s an easy thing for you to say, given the number of nights you’ve thrown a balled-up shirt onto one end of a worn-out couch and called it a bed. But some people don’t know you as well as they think they do.

You’ve known luxury. Quinn might’ve been just as content taking his fill on a seedy motel bed as he was wrapped in silks at a Hilton, but he knew how to play up the luxe when it served him to do so. And in the early days as he worked to lure you in, it did. Plush sheets and expensive drinks helped to soften the preordained blows and dull the imminent pain that your nights with him held.

Once you’d latched onto the bait though, he let the act drop one piece at a time, like props collapsing on a stage. After all, what was the point in all of those frivolities when you both knew what you really came to him for? It wasn’t to be wined and dined, it wasn’t to be dressed up and shown off, and it wasn’t even to be slowly stripped of it all, laid out across the rolling clouds of a pillowy mattress.

It was to be used. Tranced. Restrained. Bitten. Drank from. Choked. Hit. Edged. Denied. Made to writhe and whine and bleed and plead. Plead for more, for less, for nothing, for anything. Anything to quiet your mind and fill the ever-expanding void inside you where you suspect love was supposed to live.

That’s what you both really wanted.

At least, that’s what you told him you wanted.

That’s what you told yourself.

You only got what you asked for.

To your right, Sam stirs, stretching gently with a yawn. The soft noise he releases as he does so reminds you of where you are, and you trace back through your thoughts to find how you got so lost.

…Right. Luxury.

While your relationship with Quinn certainly changed over time, you never forgot what it felt like in the beginning. 

You remember nights laid next to him, body sore, mind quiet. Quinn’s idea of aftercare was lacking to say the least, but you had nothing better to compare it to at the time, and you’d take what you could get. At least your head felt empty, and the bed was soft. Exhaustion would pull you under soon enough.

The mattress, sheets, and pillows enveloping you were likely worth more than you even made that past month. ...Or several. You found that display of luxury hard to be impressed by though, when it wasn’t the type of comfort you’d been seeking.

As Quinn shifted in his presumed sleep, pulling you in tighter, you didn’t fight it. You found yourself unwilling to fight anything he did, like his mere presence was enough to drain the fight right out of you. You told yourself that you were okay with that. Because you wanted it.

Lying there with your head on his bare chest, you took a deep breath and told yourself that you liked the stench of cheap cologne, poorly masking the cigarettes and alcohol on his breath. You silently told yourself that you liked everything. You liked the pain that he chased with hints of pleasure. You liked the loss of power, the way you couldn’t fight back if you wanted to once he looked you in the eyes. You liked all the things he said, no matter how much the truth might hurt.

He was right, you supposed. Your desires, the things you craved, the depravity that you so enjoyed, wasn’t normal. It was uncommon, unusual, and in the eyes of some, unfathomable. To possess such dark desires, there must be something truly broken inside you.

How lucky you were, to have found someone willing to indulge you. Someone that could give you everything you wanted, and be so kind as to keep it a secret too. He promised that word of the things he did to you, the things you let him do, would never get out. You remember the way he held your hand as he told you, falling for the guise of sincerity in his eyes. You remember his warm smile, and his razor sharp teeth.

You remember seeing that exact same smile on his face through one-way glass as he sat across from Sam and told him everything.

You stood in that room and thought back to those nights of luxury. To the feeling of his nails ghosting over the freshly healed punctures in your neck. To the way he held you against him. You remember laying there, lifeless, feeling like prey playing dead. Afraid to move, afraid to disturb him. But why? He hadn’t threatened you. He never told you that you had to stay. He never said that you couldn’t move, or pull away. So why did you feel that way?

As you stood, helplessly witnessing hours of his slander in that interrogation room, you understood. Your rose-tinted glasses had long since shattered, and you saw that smile for what it was. It was the smile of a man playing a dangerous game, brimming with satisfaction, thinking he’d won.

The radio near you begins to crackle, static obscuring the hosts voice as they announce the upcoming song. Sam doesn’t even open his eyes, just raises a hand and reaches out, blindly adjusting the antenna of the old device.

You’ve teased him for holding onto it for so long, as he is wont to do with damn near all of his possessions. But as you watch him deftly extend and angle the antenna with practiced care, the response he once gave you proves itself true once again.

“I don’t wanna replace it, Darlin’. It’s not broken. It just needs someone who knows how to make it sing again.”

The static clears, and music flows through the radio’s old speakers once more.

You watch Sam return his hand to its prior position beneath his head, acting as a makeshift pillow of his own. The way he’s lying has his hat pushed forward, and it’d be doing a damn good job of shielding his face from the sun if it weren’t somewhere around midnight at the moment. Still, it suits him somehow, despite its lack of any practicality. All he’s missing is a stalk of wheat between his teeth and a tree to lean against and he’d be the spitting image of the cowboy he swears he isn’t.

His other hand rests on the soft curve of his stomach, rising and falling again as he breathes. He’s the image of peace in moments like these, and you’re drawn to it like a moth to flame. Maybe one of these days you’ll find some of your own, but for now you’re more than content to bask in his.

As you admire him, he takes a slow, deep breath and you mirror it on instinct. The grounding practice helps you leave your mind and return to your body, if just for a moment. In doing so, you realize just how tense your ruminations have made you.

You relax your hands, releasing the blanket beneath you from your iron grip. You brush your palms over it, worried that you’ve torn the fabric once you realize that your nails had halfway shifted to claws. You don’t fret much over damage to your own possessions, but this blanket is Sam’s and you’d hate to ruin it. Though, you suppose he doesn’t prize it too much or he wouldn’t have laid it out here across the roof in the first place.

“If I buy somethin’ it’s because I wanna use it. Now quit frettin’ and get over here.” You recall what he told you earlier as he patted the blanket next to him in invitation, and you smile.

Doing a small stretch of your own, you release the tension in your shoulders, turning your attention back to the stars above you. For a while, you let the soft music wash over your tired mind.

“I asked him not to kill me politely. He drained my magic core, bottled up at the source. I washed up on the sea glass shores. I’m nobody's captive.”

In spite of your best efforts to relax, you’re still subconsciously futzing with the loose threads of the old blanket beneath you.

You’re made aware of it when Sam reaches a hand down, gently laying it over yours and effectively stilling your anxious motion.

“Burning like a dying star, invasive weeds rooted in my heart, set in a crooked trajectory. The journey here was hard, I was almost pulled apart. Trying to leave his orbit took what’s left of me.”

You flip your hand over beneath his so you can hold it properly, lacing your fingers together.

For reasons beyond your understanding, emotion tightens your throat, the threat of tears pooling in your eyes.

…You must be more tired than you thought.

As minutes pass and one song fades into another, your gaze dances across the blurry, scattered points of light in the dark sky.

“You were the star in the pitch black, shine the way on the way back. Out of nowhere, answered all my prayers.”

Sam’s always been so much better at identifying stars and finding constellations. But as the music plays, you begin to see one of your own.

“Picked up the towel that I threw in, took in a heart that was ruined. Showed me the past ain’t a tattoo, loved me even when you didn’t have to.”

“Sam.” You squeeze his hand to get his attention.

He squeezes back in acknowledgment. “Hm?”

“I want you to look at something.” You swallow back the emotion that tries to seep into your voice, but it catches his attention all the same.

He leans up and lifts his hat from his head, setting it aside near the radio. He then reaches to turn a dial back, lowering the music’s volume to give you his full attention.

You release his hand, raising yours up as he turns back to face you. You don’t say anything at first, nearly too lost in your own mind to realize you need to actually voice your developing thoughts.

"What—what're you pointin' at Darlin'?"

Your hazy focus is trained on the brightest star visible in your line of sight, arm stretched out to the sky above you. "That really bright one, to the... to the left."

Sam does his best to follow your less-than-specific directions of 'to the left', your pointed finger doing little to help given the difference in perspective. Luckily, after all these years, he knows this stretch of night sky like the back of his hand, so it isn't hard to locate the brightest one. Ghosting his fingers up along your exposed wrist where your sleeve had slipped back, he takes your hand in his again and brings it back down to earth. "Okay, yeah, I see it now. What about it though?"

"That's you." You say, matter-of-factly.

"That's me?" He questions, humor in his tone.

"Mhm." You nod with finality, blinking slow.

Sam considers the odd statement for a moment before gently correcting you. "I'm uh, I'm pretty sure that's Sirius, actually."

You scoff. "I am being serious."

Sam stifles a laugh. "No—no I mean—like... what's another name for it... Oh, it's also called the Dog Star."

"C'mon Sam, at least call it the Wolf Star if you're trying to turn this around on me..."

He shakes his head and readies himself to explain further, but you cut him off before he can start. "But no. No, this isn't about me. That's you."

He decides to play along, finding something endearing in your overtired nonsense. "Okay... then would'ja be so kind as to explain to this confused old man just how, or why that star is me?"

Your frown is audible in your voice as you latch onto the wrong part of his sentence. "You're not old, Sam. ...Do I need to tell Asher to kick the jokes down a notch?"

He smiles at your over-protectivity. "There'll be no need for that, now. Was just a joke, honey, I promise."

You huff, but begrudgingly shift focus back to the prior topic. "It's... I dunno. It's just you, Sam. It's... bright. Light. Something warm, out there in the cold dark. Standing out amongst all the rest. Calling to me, stealing my attention.”

Sam’s brow furrows as you continue to explain, realization setting in that you really are being serious.

“I... I didn't come out here looking for it, but there it is. ...And there you were. In the dark. The only bright thing I'd seen in... fuck, in years. Years of chasing fleeting warmth, tripping over myself in the pitch black, falling into... places and people that I shouldn't have. You were the light in that darkness. Even there, at Wonderworld, surrounded by the ghost of him. Your warmth, your presence, your aura—even with all of your walls up, you outshone it. Your warmth didn't hurt. I didn't have to squint when I looked at you. You weren't the blinding sun. You were the brightest star I'd ever seen. You guided me home."

In the back of your mind, you recall something you once heard, something about light, and time, and distance. Space. Something about... how you can still see a star that's already burnt out, because its light hasn't reached earth yet. The ghost of a star that's already died. Only still perceptible thanks to time, and distance.

You remember Sam's words, once whispered to you on this very roof.

"Whatever your choice is... I'm not gonna live forever. I made that decision a long time ago."

You think about dead stars.

You think about time.

"...-lin'? Darlin'?" Sam's calloused hand squeezes yours tight, his urgent tone pulling you out of your thoughts. "There you are. Think I lost ya' for a minute there... you good?"

You look up at Sam, concern creasing his features, faint shadows cast across his face from the light of the dying stars above him.

You reach out, pulling him down into you. He falters for a moment at the sudden proximity, but quickly embraces you in turn. Burying your face into his collar, Sam's concern grows when he feels it saturate with tears. A human might struggle to hear your words, muffled against the thick flannel, but his hearing catches them just fine.

"Don't burn out too quickly. Please. I still need you here. I don't—I don't wanna be left in the dark again. Please, please Sam. Don't leave me here. I'm not selfish enough to ask you for forever, but please. Not yet. Not yet. Not yet."

The words feel like a weight being lifted from your shoulders, but with it comes a flood of emotion they’d been holding back. You cry harder into him, and as much as it pains Sam to witness, he lets you feel it, for as long as you need.

Your fear of losing him manifests itself physically, nails curling and sharpening again. When he feels them prick his skin through the fabric of his shirt, he calls your name but doesn’t pull away. Instead, he leans further down into you, letting his weight ground you. “Darlin’, I am right here. I’m not goin’ anywhere.”

As you eventually cry yourself out, enough wherewithal returns to you to realize that you should probably release the poor man from your grasp, and the awkward position you pulled him into. When he pulls away enough to see your face, you notice a string of snot running from your nose to his shirt collar. Quickly batting it away out of embarrassment, you cringe, voice thick as you apologize. “Eugh, gross. Uh… sorry. About that.”

He shakes his head, laughing good-naturedly as you wipe at your nose with your jacket sleeve. “It’s completely fine, honey. After all, I’ve been covered in plenty of your, uh… various fluids before. When you come from my line of work, this is child’s play.”

He leans to his right, reaching back and pulling—of all things—a handkerchief from his jeans’ left back pocket. You laugh at his words, and at the sight, but with how congested you are it turns into more of a hacking cough than anything. Accepting his offering, you blow your nose into the black patterned fabric.

As soon as you can speak somewhat clearly, you can’t stop the teasing remark that slips out of you, gesturing with the wad of fabric in your hand. “You know, you really aren’t beating the cowboy allegations with stuff like this.”

He rolls his eyes but his soft smile remains. “It’s a practical thing to have on me, ‘allegations’ be damned.”

You shake your head with a smile of your own, but don’t disagree. As you’re visibly unsure what to do with the dirtied fabric, he takes it from you, setting it aside. “I’ll toss it in the wash when we go back inside. Along with my shirt, and…” He eyes you for a moment. “…that jacket of yours too, given how long you’ve probably been wearin’ it.”

Normally you’d argue that it hasn’t been that long, but come to think of it, you actually can’t recall when you last washed the thing.

Reaching up and rubbing your temples, you already regret your crying fit as a headache begins to set in. “Fuck, Sam... I’m sorry for… whatever that just was. I don’t know what came over me.”

His expression falls into something serious again. “You never need to apologize for feeling. And it certainly seems like… you needed to feel that.”

You nod quietly, but don’t elaborate, prompting him to question you gently. “Darlin’. What was that about? The—the askin’ me not to leave. Are you… afraid that I’m gonna leave you?”

You close your eyes, weighing out your response. “…Not in the sense that you’ll break up with me or something, no.”

His gaze narrows and his head tilts as he rolls your answer over in his mind. “If it ain’t that, then—” He remembers how you mentioned ‘forever’ and cuts himself off as the puzzle pieces start coming together. “Oh. …Oh, Darlin’, no.”

You open your eyes to watch as he shifts from leaning next to you, moving to sit up beside you. “Is this about what I told you, when we sat up here and had our uh… turning discussion?”

You hate to admit it, but you nod in confirmation. “…It’s your choice, Sam, and I never want to take that away from you. I shouldn’t have said what I just did, I—I don’t want to make you feel guilty, or like you have to stick around for my sake. But I’d be lying to you if I said it hasn’t been playing on my mind. The thought of you… leaving. Like that.”

He reaches up, running a hand through his hair. “I… think I maybe should’ve been a bit more clear, when I said that. Because I wasn’t talking about any time soon. I didn’t want to give you the false impression that I plan on sticking around for centuries, but… I also wasn’t trying to imply that I’ve got plans to do it next week either.”

You bolt upright, voice cracking. “Next week?! I sure as shit hope not!” You grab your head, pain flaring and suddenly dizzy from the quick shift in position.

He places a hand on your shoulder to steady you. “I’m not, honey, I’m not. Did you catch the rest of my sentence? I’ve got no plans to leave this world any time soon. I promise.”

You groan, head pounding. “I heard you, I did, I just—fuck, I don’t even wanna think about you leaving so soon. Here I am, stressing, thinking I’ve only got—I don’t know—some odd years left with you, and…” You sigh, trailing off.

Sam stays quiet for a minute, letting the crickets sing.

Eventually, he interrupts their chorus. “…Can I get closer to you?”

You nod. “…Please.”

He closes the gap between you, carefully wrapping a strong arm around your curled shoulders. “You’ve got way more than a couple years. I promise you that.” Your tension begins to ease a bit as he clarifies. “You�� you’ve helped me find a life that I actually feel like livin’ again, for the first time in a long time. And I want to experience it with you for as long as I can.”

“…Really?” Your voice sounds so small, so unsure, so… unlike you when you question him that he wants to kick himself in his own ass for the role he unintentionally played in making you feel this way.

“Yes. Really. I mean—” His voice takes on an edge of humor. “If you decide to set your sights on the year 3,000…” He shakes his head. “I don’t know about that. But as far as the 21st century is concerned? …I think I’d like to see it through. For as long as you’re there to see it with me.”

His words cause fresh tears to well up in your eyes, and you sniff in an attempt to hold them back. The sound catches his attention, and he leans forward, thumbing across your warm cheek. “…I’m makin’ you cry again…”

You shake your head, clearing your throat. “No—No, it’s okay. It’s good. They’re… they’re good. It’s… relief.”

He breathes out a relieved sigh of his own. “Yeah?”

You nod, leaning into him. “Yeah.”

As you rest against each other, breathing in the cool night air, you nudge him with your shoulder. “Can we… lay back? For a bit?”

He squeezes your arm in gentle confirmation. “Of course.”

He twists and reaches back to straighten the wrinkled blanket beneath you, before laying out across it himself. The radio crackles as he turns the volume back up a bit. Watching him with tired eyes, you smile at the sight of him patting his chest in habitual invitation.

“Sit in and watch the sunlight fade. Honey, enjoy, it’s gettin’ late. There’s no plan. There’s no hand on the reign. As Mack explained, there will be darkness again.”

Curling up against his side and laying your head on his chest, you release a heavy sigh when his hand comes up to rest on your shoulder. As his fingers press rhythmically into the tense muscle beneath them, you breathe in his scent. Black coffee and wildflower honey… he smells like home.

“Your secret is safe with me, and if secrets were like seeds, when I’m lyin’ under marble, marvel at flowers you’ll have made.”

You reach your hand out across his broad chest, slipping beneath his open flannel and sliding down to rest on his waist. He sighs, relaxing further beneath your touch.

“My heart is thrilled by the still of your hand. That’s how I know now that you understand.”

Yeah, you’ll take this over ‘luxury’ any damn day.

“There’s no plan. There’s no race to be run.”

Laying there with him, listening to the low hum of the radio, the moment grows so comfortable that you almost hesitate to break it.

“The harder the pain, honey, the sweeter the song.”

“…Sam?” You whisper into the night.

His hand sweeps across your back before returning to your shoulder. “I’m here, Darlin’.”

“There’s no plan. There’s no kingdom to come.”

You smile. “I… I’d like to be there, to be here, to see it through with you, too.”

It takes him a moment to recall exactly what you’re referring to, but when it hits him he hums a low understanding tone, clearly pleased. “Then let’s see where it takes us, yeah?”

“But I’ll be your man if you got love to get done.”

He presses a soft kiss to your temple. “We’ve got plenty a’ time.”

A/N: Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed. You can find my extensive notes and commentary on this fic right here on Ao3. My Sam & Darlin' Playlist My Sam Playlist My Darlin' Playlist My Sam & Darlin' Moodboard My Sam Moodboard My Darlin' Moodboard Header Image Credit: Gage Smith on Unsplash

[essektheylyss]

Once again raging about shitty research standards and the methodology and ethical decision-making of like, a significant majority of my peers. This is why I can never change my blog title, it's too accurate to my soul.

[turtlespancake]

me when i write a character who is prone to dooming themself and then they run off and doom themself. core traits are stubbornness and a willingness to disregard their own humanity gET BACK HERE IM NOT DONE WITH YOU

[snekdood]

the flavor of terfs dogpiling me rn is so weird like they’re so afraid of human bodies and the ways they function?? i bet they scream and cry when they poop, like,,

[souliebird]

Okay, I'm going to hop in on this because I work in compliance for a drinkware company.

To be sold in retail in the United States*, drinkware must adhere to FDA standards to have non detectable limits of Lead and Cadmium. This means, any part of the piece that a person can reasonably be in contact with must not have detectable limits of Lead or Cadmium.

Lead can be used in the manufacturing process to seal the vacuum between the two layers of stainless steel. All tumblers/bottles that can keep your drinks cold or hot are double wall vacuum sealed. Stanley, Hydroflask, Yeti, Bubba, all of them.

The vacuum seal is then covered. You cannot get to it unless you are actually trying to and know where it is. The seal is Not Inside the bottle/mug, so in the event that somehow the seal is scratched, there's no way it can even get to your drink. The most that will happen is the seal will break and your tumbler won't be as effective in keeping your drink cold/hot.

Unless you are licking every single part of your bottle after practically destroying it, there is no risk of lead contamination.

Your fancy drinkware, while over priced, is perfectly safe. This is one of those articles meant to stir the pot.

If you are nervous, just check to see if the piece has FDA/Prop 65 testing. For our European friends, that's the equivalent of REACH. Another tip is to see if the brand has collabed with any big name brands like Disney, Starbucks, Nike, ect. Despite what you may think, big name brands are incredibly strict when it comes to compliance because one lawsuit could wreck them. Most of these companies demand stricter tests than the FDA.

I would advise against ordering things on those drop ship sites like Temu, only because I don't know much about them and their testing standards. But that $5 Stanley "dupe" at your local Walmart is perfectly safe and if it says 'double wall vacuum sealed' it is just as good as any other brand.

Funniest possible response when asked if ur product can cause lead poisoning.

[2nd-mushroom-circle]

i think one of the issues i’m having completing this assessment in a reasonable way and not taking on extra data analysis that we don’t have capacity for is that i just really want the Global Covenant of Mayors to like me.

[7kh]

༉ ease your mind.

cw — wlw. ambessa x f!reader. ambesscock. that’s it that’s the fic. fingering. slight orgasm denial if you squint. pussy slapping. overstimulation. creampie. ambessa loves her stupid little wife (not outwardly said but. yk). ambessa has a huge cock and it almost kills reader (not clickbait!!!)

you stood at the balcony of your palatial-like room, the cold air of the evening hitting your cheeks as your brows furrowed. ambessa sighed at the sight. you were her prized possession, she cleared the rust from you and made you lustrous; now, you were gradually dulling. she couldn’t let that happen. “your performance reflects your effort, little one. you’ve been dragging your feet all week.”

you internally winced at her words. there was no getting around ambessa, no slick tricks or batting eyelashes could conceal how you really felt. “you’re spending too much time in your head. no more of this self-deprecating prattle; you’re fine.” she said finally.

“right..” you exhaled under your breath.

she huffed. if there was one thing she loved about you, it was your compliance. not that it started that way; you had thorns in your words, much to her chagrin. “you disagree,” she noted.

you were a bit too quick to answer, “i do not,”

“no?” she raised an eyebrow at you. another weird shot in your stomach at the slightly teasing tone in her voice. “it’s… it’s silly.” you gulped. “silly.” that was the word you decided? it surprised her even though it shouldn’t. “humor me.”

your eyes briefly flicked to her face for a moment before you looked back down, sighing defeatedly. damn her. “i.. have been dissatisfied with my performance lately. and i fear you have to.” you muttered, you almost thought she didn’t hear you and would coax you to speak louder. but she understood you just clearly. she just didn’t understand why. “so?” you raised an eyebrow at her, looking up at her, continuing as she didn’t let you get the chance to speak yet. “i would have said something to you if i had any grievances. do you doubt my methods?”

mouth slightly gape, you closed it and swallowed again, looking down at the white cement beneath you, “n..no.” ambessa smirked. “no?” she repeated. “then do not waste your brain on such frivolous matters. or do you need a reminder on who exactly you belong to?”

“i-i..” somehow, you were just now made aware of her very close proximity to you. maybe a little too close if you weren’t busy rubbing your thighs together at the mere idea.

“i think you do.”

—

a violent, shuttering breath came from your chest as ambessa’s thick fingers worked amongst your slit, teasing up and down slowly before she rubbed firm yet calculated circles on your clit. gripping the red silk sheets for dear life, and she barely even started. “isn’t this better, hm? a great difference than whatever nonsense you had in that little head of yours.” you sobbed at her teasing, quickly throwing your head back when she added a thick finger inside you. you already felt so full, what more could she have?

you tried your absolute hardest to not squirm and writhe under her when she added another finger, the lewd squelching of your aroused pussy echoing the sumptuous walls. “absolute submission suits you far better, darling..” she drawled while slyly adding a third finger. you nodded dumbly, agreeing to whatever eloquent words she cooed to you. they made your pussy drool hot, creamy juices that made her stomach churn in satisfaction. you pleaded and gasped, her scarred forearm never faltering when your nails dug into it.

to her truimph of having you exactly where she wanted, she removed her fingers, licking them clean shamelessly. messily. like she was sampling piltover cuisine again. except this time it was from your pretty pussy, which automatically made it 10x better than the diplomatic, ‘progressive’ city.

you whine at the loss, bucking your hips up to desperately chase the feeling again until a harsh slap met your cunt, making you squeak and close your thighs together instinctively. “don’t be greedy,” she growled, her blunt hands grabbing the supple skin of your thighs and spreading them wide open for her. you’d be embarrassed if you weren’t so incredibly aroused right now. “good girls don’t get rewarded if they’re inattentive. behave.” she leaned down to say firmly in your ear. you had no other choice but to nod your head, sniffling in compliance.

“your words, girl.”

“y-yes, ambessa.”

“good,” she smirked, leaning up again, lazily undoing her pants with an unreadable expression on her face. she knew you loved this sight of her, standing tall at the edge of the bed as you anticipated for what’s going to come next. it gave you a grueling feeling in your stomach, yet you chased it. chased her. with a scarred hand, she guided her cock out of the tight and inconvenient confines of her pants, mostly, if not already rock hard. dribbles of precum ran from her slit, making your mouth water at the sight, desperately wanting a taste. but not right now. was she twitching from the cool air of the room, or is she just simply built up and found the chance to finally fuck you? it was probably both.

she didn’t even let you breathe before you felt your knees rub against your chest and pulling you further to the edge of the bed, her slick tip sliding up against your slit, making you shudder. “let me show you how i value your excellence above anything else.” she finally sunk her cock into you, inch by inch, making you cry out. she wasn’t even fully in you yet. “breathe,” she cooed, guiding you through it was the least she could do. she held your legs steady as she sunk even further into you, biting your lip to alleviate the slight uncomfortableness. all of this, for you? the least you could do is just sit there and take it.

but, as soon as the pain faded away, you almost instantly became drunk on her cock, every snap of her hips knocked the wind out of you. your pussy salivated on her, smearing on her stomach and thighs and even on the bed, but she didn’t care. in fact, she encouraged it so much she forced you to look down at the sheer mess you were making. you were embarrassed, but the way you felt her cock twitch and hearing her groan when she saw the way she glided in and out of you made it worth it.

she made you pliable. a moldable, sticky mess, like you were designed by the gods to piece together perfectly like a complicated and difficult puzzle. “please, please please..” you whined, feeling her splitting you open. you were so full of her it was like you could fucking feel her in your throat, her cock kissing and bruising you in places you were unaware of until this evening. she was too big, you finalized— yet you could take it, she knew you could. each pant, moan and whine made that very clear to her.

“just fabulous..” she praised under her breath, appreciating how it earned a squeeze and twitches from your dewy, spongy walls. she knew you were getting close, dangerously so. she never relented her pace, having you babble and slur out nonsense, praise for her fucking you so good, thanking her for fixing your silly self-deprecating problems. she simply smirked and exchanged back filth to your slushed mind, but her smirk would slightly falter as she felt herself growing closer to release as well.

“‘bessa, gonna cum, i’m gonna cum, fuck—!!” you were only met with a nod, a final command as you followed it, like always. sobbing helplessly, a final, brutal slam made you gush everywhere, sinking herself down as you came unbelievably hard, your moans borderline whorish when you felt her cum deep inside you, a few shallow thrusts to ensure no drop escaped.

she barely even broke a sweat, yet you were under her fucked out of your mind, thighs twitching in mock-withdrawal in her hands, face ridden with tears and sweat. you were looked a mess, but you never looked more gorgeous in ambessa’s eyes.

her eyes widened softly as your arms wrapped around her neck and pulled her closer to you, but she made no attempt to pull away. she chuckled at your deprivation, rewarding you with a kiss on the side of your lips. “it seems like i hadn’t fail you this time.” you nodded and let out a meek “no” in response. you were too weak to speak at the moment.

you just wanted to selfishly bask in her embrace just a wee longer, wanting your skin to be hers for just a moment.

© 7KH 2024, all rights reserved — do not claim, modify, copy or translate my content.

[bitchface24-7]

MALICIOUS COMPLIANCE - JAYVIK X READER

synopsis: Being a young woman in a STEM field is hard enough as it is, your insecure boyfriend makes it even more difficult. He can’t stand the fact you’re in a lab almost 24/7 with two incredibly handsome men. After a nasty breakup— you’re gonna make all his insecurities come true.

genre: m/m/f (no homo does NOT apply here)

warnings: bitch ass boyfriend oc, name-calling (by said oc), revenge plot, dom!viktor, servicetop!jayce, getting freaky in the lab, threesome, kissing, handjob, voyeurism, praise kink, slight cuckolding, edging, dom/sub dynamics, vaginal fingering, oral sex (m + f receiving), lap sex, big dick viktor, pet names, begging, vaginal sex, teasing, rough sex, dirty talk, creampie

wc: too long (I'm so sorry)

p.s. Some parts of the smut scene are inspired by "At the Emperors Word" by @le-fruit-de-la-passion (their work is amazing, you should definitely check it out!)

EDIT: as per a kind request from @le-fruit-de-la-passion, a few sections have been edited. They were uncomfortable with how similar some sections were and I totally get it. Everything still makes sense and everything is still filthy smut; some parts are just re-worked. Love ya!

You’d think working on Hextech would be the most stressful part of your life. Getting monetary support from the council and the rich assholes of Piltover during galas being the most headache-inducing bit you have to trudge through.

Surprisingly it’s not.

It’s your boyfriend of almost two years that’s causing premature grey hairs.

In the beginning, everything was fine. It was good, to be honest! He was caring, sweet, and understanding of how much time and effort goes into Hextech, and how important this project is to you. Everything started to slowly change after you introduced him to your two work partners.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

One year ago

You’re so excited you can’t help but almost skip to the lab, your hands interlaced with your boyfriends. He’s smiling lightly at your attitude. You’ve always been a beacon of light to him, seeing you so excited to finally be able to combine your two worlds makes his excitement rise a bit to try and match your own. But it’s like comparing a minor star to the sun; almost incomparable.

Everyone’s schedules finally lined up so you can finally introduce your boyfriend to your two closest friends and colleagues; Jayce and Viktor. You had started as an assistant, but after you stayed behind one day; even helping Viktor and Jayce solve an equation that had them stumped for almost a week. They officially gave you a promotion after that.

The lab doors swing open and the sounds of tinkering fill the air. Everything slowly stops as your bright demeanour enters the room with a guy the two men have never seen before. This must be your boyfriend.

Jayce gets a rag to clean his hands with; it’d be rude to shake your boyfriend Cole’s hand with axel grease staining his fingers. Jayce’s glow matches yours, “Hey man! I’m Jayce and this is Viktor. Welcome to the lab!” As he gives Cole a firm handshake. During the introduction, Viktor had stopped his note-taking and slowly got up from his desk to join in the greetings.

“It’s taken long enough, no? We’ve heard so much about you; you’d think we were the ones dating you.”

You can’t help but snort out a laugh at that, “Viktor! Stop airing out my dirty laundry!”

The pretty scientist smirks, “There’s more where that came from.”

Jayce chuckles at your antics, looking at the both of you fondly. Cole’s smile slowly faded as his hand subconsciously tightened against Jayce’s, but Jayce barely felt it. Working in the forge for years has given him a steel grip, he barely feels Cole’s strength to begin with.

Right here in this joyful moment is where everything went wrong…

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Present day

Your irritation keeps spiking at Cole’s very pointed and passive-aggressive remarks as you try to get ready in the full length mirror connected to your closet.

“What? You get no days off?”

You subtly roll your eyes at the indignation in Cole’s voice. You’re a scientist, you’re currently working on technology that will change the world, and he’s moping that you have to go to work. Besides, you’re the one who plans everything to begin with. All the dates, the excursions, hell! You’re the main caretaker of your apartment. If Cole wants you to take a day off; he can show some initiative.

It’s the same thing day in and day out, and you’re getting sick of it. You just tune him out now as you put on your black slacks, black button down, academy vest, and black loafers.

You side eye him from the mirror, “If you want me to take a day off, give me a good reason to.”

Cole’s face gets nasty at that, “What? Give you a good reason not to slut around with your two work partners.” He says with two sarcastic air quotes around “work partners.”

“Excuse me. What the fuck did you just say to me?” Your eyes are widened and your jaw is clenched. Slut around?! Who the fuck does this man think he is?

He scoffs, “You heard me! You’re always with them! You’re with them more than you’re with me! You’ve gotta be fucking them; there’s no way you’re not! You’re not that smart, or that important to them! You were their assistant originally! Getting them coffee and shit, you must’ve sucked their dick to get where you are now!”

You swivel around so fast you’re worried you’re experiencing vertigo, “First of all, just because I have friends who are the opposite gender doesn’t mean I’m automatically fucking them. Secondly, I am an integral part of the team! I’ve solved equations, and runes, and built prototypes your puny little brain can’t even imagine! Don’t push your insecurities onto me just because you feel like a failure not only as a person, but as a man. Now get the fuck out of my apartment!”

He huffs from the bed and leaves in a hurry, not even attempting to destroy anything since Jayce is now a well known council member. You have the higher ground. Before he leaves fully you add salt to the injury, “And if I was fucking them I’d be a lot happier than I am now!”

The door to your apartment slams, and you feel nothing but bitter rage.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Jayce and Viktor are jolted from their work as the lab door slams open and you storm in like a furious tornado. You’re grumbling, your face is the angriest they’ve ever seen and your hair is a bit messy; as if you’ve constantly ran your hands through it. Definitely not the usual prim and proper look you go for.

Viktor looks concerned as Jayce bites the bullet and asks the most obvious question, “Are you okay?”

You whip around to look at them, your eyes piercing, “Do I look okay?!” Jayce raises his hands in surrender as Viktor cocks an eyebrow at your poisonous tone. You deflate, plopping down on your desk chair. Your elbows on the table as you run your hands over your face and through the top of your head, over your hair.

“I’m sorry Jayce… that was rude. I misdirected my anger onto you.”

Jayce comes over and puts a reassuring hand on your shoulder, his hand encompasses the whole thing, “I get it. It’s fine, but really… you okay?”

Your eyes water a bit as your voice wobbles out a small no.

Jayce’s breath hitches and Viktor lightly pushes his wheelie chair with his stronger leg to glide across the small space between your two desks; so he’s sitting in front of you now.

“What happened?” Viktor asks, his tone was both worried and firm. They’ve known you for years and they’ve never seen you this distraught before. It's upsetting to both of them.

Before you can answer, Viktor answers his own question with a snort, “It was Cole, wasn't it?” You huff lightly, Jayce’s hand tightens on your shoulder, “Was it that obvious?”

Jayce lightly grimaces, “He’s the only one who can rile you up like this.”

“You two rile me up just fine.”

“Not like him. He always… makes you upset.” Viktor chimes in, his tone final. His eyes are narrowed at the redness in your own eyes and downturned lips. You should always be smiling, and happy. Not distraught.

You deeply sigh, putting a hand up to cover Jayce's hand on your shoulder. He's warm; almost unnaturally so, he'd be a lovely cuddle partner in winter time, "Cole said some, unsavory comments... comment's revolving around the three of us."

Jayce's brows furrow as his lips thin in contemplation, Viktor rubs the tip of his nose and huffs a deep breath, "Let me guess, it was revolving around how close we all are and he made some derogatory comments about your station."

You snapped your fingers and casually pointed at him, "Got it in one, V."

"Are you kidding me?! What an asshole! You know I never liked him right?"

"Yes Jayce, I know you never liked him. You weren't subtle."

"He's a hard man to like," Viktor's accent rolls the r beautifully, "I don't understand why you dealt with him for so long. He was far beneath you in both station and intelligence. It's quite obvious we're just friends. You'd look much happier leaving the lab if we weren't."

"Viktor!" Jayce gasps, his eyes wide as he nervously bites his lower lip, "You can't just say stuff like that!"

Your laughter cuts through Jayce's worry, "No no Jayce, Viktor is one hundred percent right. I would've been happy and immensely satisfied leaving the lab, rather than me thinking I'd have an aneurism due to a pain in the ass calculation."

Viktor chuckles as Jayce chokes on some spit. Shit. No wonder he thought y'all were fucking. You guys are completely blurring the line between professional partnership and a proper partnership.

There's a comfortable silence between you three before Jayce blurts out, "We should get payback!" a hand quickly slaps over his mouth as you and Viktor look at him in curiosity. Both of your beautiful, sparkling eyes on him make his face flush a bit.

"What's your big idea Jayce?" Viktor purrs out as he places his chin on both his hands, elbows planted firmly on your desk. You almost feel bad for Jayce, that's a killer look.

Jayce looks away for a second before steeling himself, looking at you two directly, "The Progress Day Gala tonight. We can dress up, drink some alcohol, dance, really get under his skin."

Viktor hums, "This may be the one time I'm willing to go to one of these parties. This sounds interesting."

"He would be invited too. He's also important to the Academy, he's in the Humanitarians rather than STEM though. I think... I think this may work." You thoughtfully chime in, your tone becoming much lighter compared to before.

Jayce smiles, the little gap between his front teeth showing. Viktor just subtly smirks, "I hope you have something fancy enough for this."

"Don't worry," You state as you stand up, ready to work now. Jayce's hand falls from your shoulder, and lightly brushes down your back; you suppress a shiver, "I do. I hope you have something fancy enough, Viktor."

The handsome man just lightly smiles as he pushes himself back to his desk. Jayce follows you to the blackboard.

Revenge is a dish best served cold. Your revenge is gonna be pipping hot and steamy.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

You've had this dress hidden away in the back of your closet for a while now. Hidden away in a sleek duster bag is a beautiful black dress. With chains on the hips, waist, chest, and shoulders. It even comes with a matching necklace. The fabric is gorgeous, sleek, and comfortable. It's formfitting and when you bought it; you felt unstoppable.

You need that feeling again tonight.

You style your hair, it's glossy, framing your face wonderfully. A smoky eye with a darker lip than you're used to is applied to your face. You then spray your favourite fragrance all over yourself. A quick look in the mirror stuns you. You're gorgeous. You'll for sure have every eye at the gala on you, you don't know exactly how you feel about that. You'll deal with it when you get there.

You wonder how Jayce and Viktor will react to you. You have always cared about your appearance, but not to this extent. You always make sure you look nice, smell nice, and wear nice clothes that you feel comfortable in. But you almost look unrecognizable. You're not just “nice” right now, you're stunning. You want their attention tonight. You want them.

You've always wanted them. But when you first started working for them, you were their assistant. There was an undeniable power imbalance there and you didn't want to deal with that. You didn't want people to make assumptions like what Cole said in his vitriol to you.

Your thoughts are stalled at the knock on your apartment door. Jayce and Viktor are here; no time like the present! You no longer have a choice.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Jayce fiddles with his ascot for the third time in a row, Viktor just sighs and fixes it for him. Adjusting as necessary and smoothing it out against a broad chest. Jayce’s puppy dog eyes lock onto Viktor's fox-like ones.

“Why’re you so nervous Jayce?” Viktor can’t help but question as he casually leans on his cane, “You’re the one who suggested this.”

Jayce lightly inhales, “I know. I know. It’s just… this is different. Usually, I go to these things alone. Due to our whole deal y’know? This is the first time that both my partners are coming with me. I won't be stuck in god-awful conversations that make me want to cry.”

“Ahhhh,” Viktor contemplates, “You’re making the best out of a bad situation for your benefit. You may be a good politician actually.”

Jayce lightly shoves Viktor, and Viktor’s very tempted to toss his cane and throw himself into the ground to make Jayce look bad. Before anything can happen, the apartment door opens. And there you are.

You are truly breathtaking, radiating beauty in every way possible.

Viktor’s eyes widen and Jayce’s jaw damn near drops to the ground. You've always been pretty. But this… this is almost otherworldly. Viktor subtly coughs and nudges Jayce; so that he can pick his jaw off the floor. Viktor smiles sweetly at you and offers an arm. What a gentleman he is.

“You look… you look wonderful.” Viktor compliments, his cheeks have a slight dusting of pink. You can't help but smile, “As do you.”

The two men have cleaned up beautifully. Fitted black slacks, crisp white shirts, and sinfully tight vests. Both outfits are similar enough to be considered matching but different enough to emphasize their wearer's gorgeousness.

Ironically enough, you are all colour-coordinated.

As if sensing the pouting behind you, you casually add, “You too Jayce. You both clean up beautifully.” The footsteps behind you somehow become chipper, you can almost imagine the imaginary wagging tail Jayce would have. Viktor chuckles as Jayce quickens his steps and takes your other side.

This is gonna be one hell of a gala.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

You were right, every eye was on you for almost the entirety of the gala. At some points, you couldn't stand it, but having Jayce and Viktor there helped.

You made small talk with some guests, but you mostly stuck by either Jayce's or Viktor's side. You enjoyed a few dances with Jayce, an interesting conversation with Mel, and shit talked with Viktor regarding the other patrons.

“What was he thinking? That colour is horrendous.” Viktor grimaces as you giggle, taking a small sip of champagne.

“I don't know, but its eye-catching.”

Viktor slams back the whole flute of champagne elegantly, “An eye-sore is more like it.” he grumbles. His accent thickening due to the minor bit of alcohol in his system.

You can't help but burst out laughing at that. Some patrons turn to look at the disturbance; they all turn back to their previous conversations once they see its nothing of importance. Viktor’s eyes narrow in pleasure at your laugh. This is how you should look; not like earlier in the lab. In his admiration of you, he notices your lipstick has smudged a bit; probably due to your drinking.

Without thinking, Viktor cups your chin and lightly swipes his thumb along your bottom lip, a light smear of burgundy now rests upon his pale skin. You can feel your face heating up.

The moment is ruined by Cole. Of course it is.

He's wasted, barely able to keep himself upright as he glares at the two of you in disgust.

“So… you've already moved on, huh? I shouldn't be surprised. You were already fucking them. I'm more surprised by your choice, I expected you to go for the golden boy; not the cripple.” His voice is slurred as he wobbles in place.

Viktor sneers and you think your champagne glass is going to shatter due to how tight your grip is on it, “Say another word about Viktor, and I'll rip your tongue out.” you seethe, Cole looks a bit scared, but you continue, “Besides Cole, I'm not fucking them… yet. Maybe they'll give me a proper orgasm for once. Why don't you leave? Your presence is a nuisance.”

Cole looks flabbergasted and leaves in a daze, Viktor can't help but chuckle; his voice deep as it rumbles throughout his chest, “My lovely hero.” You feel your face heat up. Oh no, the champagne truly gave you liquid courage.

“Jayce and I would be lucky to get in between those luscious legs of yours.” he states quietly, his eyes dark. You feel like a rabbit thats gotten corned by a fox. Prey vs predator.

You purse your lips and Viktor’s eyes immediately shoot down to appreciate their suppleness, “and I'd be lucky to have the two of you.”

Your moment is again interrupted, but this time it's a welcome one, “For what?” Jayce questions. His smile is bright as he joins the two of you in sitting at your table.

Viktor smirks, his tongue poking his cheek as he drinks his champagne. He's leaving it up to you to explain yourself.

You straighten up in your seat, taking a sip of champagne before answering calmly, your nail tapping against the flute, “I’d be lucky having the two of you between my thighs when the gala is over.”

Jayce chokes on his spit and harshly thumps himself in the chest, eyes wide as he stares at the two of you, “What the hell were you two talking about over here? I was stuck with the snobby old people and you two were… what? Dirty talking to one another?”

You and Viktor share a glance before nodding,

“Yeah.”

“Yeah.”

“That’s the gist of it.”

The two of you say simultaneously, your voices layering over one another like a melody. Jayce’s brows furrowed as he put his hand up to his forehead. You can’t help but giggle at Jayce’s exasperation. Jayce shoots you a look and you quiet down, taking another large sip of champagne.

Viktor just casually sits there as he stares at the two of you, his head cocked to one side. He looks hungry. Starving. As if you two are the main dish and he’s been waiting for you to be served on a silver platter.

“Jayce,” Viktor starts, his tone smooth and low, “her wretched boyfriend never gave her an orgasm for the two years they were dating. Shouldn’t we fix that? Poor thing must be desperate.”

Jayce quirks an eyebrow, a flabbergasted look on his face, “Seriously? You dealt with that prick for almost two years and the sex wasn’t even good? You must be a saint.”

“More like I was desperate. I couldn’t have what I wanted so I got the next best thing. Even if the next best thing was crap.”

“And…” Viktor hums, his voice enticingly smooth, “what do you want?”

There’s a brief moment of silence before all the tension that’s been building up over the years snaps.

“You two. I’ve always wanted you two.”

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

The walk back to the lab is a tense one. Full of unresolved sexual tension that has built up over the years; tension you didn’t even know existed until now.

You kept your dirty thoughts to yourself. You made sure every touch, every look, even every word that escaped your lips was completely platonic. Safe. But something so ingrained into your very being cannot be contained forever.

Looks did become cheeky, touches lasted a bit longer than necessary, and you all constantly joked with one another in rather inappropriate ways for the work setting.

You didn’t expect it to be reciprocated.

It’s well known Jayce is quite close to councilor Mel Medarda; a gorgeous women who truly has no competition. And although Viktor isn’t as interested in physical relationships as most people; he too has quite the arsenal to pick from.

But they want you. You and your dark circles, you and your messy hair after a days work in the lab, you and your ink stained clothes.

It all boils over once the lab doors are finally shut and locked behind you three.

"What?" You tease as you lean against your work station. Your gown emphasizing every curve salaciously, "Am I not good enough for a proper bed?"

Viktor growls low in his chest, his eyes piercing and tone commanding, "I didn't have the patience to walk that far. Be grateful I didn't take you in front of all the councilors and their highly-esteemed guests."

You whine at that, which turns into a moan as Jayce comes over and kisses you from your cheek down to your neck, leaving a dark hickey behind.

"Look at how needy Jayce is. Oh, poor thing. He's been desperate for it for so long now." Viktor chides as he sits down onto the plush sofa you bought for the lab.

Jayce whines, a high-pitched needy thing. You feel your panties get more wet at the sound. God, you never thought you'd see Jayce Talis so wrecked from just a few words.

You need to see more.

"Viktor," You start knowing that you truly aren't the one in control here, "may I touch Jayce?"

Viktor groans as he tilts his head back. Holy shit. This is better than his dirtiest fantasies; and you're just starting.

"Yes. Touch him. Touch him in the ways you've fantasized about when you were alone in bed, with your hands down your panties."

You smile and wink at the gorgeous man before doing just that. You damn near rip Jayce's vest and top off as you kiss him passionately. His lips are so soft, so plump. You can feel yourself becoming obsessed.

As you kiss, your hands trail down his glorious physic and you wrap a hand around his belt buckle; desperate to get it off. You shove his pants just low enough to get a hand wrapped around his hard cock. It's long, with a nice girth. It points up slightly. The poor thing is dripping precum and the tip is a dark maroon. You start pumping, testing grip strength and speed to see what gets Jayce going. After a few minutes; you get it. A nice firm grip with a average pace is what Jayce enjoys most, especially when you wring your hand around the tip.

Jayce's moans are obscene, They're loud, whiny, and desperate. God he's so hot. Eventually his moans change into whimpers as he lightly jerks his hips in time with your hand. He's close to cumming; you can feel it.

That is until Viktor tells you to stop.

Jayce whines, his eyes filled with tears, "Why-- why did you..."

"You are not the only one who should have fun, Jayce. Don't be greedy." Viktor states, an eyebrow quirked. Jayce pouts but nods regardless of his feelings. Viktor's right.

"Besides, you and I have had many late night talks in the lab where our dear partner had gone home for the night. We've talked about our desires, our dirty fantasies. Wasn't one of them regarding myself and our pretty girl? You being sidelined as you watched the two of us fuck? Not being able to cum until given permission? I remember Jayce. I remember them all."

Your mouth is agape as you look to the two men. What the fuck?

Jayce's face is completely flushed red, but there's a determination there too. He's not gonna take this laying down.

"Oh yeah?" He starts, his voice more confident now, "I remember you telling me you'd love for us to have her at the same time. You sitting on your desk as she sucked your cock down into her throat; and I was behind her, pounding hard and deep into her pussy. You can't embarrass me. I know your fantasies too."

You might as well not even be wearing any panties by this point due to how drenched they are. These men have no shame! And you thought they were gentlemanly; good thing you were wrong.

This is so much better.

Viktor huffs, a small amused smile on his face, "Touché. How do you feel about recreating your fantasy, Jayce? Are you okay with it pretty girl?"

Jayce and you both look to one another before nodding vigorously. Viktor smirks, "Jayce, go get your desk chair. You, come here." he orders. Jayce quickly and hastily tucks his hard cock back into his pants as he rushes to get his chair. You just casually walk up to Viktor. His face is close to your abdomen as he puts both hands on your hips.

His fingers caress the fabric of your dress, up to your breasts and down your sides, studying it. Like he's committing the feel to memory. They eventually return to your hips and tug on it questioningly. His golden eyes look up at you, the colour of molten gold etched in his pupils. You nod earnestly in approval, and you reach up and unclasp both straps, letting the dress fall until it reaches your knees, eventually it falls on to the floor. You're suddenly very thankful you wore such scandalous panties. They're black, sheer, and extremely cheeky. You didn't want any underwear lines, sue you.

Jayce groans and Viktor just smirks as he cups an ass cheek with a chilly hand. Rubbing it appreciatively. Before you know it, a harsh slap rings out through the lab and you gasp. Your ass stings; he just spanked you!

Jayce fidgets a few feet away and complains, "You two are the worst." He's constantly flexing his hands, looking at the two of you intensely, or not looking at you at all. Looking up at the ceiling to fight the urge to rub himself raw. He doesn't have permission; and Jayce Talis wants to be good.

You look over your shoulder coyly at him, "This is your fantasy Jayce. Don't get mad at us for what you want."

Viktor smirks and kisses your stomach, slowly trailing up to kiss and suck on your breasts. You moan out in pleasure, bringing your hands up to clutch his messy hair; and unintendedly shove his face more into your breasts. He happily hums at that.

One hand stays planted on your hip as the other trails down to cope a feel of how wet your panties are; and they're drenched.

Viktor looks so smug as he pulls away from your chest, his face pink as he smirks up at you, "You're soaked, darling. What? Did hearing about how much Jayce and I want yo make you this desperate?"

A whine escapes you, "Yes! Yes it did!"

At that, he quickly lowers his pants just far enough to reveal his boxers, a huge bulge hidden underneath the cotton fabric. Your eyes widen and you suppress a gasp. What the fuck? Where did that come from? It should be visible through his pants, at least a little bit, but it's not! Where the fuck was he hiding that monster?

Before you can fully appreciate your gift, Viktor grabs both sides of your panties and pushes them down your legs, until it pools at your feet. You exit the mess of cloth, now fully bare to the chilly air of the lab. Viktor quickly reaches down and grabs your panties, tossing them onto Jayce's lap.

"See how wet she is for us?"

Jayce groans, the ruined panties on his knee, the crotch face up for his viewing pleasure.

You giggle at Jayce and he shoots you a glare, it's not very imposing due to the red flush all over his face; it's even up to his ears.

In your distracted state, Viktor pulls his cock out. It's pale with a pretty pink tip, the shade matches the pink of his face. It's long, girthy, and has one impressive vein running up the side of it. You and Jayce both cat-call appreciatively and Viktor just glares at the two of you.

"It's always the tall skinny guys that have massive cocks, will that even fit?" You joke. Viktor runs his hands up and down your sides, "We'll make it fit. Turn around for me, my love?"

You cock your head to the side, confused as to why he'd want your back to him, but you comply. It all makes sense with his next order, "Jayce, come here. I need you to prepare her."

In a move that you swear breaks the sound barrier, Jayce is on his knees in front of you.

"Can I eat you out?" Jayce begs, his voice wobbly. He feels like he's going to pass out. Your pussy is right there. If you say no, Jayce may honestly just burst out into tears.

Your mouth opens and closes like a fish out of water, before you just quietly say yes.

Jayce is on you before you can even blink. He's kissing your thighs, rubbing your clit with the pads of two of his fingers, he's licking and kissing your vulva. Eventually he focuses his mouth on your clit and puts one, two-- three fingers into your pussy. You don't know if you're breathing. Holy shit, Jayce is so fucking good at this. When a whine reverberates across your pussy, you realize you said that out loud.

Your hands grip into Jayce's hair for dear life. Viktor kisses your neck and fondles your breast; heavily enjoying the show.

"Make her cum, Jayce. We don't have lube and we need all the natural lubrication we can get."

Jayce just hums, showing that h heard Viktor's order. Your g-spot is being abused and your clit is in what feels like a vacuum. You're going to cum in record time. With a ragged moan and a bowed back, you cum violently on Jayce's face.

You pant, trying to adjust yourself so that you're not accidentally hurting Viktor's weaker leg. Both Viktor and Jayce assist you. Viktor looks on with pride at Jayce and pulls him down into a filthy kiss. The two men tasting you on their tongues.

Eventually you catch your breath, and decide you want that monster of a cock Viktor's been hiding in your pussy. You both groan in unison as you gently drop down onto him. The variety of whines that escape from your squeezed lips is unavoidable. The stretch is almost too much. You haven't had the time or energy to have an active sex life. The most action you get is your bullet vibrator. So going from barely any internal action to a massive cock is a massive stretch. Literally. Even though the pain is making you grit your teeth, you continue, gripping your fingers onto Jayce's shoulders for support.

You wince and Jayce pulls away from Viktor, who gasps at the feeling of your hot, wet pussy encapsulating his cock; and kisses you instead. Trying to take your mind off of the slight pain.

Slowly but surely, you start to bounce. Keeping Viktor's weaker leg in mind, you fuck that stupidly gorgeous man as hard and as fast as you can. His wonderful cock hitting every sensitive spot you have.

Moans, pants, skin slapping skin, and kissing is all that's heard in the lab. Eventually the cries crescendo and Viktor pulls you roughly down into his lap. Cumming deep into you as your own orgasm milks him dry. Viktor gasps as he drops back to lean his back and head against the couch.

You stay seated, deciding to cock warm the poor man. You look over your shoulder coyly and say, "Jayce is going to fuck my throat if you're interested in watching." That gets Viktor's eyes to shoot open and lift his head a bit.

Jayce's eyes lose a few tears when your hand comes up to release his cock from his pants and pump it again. When your lips wrap around the head and teasingly lick the slit; it's game over for him. You slowly bob your head up and down, bringing Jayce's hands to your hair. Encouraging him to fuck your face.

He's excited, but still aware he can't go too rough. He doesn't want you to gag too harshly. Jayce is panting, swearing, whining and crying at the overwhelming pleasure he's receiving. A few minutes later, he's cumming down your throat with a shout. You also feel another small burst of cum in your pussy.

You slowly pull away from Jayce, not wanting to overstimulate him any more than he already is and ask, "Viktor... Did you just cum again from seeing Jayce and I?"

Jayce huffs out a laugh as an indignant look comes across his face, he crosses his arms across his chest and pouts. You damn near laugh at him. How can he looks so petulant as you're sitting on his cock, "Shut up. It was hot, okay? You just sigh in content, "Okay."

You eventually get off of Viktor and almost fall, Jayce catches you and makes you sit on the couch next to Viktor, while Jayce sits down next to you. All of you are panting, tired, and completely satiated.

You enjoy the quiet until Jayce mumbles, "We're gonna have to burn this couch."

You and Viktor look to one another before solemnly nodding.

Yeah... There's no way you can disinfect this couch enough for what you put it through. Especially since you're leaking cum onto it and all three of you are sweaty as fuck.

Rest in peace Lab Couch. You will be missed.

ITS DONE!!!! If there's any spelling/grammar issues; no there isn't. Grammarly failed me then. Hope y'all enjoyed this filthy Jayvik x reader smut!

[ithinkimnormal]

Sorry but It's actually so annoying how much people downplay the crucial role piltover's corrupt council games played in derailing jayce/viktor's work and pretty much putting shackles around their lives. The council is directly responsible for and directly FUNDING so much of the misery that happens in this show, before the story has even started. Before Powder ever finds the gemstone. They single-handedly doom half of the region to death.

Just during the show: Jayce wanted to create magic to aid and uplift the common people, the council wanted trade route instant teleportators to make themselves richer.

Jayce & Viktor wanted to work on technology to help miners and steelworkers and artisans who are trying to survive in the industrial hellscape of piltover and zaun; the council wants it shelved for another 20 years. (yes, heimer is part of the corrupt council - no matter how much his image is laundered by the fandom.)

They are inept and self-serving leaders, elected by themselves and their blood inheritances, utterly obsessed with ultimate profit. You can really see how parasitic their relationship is to the people at the beggining of act 1. Jayce is a token nameless life, so disposable to them that they were going to burn down all of his research and throw out all of his titles, making him not just a lower-house vassal but an EXILE, and the only reason why that doesn't happen is because they realize how much money they can suck out of his work.

This applies to Viktor too. See the way that Heimerdinger tells him over and over again that no other paths can be taken, he has 'fulfilled his purpose' and he should be content to die. See how Mel looks at Viktor like a bug she wants to squash under her palm when he rejects the idea of making weapons for council. See how they speak over him and only address Jayce, as if he's worth less than nothing.

You are only as valuable as the profit you're willing to create. You are a problem that has to be dealt with as soon as you refuse their orders. They have the power to ruin your life, and if they find an excuse, they will. This is a direct threat pointed at Jayce & Viktor during ACT2, when Jayce is pressured into becoming one of them to protect 'the bottom line profit' and, personally speaking, to avoid that ire being redirected towards Viktor. He's pushed into compliance and told a target has been painted on his back.

Arcane jayvik are doomed in big part not for wanting to do harm, but being forced to exist under the beck and call of billionaire leeches. They are both immigrants. They are both struggling to get a degree and keep themselves afloat and they want to help people so goddamn much but they have to keep postponing their dreams to serve uncaring masters. I really wish there was more fan content focused on these very real bonds of understanding and solidarity between them.

When Viktor says 'Jayce will understand' that's not a fluke; he's lived in this environment for years. He knows Jayce is being pushed down the same way that he is and that deep down they've been kept captive by the exact same people. When Jayce agrees that Viktor should do whatever he needs to do to keep himself alive, he means that from the heart.

[gloomwitchwrites]

First of all, I 100% know this is an overused trope... but still....

What If 141 2 people 1 bed trope

Who cares that it's an overused trope? It's a classic for a reason!

I will never tire of a one bed trope. It can be steamy and sexy. It can be angsty. It can be tense. It can literally be so many things at once. It's also a wonderful canvas to play around, and I had a lot of fun with this one. I know you've waited for this one for a while. I hope you enjoy it! :)

For the masterlist and how to submit your own request, click HERE

Task Force 141 x TF141 Female Reader

Content & Warnings: swearing, unprotected piv (wrap it up irl), creampie, multiple positions, rough kissing, vaginal fingering, oral sex (male & female receiving), admission of feelings, pretend sex, fake dating/married

Word Count: 6.3k

ao3 // taglist // main masterlist // imagines & what if masterlist

John Price

“Fuck,” mutters Price.

You glance over your shoulder. Captain Price stands near the hotel window, the gauzy blinds closed but the thicker ones bunched to the sides, allowing in natural light. He’s staring at something happening in the parking lot.

“What it is?” you ask, starting to walk over to him.

“They might have found us.”

Dread flares hot, clenching the muscles in your stomach until it hurts. “Are you sure?”

Price nods, and then backs away from the window. “There’s no way they saw our faces during the infiltration. We wore masks. Might have tracked the stolen car.”

“We need to leave,” you say, but Price shakes his head.

“There’s too many of them, and they’re likely watching all exits on the main floor.” He sighs. “We need to play this right.”

The two of you are freshly showered, and the clothes you wore for the infiltration have already been discarded. Burned—actually, somewhere in the deserts of Arizona. At the moment, the two of you look like civilians.

“They can’t search the building, John. Not without bloodshed.”

He runs a hand through his hair, his gaze darting across the room as his brain works something over. You fidget, picking at your nails. It’s a terrible habit. One you do when you’re nervous.

Price glances at you and your heart drops. “They look official, and that’s probably all that matters. The scrawny teenager at the front desk isn’t going to put up a fight if the credentials appear legitimate.”

“Fuck,” you whisper, striding toward the window to look for yourself.

Captain Price is right. They do look official. They also look fucking terrifying which would scare anyone into compliance if you don’t know what to look for.

“We’re on the bottom floor,” you say, stepping back.

“I know,” growls Price. He pivots, examining the entire room.

He goes for the car keys and shuts them inside the safe. The only other thing in the room is a duffle bag full of plain clothes and generic toiletries. Price pushes clothes aside and then draws out the pistol hiding beneath it all. He checks the clip and then preps the barrel.

“Take off your clothes.”

“What?” you ask, startled.

Price walks over to the singular bed in the room, tucking the gun beneath the pillows. “Do you trust me?”

“Absolutely,” you affirm.

“Then take off your clothes,” repeats Price, reaching behind his head with one hand to grab the collar of his shirt. He pulls it over and off, tossing it aside.

“Spread it around. Make a mess,” he instructs as he goes for the belt on his jeans.

For a moment, you’re stunned, staring at Captain Price’s bare chest. While he’s muscular, it isn’t from a life in the gym. He is thick in all the right places. A solid wall with a beautiful dusting of dark hair that travels downward.

The belt is gone, and that too is tossed aside.

Without removing your gaze, you tentatively discard your shirt, but keep your bra on. It’s a barrier. A safety net. Price isn’t even glancing at you, but you do notice some color at the tops of his cheeks. A soft pink that makes your thoughts spiral outward to imagine if this gentle blush is the same color as the head of his cock.

Price’s jeans go next, already discarded before you move on to the next article of clothing. He’s only in socks and black boxer briefs. There is so much of him on display that you’re starting to forget yourself.

He glances at you, and that color in his cheeks darken. “You’re still dressed.”

You open your mouth to answer but then you hear a shout from down the hall and sharp banging on a door. They’re far too close.

This urges you on, moving with faster intention, and once you’re down to just your bra and underwear, you finally glance at Price again.

Price—who is naked. Completely bare. And you have a full view of what he’s been packing underneath all that.

Fuck.

He approaches the bed, and tugs back the sheets. The muscles in his arms and back tense as he crumples the bedding to sexed perfection—as if the two of you have been going at it for hours.

Price sits down on the edge of the bed and slides underneath, his legs parting enough that you get a glimpse of everything. This man isn’t even fully hard but from what you can see, it would be a tight fit if you actually sat on him.

Lifting a pillow, Price checks for the pistol and then sets it back, settling into the sheets. He frowns slightly when his attention returns to you.

“All of that has to go.”

“Does it?” you counter, crossing your arms over your chest.

There’s another thunderous pounding on a nearby door followed by shouting.

“It does if we’re going to make it out of here alive.” Price shrugs, and then smirks. “Could help you.”

Sighing heavily and you reach behind your back, unclasping the bra. You hurl it at him and Price catches it out of the air. Crossing your arms over your chest, you hurry toward the bed. But you don’t make it beneath the sheets.

“Everything,” repeats Price.

Reaching out, Price snags the thin cotton fabric and pulls down, revealing you to him and the room. Instinct as you grasping for control, hands splayed over his large forearms as he gives the fabric another yank.

You cannot form a response. Words leave you as Price drags you into the bed with him.

“Sorry about this,” he grumbles, that color returning to his cheeks in full force. It’s cute actually—how sheepish he looks.

You swallow, and lick your lips. “It’s fine.”

Price leans back against the pillows, guiding you with him. “Get on top.”

Straddling his hips, you settle yourself over him. You try—and fail—to not notice the way the hard length of him nestles against your pussy. You keep one arm crossed over your breasts but all it does is hides your nipples from him. Your other hand is splayed wide and pressed against his chest.

“We’re married,” he says, staring into your eyes. “That’s the story. I’ll do the talking. You act like the scared wife when they come barging in.”

You nod, and Price releases a deep exhalation. His hands rest on your thighs. They’re a brand. Warm. All you can think about. They move upward to settle on your hips.

“Pretend you’re riding me,” he murmurs.

With a gentle hand, Price grasps your wrist, drawing your arm away from your breasts. You don’t resist, and he brings your other palm to rest against his chest.

“Pretend,” he reiterates, hands returning to your hips. Price creates the motion by dragging you back and forth, imitating a rocking motion. Though you’re stationary, your pussy still drags against the length of his cock.

You notice the tremor in his jaw as your bodies rub against each other. This is affecting him as much as it is you.

“Pretend,” you say back to him.

Price nods and then grabs for the television remote from the bedside table. He turns it on and then ups the volume. You imitate the motion he created, rocking back and forth, sliding yourself along his cock, pretending you don’t notice how wet you’ve become over the course of the last few minutes.

His hands return to your hips, and then Price sinks back completely into the pillows, his eyelids softening as he gazes up at you. It’s far too intimate of a stare, and it’s only compounded when one of his hands meander upward to slide over your stomach and then between your breasts. You gasp as his thumb traces the underside of your breast.

Head tilting back, you grind downward, finding yourself diving into the warmth that’s starting to pool low in your belly.

A sharp pounding at the door has you snapping to attention. Every muscle tenses. Seizes.

“You’re fine,” coos Price. “We’ll be fine.”

The pounding comes again and then a yell from behind it. The voice is muffled. Not only by the door but from the television.

Swallowing, you try to connect into it again, rolling your hips, imagining that Price is your husband—that you love him—and this is simply an exploration of that love.

When you roll your hips again, Price sits up slightly, his warm breath brushing against your breast. A tingle shudders through you, and Price groans before his tongue grazes over your nipple, bringing it to a point.

“Knew you’d taste sweet,” he says softly at the same moment the hotel door bursts open.

One second, you’re atop Price, and the next his arms are around you, turning you away from the door to hide you from sight. You’re not on your back but Price has shoved you toward the bed as he sits up, creating a barrier between you and the intruders.

The tactical-clad trio entering the room—with a hotel worker nervously trailing behind—

don’t even get a word in before Price starts going off on them.

“Get out! Get the fuck out!”

His accent is gone, replaced by an American one. It’s incredibly good, and his feigned anger even more so. The men entering faulter under Price’s tirade. They likely weren’t expecting this, and Price uses this opportunity to push the advance.

“We’re fucking busy in here. Fuck off!”

The man at the head of the trio clears his throat and holds up a hand, but Price chucks one of the water glasses at the man. The guy ducks and it shatters against the wall. The hotel worker at their back squeaks and pushes forward.

“We’re so sorry. Just a search for some prison escapees. We’re clearly in the wrong room.”

Prison escapees? You want to laugh but think better of it. Instead, you press your face against Price’s arm, feigning sheepishness.

Price’s lips turn into a snarl, and the hotel worker blanches.

“We’ll give you a complimentary stay for the inconvenience,” the man babbles before waving his arms to usher the other men out.

For a moment, you don’t think it’ll work, but they go.

You and Price don’t sigh with relief until the door shuts. His forehead presses against yours, chest heaving.

“Nice accent,” you whisper and this draws a smile from his lips.

“Like it more than this one?” he asks, his regular accent returning.

“Nope,” you say. “This one suits you fine.”

Price’s gaze draws over your exposed body and then lands on your face. It’s soft. Sensual. You’re frozen beneath it, breath catching as his fingers brush along the line of your jaw.

You’re not sure who moves first but his lips are on yours and then you’re moaning. Price rolls you onto your back, each kiss more demanding and fiercer than the last. He tastes of the mint toothpaste he used earlier and smells of soap.

Reaching between your bodies, you find him hard, and there is no other need within you but the one that craves for him to be inside. To fuck you ceaselessly.

You stroke him and Price groans into your mouth, his hand wrapping around your throat. Hooking your legs behind him, you guide him to your entrance. With a light press of your heels, Price takes your meaning.

There is no gentle pretense. No soft kisses or playful coaxing. Price goes all in, and you break the kiss to gasp aloud, nails digging into his back. Price is thick and having him inside you is a deliciously painful stretch.

It is all desperate the way he moves. Price isn’t gentle. It’s skin slapping against skin. It is sweat and groans. A savage hardness that borders on hysteria.

Your hand reaches behind you to press against the headboard as Price fucks you into the bed, but even that is shaking, banging loudly against the wall. It’s clear even over the drone from the television. The people next door will know exactly what the two of you are up to.

Price is relentless. A man starved. He nips at your bottom lip. Sucks it into his mouth. And when that isn’t enough, he goes for your neck and then your breasts, making your nipples smart and throb under his teeth and tongue.

The orgasm comes sharp and hot, bursting forth like a wave. And when you squeeze around him, Price is right there with you, his cum coating your insides as he too finds his end.

The two of you are all heavy breath. Sweaty limbs.

Price nuzzles the side of your neck, placing soft kisses there until he travels up to find your lips again. These are gentle. Not desperate like before.

When there’s a moment to speak, it is you that breaks the silence.

“So much for pretending.”

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick

It’s the middle of the day but you wouldn’t be able to tell.

A storm is raging—the rain thick and heavy. It falls from the sky in large drops that soak clothes and slick the skin. It’s a bit cold, too. A little chilly. The kind of wet chill that hardens the nipples and brings a shiver to your bones.

“Here. You’re soaked.”

Kyle presents a towel. It’s off-white and a bit frayed. But what can you expect from a motel in the middle of nowhere? Having a towel at all is nice. At least it isn’t threadbare.

“Thanks,” you reply softly, gently dapping the rough-textured material against your face.

Kyle strides over to the heating unit. It’s dirty and barely anchored to the wall. He hits a few buttons and then the thing turns on. It’s loud. Clunky. But heat starts to seep from the slats, warming the room.

After drying your face, you begin to remove outer pieces of clothing. Kyle might be your teammate, but there isn’t really anywhere to hide but the bathroom. Knowing the state of most motels, you don’t really want to find out either.

Kyle has the same idea. He dries off with his own towel, removing soaked articles of clothing as he goes. You try not to look—to be discreet—but it’s hard not to steal a peek. Kyle is all toned muscle and firmness. There’s a light dusting of hair on his chest. It’s a bit thicker around his navel. It trails downwards, and your mind wanders to a place it shouldn’t.

You glance away but not fast enough. His gaze roams upward, finding you, and there he pauses, observing you as you did him.

Pretending is best.

You attempt to act like you don’t notice him at all, turning your back like you’re incredibly interested with the wallpaper that likely hasn’t been replaced in years.

It’s his heat that draws your attention—that steals your breath, and makes every muscle in your body tense with anticipation.

“You’re shivering,” he murmurs.

Kyle is so close. Close enough that his breath brushes against your bare shoulder. You’re just in your bra and underwear, the only items that aren’t completely soaked from the rain.

He inhales, and that exhalation teases your flesh again. Giving in, you close your eyes, sinking into Kyle’s presence.

When you open them again, you notice a mirror hanging on the wall. It’s great if you were trying to plan an outfit, but that isn’t what you notice.

Instead, you see yourself. And Kyle.

The backs of his knuckles lightly caress the side of your arm. His head is tipped forward and turned inward like you’ll turn around any moment to kiss him.

The urge is there. Tugging. Wanting you to do just that.

The two of you are always walking around the other, seeking comfort and closeness but never seizing it. Maybe you should. Maybe—turning around is the best thing you can do for yourself.

“Kyle,” you breathe, and his little hum in answer tightens that string.

Without hesitation, you do turn.

Kyle’s lips are right there. They’re parted slightly. Inviting.

His arm drapes across your waist, hand splaying wide against your stomach, pressing until the two of you are sandwiched together.

It’s not like you don’t want this. You do. You want Kyle. Have since the moment he introduced himself to you. But the two of you have always remained professional in every space you occupy.

And now there is no one around.

No one to see.

No one to know.

Your head tips back in answer, and Kyle leans into it, pressing his lips to yours. It is sweet. Gentle. More of an ask than anything else.

And you reply, meeting him in equal measure. The pressure on your stomach increases just as Kyle’s other hand wraps around the front of your throat, holding you still. Each kiss is a claiming, one you freely submit to.

Kyle is all sugared-warmth, and you want to rot your teeth.

Draping your arm around the back of his neck, you pull him closer. Kyle nips. Bites. Sucks your bottom lip into his mouth before soothing the burn with a few tender kisses. Heat blossoms in your core before morphing into an aching slickness.

You’ve been putting him off—brushing him aside.

Why wait any longer when Kyle is all you crave?

“Fucking hell, love,” he groans against your mouth.

Your lips part, and Kyle slides his tongue inside. His taste is everything, but you want to know him everywhere.

Your hand seeks, brushing against his hardness through his boxer briefs. When you slip your hand beneath the elastic band, Kyle’s only response to kiss you harder.

Wrapping your fingers around him, you start to stroke what you can with the little room you have. Your thumb brushes over the head of his cock and Kyle draws back.

“I’ve wanted this since I met you,” he says, voice a bit rough.

Twisting in his grip, you turn to face him. “Can I show you how much I’ve wanted you, too?” you ask, pressing your breasts against his chest.

Kyle loosens his hold and you drop to your knees, taking his boxer briefs with you. His cock is gorgeous. It curves upward slightly, and a pearly bead of precum blooms in the slit.

He whispers your name, and then you have him in hand. Stroking once. Twice.

You lick off that bead. Savor his taste. Go back for more.

Kyle grabs the back of your head, drawing you to him. You open your mouth. Swallow him down. Throating him until you gag.

“Fuck,” he groans, elongating the vowel.

You work him with hand and mouth, keeping a steady rhythm that has him weak and wanton. You have all the control—until you don’t.

“Let me fuck your mouth, love. Please.”

The please is what does it. You release his cock, placing both hands on his thighs. With a pleased growl, Kyle keeps your head stationary. You anticipate the first thrust, and it is sinful. The movement goes straight to your pussy as you imagining him fucking you there like he fucks your mouth.

Fingers dig into muscled thigh. You want to touch yourself, to tease your clit while he does it. He is a god above you—Adonis.

“Can’t wait to taste your cunt, love,” rasps Kyle. “Can’t wait to make you drip for me.”

His desire fuels your own, and you urge him on, gently cupping him with one hand, thumb lightly rubbing the sensitive strip of flesh there.

Kyle’s hips stutter, and you relax your throat, humming around his cock as your lips meet the base. He holds you there, and you take it all, thighs chaffing from the friction of you rubbing them together in anticipation.

You blink up at him, and Kyle wipes away a tear with his thumb.

“My turn,” he murmurs.

You’re on your feet and then on your back in seconds. All the wind is knocked out of you, and then Kyle’s tongue is there, sliding through your slickness. Parting. Teasing the opening of your vagina before trailing upward to circle around your clit.

Gasping, your hands reach for him. Kyle grabs both wrists, keeps them planting on your stomach as he fucks you with his tongue. His shoulders dig into your thighs, keeping them wide. He’s stronger than you even as your thighs quiver, wanting to close, wanting to shut.

Kyle groans against your pussy, and then he’s on your clit, moving in such an easy, languid way that everything explodes outward. A shudder passes from the tips of your toes to the top of your head. Your pussy clenches. Unclenches. Clenches again.

Kyle doesn’t let up. He doesn’t cease. Every stroke strikes true and then your body betrays itself, overstimulation setting in, and the urge to wiggle away is paramount.

But just as you push at him—just as your body draws back. Kyle is releasing your wrists, pushing himself up and over you, spreading those legs even wider to slide inside.

The bed creaks beneath you, and then he’s thrusting.

Your moans of pleasure become one with the rain.

John "Soap" MacTavish

Single lamp. Lone bed.

Peeling paint. Dusty corners.

“Something’s on your mind.” Your voice is the only sound in the room other than the AC unit.

Soap’s sigh is soft and small as he takes a seat on the edge of the bed.

It’s the last night before the potential end. Before victory or failure. Just the two of you now with the plan to meet up with others later.

He nods, and you take a tentative step forward. “We attended the briefing. You know the details.”

“Aye.”

“Then what has you worried?” you ask, taking another step in Soap’s direction.

A warm, orange glow emits from the singular lamp on the bedside table. It’s not enough light to illuminate the cheap peeling paint or the dirt in the corners of the room. It only gives life to the bed and the side of Soap’s face.

It’s not like you have an unlimited budget. A motel room is the best the two of you could manage for some rest before moving on. The man at the desk didn’t even glance up when he asked if they only wanted a room for an hour.

You had asked for two beds. The man at the desk replied that no one who stops here asks for that.

One bed it is.

One bed.

Somehow, you’ll have to sleep beside Soap while simultaneously shoving down the urge to reach out to him.

Sighing, Soap leans forward, forearms resting on his knees. His gaze drifts slightly as if he’s not focusing on anything in particular. Running his fingers through his short mohawk, he tugs on the ends, mussing the freshly washed strands, creating a wavy mess.

Just that one movement as you leaning forward, nostrils flaring to inhale that clean scent.

“Adaptability,” he answers. Finally.

Instead of sitting on the bed beside him, you sink to your knees, resting your arm on the bed, and your chin on your arm.

The two of you have been on missions before but never together like this.

Never alone.

Keeping your gaze downward, you notice just how close you are to him—and how Soap leans in your direction, the edge of his knee brushing against the side of your hand.

It’s a small contact, but he’s warm, and that warmth is transferring into yourself, unspooling outward. It’s a difficult thing—because all this time you’ve harbored feelings for him, and yet have never acted on them.

“You’re quick on your feet, Soap,” you murmur, one finger absently extended to brush over the curve of his knee.

The corner of his mouth twitches. “You can call me Johnny.”

Johnny. You’ve never called him that. Soap, sure. Sergeant MacTavish? All the time.

“I thought Ghost only had that right.”

Only Ghost calls Soap ‘Johnny.’ That’s understood by everyone.

Soap shrugs. “He did.” He glances at you, his smile widening. “But I’d like to hear you say it.”

Something swirls in your stomach, twisting like a knife.

“How would you like to hear it?” you reply.

Johnny’s smile, which is so wide and teasing, softens into a sultry smirk. “I have options?”

“You do.”

Johnny’s usual playfulness emerges. “Say it like you’re angry with me.”

“Johnny,” you say, deepening your voice to sound like Ghost.

He bursts out laughing, falling back onto the bed, clutching his stomach. “Oh, aye. I’ll give you that.”

“What else?” you tease. “I demand more.”

“Say it like you’re annoyed with me.”

You do just that, and Johnny sits up, turning on his side.

“Again,” you prompt.

The middle of Johnny’s brow creases and then his hand cradles the side of your face. He closes the distance, kissing you deeply—as if you are his lover and not a friend.

But you don’t pull away. You indulge yourself, kissing him back just as sweetly.

You’re not sure how much time passes, just that it does, and his small retreat after it’s done is all you have in acknowledging its passing.

The withdrawal is short. Johnny doesn’t move away. He keeps his hand on your cheek. The tip of his nose nearly brushing yours.

“Say it now,” he breathes, voice raspy.

“Johnny,” but it’s not what you intended to say.

He sighs. “Again.”

“Johnny.”

This time he groans, and then your lips are fusing, becoming one. You’re dragged off the floor and into his arms, tangling in his heat, forgetting yourself completely.

“Johnny,” you repeat, and then your shirt is gone, followed by your bra.

He nips at the curve of your breasts before sucking your nipple into his mouth. His teeth graze flesh and you say his name again until it becomes a strangled moan.

The front of your jeans is open, and his hand is there, cupping your sex, fingers dragging through your wetness.

“Johnny,” but it’s to stop him, to remind him that this cannot go on.

“Fucking hell. Love the way you say my name.”

This melts your resolve. Makes your legs spread wider. Makes you shove at your pants and create plenty of space.

Johnny knows. He understands.

He yanks them down even as he peppers your breasts with little nips and kisses. Your fingers drags through his hair as he sucks the other nipple into his mouth, bringing it to perky attention.

One finger slides inside, and you groan loudly, legs falling wide as Johnny settles himself between.

“Beautiful,” he murmurs, claiming your mouth and pumping his finger. You whimper as he inserts a second. “Wanted you so bad.”

Your pussy flutters, squeezing around him. It is Johnny that groans this time, and it is a primal sound.

“Can I fuck you?” he asks. “Please.”

“Johnny,” you breathe. “Johnny.”

“Need a yes or no. Tell me. Do you want me? I’ve wanted you.”

You answer by finding him—guiding him to the place you need him to.

With a low growl, Johnny pins your arms above your head, slotting his pelvis against yours, the head of his cock sinking in until you’re taking all of him.

“Johnny!”

“That’s what I want to hear,” he croons, starting to thrust.

Simon "Ghost" Riley

“I can’t tell what blood is yours and what isn’t.”

“Can fucking do it myself.”

“Ghost—”

“It’s not a problem.”

“Simon,” you snap, and he stops fidgeting.

Behind the plain balaclava, you see the fire in Lieutenant Riley’s eyes. This man is your superior. At least, right now he is. But the mission is done. It’s over. Yet the two of you are stranded, and making contact with Price is going to take time.

Not to mention that Simon is injured, and you have no fucking idea where at.

“Let me help you,” you say as soothingly as possible.

You don’t want to fight with him. All you want is to help Simon, to clean him up, and get him into bed. Rest and healing are what he needs right now. Contacting Price can wait. Base can stew for a while longer.

The two of you are in a motel room in the middle of fucking nowhere America. It’s shit overall, but it will have to do. There’s no way anyone is searching for the two of you out here. You drove until you nearly ran out of gas, and then you refilled and drove some more. Simon was in the back of the car, covered in blood.

But he was awake. Moving. Not a head injury, and not enough to get him immediate medical treatment. Not like he would have allowed you to take him to a hospital anyway. Lieutenant Riley is fucking stubborn. Sometimes infuriatingly so.

Simon stares, hard, his dark eyes intense behind the balaclava. He blinks, and then pushes up from the chair, keeping his gaze trained on you.

“Lieutenant,” you mutter, annoyed.

As Simon stands and attempts to take a step forward, his left leg wobbles, and he nearly topples forward. Your arms go out to catch him, holding him steady. He’s a big guy, and he seems to know this because he tries to prop himself up using the chair.

“I’m fine.”

“You’re not,” you snap.”

“Listen—”

“I’m not arguing with you Simon Riley.”

Using his full name shuts him up. It’ll likely earn you a reprimand later, but fuck it, you’re over this.

“Stay there.” You shove him back down into the chair and head into the bathroom.

There is a single overhead light. Flipping the switch turns it on and the fan. It’s a tight space, but thankfully the shower isn’t also a tub. That would be a nightmare getting him in. Instead, there is a sink, a toilet, and a dividing wall that cuts the room in half. It’s more like a locker shower but it’ll work.

Reaching in, you turn the handle. You jump back as cold water shoots out of the shower head. After waiting for a few seconds, steam starts to rise.

You take a deep breath, knowing what you have to do. “You got this,” you murmur, heading back into the room.

Simon leans forward in the chair, forearms resting on his knees.

You hold out your hand. “Let’s go.”

Lieutenant Riley’s head swivels in your direction. “Seriously?”

“Yes,” you reply, holding firm. “Come on.”

With a deep sigh, Simon reaches out and slides his hand into yours. It’s warm. Calloused. You squeeze it and step forward, extending your other arm to wrap around his torso. Simon stands. Wobbles. But you snake your arm around him, and then it’s a slow trek into the bathroom.

Simon is limping, but he’s showing no other signs that his injury hurts him. Might be minor, or he’s just good at covering up the pain.

Once the two of you are inside the bathroom, you realize just how small the space is. Maneuvering Simon to the shower is difficult, a weird dance to wiggle around the door and toilet to the opening of the shower.

You retreat slightly, and Simon leans against the wall, his eyelids closing as he takes a deep breath.

“You good?” you ask, concern creasing your brow.

Simon nods. “I’ll manage.” His eyelids open slowly and then he stares into the shower. “You want me in there?”

“You’ll need to remove a few things first,” you reply, gesturing toward his uniform.

Simon snorts. “Trying to get me naked?”

“You wish,” you retort, even as your cheeks heat with embarrassment. “Need help?”

At first, Simon doesn’t say anything. He just reaches for his belt, removing it slowly with one hand.

“I’ll leave you to it,” you mumble, starting to turn away.

“Wait.”

You freeze, and then glance over your shoulder. “What is it?”

Simon shrugs. “What if I slip? Might need you to catch me.”

This bastard.

“Then I’ll stay,” you reply cooly, pretending that this doesn’t affect you.

But it does. It’s reshaping you, and Simon’s slow undressing isn’t helping things. He keeps his gaze on you the entire time, and you purposefully keep your eyes averted, when really you want to look. You want to know what he’s like under all that.

The belt goes. So does his tactical gear and jacket. Next is his shirt followed by his balaclava. You sneak a peek then, and Simon grins at you like he knew you’d look eventually.

“I’ll need some help with these. Getting them down that is.” Simon gestures towards his pants and you feel your face grow so hot you fear it might explode.

“Sure.”

You reach for him, silently chastising your shaking fingers. This is too much, even though you like it, and want more from it. You undo the button and zipper. Sliding your hands beneath the band, you shimmy Simon’s pants to the floor. He kicks them away and all that’s left are his boxer briefs. They’re tight and you notice the massive bulge in front.

Fuck.

“You can do the rest,” you reply, glancing away.

Simon removes them, and then he starts forward, arms outstretched to balance himself as he enters the shower.

“Fucking hell,” moans Simon as the hot water hits his body.

The groan that comes after is deep, and so sultry you feel a bolt of pleasure spike from your pussy.

“Should join me.”

“No thanks,” you say, averting your gaze away from Simon’s muscled backside.

One moment you’re facing the wall, and the next you’re under the spray of water.

“What the fuck,” you shriek, stumbling backward as Simon chuckles. Muttering under your breath, you stare down at your soaked clothing. “Goddamn it.” You start removing articles of clothing, the wet fabric peeling away from your skin.

“Fucking fine, Simon.”

You shed everything and storm under the spray, only for Simon to wrap his arms around your waist and pull you against him. There is no pause between then and the moment his lips find yours. It is sweet, and warm. You instantly melt, enjoying every second.

But it’s fleeting.

You draw back, heart hammering in your chest.

“You’re covered in blood. Remember?”

Simon shrugs and then offers you the soap. “Clean me then.”

You do it, and when you’re done, he does the same for you. It’s far too intimate, and Simon’s gentleness is surprising. Once finished, you dry and bandage the wound on his leg. It’s not terrible—and will likely need stitches—but it’s not bleeding anymore.

The singular bed in the middle of the room is far too small. Not with Simon in at, spread out and naked under the sheets.

You slide in beside him, not knowing where you should settle. Simon is large, taking up most of the best. The only place is curled up next to his side.

Turning your resolve to steal, you settle in. You begin to turn away from Simon, but his arm shoots out, grasping your waist. You’re yanked across the bed, only to find yourself in Simon’s arms.

“What are you doing?” you ask.

“Stop pretending, love. We both know what’s going on. Don’t deny it.”

Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck.

“Simon—”

“We’ve been making eyes at each other for fucking months. And now we’re alone. You think I don’t see the opportunity?”

Simon’s hand slides over the curve of your ass, and then dips beneath your shirt. You’re not wearing underwear, and when his fingers brush over your pussy, you gasp, pressing into him.

“You’re already wet for me,” growls Simon as he drags a finger through your folds. “So fucking wet.” He presses in, and your pussy parts for him.

“We can’t, Simon. You’re injured.”

“Not so much,” he coos. “Especially since I can do this.” On this, Simon drags the tips of his finger along the inside your pussy, hitting that sweet spot.

You moan, fingers digging into his chest as your back arches to press you further down on him.

“It’s just my leg that’s injured.” Simon’s lips brush against your cheek and then the edge of your ear. His breath is warm against your skin. “I can still fuck you. Have you on top. Bounce you on my cock.” Simon gives the curve of your ear the faintest kiss. “Would you like that, love? Do you want me to fuck you?”

“We—we—”

With his other hand, Simon grasps the back of your neck, drawing you against him, silencing whatever it is you’re trying to say. He seizes your mouth in a fierce kiss. You open for him, and his tongue slides inside. He tastes nice, and you want to sink into the feeling. Have him devour you completely.

“Let me in,” he murmurs against your lips.

You push up, doing exactly as he wants you to do. You settle on his lap, his hard cock pressed up against your thigh.

With a low growl, Simon removes your shirt, leaving you completely bare to his gaze.

“Much better,” he says, cupping your breasts as you lean on his chest, lifting your hips.

His cock slides through your folds, and then you start the descent, moaning as he splits you in two. The stretch is intense—nearly sharp with pain, but laced with pleasure. Simon’s eyelids flutter slightly, and his groan is pure sin.

Simon lightly squeezes your breasts one more time before his hands find your hips. He lifts you up, and then back down, bouncing you on his cock. You cling to him, allowing him to use you, to fuck you in whatever way he wants.

Each grunt and growl from him only makes you wetter. Hungrier.

“I’m gonna come inside you.”

It’s not a question. There is no other option, and you wouldn’t take anything else even if there was.

“Please,” you whimper.

Simon’s hands tighten, his hips thrusting upward to meet every downward movement. He sits up, his mouth clamping around a nipple to nip and suck. Your orgasm roars up from nowhere, and then you’re clenching around him, milking Simon’s cock as his own end greets him.

taglist:

@km-ffluv @glitterypirateduck @tiredmetalenthusiast @miaraei @cherryofdeath

@enarien @saoirse06 @ferns-fics @unhinged-reader-36 @miss-mistinguett

@ravenpoe67 @tulipsun-flower @sageyxbabey @mudisgranapat @ninman82

@lulurubberduckie @leed-bbg @yawning-grave81 @azkza @nishim

@haven-1307 @voids-universe @itsberrydreemurstuff @spicyspicyliving @keiva1000

@littlemisscriesherselftosleep @umno-yeah @blackhawkfanatic @talooolaaloolla

@sadlonelybagel @kadeeesworld @iloveslasher @sammysinger04 @dakotakazansky

@suhmie @jackrabbitem @lxblm @beebeechaos

@no-oneelsebutnsu @kidd3ath @certainlygay @thewulf @lovely-ateez

@gingergirl06 @eternallyvenus @smileykiddie08 @vrb8im

[demilypyro]

"Another damn Super."

Shotgun Sally had had her fill of fighting superheroes. Henching used to be easy. Crack some safes, intimidate some people, stand guard at some deals. It's the only skillset she's ever had, and she was happy doing it. She had no interest in moving up - too much paperwork and headache - and going straight was impossible with her record. No, henching was where it's at. Or it used to be. Until those meteor storms a few years ago. People getting superpowers from the radiation. Started wearing costumes. Ridiculous. Comic book stuff. Job hadn't been the same since.

Intel came in. Sally answered the phone, writing down all the info in her notebook as usual. New hero. Contact said she goes by "Miss Fire." Left a calling card, apparently? Stupid name. Basic. Probably young, unsponsored. Hasn't been caught on camera yet, but apparently some deals went bad. Bodies at the scene had third degree burns on their hands and faces. Not one of those no-killers, this one. The name made her easy to figure out. Typical energy projection hero, probably has flamethrower breath or shoots fireballs. You hear it all the time, kid gets some flashy powers, gets full of herself, decides to be a crime fighter. Nobody ever trains the Supers to care about human life. Sally'd never had a reason to kill anybody in her work. Some rounds at the feet usually scares people into compliance. At most she'd take a few teeth or break some bones, but she'd never killed. What was their excuse?

Sally was tense. The contact was late. Deal was supposed to be done by now. That meant something was up. But it wasn't her decision whether they pulled out or not, that was up to the boss. She was watching a rat eat a pizza. Then she heard it. Gunfire, sounds of burning and screaming. "We got a Super!" A nod from the boss, and Sally was off.

Sally darted around a corner. There she was. The kid wasn't exactly what she was expecting. Usually these flashy types are dressed in spandex, or wearing heels (ridiculous), but this one was wearing simple boots and a parka. What confused Sally most of all was the lack of any glowing. Usually with these energy projection heroes you could tell what bodypart their powers came from by a residual glow, especially if they'd used their powers recently. Nothing around the throat or the hands.... In fact, her hands weren't even out. They were in her pockets. She looked totally relaxed. Was this not the hero?

Sally leveled her shotgun. She was about twenty paces away. Standard procedure with heroes was to keep your distance, in case they have melee powers. But she was more than close enough to turn the girl into a cheese grater if need be. She had to find out if this was the hero or not. Sally always preferred the direct approach. "Miss Fire, I presume?"

"That's me," the girl replied. Her face was blank. "You don't wanna be pointing that thing at me."

The girl's candor was annoying. "I believe I do. See I've been hearing about you hurting my people. I can't have that."

"They shot first. It wasn't on me."

"I'm gonna give you one chance to get out of here. It's past your bedtime."

"Make me."

Alright, that was enough talking. Sally couldn't tell if this kid had powers or what, but there was only one way to find out. Sally switched her shotgun to a low-spread mode and aimed between the girl's feet. If this wasn't the Super, this would scare her off. If she IS the Super... well, whatever happens happens.

Sally almost missed it. In a swift motion, the girl took her hands out of her pockets and opened both at Sally as if to reach out to her. Sally's reflexes kicked in, throwing herself to the ground to dodge the oncoming fireball or laser beam or whatever it was. But nothing came. The girl was just standing there, with her arms out. She looked like an idiot. Sally got up. "Of all the... what the hell do you think you're doing? I could've shot you."

The girl seemed surprised that she hadn't. She looked scared. "Usually they do by now..." she whimpered. She suddenly turned around and started running in the other direction. Sally was stunned. She was about to chase after her, but then she heard a noise she didn't like. Her gun. It was hissing at her. In fact, it was glowing. Alarmed, Sally threw the shotgun away from her as fast as she could. As it collided with the ground, it exploded into a ball of purple and blue flames.

Sally sat on the ground, watching the smoking remains of her favorite gun. She took her notebook out, and flipped to the info about the new hero. She crossed out "Miss Fire" and wrote "Misfire" under it.

"I hate Supers."

[beeseverywhen]

Anyway if you work in an office and have decorated your desk to the extreme know that I support you 100% no questions asked.

[sunderwight]

Imagining a scenario where Shen Qingqiu clocks some of the lingering tension between the peak lords and Luo Binghe after they get married, and so looks up what all the rights & privileges of a peak lord's spouse are (because really only the ascetic peak has restrictions against marriage), and then just like. Heaps them onto Binghe.

Fine robes and ornaments in Qing Jing's style. A title. Appropriate authority over Shen Qingqiu's disciples and junior sect siblings. Technically Binghe is also entitled to use of his own residence, and there's a building on the peak that is at least nominally reserved for the peak lord's wife, but it hasn't been used in a long time and Binghe would cry if Shen Qingqiu even suggested living in separate buildings (and Shen Qingqiu would also not like it but shhh). So he doesn't get that, exactly, but Shen Qingqiu does have the building freshened up and aired out as a place where Binghe can house guests from the demon realms, or potentially his own personal disciples (should he desire to take any on one day).

Binghe accompanies Shen Qingqiu to peak lord meetings in his capacity as husband, rather than disciple, which means Binghe also gets to sit at the table instead of standing behind Shen Qingqiu's seat.

But really just, Shen Qingqiu making a point of doing everything extremely officially to really drive home that he married Binghe, and he expects Binghe to be treated with respect and not suspicion or derision or any of the other bad habits that his fellow peak lords have displayed. Not just with Binghe, but also towards the original goods in the past (SJ might have been a piece of work, but the fact also remains that most of what his sect siblings thought of him was inaccurate). SQQ scraping up every bit of political acumen he can find from all the books he read and PIDW itself and his own history as the son of a wealthy family, and being like, "if I don't want Binghe to be bullied, I must make it clear that he has my favor!"

Meanwhile everyone already knows Luo Binghe is Shen Qingqiu's favorite, like man they know it so much already, more than they'd like to, but it's not like they can SAY anything because actually putting the right hair ornament onto Luo Binghe's head and making the disciples address him as Shimu is in fact more appropriate than all the other ways Shen Qingqiu displayed his favoritism so far. It's just driving several of the other peak lords slowly insane because it's backwards! The order of things is all messed up! Shen Qingqiu can't truly expect them to start respecting this disgraceful mess of a relationship now, can he?!

Of course he can. Also Yue Qingyuan is backing him up. (Yue Qingyuan actually finds this kind of amusing, because it's very on-brand for both versions of Shen Qingqiu to get embroiled in a controversial mess only to retroactively go "oh yeah, respectability politics are a thing" and then just try and brazenly bluff his way through it.)

Meanwhile Binghe is very much enjoying himself. Could he stop anyone in the sect from actually mistreating him in a heartbeat? Of course. He could kill any of them, they all know it, and Binghe is not unaware of how to leverage that kind of fear into compliance, if not respect. But then he'd have to go stalking around being tyrannical all the time, and he does that enough as the demon emperor.

It's far more enriching to let people be rude to him and then hang his head and "nobly endure" the mistreatment, just to watch Shen Qingqiu's eyes narrow and his fan snap shut before he lets out some cutting remark and then lavishes another sign of his favor onto Luo Binghe. Binghe's wildest teenage fantasies were made of this stuff! He's living the dream!

[chlorinecake]

— 𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞 | 𝐩.𝐬𝐡 ׅ ㅤ֢ ㅤׄㅤ .

▹ PAIRING: long distance boyfriend sunghoon x f. reader

▹ WORD COUNT: 2.8k — 𝓇𝑒𝓆��𝑒𝓈𝓉𝑒𝒹

▹ SUMMARY: What better way to celebrate the return of contact between you and your long distance boyfriend than with some good ole sexy time ?

▹ WARNINGS: SOFT DOM SUNGHOON who can’t help but tease you for struggling to take his cock after going without it for so long, kissing, somewhat inexperienced reader x clingy hoon, throat fucking, choking (m. receiving), tit + nipple play, cheek pinching, spitting, petnames (angel, puppy, princess, good girl), switch dynamics, rough unprotected sex, that’s about it !!

Sunghoon had just step foot inside your shared apartment upon finally getting to see you after returning from his lengthy business trip.

Meeting him at the front door, your boyfriend instantly dropped his belongings at the sight of you, locking the door promptly before pulling you into the biggest hug his wingspan could muster.

That's when you felt him take your chin in his grasp, turning your cheek to face him before licking a long stripe along your skin with his tongue. 

"Oh my fucking God," you shriek at the sudden sensation, eliciting a fit of giggles from your lovestruck boyfriend, "so much for saying hello first, you freak."

"Sorry, baby," he chuckles, kissing you on the cheek as he mumbles, "couldn't help myself when you look so delicious..."

"What're you, a dog?"

"I can be," he smirks this time, playfully raising his eyebrows at you.

"Damn... you're getting real comfortable with the idea of being anything but a grown man, huh Hoon?" You question through a squeaky voice given how tightly he held you against him.

"I'm literally one second away from biting your cheeks right now..."

You scoff at the desperate nature of his words, "You're ridiculous..."

"Yup, and it's your fault I have such emotional issues," he shrugs, eyes taking in the view of your face under the dim apartment lighting, and boy did you look amazing-

"Tell me about it," you roll your eyes, which only makes his smile widen, displaying the faint impression of his dimples.

"And being around youuuu is my therapy..."

"Wonderful-"

"And I would really appreciate it if you stood on your tippy toes to hug me closer and scratch my back a little bit when you do it, too," your boyfriend blinks now, batting his feathery eyelashes at you as you sigh in compliance, not being able to withstand his needy antics.

"C'mere, puppy," you say, making him blush through a bitten lip as he loosened his hold around you so you could return the hug this time.

Cute and sexy, you thought to yourself... your favorite combination on your favorite person...

As of today, it had been ten whole days since you last saw your boyfriend, and the distance was really starting to take a toll on his physical willpower.

The reason behind your brief separation was work obligations on Sunghoon’s behalf, but that still didn’t stop him from having to see your face or hear your voice every single night.

You remember just the other night over FaceTime that he brought up the idea of e-sex, being so pent up with sexual tension that his brain could hardly function...

"Hmmm," he hummed against you, making your heart swell until you realized his cold nose was nuzzled against the top of your head.

"You're sniffing me, aren't you?"

"Mhm," he said, kissing the spot there, "you look sweet... taste sweet... smell sweet..."

"Thank you?" You said while giggling, only to shriek slightly when you felt one of his hands grope your tit, his free hand guiding your hips against his pelvis.

"God, you even sound sweet," he practically groaned, smirking now at the way you tried squirming away from his touch, but he didn't plan on letting you go just yet.

“Looks like someone’s needier than usual,” you say through mumbled words, given the way his soft lips are attacking yours, slowly kissing you into submission.

“I just can’t help myself when I get like this,” he hums, tilting his head as he keeps his lips moving against yours. "I missed you so much, angel.”

“Missed you more,” you return within the contact, letting your hand find his face now as his touch travels from your hips to your thighs, his strength guiding your legs around his waist.

“Not possible,” he smirks, guiding you to your shared bedroom, where he plopped you on the mattress, only to cage you beneath his frame as the passionate kiss continued.

And the room is a mess in this moment, considering how you were too lazy to do any cleaning without Sunghoon’s help, but he doesn’t mind.

The cluttered nature somehow helps him feel more cozy, anyway.

You broke away from his lips, looking him straight in the eyes as you whispered:

“I think you’re wrong about that, Hoonie.”

“Oh, am I now?” He challenged back, pinching your cheek between his thumb and index finger, to which you winced, smacking his hand away.

“Prove it to me,” he went on, holding eye contact as a familiarly menacing smirk overtook his face.

“Always so competitive,” you tsk, “but I’ll play along.”

That’s when you grab the neckline of his shirt, pulling him onto the bed while telling him to sit tight as you got situated between his thighs, doing away with the leather belt he wore.

And he doesn’t have to be a rocket scientist to know what you’re about to do next—getting comfortable on your knees before your hands went to find your hair to tie it off into a ponytail.

"No, no, no, keep it down; it looks nice,” your boyfriend protests, making your hands slowly retreat from your head, “and you look way fucking hotter with those glasses on in person, too.”

“You say that like it almost surprises you?” You tease, but only as a way to stop yourself from gawking at his dick that was now out and in the open, free from the confines of his pants with the prettiest little vein trailing the underside.

His tip glistened with a pearly sheen, the sight alone making your core warm up slightly.

“It doesn’t,” Sunghoon answers dryly, especially now that you were taking his length into your grasp, “but that’s still not going to stop me from praising my pretty girl.”

“Aww,” you coo while stroking him slightly, the cum leaking from his tip helping to keep everything lubricated. “You’re too sweet, baby.”

“Yeah?” He asks with a smirk, hips tensing up and relaxing given the stimulation your hand was providing, “Why don’t you give me a little taste then?”

You look at him through your glasses with the sluttiest look you can muster, still fisting his shaft in your palm but with slower strokes now as you lower your head, letting your breath just ghost over his burning tip at first.

“C’mon baby, don’t tease,” he says, eyes falling lazy as lust renders his mind an utter mess of fuzz and desperation.

You let your tongue circle his head first, feeling his length twitch in your grasp before you fully sealed your lips around him, your own core throbbing now with all the sounds he was making.

“Take all of it, princess,” he demands, pushing your head down slightly for motivation. “Wanna feel myself in the back of your throat so bad...”

And you hum in response, sending gentle vibrations through his cock that made his thighs tense up.

Sunghoon groans softly, just as you started to bob half of his length with your mouth and stroke the remaining half with your hand.

He could tell that you really wanted to deep throat him, but you still hadn’t warmed up to his size yet.

“You want to prove how much you miss me, right?” He whispers through a shaky breath, drawing your glossy eyes back up to meet his face, cheeks dusted a light pink from his arousal.

You nod your head around him this time, knowing that he would rather you stay right there than move to try speaking properly.

He was just so enthralled by the warmth of you around him, a bit of your own saliva dripping down the corner of your mouth given the way your gag reflex was in hyperdrive right now.

“Good girl,” he smirks, but with furrowed brows, his voice trailing off as his hands found the side of your head, cupping your stuffed cheeks as he whispers, “This is only going to hurt a little bit then.”

That’s when you feel your throat opening now as Sunghoon forces himself in, guiding your head up and down along his shaft as he makes your mouth his personal fuck toy.

And you’re whimpering at the pain, eyes tearing up behind your foggy glasses, but it’s not like you mind. You found his desperation for you to be pretty hot, actually.

“That’s it, baby,” he praises, hissing at the way your hands are gripping at his thighs now. “I knew you could take me like a good little slut.”

There’s a little tear trailed down your cheek that he swipes with his thumb, only to throw his head as he keeps using your head, surely bruising your throat somewhere considering all the action he’s putting it through.

“Just hold out a little longer for me, baby; I’m almost there,” he grunts, making your eyes roll in the back of your head as his thrusts grow faster, sloppier, and deeper.

Tapping at his thighs slightly, he knows that’s your usual cue that he’s going a little too far or that you need him to stop for something, and so he does, pulling his dick out of your mouth with a loud and wet smack.

“Was I too rough for you, pretty?” He cues, leaning down to caress your face.

“Not at all,” you say through a raspy, seductive voice, given how sore your throat was feeling.

“So why’d you stop my fun?” He asks, pinching your cheek once again as a way to tease you.

“Because,” you begin, finding his cock with your hand and gripping tightly, just enough to make him wince, “I’m not in the mood to sit here and hump the carpet like a bitch in heat while you destroy my throat.”

He lets out a dry chuckle at your words, trying his best to seem unfazed by the way you’re jerking him off again, up until you spit on the tip, standing up from the ground on wobbly legs.

And your boyfriend lets his back find the bed almost instantly, taking off his jacket and tossing it in the corner as you crawl on top of him, still stroking him in your hand.

“Sorry about that, angel,” he whispers sarcastically, eyes half-lidded and desperate like a hentai wet dream as you straddle him now, slowing down the pumps of your hand. "I guess I just got a little carried away there.”

“Mhm,” you cut him off, releasing his veiny and throbbing cock from your grasp and letting the same hand find his neck, not to choke him but for stability as you straddle his hips.

Your pants are still on at this point, but he does a good job of helping you take them off.

"I bet I can guess the color of your panties now," he smirks as your pants dropped to the floor, revealing your bareness, his eyes widening slightly as he realizes you're not wearing any underwear.

Lining him up with your entrance, you let your weight fall with gravity help you take him.

But his girth is so wide that you have to bite your lip in order to hide your sounds, and he catches onto this, too, finding your hips with his free hands and pushing you most of the way down.

“Mmm,” you mewl, arching your back at the way his tip immediately finds your g-spot in the position.

“What is it, princess? T-t-too much?” He teases, thrusting into you given the delayed movement of your hips.

“I can do it myself, Sunghoon,” you breathe out, the sound of his full name making him raise a brow at you just as your hands now found the mattress, bracing yourself at either side of his head.

“Do what, huh? Fuck me with those weak little knees?” He tsks, rutting up into you once more as a tiny yelp slips past your tired throat. "I didn't think so,” he continued to taunt.

“So mean,” you say, gripping at the sheets now, “you didn't even give me a chance to try...”

"Well, I'm afraid I don't have patience for that today, pretty,” he coos, finding your clothed tits with his hands before teasing your sensitive nipples in between his delicate fingers. “Just let me show you how it's properly done, yea? Promise, I’ll be more gentle this time.”

Struggling to meet his eyes, you couldn’t help but get distracted by how full you felt between your legs, especially with the way he toyed with your tits now, making heat rush from your core to your face.

“I’m not talking to myself, am I princess?” His voice comes out raspy, just as his hand finds your chin, pulling it down so you’d face him.

“S-Sunghoon,” you stammer, being so stuffed to the brim with his deliciously thick cock that you could hardly form a coherent thought right now.

“Go on, baby, I’m listening,” he says in between, sitting up slightly to place a kiss on your jaw. “Want me to take the lead?”

You hate what his condescending words are doing to your mind, but at the same time, his constant teasing was always such a turn-on for you.

“Fine, you insufferable worm,” you manage to say, making him chuckle at the pet name. “I didn’t wanna ride you anyways...”

“Mhm,” he smirks, guiding you to lay on your back now, but being careful not to accidentally pull out of your heat.

You then let out a shriek of pleasurable pain as Sunghoon slams his hips down, thick cocks pounding into your sensitive depths, making your back arch.

“F-fuck,” you whine, digging your nails into his shoulders to which he hisses.

“I’m holding back for you, so you know,” he groans, stalling the pace of his hips as your face obviously scrunches up with every thrust.

“Then don’t,” you say, finding his neck in your hands again as you apply just enough pressure to make him smirk, “fuck me like you mean it...”

He grinds his cock inside you a little harder this time, making your open legs tremble as you held a fierce eye contact with him, not breaking it even as he snapped into you faster now, making you whimper at how good he was fucking you now.

Grabbing your wrist, he moves your hand from his neck, interlacing his fingers with yours before pinning them to the mattress.

“I don’t know why it’s so hard for you to just ask nicely,” he says, a somewhat gentle look on his face despite how rough he was pounding into you, “you could’ve been had me fucking you like this if you weren’t such a brat...”

“Sh-shut up, Hoon,” you hiss, voice coming out in tiny wobbles given the way his forceful thrusts made your tits bounce up and down.

And your glasses are crooked on your face at this point, making him chuckle at how cute you looked while taking his cock, still trying to brat your way out of accepting the fact that you had been just as needy for intimacy with him, too.

“So much for saying thank you,” he huffed, right before releasing his weight from your hands to instead angle your thighs higher in his grip, picking up the pace as his thrusts become faster, harder, and deeper...

“Nghhh-” you whimpered, desperately clinging to his shoulders now as his ego grew with every whimper you let out for him, his own mind practically short-circuiting with the way your slick walls clenched around him now.

Leaning down, Sunghoon lowered his face near yours, swiftly taking off your glasses and tossing them on the pillow before letting his lips sink into yours, humming at the taste of you on his tongue.

“You're lucky I love you,” he slurs with a whisper, making you smile into the contact.

“I love you too, baby,” you return in between your labored breaths, just as your voice was broken by a moan ripping past your throat.

But at this point, Sunghoon couldn't hold back any longer, breaking from the kiss given the way his body shuddered with pleasure now, melting into your touch as you held him impossibly close to you.

“Oh- fuck~,” your boyfriend groaned, nuzzling his face into your neck and leaving a few sloppy kisses there, just as you felt his load burst deep into your cunt.

And as sensitive as he was growing while inside you, he kept thrusting, with no intention of stopping until he felt your thighs shake beside him as you finally reached your high.

With all your squirming, your boyfriend ceased the movement of his hips, collapsing on top of you as your sweaty bodies fought to catch your breaths.

You two lay just like that for a while, Sunghoon's gentle touch caressing the curve of your shoulder while your own delicate fingers moved a few stray hairs out of his face.

“I don't know how I survived ten days without this,” he says to break the silence, making you giggle slightly at his random remark.

“Well y'know what they say... distance makes the heart grow fonder,” you reply, feeling his length slowly leave your walls as he tugs the nearby blanket over your half naked-bodies.

“Uh huh, as if either of us needed any help to feel more fond for each other anyways,” he smirks, placing a feather-light kiss to your shoulder one last time before laying down beside you, basking in the aftermath of your long over-due lovemaking...

Thank you all so much for reading this fic! I haven't really been feeling up to write anything these days, but hopefully you guys still enjoyed reading this nonetheless... Also, here's the link to my ENHYPEN MASTERLIST if you're interested in more works like this!! { PART 1 }

[ephemeriee]

got plans to do a fry up and make pornstar martinis on thursday which truly is a cost of living crisis bottomless brunch