#make it a consenting wolf and I would even pay

[pearlywritings]

Intimacy records

synopsis: what kinds of horny stuff they have in their phones and which is the favorite?

pairing and characters: Aventurine, Blade, Boothill, Dr Ratio, Gallagher, Gepard, Jing Yuan, Loucha, Sampo, Sunday (separately) x fem!reader

tw: SMUT, established relationship (marriage/dating), consensual recording of lovemaking, nudes, oral, lingerie, fingering, masturbation, public sex, breast play, shibari/blindfold, sex machine, creampie

word count: 4.3k+ words

Aventurine

Undoubtedly this man has a whole separate folder for intimate stuff. Of course, he demands you send him something on a daily basis - doesn’t matter if it’s a quick snap of your choice of lingerie in the morning, or recordings of touching yourself - but never enough to cum, it’s his job. Naturally he loves having reminders of you being at his mercy - thus there are also videos of you both (with primarily established consent). All that to say - he has quite the collection, so it’s really hard to pick a favorite, the most desire-arising one.

Maybe it’s a category actually - self-made media created out of bet. Who’ll cum first? Can you keep going without tearing up from pleasure for longer than 10 minutes? Is he patient enough not to touch your sexy self, while you masturbate in front of him? Who is going to be louder this time? These kinds.

”I hope you are ready to lose,” your lover smirks, making himself comfortable between your legs. Camera floats a little, as you chuckle behind it. With a momentary adjustment, the focus is on his face again and he winks, before turning to trail a little path of kisses across your thigh. The image jumps, when he sucks on the skin, and slightly trembles as you let out a sigh. Then it’s firm, as Aventurine wraps his arms around your thighs, his nose teasingly rubbing against your clit. Suddenly there is a lick, then your breath hitches…. And then he buries his mouth into your pussy. It doesn’t take much time for the image to begin shaking wildly, almost matching your debauched noises. There is squelching, there are award-winning male moans, muffled by your heat, soon there is a hand, your hand, reaching down and grabbing his hair. Phone strangely angles, hardly supported by just one hand, until it falls camera down onto the shits. After that, there are just delicious screams of yours, chanting the name of your lover and begging him to stop, while he doesn’t listen, taking his reward for yet another win.

Yeah, he proved you can’t keep the camera focused while he is eating you out in that one. It’s truly a pity, that more than a half of what was going on, didn’t get recorded in image. Maybe next time you'll do better - oh... That's actually not a bad idea at all… Looks like you are in for another bet.

Blade

His situation is… quite peculiar. First of all, he has so little care for his own phone outside using it to get info for the mission, to the point ANYONE from the Stellaron Hunters can just take it and do whatever with it (Silver Wolf and Kafka practice it a lot). Even your relationship doesn’t change it much, he messages you rarely and quite shortly, preferring to save the conversation for personal interaction. 

However recently, Kafka has been putting a plan into action - the first step of which was banning everyone from getting into his phone (herself excluded). Then she’d start sending her colleague an occasional picture of a set of lingerie she’s oh so sure would look wonderful on you. Blade never answers, but he doesn’t tell her off either, and by the snooping she knows that the pictures get bookmarked, the links for the shops she attaches are visited, and sums of money are being spent.

Oh, and by checking the chat… She knows you get them delivered. Does she text you to shower you with compliments? She does. At first it was a little embarrassing and you asked Blade if he could, maybe, pay better attention to his phone??? But soon, when your lover started showing the telltale signs of jealousy... It became pretty hot (plus praise from THE Kafka? Ego-boosting).

Blade doesn’t voice it, but more than seeing you all pretty for him, he loves seeing you ruined for him, and doesn’t complain when you ask him to take a picture with your phone of whatever part of you, focusing on the marks, or the torn crotch of your panties, or something alike… There are times when he would text you with a simple ‘send me pictures with torn stockings’ or ‘yesterday. open nipples bra. now’ , because he knows you have them, and you deliver, because you know he loves them. 

Has his favorites:

Depicts your thighs, bitten and opened wide, while the black panties are pushed aside to let two thick, scar-covered fingers dive into your pussy.

Your body after one of the sessions - bra roughly pushed down under the mark-covered breasts, panties missing, one stocking still on the leg, but with multiple holes in it, and the other tying your wrists above your head.

A small video you insisted on recording of the man tugging onto your garter belt whenever he wanted your hips to push towards his thrust, threatening for the thin elastic material to snap.

Even though he doesn’t save them, he knows how to get an easy access to them, so for Blade it works quite fine (and Kafka’s plan does too, making Blade look less intimacy-repulsed and spicing up your relationship).

Boothill

A cyborg, whose only human part of the body is the head, and sex life… How can this be possible? 

Oh, trust me, it can. Sure, his bodily reaction differs, but he still is excited to get nudes from you, finally able to express through the text what he really thinks with that foul mouth of his. A voice recording of you dirty talking to him? Awesome. A video? You can bet his engine is overheating and vents are whirring.

But in all honesty, the ones he truly loves and returns to are the recordings of him doing stuff to you. Call him self-conscious, it’s not like he can bite back with a swear, but the reminder that he can bring you pleasure even now is sometimes necessary.

The lights are intimately dimmed, not enough to bring the room into utter darkness. Two bodies are lying almost intertwined with your back turned to the camera. The metal arm of your lover has sneaked under your side and around your waist, fingers digging into the plush glob of your ass, tugging on it, to further the spread which is created by your leg thrown over his hip. Your pussy is perfectly presented to the camera, puffy and slick, with two gray plated fingers massaging it. Digits slide up and down your labia, occasionally staying on the clit, to rub tight circles on it and elicit some sweet moans out of you, only to return to their previous ministrations, dipping the tips juuust a little bit into the quivering hole. Your back arches and body deliciously shivers from the contrast of his cool and your heat, and you softly whine, when he releases your ass cheek to give it a spank and then grab it again, unwilling to let the sight of your cunt escape his phone’s camera. You whimper something, muffled by his chest, but he remembers by heart what you were begging for. ‘Please, put your mouth on me.’ He will, in a minute, but right now he pushes both fingers to the second knuckle in, making you jolt in his hold, but not letting you go anywhere.

It’s captivating, how his inhuman digits disappear and reappear with every thrust he makes; slick-covered they look shiny, as if you polished them, and the cyborg shudders, imagining your tongue running around them. That’s one dangerous video, he may just give in to his want to see you and abandon the mission he was assigned to…

Dr Veritas Ratio

Unsurprisingly, Veritas’ phone doesn’t contain that much stuff in general. Maybe some downloaded articles, notes to put down later, if he doesn’t have a piece of paper at the moment, and very few pictures, mainly of his writings on the chalkboard. Don’t be discouraged though, of course he has pictures of you. Some selfies you took after “borrowing” his phone and ones he doesn’t have a heart to delete (but he will scoff at you, should you decide to tease him), and some very well-thought images he took on his own accord - he needs reference for when he decides to let his mind rest from research and focus on sculpting.

And one might think that such a reserved and cold man will not entertain storing anything explicit on his phone. Well, he indeed does not have any pictures and videos saved - if he wants, he can either find what you sent him via your chat or just demand your assistance. However… There is something that strangely became his way of concentrating when doing his research…

”Oh! Mh- *thrust* Veri- ohmygod! *thrust*”

“Wait- Aaah! I can’t! I’m sore! MmmmMMM!” “No, you can and you will. Now hold still, I can’t eat you out if you keep thrashing around.” “Oh Aeons!”

*Slick sounds of you going down on him, gurgling and choking on his girth, occasionally gasping to catch your breath, only to have his cock buried in your throat again*

“Baaaby… I miss you so much… Can I come to your office? I promise to be good… Just need to cockwarm you - nothing else I swear. Let me keep you company pleeease. Imagine how nicely it'd be to have your cock buried in my pussy, while you are working… Need to help you with stress-relief, it's gonna feel so-so good.”

“Oh fuck, o-oh, love, I'm cumming, I'm cumming, I’mcumMIN-” “Ngh, s-so…tight…” “Aaaaaaah~!”

“Veritas Ratio, if you come home in ten minutes, I will give you a nice massage and then ride you damn cock, till the only thing you can think about is not your work, but me. If you fail to do so though… I wonder if my threat to use some toys instead will work. Just know that your wife is very mad. And horny.”

It doesn't matter if the audio was taken while you were intimate or it was something you sent to him and he saved - he thoroughly enjoys everything your voice has to offer to him. And if instead of concentrated it accidentally makes him horny - he'll just play the next one, while undoing his pants.

Gallagher

Oh, this man is a menace. And a huge ass-lover. His gallery is full of pictures of your booty: clothed, just panty-clad or bare. There are shots with your body clearly being bent, ass up and back covered in his load. Videos of him fucking you from behind, with cock sliding in and out of your pussy? Obviously. Recordings of it jiggling as he spanks you? Would’ve been strange if they weren’t there.

However, in that vast collection of his, there is a video that’s most peculiar - one might say scandalous. It was one of those nights when he took over the bar for Siobhan and you came over at some point, all enticing and so sexy in that little dress of yours… He could not resist taking you right there once the establishment was closed. And it got on security camera...

Moans so loud, that they are reaching the recording device, are still of the delicious kind. Your back is arched over the bar counter, arms lifted and wrists tied by none other but Gallagher’s wine-red tie, and held by his own hand for good measure. The front of your dress is pushed down, revealing your pretty breasts, jiggling with every thrust of the man’s hips, and the hem of it has ridden up, baring your stomach and mark-covered thighs. Your lover is barely unclothed, pants and boxers pushed down just enough to free his cock and the tie, obviously, missing. The hand that is not holding your wrists, is grabbing onto your leg, under the knee, lifting it for a better angle, and showing off a lewd detail - your black lace panties hanging on your shin. You are looking positively debauched, and he is no better, groaning and cursing, with an occasional exceptionally rough trust that makes you scream and whine. There are teeth-gritted ‘slut’s and huskily chuckled ‘bad girl’s with your pleading ‘sir’s and ‘Gal’s, all of that deliciously seasoned with the clapping of the wet skin colliding. But nothing beats the moment of you cumming, depicted by no less than three cameras from all of the hottest angles…

Of course this footage was ‘confiscated’ by him with some dumb excuse for Siobhan (he doubts she believed it, given the knowing look and shit-eating grin she gave him), with all traces destroyed except just one copy thoroughly hidden on his phone. He thinks you two should repeat that - this time, however, he’d love to bend you over the counter with your back facing him…

Gepard Landau

Gepard would die if someone took his phone and got into his gallery. Poor man has to change the password weekly to throw Serval off his case (she was only teasing, but that made her brother paranoid). There is a reason for such behavior - while he is way too sweet and gentlemanly to suggest making sexy pics or, Supreme Guardian forgive, videos, he can't help but to be too whipped for you. 

This man dutifully saves every single photo and video of yours - nudes included.

You don't send them very often - you don't want to kill your darling husband. But sometimes the yearning is unbearable, and there is a suffocating need to show Gepard what he is missing while away on duty (you always leave a warning message though, so he could check it while alone and undisturbed).

No matter how red and embarrassed he gets, the man timidly admits that he enjoys this kind of attention. He is not beyond the earthly pleasures - he too has a favorite theme, that recently became more present in what you send him…

At first you looked so absolutely cute and domestic with his huge sweater on, the one you personally knitted for him - the beginning of the video didn’t look all that different from the photos you sent him just minutes before. But soon it becomes clear why you asked if he was alone, because once you position the phone and climb onto the bed, your full attire gets revealed. White stockings are replacing your usual home pants, and as your fingers grab the hem of the sweater and tug it up, the white panties from a matching set start peaking. The view is both pure and alluring, with the way your legs are spreading wide, and the sweater being pushed further up, baring your braless breasts. The hem gets secured between your teeth and both hands teasingly run down your sides, index fingers drawing circles around the tits, before squeezing them; as one remains right there, the other slowly slides down your stomach, disappearing under the hem of those flimsy panties. Imagination paints wild images - every next is hotter than the previous, and only your muffled moans of his name and rapidly rising chest are indicators of how good you feel with fingers pushing in and out of your pussy. And that damn sweater… You are not taking it off.

The Captain of the Silvermane Guards has one guilty pleasure - you, wearing his clothes. Domesticity, longing, finding comfort in something of his touches his heart and heightens his love and desire for you, almost making him consider taking a regular day off.

Jing Yuan

This man literally worships the ground his wife is walking on, so OF COURSE he wants to have as many pictures and videos of you as possible. It gets so boring and lonely when he is at work, after all. But don’t be fooled by his sweet and innocent smile, there are not only cute shots of you both or just you, he has sexy stuff too.

Man is obsessed with your chest. It’s his favorite pillow (thus so many pictures of him snuggling his face right between your breasts), his best stress-relief (photos and short videos of his big veiny hands cupping and squeezing your girls, with an occasional swipe of the thumbs over the erect nipples), his favorite place to leave marks on (no one can see them under the clothes, but just one tug of his finger on your collar and he is met with a delicious sight. Plus the photos he asks to send occasionally).

Loves, loves, loves, purchasing lingerie for you and when you demonstrate your bra-clad tits. He immediately wants them in his face, but there is the phone screen keeping him away.

But oh does he love recordings of playing with them.

Your body is steadily bouncing on your husband’s lap, creating a beautiful melody of skin slapping against skin. There is an occasional peak of his thick cock, covered in your juices, that immediately disappears again, undoubtedly swallowed by your pussy. One strong arm is wrapped around your waist, supporting you, while the other hand is palming at your left breast. The right one has fallen victim to his eager mouth, lips wrapped around the nipple, sucking on it tenderly, tongue toying with the overstimulated nub. His eyes are half-lidded when he looks up at you, moaning around your breast, when you tug on his luscious locks, trying to push him away, to give you a small rest. He is drawing back indeed, planting a soft kiss to the valley between the jiggling globes, and you sigh in relief, deceived by his affectionate action. Only for you back to arch and mouth hang in a loud moan, when Jing Yuan brings your other breast to his awaiting tongue, dropping both hands to your hips to aid you in speeding up your riding, sensing your nearing orgasm.

Maybe next time you should try recording him making you cum by playing with your chest only… Ah, just the thought makes his cock swell.

Loucha

As much as Loucha enjoys your company and more often than not allows you to accompany him in his journeys, there are times when he can’t take you with him. Which means he leaves for weeks, or sometimes a couple of months, going through the days without a single touch from you. Before getting into a relationship with you, he could survive without intimacy just fine, but now, since he knows the taste of affection and being spoiled by you, it’s getting hard.

That’s when recordings on his phone come in handy, especially when there is no opportunity of a video call to indulge. And there is one he most frequently returns to…

Your chest is rising and falling, pretty breasts with perky nipples brought together by a wrap of a rope. Red and purple marks bloom on your skin akin flowers, some fresh, some from days before. Sweat shines on your hot skin, indicating just for how long the blonde has been torturing you with pleasure and denial. There is a small shake of the video, as your lover is establishing his phone, having just started the recording, and softly making you aware of how good you look - you wouldn’t know with that blindfold covering your eyes. Once the angle is perfect - capturing your arms, tied above the head, the arch of your back and thighs pushed together for stimulation, the man is joining you on the bed. It is cock-hardening, how you lift your head to find his lips, when you sense him leaning down, needily allowing him to indulge in a kiss before the game of orgasm denial continues. His hand meanwhile is creeping down your body, starting with caressing your cheek, fingers sliding down your neck, over the swell of your breast, thumb pushing against the nipple, eliciting a moan out of you right into his mouth, and then palm splaying on your stomach, traveling even lower, before it disappears between your thighs.

Loucha is a man of foreplay. There is nothing more satisfying to him, than indulging into your body before sinking his cock into your warmth. He loves making you squirm, completely at his mercy, drawing you right to the edge, and then denying you the sweet release, just to make you yearn, just to stretch the process out.

Sampo Koski

Sampo is nasty and that is not a secret. I am sure, if you were up for it, he’d suggest filming porn just for the giggles (and extra cash, come on, you both are fucking hot). There are teasing nudes and intimate videos, and it’s not a rare occasion of either of you texting the other with some found porn with a caption ‘let’s try it?’ and you do, frequently recording the process to compare later, and claiming that your performance is better.

However, sometimes it tends to not go according to the script (not like you usually have one). Sampo is chaotic and it’s not hard to lose focus with a lover like him, and these exact moments are Koski’s favorite. Despite being a Masked Fool, during these times he himself looks so sincere, it’s as unnerving, as it is exciting. Rewatching such videos and seeing how you mirror the look in his eyes, giggle with him, even crack a joke, all without ruining the mood - makes him believe he’s found his soulmate (and if you did film porn with him, he’d never share this level of intimacy with your viewers, it solely belongs to you two).

You are giggling, shaking your head with a wide smile, all the while lying on your stomach between his toned mark-covered thighs and leisurely fisting his hard, leaking cock with an angrily red tip. 

‘Sampo, please, be a little serious, we are trying to be sexy here.’

‘We are sexy! What’s not hot in shaping my and your pubic hairs into the lips?? They could kiss, when we fuck!’

‘You are unbelievable,’ you snort, trying to save the last bits of your composure, and leaning forward to mouth at his tight balls. This makes your lover pornographically (how ironic) moan, throwing his head back.

‘Mmm, yes, right there~ Oooh… If am soooo unbelievable, it must mean I am dreamy? How about I bring you to a Penacony, to a Dreamscape? I bet in your dream I’d be as good in bed as I am in reality.’

Your resolve snaps and you burst out laughing, letting go of his sack and pressing your face to his thigh, shaking, dropping the hand from around his cock. Sampo whines.

‘Come ooooon, I was so close!’

‘Shu-ah-ha-t-ah-uh-p,’ you manage through your laughter. The man pouts, but the gaze of mint green is summer-warm as he is looking down at your trembling form. Your voice is pretty, your cackles are pretty, and oh damn he is laughing too.

And these are just the first few minutes of the last video, the thing has a duration of half an hour, so, obviously, you didn’t stop there. That’s what Sampo Koski loves - no matter how cringe you become, it’s never a reason to stop the whole process. If anything it’s something to spark an even longer and intimacy-filled one.

Sunday

Keeping personal stuff on his phone is quite dangerous, given Sunday’s position. That’s why he owns two phones - his work one, and one to mainly contact you, his sister, and a small circle of the most trusted people. He is extremely good at handling the owning of two separate devices, never mistaking one for another, that people are often convinced he has only one.

But it’s his personal cellphone that interests us. Oh, does he have a whole collection of photos and videos of you, one folder in particular hidden just for good measure. Sunday is a collected and regal man, yet it doesn’t mean he has a hard time enjoying your teasing. Quite contrary, sometimes he welcomes it, loving the photos you send him from an outing, shopping for clothes, or better yet, lingerie, sending him multiple shots of different sets and asking him which he loves most, and which he’d like to see on you tonight. 

There are videos too, especially when he’s been extremely busy, and you are oh so needy, sending him short recordings of touching yourself, sighing out his name, begging him to come and help you. However, there is one he particularly likes…

Big silicone cock is being pushed in and out by the machine he purchased for you to quell your need when your husband can’t be there for you. You are on your stomach, with hips slightly raised and pushed backwards, chasing the toy, and he can see the perfect outline of your pussy, outer lips swollen and puffy, covered in a sticky substance, opening and constricting in attempts to accommodate the girth. Your moans are sweet, so-so sweet, hitting a high pitch, when the dildo falls out and a thick glob of cum substitute escapes your pussy. And then another, and another, messing your thighs even more, ruining the towel underneath you. Yet you don’t stop, reaching behind, and pushing the tip back into your tight warmth, making the toy pick its pace again. It’s squelching, it’s so dirty, but it’s so hard to look away. You give yourself creampie, after creampie, sometimes stopping to collect the substance and push it inside with your digits, fingering, moaning and whining for your husband, wishing it’s his cum sploshing between your walls, breeding you.

Yes, it’s his favorite, almost 4-minute video. Ever the neat freak, he can’t deny you look heavenly when ruined, on an equally ruined bed, begging for his attention and semen. You have to forget about the machine for some time, however, because since then Sunday has been truly devoted to breeding you.

[thebestofoneshots]

touches | Remus Lupin x Reader

Pairing: Remus Lupin x Reader

Word Count: 12.8 k (yeah, I don't even know how this happened, but damn do I love the final result)

Warnings: smut, teasing, dry hump*ng, finger fucking, hand job, masturbati*n, P in V, lots of praise, consent is sexy, lusty!Remus, he literally can't take his eyes off you. His big, sexy destrous hands make you quiver.

Prompt: Inspired by the sense of touch, this fic tells the story of Remus being absolutely head over heels for you and his obsession with a particular picture of you in a sundress. A picture, that unleashes his most lecherous, and debaucherous self.

Mutual Pinning, Idiots in Love, smut with a plot

sights is part of The Five Senses: an anthology series where each chapter will be a stand alone story, inspired by the different ways we have of perceiving the world around us.

♡ NSFW: Smut under the cut

You had had crushes before, but whatever this thing you had going on for Remus Lupin was something else entirely. Enticing, addicting, almost like a drug, no, not almost, Remus Lupin was most definitely like a drug to you. 

The smell of his cologne was intoxicating, you could actually tell he was coming in your direction just from the sheer scent that would hit you before his beautiful face did, and you would instantly perk up, and try to act as natural as possible when he passed by. It didn’t help that every single time he saw you he would smile so brightly, you felt like your entire world was being illuminated. He’d then walk closer to you, greet you, and place an arm over your shoulders, especially if you had to go to the same place, and most of the time you were going to the same place, the library.

You would sit across each other and no matter how much fucking attention you tried to pay to whatever book you were reading, or to whatever it was you were trying to study, you’d continuously get distracted by him. By the way he flipped the pages of his book, by the way he shifted on the chair, by the way he fucking breathed. You weren’t sure it was a crush anymore, since it started feeling like a bIoody obsession instead. 

There was something about the way his rich brown eyes looked at you that made you feel so fucking high, you might have as well held the record of the person with the most feet above the ground while flying a broom. 

The absolute worst part was the dreams you were having, it all started one time you were all chilling in the common room and for some reason you ended up with your feet over his lap, you didn’t even remember how it happened, but you certainly did remember how it had felt. The sly wolf had placed his stupid hot hands over your legs, and as he was talking to everyone, he started gently –and absentmindedly you assumed– rubbing small circles over your knees. And then his hand had traveled a bit upwards, just above your knee, nothing indecent really, just a stupid friendly hand, a friendly hand that was so big, and strong and dextrous that you couldn’t stop thinking about it. 

Even days after it happened you were still thinking about the ghost of his hands ever so present in your head. But it wasn’t until exactly one and a half weeks later, that you solidified your obsession. You had a dream in which the exact same thing happened, except this time the rest of your friends weren’t there, and Remus' hand continued to travel upwards, and upwards, until it reached the place where you had wanted it the most. 

And he had done so many filthy and nasty things in your dream that when you woke up you weren’t only blushing for what had happened, but your panties had been so ruined that you had to change them before anyone noticed what had happened. Next time you saw Remus you were so fucking mortified you couldn’t even look at him in the eye. 

Remus Lupin wasn’t much better either. He had thought of you as beautiful from the day he met you, stunning even, but that had been that. You were all just kids and all just friends. In fact, he thought James was weird for having a crush on 12-year-old Lily. Who has a crush when you’re 12?, he’d thought, girls are dumb and entitled. 

Yeah, perhaps Remus didn’t have a crush on you from the very beginning like James had fallen for Lily, and he might have even thought he didn’t even like girls at some point, especially when he took into account his misadventures with Sirius and other boys in 5th year. But one day you were all having dinner, and then you bit into the juiciest plum he had ever seen, some of the sugary liquid spilling down from your lips as you took the fruit away from them, and something fucking snapped in Remus. 

You noticed he was staring, and gave him a bright smile “This one’s insanely good, wanna bite?” you’d asked him as you pushed the deep red fruit towards his face. On the inside, it was a lighter hue of red, and Remus swallowed when he noticed the bite marks on the side of its skin, your bite marks. ”I promise you’d like it,” you said as you dangled the fruit over his face. The boy did eventually lean in and gave the fruit a bite, his nose accidentally brushing against your hand. You blinked a couple of times when he peered through his lashes at you mid-bite, really trying to swallow the nasty thoughts that came into your head.

Remus didn’t so much as manage to do that, after the bite he pulled back, placing a napkin over his mouth to clean up the sugary wetness left by the fruit, and nodded, yeah, it had been a bIoody tasty fruit “Delicious.”   

“Told you,” you’d responded with a smile and gave it another bite, moaning just a little at the flavour. If Remus Lupin’s pants were already making him uncomfortable, the way you fucking ate that fruit all the way ‘till the end, could have been his elegy.  

“Dеad for lusting over his friend” he imagined his grave would say, feeling miserable over having such nasty thoughts of you. When you crossed the table to tell James something about a prank, Remus didn’t think much of it, he just sank a little deeper onto the chair and placed his robes over his lap to try and mask what was actually going on. He tried imagining Dumbledore naked, and it seemed to have worked at least a little bit, but after you were done you placed your hand on his shoulder and leaned over to him with a soft smile on your face. 

“I’m going to the library to go over some charms, you coming?” you asked him.  

He barely managed to muster a tight-lipped smile and shook his head “I’m… I’m not feeling too good, I’ll be going to the dorms,” he somehow managed to say. 

“Oh, all right,” you smiled, letting your hand draw from shoulder to shoulder, brushing just for a second over the skin of the back of his neck, and that just made another shiver run down his spine, “I’ll see you around then!” You said just before melting into the crowds of students as you left. Remus had to stay on his seat for a good 15 minutes after that.

"Moony, you’re not coming?" James asked him as he stood up and started walking with the boys. 

Sirius burst out into a devilish smile “Oh he is cumming, all right!" the boy said. James didn’t get the joke, but Remus groaned and let his head fall on the table. Sirius knew now. BIoody fantastic!

Next thing Remus knew, he was getting the most random boners whenever you were around, and he felt like absolute shit. Especially since you weren’t doing anything that should be causing those kinds of reactions on him. Or at least you weren’t doing them to get him turned on. Leaning down to pick up a pencil that had fallen to the ground and flashing him with the short shorts you wore under your skirt as the two of you walked towards the library shouldn’t have gotten his cock to twitch and yet he had to lie to you and tell you to get ahead of the two since “he had forgotten something”.

He also shouldn’t have gotten a boner when you pressed yourself against him in a hug to wish him a happy birthday, or when you gave him a small kiss on the cheek after he won the Wizards’ Chess contest. To be fair, you weren’t even sure where you’d mustered up the courage for that one, since you had turned so red you had fled the place before you even noticed the small tent on his pants. 

He shouldn’t have gotten one when Bins had you cross over the classroom and used you as a teacher’s assistant to write down things on the board. But he could’ve sworn your shirt was shorter that day, nothing more than a few inches, but there was definitely a lot more skin to see.

The one time he had a boner in the library because he dropped his parchment and leaned in to get it, realizing that for some reason you hadn’t worn your usual shorts and instead under your skirt he could actually see your knickers, was the time he thought it was acceptable. Especially when he did a double-take after he noticed the lacy pattern on your black underwear. Regardless it did nothing to make him not feel like a perv, even less when you leaned down on the table and gave him a rather concerned look “You okay Rem?” you asked “Did you find your parchment?” 

He coughed a couple of times, thankfully the parchment had fallen a bit away from his grasp, and he somehow pointed at it. You nodded in comprehension and extended your leg to kick the parchment towards him, flashing him even more in the process. He had to avert his gaze as soon as your eyes turned back to him “thanks,” he said, voice strained, both of you were back over the table in a second. 

You frowned “Sure you’re okay?” you asked again, leaning in closer with your extended hand just inches away from his face, but you pulled your hand away from him when you realized the apprehensive way he was staring at you. He was thankful, he was sure he might have cum in his pants had you actually placed your hand over his cheek the way you sometimes did. 

Lily had come and get you from the library and he had just stayed there, face hidden under his arms as he cursed himself for being a perv. Then he felt a hand over his leg and almost jumped from his seat, realizing it was just Sirius. 

The blue-eyed boy was looking at his friend with a knowing smile, Remus pulled back just a little “I’ve seen what’s been happening to you.” 

 “You haven’t seen shit,” Remus responded defensively which just got a laugh from Sirius. 

“Moony, if you think I haven’t seen the way you shift in your seat whenever she’s around, or the way you subtly place your bag over your lap in class sometimes, or the way you stayed down the table for a little longer than you would in any normal situation, then–” 

“–Shut it, shut it, shut it,” he said as he attempted to place his hands over Sirius, the other boy just laughed again. 

“I’m here to give you advice,” the other boy said calmly as he grabbed Remus’ wrists to stop them from accidentally hitting him.

Remus eyed him suspiciously “What advice?” 

“Wank it off,” Sirius said with a shrug. 

Remus deadpanned “I’m not gonna,” he started and then added in a hushed tone “wank it off!” 

“It’s the only solution I see, that or you tell her you have the hots for her.” 

“That’s not happening either.” 

“Could do it for you,” the boy shrugged again. “Seduce her and bring her onto your bed.” 

“Sirius, you’re most definitely not going to seduce my crush.” 

“But it’s painful to see you like this,” the other boy said, pointing at the bulge in Remus’ pants that was only now starting to subside. 

“Well then don’t look!” Remus said pointedly, pulled a book from the table and started reading it.  Sirius knew it was useless to say anything after that, but he also knew he had somewhat been successful, the idea had already been planted in his friend’s head. 

And really, it’s not that Remus wanted to think about it, but when he got another boner over you just walking past him, he knew he had to find a solution to his problem. And, in the end, the solution found him instead. You were just walking away from the library when something dropped from your bag, “hey wait you…” he leaned over to pass it on to you, but he noticed then that it was a picture of you. You were wearing a sundress, a milkmaid sundress, pale yellow with small pink flowers, and you were smiling towards the camera as you moved and looked back at the castle behind you. He realized quickly it was Bayern, the castle you told him you had gone to visit on your last summer vacation that had a rather complicated German name he hadn’t cared to memorize.

And while the castle was definitely an impressive feat of architecture, it was half as impressive as you in that sundress. You had shown him several pictures of your trip, but you had never shown him that one, he almost felt like he had been robbed of something from not being able to see you in that dress before. 

“You said something?” You asked, turning around to look at him. He quickly pocketed the small picture and shook his head, pulling the pencil he had been holding on his other hand.

“Just dropped this,” he said with a tight-lipped smile, trying not to let the guilt consume him.

“All right, see you at dinner,” you said as you turned around with a shrug and started walking away from the library.

He could feel the soft edges of the small photograph in his pockets with his hand still inside it, he was aching to get to see you in that bIoody sundress again, so after giving it some thought, that being exactly four seconds, he decided he’d have to skip class that day. Consequences be damned, he had to get to his room.  

In what could easily be considered record time, Remus was already in the common room, running up the stairs and opening the door to his shared room, he walked inside and looked around, trying to make sure there was no one in there. Score, room was empty, even the bathroom. While he started walking to the bed, he started having second thoughts. “You can’t do this” a little voice in his head said “It’s wrong, you’re betraying her trust”. 

Remus tried to shove those thoughts away as he continued feeling the edges of the photograph still safely tucked inside his pocket. He flipped his fingers over one of them and heard the small thump of the paper muffled by the fabric of his pants. Is it really wrong if I…? He wondered. It’s not like you had given him the picture… it's not like you had trusted him with it and he was about to do something heinous with it. In fact, he had stumbled into the picture, it had been all an accident, a coincidence, so if it were to actually wank it off with it, he wouldn’t be doing anything wrong, would he? 

He approached his bed, he’d made a decision, he was sure, a few steps towards it and he was taking another step back, still fidgeting with his hand on the pliant photograph paper. And then he remembered the stash. He leaned under Peter’s bed –where they all kept their shit– and went straight for one of the playwizzard magazines. He started staring at the pictures of the beautiful nude witches, with their huge assets and their surprisingly hot movements. He sat down on his bed and continued staring, making sure to use a spell to lock the door as he started unzipping his pants. 

But the witches were doing fucking nothing, nothing compared to what you did with 4 layers of clothing, nothing compared to his reaction to seeing you in that sundress. “Fuck!” he whispered-screamed frustrated as he threw the magazine to the floor, it falling back into place under Peter’s bed. He let himself fall on it and stared at the ceiling. The fucking photo he knew was still in his pocket weighing like led, he imagined you moving around in it, he remembered how the dress hugged your perfect soft curves from the seconds glimpse he’d gotten at it and… he felt the rush of bIood flowing downward.

“Just this once,” he said to himself as if he really thought he’d be able to stop afterwards “Just this once,” he repeated as he shut the curtains around his bed, out of shame rather than a bigger need of privacy, “just this once…” he repeated as he pulled the picture from his pocket, the back was facing him, there was a small legend on it, written in elegant cursive handwriting, your handwriting. He brushed his finger over it as he read  “Neuschwanstein, Summer 1976”. So that was the name of the castle, he thought as he moved his other hand to his trousers. 

He didn’t turn the picture, not yet, he hoped his imagination would be enough, he hoped that if he didn’t actually look at the picture while doing it, he’d have the moral high ground. He also knew that that was all bullshit from his own head trying to justify his actions. He started rubbing his hand over his trousers, feeling how hard the thought of you had made him. The nude witches from the magazine hadn’t done half that, it had been you.

 “Fuck,” he cursed under his breath as he started rubbing, not taking himself out. Not yet, he had to engrave that picture of you deep in his brain before starting, as if it hadn’t been done the moment he spotted it on the floor of the library. 

He continued to rub until he was panting and he stood up, kneeling on the bed instead of sitting down, undoing his button and pulling both his pants and briefs down in a surprisingly swift motion. He was so hard, there was already a bit of precum coming from him. He took a deep breath and placed his hands around himself, he gulped when he did, and then reached forward, flicking his finger over his tip, spreading some of the warm liquid over it, but it wasn’t enough. He brought his hand up and spit on it, using that as a lubricant as he started to move his hand up and down along his shaft. Slow at first, trying to remember the way you looked, but the more he pumped, the foggier his brain got, it was like he couldn’t hold the picture of you in his brain. 

On the spur of the moment, he made a decision he thought he wouldn’t be doing that day, he really, really thought he had an ounce of self restraint until he gave up, and flipped the picture. “Fuck,” was the first thing that came out of his mouth when he saw you, he was fucking thankful the pictures couldn’t talk like portraits did. He continued to pump himself, panting as he started to thrust into his own hand instead. There was something about the movement of his hips that made it more real. He swallowed thickly as he stared at you, your dress rising ever so slightly as you twirled to see the castle behind you. It wasn’t even more than what he had seen when your skirt rode up, or what he had seen that day at the library but it was doing things to him regardless. 

He grabbed a pillow and placed it in front of him, settling the picture over it carefully, still staring at your beautiful smile as he continued to thrust “so fucking gorgeous,” he whispered in between pants, she’s so bIoody stunning, how is it even possible? 

His mind was filled with praises when he finally came, but he was so erratic, so sexdrunk that he didn’t even manage to catch his cum in his hand like he usually did, instead it spilled past his hands and onto the pillow he had placed in front of him, onto the photo. 

When Remus managed to regain a little bit of himself and he noticed what had happened he panicked “What have I done?” he wondered as he pulled the picture up and attempted to clean the sticky hot liquid with the sleeves of his sweater –it was like he had forgotten he was a wizard altogether– but instead of helping it only spread out even more, now being all over your chest. And that, that sent another rush down his body, his gaze darkened as he stared, lips parted, not believing what was going on. 

He looked down, the twitch on his cock hadn’t been his imagination, it had actually fucking happened “What the bIoody fuck!” he whispered as he went to pat himself again, he would be sore as fuck later that day, but he didn’t give a bIoody damn about it. Completely forgetting his initial worry, he went at it again, when he was done, he came even harder, over the picture again, but this time, it had been intentional. Something about ruining that dress made his brain tick. When he was done, he just let himself fall on the bed, face down, not caring to adjust his pants, only turning his pillow around so he wouldn’t be sleeping directly over his cum. 

As he laid down face looking to the side, he pulled the picture from the side and stared at it, he was fucking spent, and yet he felt his cock twitch yet again as he saw your figure covered in his seed. You were fucking stunning in that dress. He fell asleep like that. Pillow with cum underneath, half-naked, and with your cum filled picture standing right next to his face. 

When he woke up again, it was because he heard someone trying to open the door. He jolted awake, pulled his pants up and used his wand to clean the bottom of his pillow and some of his shirts, some of it was sticky, while other bits were just staining the sheets with a cloudy white stain. He pocketed the picture, the one he didn’t care to clean, and walked towards the door. 

“Remus?” Sirius asked when he opened the door “Why weren’t you in class today?” 

“I was feeling off,” Remus lied, standing right in front of Sirius and blocking his view of the bed. It was clean, really, but he had forgotten to undraw the curtains “Had a headache.”

“But we’re pretty far from that time of the month,” Sirius said casually, then he spotted the edge of the magazine under Peter’s bed, and Remus’ bed too, the one his friend had been so adamant to clock out of his view and he smiled “Should’ve told me,” he said with a smirk and pointed at the magazine “I’ve got better ones.” 

Remus gasped “No I didn’t… I didn’t use that,” he shut his own mouth and cursed under his breath when he realized what he had involuntarily admitted to doing.

“No problem,” Sirius said with a smile “I was starting to worry about you and your obsessive little crush.” Remus gave him a reproachful look, Sirius just ignored it “She’s in the common room, you know? She was worried about you.”

“She was?” 

“Said she was waiting for you at dinner,” Sirius responded with a shrug. Remus looked at his friend surprised and turned to the clock on the wall “It’s that fucking late?” 

Sirius nodded, and smiled as he saw Remus walk past him and towards the door again “Go get her lover boy,” he said as he waved Remus goodbye with a smile. 

That day, since you hadn’t seen him, you’d brought him food over, and the two of you had some snacks by the fire, you had leaned into him a little, craving his warmth since the night had gotten cold, even if it was already spring. He thought he’d be giving you your photograph back that day, but he just couldn’t, not while it was still stained with his cum, so the picture stayed. Safely in his pocket as you waved goodbye and walked up to your room with a soft smile on your face. 

The picture had almost become part of his routine, whenever he was feeling too uneasy around you, or turned on for that matter, he sneaked to a private place in the castle and took matters into his own hands. At first, he was shameful for it, cheeks burning as he stared at you, but the more he did it, the less shame he felt. 

Eventually though, he heard you talking to Marlene about having lost a photograph that you really liked, and that you would straight up kiss anyone who found it because you had to give it back to your mom, who said she’d get you a duplicate if you really wanted it. 

Remus felt terrible, he’d been using the picture to wank while you had been looking for it because you had to give it back? That night, he shut his curtains, used muffliato all over and he did it one last time –technically a couple of them– and fell asleep staring at the picture, trying to memorize it completely, especially the dried blotches of cum and how they looked over you. Fucking pervert, he thought as he finally used his wand to clean it up, leaving it like brand new. 

The next day, he approached you on your way to the library, “Hey little witch,” he said as he approached you. 

You loved it when he called you names, it made you feel special. You turned around trying not to grin, which was almost your automatic reaction to hearing his voice “Hey Rem,” you responded with a smile. 

“I’ve got something for you,” he said as he bit his bottom lip. 

You gave him a surprised look and approached him “You do?” He nodded. “What is it?” 

“I found something you were looking for,” he said as he pulled the picture from his pocket. 

“Remus!” you said, not bothering to hide your excitement “You found my picture,” you smiled “I was worried it’d end up in the wrong hands…”

Remus averted your gaze, yeah like mine, he thought, but then turned to you with a smile, he decided to tease you “And where is my reward?” he asked with a cocky smile, you looked at him puzzled. “Didn’t you say you’d kiss whoever found it?” 

You gave him a smile, not sure whether he was joking or not, but decided to oblige him, pulling him down by placing a hand on his shoulder and standing on your toes just a little before placing the smallest little peck to his cheeks “Thank you, my hero!” you said with a smile as you pulled away, a slight sarcastic tint to it. 

All thought he’d asked for it, he was not expecting for you to actually go through with it. He coughed a bit and smiled, pointing at the picture as he tried to regain composure “the dress,” he said, “it looks really nice, you should wear it more often.” 

And those words were all you needed for him to say, you knew you had a Hogsmade outing on the weekend, so no matter what, you’d have to find that dress. You had been rummaging through your bottomless trunk for at least an hour when Marlene finally turned to you, looking at the mess of scattered clothes all around, and noting your distressed little expression. 

“What’s wrong darling, you lost something?” she asked. 

“Sort of,” you said, “I’m looking for my dress.” 

“Your dress? Which dress?” she asked. 

You pulled the picture and handed it over to her. She took in her hands and gave you a low whistle “You look stunning, luv. Who do we want to impress?” 

Your head snapped towards her with a small gasp “Impress!?” 

Marlene just smiled “Come on,” she said, “you wouldn’t be looking for it so frantically if it wasn’t for the fact that you wanted to garner someone’s attention.” She sat on your bed and stared at you, head tilted “Is it Remus?” You flushed. “It is Remus!” she added excitedly. 

You shook your head as you sighed, not bothering to hide it from her and nodded “he found the photo, he said the dress looked good on me.” 

“Bet he did,” she said, diverted and leaned in closer to notice the slightly worn edges of the picture, she turned it around a couple of times before noticing a small rip. She shuddered and let the picture fall on the bed. Looking at you and the photo and then back at you with shock “How long did he have it?” 

You shrugged in response, still dipping your head inside your trunk and pulling piece after piece of clothing “Not sure, he said he found it and brought it over.” 

Marlene looked at you suspiciously, not daring to take the picture again, were you that naive? “How long was it lost?” 

“‘Bout three weeks or so, I think…” you said as if it didn’t matter now that you knew where the picture was “fuck, it’s nowhere!” you whined as you continued to throw pieces of clothing behind you.

“Honey I think he…” she shut herself. And looked back at the pic, not taking in her hands again. She frowned, trying to decide whether to tell you or not. 

“hmm?” you said, turning to her.  

“I think you’ll look stunning in it,” she said, opting not to tell you “Come on, let me help,” she said as she stood up and walked beside you, helping you dig through the trunk until you found it. It was better if you didn’t know what he had been doing with that picture. All though, knowing you like she did, you might have been turned on by the idea anyway.

She was the one who found it, she stood with it and helped you carefully hang it on the bed as she used a steamer spell to get rid of the wrinkles. All the while you were using some levitating spells to put all the clothes back on the trunk. You’d told her you’d make sure to clean it up later. 

The boys were already at “The Three Broomsticks” since they had promised to get in ahead of you to find a table. And you had promised Lily you’d go to the hair stylist with her. You weren’t there to get anything done, but somehow she convinced you to let them style your hair in a nice way. She thought a bit of extra magic would look really nice with your dress “So you can woe Remus.” she’d said. As Remus needed anything other than your sole existence to be wooed. 

When you were both done, her red locks were perfectly done up and cut, your own hair styled in a way that you looked just like a princess, the two of you finally walked towards the spot you always shared with the boys. Marlene, and Mary were already there. Marlene was talking about Quidditch with James and they were waiting for you to ask you some things before the next match in a couple of weeks while Remus and Sirius were talking about something else. 

Sirius was the one who spotted you come in through the door, and him being Sirius, whistled shamelessly, garnering the attention of every single person in the table, and even some from other people around them “Look at them go, you look stunning girls!” 

Remus was about to reprimand Sirius for his crassness when he turned to see you. And when he noticed exactly what you were wearing, his mouth went dry, a rush of bIood going straight down his body. He never expected to actually see you in that dress in real life. To him, it was like a dream, a fantasy, but now it was real, and it made him grow pale, and hold his breath as you walked towards them and he saw the fabric ripple around you as you walked. Is that a– the dress has a leg slit?, he thought as he stared, swallowing hard and trying to snap himself out of the trance. 

Marlene noticed, of course, she noticed. And she tried to hide a snicker, by drinking some water but ended up coughing instead. Remus, who had been sitting next to her, didn’t even notice, so she hit him lightly “asshole,” she said. He turned to her rather confused. “I almost choked?”  

“Oh… really? Didn’t notice… want me to get you a napkin?” He asked politely, his eyes turning to her only briefly before going to you and then back and forth. 

Marlene rolled her eyes “No need, ooze at your little witch instead.” She made sure to use the nickname he had given you in a rather mocking manner. 

He snapped his head towards her now, paying full attention “I wasn’t– I mean I…” 

Marlene just shook her head and stood up, a wicked little smile appearing on her lips as she grabbed your shoulders “Take my spot, will you?” She said with a smile “I’m going to the bathroom real quick, that way we don’t move everyone when I’m back.” 

“You sure?” you asked, catching the fact that she had been sitting next to Remus. 

“Positive,” she added with a smile as she basically pushed you next to Remus and took off. You turned to her with a reproachful stance but took a deep breath and turned your head back around, rising in your seat just a little bit as you tried to accommodate the dress. The slit and the harsh way in which she had pushed you inside the booth caused one side of the dress to dip behind your leg, exposing it completely. 

Remus noticed, and his gaze lingered just for a little bit before turning towards the front, glaring holes at the napkin holder as he tried to both think of a naked Dumbledore to cool down and etch the curve of your legs in his brain for later use. 

Sirius, the other person at the table who knew what was going on, was a nice enough friend to hand Remus a glass of cold water. When Marlene came back, she had brought over some Butterbeer for everyone, and Lily had stood up to ask for some snacks at the counter. Marlene had sat an awful lot closer to you than she needed when she came back, with one sole purpose, to press you into Remus. 

“Sorry,” You said, looking up at him when the girl laughed and you ended up shoulder to shoulder. 

He looked down at you, staring with the softness he always used on you and smiled “No problem darling.” 

Marlene smiled, and when she saw Frank and Alice she called them over “Sit with us guys,” she said with a wicked smile. Alice gave her a look, knowing she was up to something just by looking at her expression. So even if she originally planned a date with just Frank, she decided to pull him along. 

“I’ll go get a chair,” the boy said as he approached the table. 

“Don’t be silly, we all fit in here,” Sirius said when he figured out what Marlene was doing, “I’ll just sit on Prongs’ lap,” He said before the two of them accommodated, allowing Lily and to move over and subsequently for Mary to do the same, successfully making enough space for Alice to sit in there. 

Remus was throwing pleading looks at his friend when Mary spoke “Careful Lils, Sirius might steal your man.” 

She chuckled, “he can keep him for all I care,” she joked, James pouted in response. 

“I guess I can sit on Frank’s…” Alice started. 

“Don’t be ridiculous luv!” Marlene said “You’re our guest,” she said, “(Y/N) can sit on Remus’ lap.” You threw her a look, and she just gave you an expectant smile.  

“Well as long as it doesn’t bother you,” you said, turning to Remus who swallowed but shook his head. Sirius was holding his need to laugh when you kind of stood up and placed yourself over Remus’ lap. And he wanted to laugh because Remus’ face was just priceless. He had his eyes shut tight, and he might have also been holding his breath. Sirius just honestly hoped you didn’t find one of those surprises that Remus often had when you were around. 

“So, what were you planning guys?” Lily asked as everyone started to get comfortable. Remus had placed his hands on the table, close enough to yours so they were brushing against each other, it made you feel butterflies.

“We were just going to have dinner and then walk around a little bit. Alice wanted to restock on her strawberry gum before going back too.” 

“Yeah, we didn’t have any strong plans, what about you guys?” Alice added. 

“Well Zonko’s is our mandatory spot, but we went there earlier,” Sirius responded as he pulled one of the breads from the center and split it in two, “Want some?” he asked looking at you and you nodded and handed it over, then he turned back to Alice.

You took a bit of your bread to bring it over to your mouth and turned back to them “Lils and I went to the hair salon.” 

“So that’s why you both look so stunning,” Alice said, by then, Frank who had stood up earlier had brought back two other butterbeers, one for himself and the other for his fiancé.

You then turned to Remus, who you realized was grabbing onto the edge of the table “Are you okay?” you asked him, concerned. Freaking Marlene, she didn’t even consider Remus might be uncomfortable, you thought. 

The boy looked at you, focusing like he had been thinking of something else and nodded “Yeah sorry, don’t know what to do with my hands,” he admitted, pulling them slightly from where they were brushing against yours. 

You looked at him, and grabbed his hands in yours, pulling them towards your lap, not quite wrapping them around your waist, but almost “You can put them there, I don’t mind.” 

Remus gulped but nodded. He could barely stop thinking at the way you felt pressed against him. Your legs on top of his were already enough to drive him crazy, but now his hands on top of your legs? He had to grab the butterbeer and bring it up to his lips to cool himself down again, drinking about half the bottle in one go. 

You pulled another piece of bread to your mouth and realised he had been staring at your hands, mistakenly, you assumed it was because he was hungry, you grabbed another bit and hovered it just about his mouth “Want some?” 

Remus just leaned in and took the piece you offered him munching on it as he tried to concentrate on the flavour. Other than the fact that he was struggling not to make it obvious how turned on he was, he thought the domesticity you were showing was overly nice.

But then you leaned in to grab another piece of bread from the far side of the table, and the smell of your hair got all the way to him, and then he looked at your soft smooth looking back that was a lot more exposed than normally and he fucked up. 

When you leaned back in your place, you felt it. You almost gasped. But then realised that it must have been your imagination. Surely there was no way you leaning onto the table like that would garner such a reaction from him. Right?

Regardless, you were too curious to just let it slip by, so you repeated your action. This time you noticed his breath catch on his throat as he emitted the quietest little gasp you’d ever heard. And so when you went back to your spot, you just grabbed your bread and started munching on it as you tried to keep a straight, not completely surprised face. 

You thought about not moving at all for a while, so Remus could sort out whatever was going on by himself. Really, it would have been the merciful thing to do. To freeze in your place, let him cool down and pretend it never happened. Unfortunately for him –or perhaps fortunately– you had never been merciful, not when you were playing quidditch, not when you were destroying your opponent in magic chess and you certainly wouldn’t start then.

Besides, if he really had been turned on by you and not by some other external factor, then you doing what you were about to do might have been all the proof you needed to know if Remus actually liked you back. 

At first, you didn’t want to make it obvious. And pretended you hadn’t noticed his reaction to you, which had him relax, if ever so slightly. But then you leaned in again, this time to Lily, and you made a small little gesture with your hand to have her lean into you too, telling her something silly about the homework. Leaning back toward Remus and then repeating the same action while pretending you had forgotten to say something. 

When you went back to your place, you pressed yourself against the boy a little harder, smiling when you realised that it must definitely have been you the one causing such a reaction in Moony. Your resolve only solidified when you felt his hands – which were still lying atop of your tights, ball into tight fists, his whole body tightening under you, in fact. 

Still, the boy hadn’t noticed you were doing it on purpose and he hoped to the heavens you hadn’t noticed what was going on with him. The possibility that you thought what you were feeling was keys or something else in his pockets was at least comforting.

You smiled, almost wickedly as you thought of yet another excuse to roll your hips atop of his, “Please stop moving,” he whispered in your ears after he grabbed your arms and forced you to lean closer to him. 

“Am I too heavy? Sorry…” You said aiming to stand up but going back down a second later, pretending it had been accidental. Remus cursed under his breath, feeling like shit for being so turned on over you… just existing. 

“No, you– you were just squeezing my tight.” He said, voice rougher than usual. 

You revelled in the reactions you were getting from him. “Oh sorry,” you said and rolled your hips to the side, his breath hitched in his throat, “This better?” 

 “I-“ he started, not quite being able to emit a full sentence. 

You held a smile and tolled your hips to the other side “And this?” you asked, still in an innocent tone. 

“fuck…” 

You bit your lip to not smile, turning your body to him and leaning on one of his legs instead, placing your hand on his cheek “Are you okay?” you asked, fake concern laced in your words, he was too far gone to notice. 

“Yeah, sorry I just, I feel like I should… Perhaps I can…” 

“Want me to stand up?” You asked with a small pout “If I’m making you uncomfortable the just–” 

“–No!” he said a little too suddenly, “I’m fine, you’re fine, everything’s fine.” At least with your ass pressed only to only one of his tights, he was starting to relax again. Even if the slit of your dress had repeated its action from earlier and had your leg a lot more exposed than before. He noticed, and you noticed he noticed. 

And so, doing the boldest thing you had ever done in your life, you spread your legs open just a wee bit more, letting the slit fall further behind and letting your leg show just a tad more. Remus swallowed thickly as he stared “discreetly”, which just made your mouth dry. 

You then turned back to the front, since Peter had arrived with the food, fish and chips and some other casual dishes. You moved yourself again, this time facing the front and pressing your ass straight to his crotch. You didn’t care for pretending anymore, you wanted to see how far you could push him, so you rolled your hips against him once. Leaned down for a fry and then rolled them again, two times this time. 

Remus’ breath was heavy, he was looking at you in shock, at this point he was so hard there was no way you hadn’t noticed. He saw you lean forwards, your movement different from the first time you’d done it, you were perking your ass against him, and when you leaned back you rolled your hips three times, basically grinding onto him as you did. 

That’s when he realised, and the next time you leaned for a chip, he pulled his hands from your lap and wrapped them around your hips tightly before pulling you back onto him, harshly, making sure to press you against him in a way that made you gasp in shock, he leaned onto your ear “Thought I wouldn’t notice little witch?” he whispered. 

Your mouth went dry, you weren’t sure anything anyone had ever told you made you feel that turned on in your life. Still, you decided to continue playing your own little game “Whatever do you mean Rem?” you asked innocently, turning your head to him, feeling his hot breath against your cheek. 

He chuckled, tightening his grip on your hips before pushing you down onto him again “Stop pretending, or this won’t stop till I’ve had my fill.” 

Your eyes shone at the idea, you tried to roll your hips against his again but his grip was way too tight “Is that… a promise?” 

Remus chuckled again before forcing your hips to roll against him again, pulling his head in a bit of an angle so he could whisper in your ear without anyone realising it, “It was a threat, but you can call it whatever you like sweetheart.” 

You smiled wickedly “Then I still have no clue what you mean,” you replied with another of those innocent smiles of yours, while you pulled the dress a little bit higher. 

Remus held back a groan as he looked at you, teasing him like you didn’t know any better. Like you didn’t know how many dreams of railing you in that dress he’d had in the past couple of weeks. 

In the middle of your little rendezvous, Sirius noticed something was going on, it was in the way Remus was regarding you really, same stare the wolf used often, fucking famished.  “Hey Moons! Didn’t you say you had to go to the castle early for that potions project of yours?” he asked, eyeing Marlene. 

“Right, same one you’ve been working on, isn’t it darling? You should go together,” she said, turning to you. 

Remus shot a small little sneaky smile at Padfoot and nodded “You’re right,” Remus said calmly “Both of you,” he said giving each of them a look, and then turned to you, “shall we go?”

You gulped, eyes as dark as his own “Yeah, we should.” 

Frank, Marlene and Peter got off from the booth so you could both get out, you were the first one up and Remus followed, placing himself behind you so no one could see the tent in his pants, but also because he enjoyed pressing himself onto you a little too much. 

You pulled your wallet and took out a couple of bills, “Remus’ is on me,” you said with a smile. 

Sirius snickered when he thought, Well, he certainly will be. Which was rather similar to what Remus thought as his eyes darkened. 

“If I help you with your homework will you also be paying for my butterbeer?” James teased. 

You smiled “How many butterbeers do you owe me then Prongs?” 

He gasped at your bold little response and you waved at everyone with a smile. Remus had placed his hand on your neck, Thumb brushing against your spine as he turned the both of you around and prompted you to move forward. Once outside you saw a small little alleyway that seemed just dark enough for the two of you “Remus, look–“ 

“Not there,” he said, “too dark.” 

You turned to him a little surprised. “What? You want to do it out in the open then?” 

He leaned over “Little witch, I haven’t been dreaming of you in that fucking dress for weeks so we end up fucking in a dark little corner where I won’t be able to see it properly.” 

The shiver those words sent down your spine was unprecedented, that was until you realised exactly what he had said. Weeks? That must be a mistake. “Does that mean you had the photo for…” 

“Yes, weeks,” he confirmed, not even caring to hide it anymore. “It’s clean now, don’t worry,” he added. 

“What do you mean it’s…” the words died out in your mouth, you knew exactly what he meant “Remus!” you admonished, half shocked, half complaining, but totally turned on.

“Got a problem?! Don’t leave you’re fucking photos laying in the ground for anyone else to see.” He said, the fact that he was using such crass language, something he tended to avoid around you was proof enough of how out of control he was at the moment “Coud end in the wrong hands.” 

You looked around “Where are you taking me?” you asked when you noticed you were walking towards the forest. 

“To a place almost as beautiful as you,” he said simply. Your bIood rushed to your cheeks. Fucking Remus John Lupin, he had you and he had you bad, “you do trust me, right?” he added leaning into your ears. 

This was definitely revenge for what you had done to him back at the pub. You somehow managed to nod and he smiled. The two of you walked along the forest for a couple of minutes, until you saw some light, the darkness and trees opened into a small circle, there were small floating pollen spores that you could only see when the sun hit them right, and the shadows the tall trees cast on the ground made the entire place look like it was something out of a fairy tale. Even the air… it smelled of magic. Perhaps the fairies would fly away scared after the two invaded their home, terrified of the debauchery that was about to occur… or perhaps they'd see the two of you together, looking so merry, that they would dance and party along with you, from their small little nooks hidden inside the roots of the trees.

The beauty of the place made you almost forget why you were there all together. Almost. Remus had brought you closer to him, wrapping his fingers around your waist and pressing himself onto you. He was still hard. It hadn’t been a long walk but you assumed that… Well, perhaps you didn’t know shit about male anatomy, let alone werewolf anatomy. You pressed your hips against him and he stifled a moan. 

You turned around and placed your hand on his cheek again, echoing the action you had done at the pub, but this time using it to bring him down for a kiss. First, it was just a small little one on the side of his mouth, but as you were pulling away he grabbed the back of your head and pulled you back in. 

It started slow, he started slow. Like he was savouring every inch of your lips before pressing his tongue against them, you let your own part, and the two of them started dancing against each other. You tried to deepen the kiss, to make it faster, but Remus was slow and steady and demanding. He was not about to let you rush him through this. 

No, Remus Lupin had dreamed of this moment for way too fucking long to let you be fast and desperate about it. “Remus I…” you whined.

“Shhhh little witch…” he coed “We need to take our time, make sure you’re ready–“ 

“I am ready,” you said as you pulled his hand from your neck and dragged it towards your core, when his fingers brushed over your wet panties he could not stop the curse that slipped through his mouth. 

“So fucking wet already. And just for the kissing–” 

“No.” 

“No?”

“It’s been like that since the pub.”

Remus chuckled, diverted at your boldness before he stared at you, at the dress again. Half of him wanted to rip it apart to see all of you, but the other one, the one that had made him fuck himself into his own hands so many times, wanted you to keep it on. He wanted to fuck you in that dress until it was filled with grass and dirt and cum. He wanted to fucking ruin you. You weren’t making it easy for him to hold back either. 

You noticed the way he was staring and placed your hand on the back of the dress, starting to unzip it when he placed his hands over yours and dragged them away from it, pulling the zipper back up and whispering in your ear “Keep it on.”  It wasn’t a question, it was a command.

“What? But… you won’t be able to– Will it be enough?” 

Remus looked at you in disbelief, raising his eyebrows as he nodded towards the tent in his pants “More than fucking enough.” He pulled you back in towards him, gliding his hands down your tights and sliding one of them through the slit, “I didn’t know the dress had a slit when I was using it to get off,” he whispered, hot breath against your ear making you shiver, you were about to crumble onto him “I imagine I would have… let my imagination run wild with it.” 

“Let your imagination run with it now,” you replied and pulled on his hair to bring him back to your mouth. He groaned at the harsh movement, and you almost fucking melted into him after he made that sound. “Remus! You’re too tall,” you complained in between kisses and you pressed your hands onto his shoulders to bring him further down. He smiled onto the kiss, but allowed you to push him down until you were both kneeling on the soft mossy grass. He was still too fucking tall “sit.”

“Sit?” he asked diverted, raising an eyebrow teasingly. 

“Yes, sit,” you said again, pushing him on the chest just hard enough to have him tumble back, ass on the ground as he stared at you, amusement evident on his face. Of course, had Remus actually wanted to stay up, your small little blow to his chest wouldn’t have done shit, but he liked how desperate you were. 

He looked up at you, still on your knees as you looked back at him, eyes blown with lust “I like it when you take charge like this,” he joked. 

You scoffed diverted “Shut the fuck up Moony, I’ll–“

“Make me,” he interrupted you, brattily. 

How many fucking romance novels had this boy read? “I’m sorry?” 

He just smiled wider, he knew what he was doing. He knew exactly what he was doing to you and he was getting a kick out of it. “I said… make me.” 

You wanted to scoff, but instead, you climbed on top of him pressing yourself against his cock and leaning in for a kiss, but not allowing your lips to touch. It’s what he wanted, really. You knew because you had probably read those same novels. Instead, you rocked your hips into his, and he gasped. Remus leaned in to kiss you but you pulled back and brushed your cheeks through his as you leaned over to whisper in his ear, rocking your hips against his once more before speaking “You were saying?” 

His mouth went dry, he was not expecting so much push and pull with you, he almost always imagined you as a little bunny he would ruin, but it seemed like you were as much of a wolf as he was, which was somehow even better, hotter, it made his whole fucking body feel like it was on fire, which was exactly what you were feeling as you felt his crotch rub straight against your wet panties. The friction making you feel things you didn’t consider possible. 

“Fuck,” he whispered, which only furthered your conviction “Darling if you-“ he groaned as you ground against him yet again “keep this up, I’m not gonna– not gonna last,” he somehow managed to get out. 

“Then stop me,” you said with a wicked smile. Remus pulled you back, to stare at your face, you still had that expression and he quirked one of his eyebrows. “Must I repeat myself?” 

Remus scoffed, biting his lips when he felt you roll your hips against his again, which got a hiss in return. When he was sure you were okay with it, he placed his hands on your hips and pulled you back on his legs, just enough so you wouldn’t be able to continue grinding against his crotch. And then he lifted you up with remarkable ease before laying you on the mossy grass floor. 

Your hair sprawled around your face, your cheeks were flushed and your eyes so blown with lust they almost looked black, he wasn’t sure you’d ever looked prettier in his life. He hovered over you and you opened your legs for him, pulling them up to try and chase his, but he pulled them back, you gave him a desperate pout. Which made you look even more adorable. 

Remus placed one of his hands on your hips to hold them down and brought the other one to your legs, he was taking his sweet time as he brushed it over your leg, savouring the feeling of your soft skin against his hands, pressing lightly as he brushed over your calves and brushing your inner thigh with utmost care, you felt like you were at the common room all over again. The recurrent dream you had coming back to you in an instant.

“Remus,” you whined, as you tried to push your hips up only to be stopped by his dextrous hands. You heard him chuckle, voice hoarse still. 

“Let me enjoy the view darling, you don’t know how pretty you look right now.” 

“Well, enjoy while touching,” you said, pulling the dress as far as you could and placing your hand over the one on your hips to bring it down to your core. 

There was no shame in your movements, there was no fear, you’d let him touch you wherever he wanted and that made Remus’ cock twitch in his pants “Perhaps you shouldn’t be putting so much trust in a wolf’s hands…” he said as he rubbed his thumb over your wet underwear. Failing to keep up his smug grin when he realised just how wetter you’d gotten them, the small little surprise eased a smile on his face. And since you were looking so attentively at it –at his beautiful, perfect, licentious face– you noticed. 

Deciding to tease him further you rolled your hips against his thumb, feeling the way the rest of them pressed against the top of your slit, warm and kind, even as they pushed you back down again with relatively strong force “Maybe you’re just a sheep in a wolf’s skin,” you whispered breathlessly. 

“Isn’t that saying meant to be the other way around?” 

You started to laugh, easily being shut up by his thumb sliding to the side and back again, this time dipping inside your panties and rubbing through your hole “Shit,” you breathed. 

Remus smiled, realising how much you whimpered when one of his scars brushed against your clit. He tortured you with it for a few seconds before he pressed his thumb against it, earning a gasp from you. “A sheep in a wolf’s skin, eh?” he asked as he loomed over you, one hand still on your clit and the other one to prompt himself up, looking at your elated little face, and the microexpressions you made whenever he did something right.

You managed to somehow regain back focus, just enough to smirk in between a moan, “just a sheep,” you repeated. And he inserted a digit against you. You gasped again. 

But he was just as shocked as you were, “So tight,” he whispered, “It’s not going to fit…” he said more to himself. You pushed your hips against his finger, wanting to feel some fiction. 

“It will,” you reassured “Please Remus…” you begged then.

He almost came there and then. You were pleading for him to continue, fucking pleading. He complied. He started moving his finger inside and out, careful and soft at first, like he didn’t want to hurt you, keeping his eyes trained on your face to make sure you were okay as he dug deeper inside you. Your face was dazed in pleasure, almost too far gone when you felt another finger. 

You frowned, and he stopped moving “Hurts?” he asked concerned laced in his tone. 

You took a deep breath “No… just, give me a second…” You said as you tried to adjust to the feeling.  After just a couple more seconds, it was you who was pushing against his fingers. You hadn’t even realised when he had pulled his thumb and replaced it with his index and middle finger, but they were longer, and they reached places they hadn’t done before. You only figured it out when he started rubbing circles against your clit like he had done at first. 

And you moaned his name as he picked up the pace. The pleasure was so big you didn’t even realize he was actually preparing you, slowly moving his fingers as he rubbed and trusted so he could stretch you out, so he could actually fuck you the way he wanted. 

He reached a point you hadn’t even managed to reach yourself ever before and you bit your lips so hard you drew bIood, he figured it out in a second and continued to rub against the spot until he had you wrapping your hands around his tightly, he knew you were close, so he smiled and continued pumping even as you tried to reduce the friction, which had you coming undone after a couple of seconds. Your breath was ragged, your hands loosened as you lost yourself to the pleasure. He helped you down from your high, still pumping his fingers in and out, slower now, almost painfully slow. 

When he finally stopped, he pulled them out slowly and then brought his fingers straight to his mouth, and the guttural moan that escaped his lips when he wrapped them around his fingers and tasted set you ablaze yet again.  You reached your hand for his crotch and started grazing your delicate fingers against him. He was still looming over you, and you smiled when his stance faltered. 

You went straight to the button of his dress pants, and then pulled the zipper down, pressing your hand over his briefs, and you finally understood why he thought it wasn’t going to fit. Your fault for falling in love with such a tall boy. You heard him whimper above you and it only made your resolve strengthen, you pulled your hands inside his briefs now. When he felt your hands around him, not his rough hands- but your soft, small hands, around him he crumbled into you, his face buried into the crook of your neck as you stroked him. 

You were soft, and kind to him, at first… But you started picking up the pace when he pressed his mouth to your neck and started sucking against the soft skin, and against your collarbone, and then further enough to reach to the valley of your breasts. He looked up at you, lust filled his eyes as he leaned his cheek into your chest but he did nothing. 

You were almost too far gone to realise he was asking for permission, but he used his mouth to nudge the string that tied the section that gave the “milkmaid dress” its name and you instantly understood what he wanted. You nodded and he used his mouth to pull the small little bow you had made earlier undone.  Using the now-added space to trail his mouth to the valley of your breasts. You tightened the grip around him when you felt his hot breath against your nipples, and you did it again when you felt his mouth wrapped around one of them. 

“fuck,” You whispered. He hummed in response, his own moans being drowned out by your soft skin, as he licked and sucked and nipped to his heart’s content. But then you did something that almost got him over the edge, and he bit your soft skin almost a little too hard. You had moved your hand up and had started to rub his tip. You might have known shit about male anatomy, but if books had taught you something, it was that, that was the most sensible part of a man’s cock. From his reaction, it was just the same for a werewolf. 

“Okay, that’s enough!” he said roughly as he pulled your hand off him and pushed it over your head, taking the other one somewhere along the way and keeping them both in place with one of his own. He was still accommodating one of his hands to carefully hold both of yours down when you chased your hips against his. He gave you an impassive look and you just repeated the action again, a teasing smile dancing on your lips. He narrowed his eyes at you and you had the nerve to shrug innocently in response, or at least attempt a shrug, since both of your hands were still stretched over your head. 

He chuckled at that, shaking his head as he used his free hands to tug your underwear down. The cold caused you to shiver, but it didn’t last long, he was already rubbing himself into your entrance. The feeling made you quaver, you were desperate to have him, but you also understood what he was doing. He was coating himself in your slick. 

After a few more thrusts to your slick and he lined himself against your entrance. When he was ready, you pulled your hips up and his tip slewed over you and graced your already sensitive clit, you did it again, but then he pushed you down, hands digging into your flesh as he set your hips back on the grass, giving you a warning look. 

You smiled teasingly and attempted to do it again, but his hands were digging against your pelvis and you barely managed to squirm under him, “please just fuck me,” you said with a pout. 

“I was about to do that when you decided to tease,” he responded, a fake annoyance laced in his words. You let out a sigh but you felt him line against your entrance again. Your breath hitched in your throat and stopped squirming, allowing him to move his hand from your hips to guide himself inside. 

He was slow and didn’t go all the way in at first, paying close attention to your face as he slid inside, breath heavy “You’re so fucking tight,” he whispered. You were panting as well, but managed to bring your hips up to help him bury more of himself inside you, he gasped, and dug his hands back on your hips, forcing you to still. Fucking Remus and his fucking werewolf strength, you thought as you attempted to writhe. 

Remus was damn thankful he had played so many scenarios in his head as he touched himself, he wasn’t sure if he would have lasted half as long as he had if he hadn’t already pictured you in so many different ways. But even with so many, he hadn’t expected you to be so damn tight. When you kept squirming, he jerked forwards, dipping himself entirely inside you. 

You moaned, your face in that mix of pleasure and pain he hadn’t yet managed to decipher “You okay?” he asked to your ear, his voice a mix between a whisper and a groan. 

You nodded and clenched around him in response, he cursed under his breath. He wasn’t sure if he wasn’t moving because he was letting you adjust, or because he was trying not to instantly cum. You just felt so fucking good.

He could feel you breathing under him, your belly rising and falling almost alongside his, and he closed his eyes, just enjoying the feeling of being so close to you, so impossibly close. But you weren’t as patient. You hadn’t had as much practice with your own hand like he had, and you were desperate for him to move again. You tightened your muscles one more time. He cursed under his breath, and then you tried squirming under him. 

“Please, little witch,” he begged, he wasn’t sure what exactly he was begging for, when his head decided to cooperate he managed to speak again, still in your ear “let me adjust.”

You squirmed under him again “adjust while fucking me.”

He bit his lip, pulled back slowly and thrusted back in with a lot more strength, you gasped, but relished on the feeling of him finally moving “Such a crass language my luv,” he said in between another of those harsh trusts. You were squirming under him again, this time it wasn’t on purpose. You pulled your hands under his sweater, you wanted to feel his skin. 

He faltered at that, like it was a part of him he didn’t want you to see, let alone to feel, but when your fingers started brushing over one of his scars, in such a fucking adoring way, he couldn’t help but melt into you, he was sure he’d let you do whatever the hell you’d wanted to him. 

You started bucking your hips against his, meeting his rhythm as best as you could, he was still being mindful of you as he continued his thrusts, too scared to hurt you. It was only when you fastened your pace that he did the same. 

You whined his name, a little more desperate now, he knew you were close but he wasn’t sure the angle was enough for you, so he leaned closer “Would you,” thrust “mind it if I–” thrust “flipped you around?” 

You wrapped your hands around his hair, letting them roam over him as you brought him over for a sloppy kiss, he instantly knew that was your answer. He took you out of him, you chased your hips back to his almost unwittingly, and you saw his resolve falter, but he got it back as quickly and used his strong hands to wrap them around your hips and flip you around. You had your face against the grass, turning your neck to try and see what he was doing when he took off his sweater. 

He leaned over you, you could feel his cock pressed against your ass, but he was carefully bunching the soft fabric, raising your head with his hand and cautiously placing it under your head. Fucking sheep in the skin of a wolf, you thought, he’s too freaking kind. 

You were still nursing that line of thought when you felt him thrust against you again, a lot harsher now, you straight up moaned at that, and he smiled as he continued his thrusts, in and out, until you were mindlessly pushing yourself against him again. You felt one of his hands slide in between your thighs, he started rubbing circles to your clit, repeatedly. You were losing yourself to him. To his hips thrusting into yours with a lot more force, to his heavy breaths and panting, to every moan and gasp and whimper and groan he emitted. They all sounded so beautiful to you. 

He continued rubbing, he was determined to make you come at least a couple of times, he had come enough to your photo, he wanted to return the favour. He realised your hips were chasing his skin and he took off the soft cotton shirt he was still wearing when he leaned over and placed his hand around your waist, pulling you up to his chest. 

You let your head fall against his shoulder as he continued thrusting, you weren’t sure you’d be able to form a coherent sentence even if you tried, so you just leaned in and placed sloppy kisses on his jaw, or to the section of it that you had access to now. He heard you moan when he quickened the pace of his hands on your clit, the other one still tightly around your ribs pushing you flush against him. 

The feeling of his skin against your back was immeasurably perfect, you almost wished you could take off your dress to feel more of skin against you. You supposed it’d have to be for another time. You whined when he brought you to your climax yet again, the way your muscles clenched around him making him almost feral, he leaned in closer to you, “I’m going to…” he groaned into your ear. 

“You can, inside if–“ 

“–No.” 

“No?” you asked in confusion. He pulled you off of him and laid you back on the ground, still leaning over you when the first spurt of white warm liquid came out of his cock. You were still hazed, mind foggy and muddled from your orgasm but you realised what he wanted, and smiled reassuringly “It’s okay, I can buy another one.” 

Remus groaned, letting his hand fall next to your head as he leaned in and continued to pump the rest of himself over you, over the dress. When he was finally done, he was so tired he wanted nothing more than to let himself fall over you, but he pulled back a little, still panting, but wanting to appreciate the mess he’d made. 

You smiled at him, biting your lip, as you saw his lustful expression, your dress was coated in him, his sweat, and yours causing it to cling awkwardly to some part of your skin, but he absolutly loved it. He loved that he could practically smell himself on you, mixed in between the earthy and mossy aroma of the fores,t and the smell of sex. There was some cum near your breast, some over the left side of your waist, and some just over your entrance, that was still exposed to him. You looked even better covered with his cum than he imagined you would. 

“Fucking gorgeous, wish I could take a picture,” he mumbled. 

You smiled, pulling him to crash onto you, he complied, leaning his head against your chest like he had done earlier, you started brushing your fingers over his hair, especially the back of his scalp, he almost purred into your chest when you started scratching softly. 

“You can keep one around the next time…” you whispered “but I’ll be taking some as well.” 

He chuckled at your boldness, yet again. After what seemed like too little time but must have been close to an hour of the two of you just cuddling in the grass, you both knew you had to go back. So you stood up, Remus cleaned your dress with a swipe of his wand, almost lamenting the way his cum disappeared from it, but it had been pulled and dragged regardless. He wasn’t sure you’d be able to fix it. 

“Here put this on,” He said, passing you his sweater over your arms. 

You smiled as he bent back the sleeves to fit you better. And then he passed his fingers over your hair as if he was trying to make you look less sex drunk. You bit your lip “Do I not look like I’ve been railed to the heavens by a werewolf anymore?” 

He chuckled, letting his hand linger on your cheek, “Thought I was a shep.” 

“Hmm… You are, sometimes.” He smiled at your answer, and at your teasing smile. He stared at you for a second, he realised he was so unbearably in love with you it was absolutely insane. He wondered if you liked him a similar amount, judging by your reactions earlier, you might have.  

When you leaned over to get your panties, which had been discarded somewhere over the grass, he beat you to it. You expected him to pass them over but instead, he pulled them to his face, giving them a sniff before placing them in his pocket. “Remus!” you admonished. 

He shrugged, “It’s an exchange, you keep the sweater,” he responded with a rather dismissive wave of his hand. 

“I never agreed to– bedsides, you're the one that ruined the dress!” 

“And you’re the one that ruined the knickers, your point is?” 

You scoffed, diverted at his answer and rushed towards him to try and get your underwear from his pocket but he veered off your grasp with ease, “Remus!” you said in between a snigger “You can’t expect me to go back to the castle all commando…” 

He shrugged, “It'd be easier to go for another round if you did.” 

You bit your lips in disbelief, and he wrapped his arms around yours, pulling you to start walking “Come on, hopefully, you’ll look less sex drunk by the time we’re back in the castle.” 

“Speak for yourself,” you said as you pulled his jaw in between your hands to see his face better “You’re still all flushed.” 

He shrugged “how could I not be? I have my arms around the prettiest little witch in the entire universe.” 

You were sure you were the most flushed between the two after he said those words. 

A/N: Did this one get out of hand in the length? Maybe... Do I love the final result? I definitely, definitely do. Remus and Reader's teasing and banter is my favourite thing ever. The Five Senses was born as a way for me to practice writing smut for my brand new Wolfstar x Reader series that's currently being posted on a weekly basis. If you have feedback, please leve it in the comment below. I absolutely love reading your comments <3

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[cattonicdragon]

So like what I'm see, could you do glamrock chica Roxy Monty bonny marinette and baby with a animatronic reader built for security and has access to the cameras,

this idea has been inside my head for awhile now and i know my x reader viewers are starving so yes.

also may i say your taste in fnaf animatronics is just 🤌

also i didnt know which bonnie you wanted so i just did glamrock bonnie

hows everyone feeling abt ruin???👁️👁️

there will be spelling errors

{not proof read}

glamerock chica

the pizzaplex had many security messures in place,including security bots

not that they made the most difference

its not until after a break-in incedint that they decide they need to up their security a tad bit more,however they were already paying enough fees and did'nt want to pay another security officer so instead they went for the next best option!

a new security animatronic that was sentient like the main four+sun and moon

chica was quite surprised once she saw you lurking around,that was until she remembered that the staff had said there was a new bot for extra security

she decided to approach you abit before opening since you both had'nt needed to survey the pizzaplex

you both got along very well actually

she found it very interesting and was slightly jealous that you had the ability to access the cctv cameras around the plex

she was quite happy that there was another animatronic though,you made for good company

if she every saw a security camera she would wave at it,regardless of if you were watching or not

she has offerd you trash before,though wether or not you accept it though is up to you

its the thought that counts atleast

monty/montgomary gator

similar situation to chicas

he was surprised to see another bot wondering round the plex

though hes not one to dweel on something that isnt his buisness,so he was mainly just curious and let you be

your first real interaction is when a customer gets particulary aggitated with the gator when you stepped in

you had told the woman the whatever had happpened she could bring it to customer service,you also warned her that if she did not comply she would be escorted out of the pizzzaplex

he hadnt seen anyone stand up for him before like that

you also presented yourself very professionaly,being an animatronic you stood fairly tall but the way your presented yourself almost made yyou seem taller,you were assertive in our words and spoke without stuttering

it was a very nice manner

although hes thankful that you stepped in he dosnt show it

he just huffs and leaves to his green room to blow off steam

after making some more meetings though an unlikely friendship manages to form

he trys to perform even better now that he knows your potentially watching

speaking of that

he finds it cool how they trust you enough to allow you access to the cameras,though hes not jeoalous because he has gator golf

he loves compliments whether your giving them to him or vice versa

hes very possessive and will cuddle you in his greenroom

he will either give you his glasses to wear temporarily or will get a copy made and then give you the copy

roxanne wolf

she would be one of the first ones to learn of your existance due to her excellent eye sight

she gets a little aggressive until she learns that your not an intruder and also not one of the "main" bots

it turns out mangament just thought it'd be a good idea to through you into the pizza plex with no for warning

she does get nervous that youll take her spot light a tad bit since animatronics do tend to draw more attraction then old ones

she needs quite a bit of confirmation that your not threatening her stance and thats shes still the best

after adjusting to you though shes very friendly

the chances are very high that she'll introduce cassie to you

she lets you into her green room preety much whenever

having a shitty day? go straight to her! she'll cheer you right up!

ashes constantley giving you makeovers,with your consent of course and other things

she loves racing you and she gives you many praises if you win

shes very soft with yopu,surprisingly even in public,although its not to the same extent as when your both alone she'll still be very sweet to you.

if people have a problem with it they can leave

your very quick to come to her aid if someone is being rude to her,also having the security cameras to back you up is a bonus

she gives you many of her merchandise on a whim,your talking and she has to leave,oh wait.before she goes she gives you a limited addition rare roxanne wolf plushie.how sweet ;)

glamrock bonnie

he wouldnt be to surprised to find out tghat managment added another animatronic that was strictly for security,wouldnt be to surprised that managment had'nt told anyone either

he'd probally be one of the first ones to come up to you,having a smug smirk on his face will dramatically spinning a bowling ball with one of his fingers

very flirty,however alot of the time it usually ends up with something funny happening,so flirting but failing at the same time.

he'll lean on a wall,about to recite a very cheezy monologue of randome romantic words when he suddenly just,falls.he slips off the wall and onto the floor,whatever words he was about to say,yea unless hes feeling particularly confident he will just get up,apologize and walk off

he tries to impress you tones,and i mean TONS

if your ever nearby he tries to get the most amount of attention possible,hoping that in the crowd he would have hooked your interest

he has honed his skills of bowling and hes going to show it

if you ask him to teach you a trick in bowling he will drop EVERYTHING just to show you how to do it

he absolutely loves when you give him attention and if you ever tease or flirt back,hes like putty in your hands,oh so sweet and tripping over his words like a highschool crush

he will unironically do the finger thing where he just 👉👈

will give you all sorts of gifts

if your not a pro bowling player by the time you actually get together(if you do) than you might just need alittle more help from him,but hes not complaining

fyi,you probally figured out he had feelings way before he told you,you most likely saw him rehearsing(and failing) through the cameras

speaking of wich,if he thinks/knows your looking at the security cameras and there one near him,hell wink and do a finger gun or some other flirty action towards it,and then most likely trip afterwards

puppet/marionette

shes quite surprised when you get added as additional securty measurements

dont the toy's already have saftey measurements like face recognitional scanning features and stuff

shes abit confused as to why they would do that instead of just upgrading the already made animatronics,like you already have tons of animatronics and instead of saving money you decide to waste it?

the only reason she can think that your here is maybe for increased popularity aswell?

shes confused but also curious,the toys can get a tad bit annoying and its nice to see a fresh face around,well animatronic technically speaking.

shes intreguded by the fact that you have access to the camera systems,theyve always been so adiment about only letting the night guard have it so why do you?

more questions than ones being answered,though maybe you could answer them

she can be a tad bit harsh and brash,with a pinch of shyness when she approacesh you,well actually the likely hood is,that she'll probally lure you to her box where she can stay safe instead of being in the outside world

once she gets to know you shes much more calm

she allows you to be in her box with her if you wish,with others she dismmises them with a harsh swipe of her black and white striped arm

she likes listening to her music box with you,just sitting in almost complete silence as the soft lullaby fills the air with calm music

she loves giving you gifts or leaving them around for you

she makes the pressents that belog to you blatently obvious as to who its for,one of the toys took one of your pressents once and it wasnt a very happy ending

she likes to just wrap her long lanky arms around you,seeking comfort in your presense and just you being there

circus baby

shes rather annoyed apon your arrival

circus baby is a mastermind and also likes things to be in place,specifically in places where she wants them

you put a very large and prominent thorn in her side

im not very sure on the lore but there's a high likely hood that you were made by henry and given as a gift after some concerning reports were leaked

shes an extreme mix between being friendly and being harsh

she annoyed because now shes going to have to re-arrange her plans and make accomadations for you,who can see into the security feed

but she needs to play nice if she wants her plan to go smoothly

shes a toxic mix between the two emotions,however as time goes on her feelings start to subside and change

she distances herself as much as your circumstances allow as she tries to configure her conflicting feelings

shes a robot made to kill,and your.well ,not

she eventually decides to see how her feelings lpay out and then plan around that

safe to say,she was very wrong,she thought that letting things happen,her feeling would subdue.nope,they just became stronger and she feel for you harder

she eventual;ly comes to a grueling conclusion that she likes you and after a short confrontation about feeling and such.her plans will have to change,again

shes very sweet with you,aswell as openly affecttionate

she uses alot of her mechanisms to wow you

like making heart shaped ballons randomly and giving them to you

she uses her high status in the funtimes frequently

she refuses to let the biddy babs anywhere near you

she likes keeping you by her side,you keep her calm and collected

she vents to you about the troubles she faces and asks your opinions and what she should do.

shes very caring towards you and sweet

to you:(//ó//w//ò//)

to the funtimes:(ò~ó)

[luv3rrx]

Mating Season

Naberius x Reader

Cw; Knotting with a dash of face fucking that's all you need to know

A/N; NEED NOW

Mating season was approaching

You knew that because Naberius asked you to stay away from him for that time being

But did you listen? No.

You tiptoe your way to his room, opening it slowly, peeking your head inside calling his name softly

"Naberius…? Are you there? You know I can help you right?" How naive of you..you walked right into the Wolf's trap

The room was dark,and all you could hear was him heavy breathing,clothes ruffling,deep growls..

"Why are you here.." he slurs on his words

You just wanted to help him!

Maybe you should have listen to him this time but it's too late to go back

You got closer to him,why are you walking in a trap?

The closer you got the heavier his breathing was becoming

Inhaling that sweet smell of yours,

It made his mouth water

You were in front of the bed, taking off the blanket slowly

Yank!

You were in his grasp now,like a sheep in a wolf's den

He didn't even let you realize what was happening

Thud

You're on the floor and him on top of you,his eyes wide ready to prey on you like an animal,

He inhaled your scent again,

You made him insane with your scent

"I told you not to come.." you swore you heard him snarl,he licked your lips as a question for your consent and you opened your mouth, letting his tongue slide in,his hands roaming all over your body

Rip

And there goes your new shirt..

Rip rip

Your pants! And your panties too! Don't worry he's gonna pay it back later,the way he kissed you..it was so needy but possessive at the same time

He just couldn't help it,he needed you, now.

If the heated kiss wasn't enough, he started to leave hickeys all over your body, from the visible parts to the parts where no one would find them..

He couldn't wait anymore,he ripped his own clothes

But he can't just fuck you like that!

And he didn't..he's been eating and fingering you for hours..

You came so many times already, you were ready weren't you?

"Naberius….!!! Please..sTop!! I need you please!!" You whined your hands gripping his hair,your knuckles turning white

Who is he to not answer you?

His thrust were rough, hard and merciless.

So much cum..there was so much of it..wait..did he just knot you? He was deep inside your guts but you didn't think that he would knot you!

"Naberius..did you just?-" smack

His hips smacked into yours,he's not gonna let go of you until he's satisfied

But you can handle it, you always did,I mean who else can handle 72 dicks?

Hours passed and he still wasn't satisfied even after knotting you,he needed more

He got up and asked you to kneel..and you didn't wait a minute,you kneeled opening your mouth wide for him,inserting his dick inside of your mouth he pinched your nose

Making you gag on his dick, he started to face fuck you and all he wanted you to do was to take it,to gag on his cock,to look a mess on it

He needed to take his primal and raw needs on you,to see you beg him to never stop that coursing pleasure,maybe.. you'll be stuck in his room for a while.

[sadisticsanji]

stupid girl

Eijirou Kirishima + Reader

word count: 5.4k

tw: voyeurism, hidden cameras, slight somnophilia, jealousy, dumbification, rough sex, cream pies, breeding kink, panty stealing, sick sex, medication, drowsy sex, dubious consent

whenever kirishima takes care of his sick best friend

Eijirou Kirishima isn’t sure if it’s because he hasn’t been able to cum (or see y/f/n) in four days but his cock was making a mess in his pants as he looks through his best friend’s window when she would least expect it. He can’t help himself. He missed her so much and her being sick and away made him yearn for her attention and presence. She's in a Dynamight t-shirt and white panties, covering her face into a tissue as she sneezes in doubles. Dumb little girl. Why would you leave your blinds wide open like this?

He tugs out his cell, watching his phone light up and cause a blue hue against the black night. Turning his brightness down quickly, he’s making sure that his cover isn’t blown. The girl is heading towards her desk, pouring herself cough syrup and not even paying attention to her window with the open blinds. She’s wincing at the putrid taste and Kirishima has a toothy grin on his face at the view.

From: Eijirou Kirishima

To: y/n

hey! how are you feeling? still sick?

Her head turns towards her buzzing phone and he can notice the grin that presents itself on her face. She texts him back before sitting her phone back down and tucking her hair behind her ears. He can see a flustered blush sprinkled across her cheeks and he cant help but think of covering them in his seed. His thoughts are interrupted by his phone vibrating in his hands.

From: y/n

To: Eijirou Kirishima

hiii kiri!!!!! i have a doc appt 2mrw at 9am so im gonna get me the good drugz! feel sicky still :,<

He’s upset that she’s still sick. Now that they were graduated, it wasn’t a guarantee that they were to see each other everyday anymore but he wasn’t willing to find a way.

From: Eijirou Kirishima

To: y/n

poor girl. need me to take you to the doctor tomorrow? i miss you!

He tries his hardest to sound platonic but it’s hard whenever one of his hands are pumping his cock over his jeans while he watched the woman. She’s quick to respond, cell already in her small palms.

From: y/n

To: Eijirou Kirishima

katsuki is taking me!! dont wanna get u sick kiri!!!!! ur my favlrite

He can tell that she’s tired by how she’s can’t stop yawning, kitten resemblances coming from her form. That doesn’t stop how he’s literally growling at the thought of someone else taking care of her. How dare they, Kirishima thinks. He doesn’t even respond, leaving her on read. His face is red, scoffing before he’s slowly turning on his feet and heading back towards his own home across the street. By the time he’s walking through the door a minute or two later, the girl is asleep (with her blinds still open). Stupid girl.

In Kirishima’s mind, he’s cursing his little bunny out for being so stupid. Why would such a pretty girl keep not only her blinds open constantly but, keep her window unlocked too? Like, you’re just asking to be fucking assaulted. He’s genuinely pissed off. She’s so smart and to do such an idiotic thing? But he had no room to be upset. He was the big bad wolf that she needed to watch out for in the first place.

Because of the fear he had obtained of his girl being hurt by someone that wasn’t him, he roamed her home while she was gone. Kirishima had been there enough to know where everything was at, so he knew exactly where his destinations were.

There are a total of twelve cameras that the red-haired man has connected and hid inside of y/n’s home. Four were in her bedroom, hidden in various places facing the bed, closet, door, and desk. Four were split up between the living room and kitchen, and the last handful were in the hallway and bathroom, filming the inside of her shower and the sink, where Kirishima can view her sudsy body and toothpaste-filled mouth every day without even needing to get out of bed. He’d had so many wet dreams about his best friend and at this point, he was willing to do anything to see her. He knew he was selfish and he didn’t give a fuck. Checking the time, he’s grinning widely. 9:04. It’d only took him about ten minutes to set the cameras up and her appointment had just started.

From: Eijirou Kirishima

To: y/n

good morning! how are you feeling? let me know when your appointment is over and how it goes! love you

He assumes she’s with the doctor now because she’s not responding quickly like she usually does. That is until his phone is buzzing and he can tell that it’s not his pretty girl.

From: y/n

To: Eijirou Kirishima

She’s busy.

His eyebrows are furrowed as he nearly shatters his phone by how hard he squeezes it. Fucking Bakugo, I swear to God. How dare he invade her privacy like this? He thinks, as if he wasn’t making Y/n’s entire life his business now. Laying on the bed, his dick swells immediately at the thoughts of what she’s done in this very spot when he wasn’t looking. Her light blue sheets would look so pretty covered in her slick and drool and he pounded the snot out of his tiny little princess. Her scent fills his nose and its an instinctual action to shove his face into her pillow and take his strained cock out of his tight pants.

“F Fuuuck~” He’s hissing as soon as his hand is wrapping itself around his prick. Although his hands are enormous, his fingers barely touch as he strokes himself off to the vivid imagination of his best friend’s tight cunt gushing around him, his dick being too big, even for him. His hips buck, chasing the pleasure.

Eijirou has his shirt pulled up with the end of it held tightly between his teeth as his pre-cum slicks himself flawlessly. He couldn’t help his perverted mind whenever he’s reaching over to y/n’s dirty laundry hamper and picking up the white panties that he’d seen snug tightly around her pussy and curvature the previous night. Holding the small piece of fabric in his fist and bringing them to his face, a load of his cum is shooting onto his stomach and chest at the smell of her fragrant heat and he’s groaning wildly.

If he hadn’t been so good at sneaking around, he wouldn’t have heard his phone buzz. It was from his doll.

From: y/n

To: Eijirou Kirishimai

m omw home with drugz!!!! i’ve got a cold n the sniffles but im not contagious!

His heart (and dick) leap with joy. He’s wiping the slick off of his abs with tissues before burying her panties in his pocket and heading out the way he came in; through the unlocked bedroom window.

Whenever Kirishima hears Bakugo’s car pulling into y/n's driveway, he’s almost immediately pissed off. Getting out of the car is his unwell best friend. He really missed her. She’s waving goodbye to her old classmate (and favorite pro hero) before heading to her front door. Eijirou starts up his laptop so that he can see what his girl is up to.

Unlocking the door and walking in to the place that she had come to know as her home throughout her life, something felt different. Maybe it was the shot she’d already been given at the doctor’s office or perhaps it was because of sleep deprivation due to constant coughing, but y/n felt uneasy.

Heading to the bathroom, she’s starting up a shower with her favorite smelling soaps. Strawberry and cream suds is being scrubbed into her tangled hair and Kirishima has never thought she looked so beautiful as he stares at her through his camera’s point of view. It’s from overhead, close to where the shower faucet comes out of the wall. Her nose is pink and flushed, rubbed raw from the snot that would come out of it from the previous nights. Her eyes were a bit puffy, making her orbs look as if she was squinting a tad. And even though she goes through constant heat flashes and her sinuses are swollen so its hard for her to breathe, she can’t stop thinking about Eijirou either.

As soon as she’s stepping out of the shower and wrapping a towel around her frame, she’s checking her phone as it buzzes, perfectly on time.

From: Eijirou Kirishima

To: y/n

let me come over and nurse you back to health?

From: y/n

To: Eijirou Kirishima

yes doctor kiri!

She’s rushing to get dried off and dressed and he knows it. That’s why he’s practically sprinting to her door with a backpack halfway slung on his back, hoping to catch her while she’s still naked and dripping in warm water. When he walks in the door, she’s tugging her socks on and he curses himself for not being quick enough.

“You showed up quick.” Her voice sounds weaker and more delicate than it usually did, her throat coarse and sensitive. He’s walking towards her and he realizes why so many people have asked y/n if she was okay while with the man on the street. With the small girl only growing to his chest, Kirishima towers over her as he pushes close to seven feet tall and his broad shoulders are hard to get through most doorways. He wraps his thick arms around her head, holding her face close to his chest.

“Duh. Told you I missed you.” He’s blushing and is glad that she can’t see his cheeks and giggle at it like shes done thousands of times before. She smells so fresh and feminine, he’s practically purring against her, “I brought some things for you.” She gasps, excited.

“Really? Like, a surprise?!” Y/n's third favorite thing (behind baby animals and Pro hero, Dynamight, was surprises). He smiles, a sharp grin glinting.

“Yes, a surprise. Sit down.” She was excited, plopping down on the sofa, where Kirishima and his backpack sat. She’s bouncing excitedly and he must be the most sex-obsessed man on earth because he’s getting hard at the motions already and is shoving the backpack on top of his lap to cover his growing erection.

“Um,” He clears his throat and pulls out a hoodie, “Here’s a hoodie in case you get cold.” He’s handing her a folded up hooded sweatshirt with the bold “RED RIOT” in the middle. She’s grinning widely and taking it. He refuses to acknowledge how many times he’s thought of fucking his pretty little neighbor while she wears his clothes that are three sizes too big.

“‘S soft, Eiji! Thank you!” He hopes it will replace her Dynamight merchandise because seeing his old friend (and y/n's potential future-lover) on her shirt made him physically sick to his stomach.

The second thing that Kirishima is digging out of his backpack is a couple grocery bags that he sits on the coffee table, “Was gonna make us some tomato soup and grilled cheese.” He has no idea but Y/n is swooning and the way he’s acting so endearing is making her heart thump out of her chest.

“Also grabbed you up some candy. They came out with a limited edition flavor and I thought you’d wanna try when you can taste again.” Y/n was a touchy girl, so whenever her head is resting on his shoulder and shes thanking him for all of his gifts, he doesn’t see anything out of the ordinary.

“You take your medicine yet?” He knows that she hasn’t, he’s been watching her since Bakugo’s car pulled into her driveway. She shakes her head no.

“They gave me a shot earlier, ‘Ts supposed to make me sleepy. The other stuff tastes too ick.” Her tongue sticks out of her mouth to prove her disgusted reaction.

“You’ve still gotta take it, bunny. How ‘bout I make us some lunch and then you can take your medicine?” Her big eyes stare at his as her pupils are blown wide and she’s nodding her head.

“‘Mkay. Will you stay the day with me?” He nods his head, “I’ll even stay the night if you want me to.” He’s so sweet, like always, Y/n thought. Meanwhile, Kirishima thinks of different places to fuck his pretty pet while she looks him in the eye. “Really? I can’t wait!” They hadn’t had a sleepover in what seemed like years.

Even after Kirishima had made the classic tomato soup and grilled cheese lunch, Y/n’s throat still burned. The girl would not stop whining and Kirishima could tell that something was going on. She was acting like a cranky toddler. She whines, clearing her throat for the nth time. Kirishima takes a breath.

“What’s the matter? You need anything?” They both sat on her bed, eyes glued to the television as one of their favorite anime play. Little does she know, she’s sitting where Kirishima had just came hours ago.

“Don’t feel good. M’ throat hurts.” Her small hand grabs her neck and she looks up at Kiri, “Is it swollen?” Opening her swollen lips and sticking her tongue out, she waits for an answer but he cant stop face fucking her in his mind to even form a coherent sentence, “Eiji?”

“Y yeah, it’s swollen.” Now he’s the one to clear his throat, “W Will the medicine you were prescribed help with it?”

“No,” She frowns, “Medicine’s only good for my cough but it won’t help the itchy feeling.”

“Wan’ me to help? I got some cough drops earlier. Could help you scratch that lil itch.” He’s unwrapping the candy and placing it on her tongue. It’s not even a minute before she’s whining again.

“S’ too much. Need something else.” She’s whining and it’s making his dick twitch, but he refuses to fuck the pretty girl without having her beg.

“Open up, bunny.” He warily places two of his fingers on her tongue. Watching as she opens her mouth wider and sucks his index and middle finger deeper, he loses his breath. First, she was sitting on the bed and letting it happen but by the time her cunt had realized what was happening and started leaking (literally within the first minute), she was slipping to her knees and towards the in between of his legs.

“What you think you’re doing down there?” Her eyes were half-closed as her tongue ran laps along his thick fingers and he can tell the medicine is kicking in. She’s delirious. Her hand touches his thigh and he’s looking down at her, one eyebrow up. Giving her a second to breathe, his fingers leave her throat with a muffled moan and pop escaping after it.

“M’ wanna taste you.” He’s smirking, “I think it’ll help.” She’s wiping her mouth with the back of her hand and he can’t fucking stand how she looks right now. So sick and desperate.

“You are tasting me.” She knows he’s playing stupid, “My fingers are in your mouth right now and you’re practically crying over it. Little crybaby.” She whimpers at the nickname she was too used to hearing by Bakugo and all of her other peers. Her eyes water.

“Need your cock in my mouth, Eiji.” Her small hand rubs at the obvious bulge that’s straining against his pants. He’d never heard her say something so vulgar and nearly growling at the feeling, head thrown back at the touch he thought he’d never feel in a thousand years from the girl he yearned for the most.

“Aw, you need it? Well, that’s too bad because i’m not giving you it with your pretty throat so swollen,” Her brows are furrowing and she’s upset and cranky. All because she was tired, didn’t feel 100% and wanted a dick in her. Trying to tug his pants down anyways, she’s yelping underneath him as he’s grabbing her hair roughly and bringing her face inches away from his. “Don’t be such a greedy fucking baby and i’ll put my cock somewhere better, ‘kay?” Letting go of her hair, her pupils are still blown wide and she seems fucked out of her mind, “Be a good girl and watch your show.” She can’t stop making a mess in her pink panties and she crawls back up to the bed to sit on his large lap. She’s sat on his lap dozens and dozens of times before but this time it felt different. Maybe it was because she was rocking her clothed pussy against him.

“What’re you doing?” He asks, hissing.

“Watching my show.” She says innocently and he wanted to make her fucking cry around him. He felt the need to be so mean to her that she’s begging him to stop. Kirishima was right. The medicine was kicking in at an unbelievable pace and before either of them knew it, the brat was asleep on Eijirou’s lap. His dick still leaked underneath of her and it didn’t help that the restless sleeper couldn’t go two minutes without bucking her hips or shuttering in his ear. Two hours in and he felt as if he was going to cum just at the breathless pants that the woman would let out. Stroking her skin, he hopes it wakes her up and after another couple of hours, it does.

“Well, g’morning, sleeping beauty.” It’s six in the afternoon, the sun was already threatening to set.

“Mmm, goo’ mornin’.” She rubs her eyes with the backs of her hands and sniffles a few times, “Did you sleep?” He lies and nods his head.

“Yeah, I did for a little bit.” Translation: No, I was too busy rutting against your sleeping body and edging myself, trying not to wake you up. He would be surprised she didn’t if he hadn’t slept over with her before. Once Y/n was out, she was out for good and he knew that.

“Good.” She’s trying to crawl out of his lap and although she could feel his hard prick pressing against her since she woke up (and went to sleep), she didn’t pay any attention towards it. Payback was a bitch.

“Wanna watch another movie with me?” She acts as if she’s not literally changing into pajamas in front of him. Her front is facing a corner as she takes off her shirt and is left in only panties and Kirishima feels as if she’s doing it on purpose (it definitely was) but the angel on his shoulder tells him that this is an often thing that occurs and to calm down.

He can’t seem to look away from the patch of dark pink in between Ino’s legs and wants to devour her completely. By the time she turns around, there’s practically drool hanging from the pervert’s lips and he doesn’t try that hard to hide his attraction.

“You okay, Ei?” She knows exactly what she’s doing, wearing the prettiest panties with his merchandise.

“Y yeah.” He can see the faint smirk on her lips before she’s turning on her heels and heading towards the living room.

You dirty bitch. You’re fucking doing this on purpose.

He’s walking towards the living room, not even saying anything. He pours her another dose of her medicine before handing it to her, “Oh yeah. Thanks.” She’s got her back facing him as she reads through the movies in her bookshelf. As she takes the medication, his sweatshirt is riding up on her and the bottom of her asscheeks can be seen.

Do something. She’s fucking begging for it, Kirishima’s thinking but his good morals and the way his parents raised him brought the man against it. Rather than shoving her chest against the bookshelf and shoving his entire cock into her at once like he’d yearned to do, he swallows his words and backs away from his actions. She hands him the empty medication cup before putting the DVD into the player and flopping onto the couch, sweatshirt flinging up to expose her stomach and cunt as well. Her frame is so small compared to his, well, everything.

He’s pulled away from his own thoughts. “I put in the new All Might documentary. Katsuki is in it!” He cannot fucking believe her but she’s bouncing around and looks so excited.

“Sure,” He says through his clenched teeth. She presses play and sometimes he wishes that she wasn’t so stupid whenever it came to people’s emotions and true meaning. He felt as if he could catch on fire at any moment but she acted as if nothing had even happened.

He’s blocking the entire film out, staring at her plush thighs and trying his hardest to calm down. It works for the most part, his anger fading when he makes a point to focus on the way her heart beats as her back eventually leans against his chest.

That is until there’s an obvious different reaction coming from his best friend and he’s filling with fury again.

“Look at him, Ei! Doesn’t he look so cool?!” Her eyes are glistening, a reflection of the tv shining back as they’re open wide with pure adoration. He wishes that she acted that way towards him. He doesn’t answer and rather than being smart and stopping at that, the Dynamight fan could not stop. Every single frame the man was on, she seemed to giggle with excitement and kick her feet.

“Why do you even like him so much? He’s such a dick.” Kirishima’s getting grumpy now. He couldn’t stand how she fonds for a man that in his opinion, is worse than she deserves. Kirishima is what she deserved. She’s turning, shocked.

“How could you say that?! He’s so cool and is such a good hero!” She’s grinning, cheeks glowing a little red and for a second, she reminds Kirishima of Deku, “Not to mention how handsome he is.”

Eiji is upset, pouting and groaning. It’s quite obvious with how a sharp attitude laced his words. “I don’t see you wearing your little Bakugo sweatshirt with soaked panties right now. How come Red Riot’s not your favorite?” Her eyebrows scrunch at his jealous words. She crosses her arms over her Red Riot merchandise and looks away.

“Don’t be mean, Kiri.” She’s blushing, embarrassed. He doesn’t stop.

“No. Really. Tell me why i’m not your favorite. I could feel you leaking on me through your entire fucking nap. Doubt you’re doing that to your beloved Dynamight.” She’s getting pissed off at how he’s treating her, like she was at fault for sharing her interests.

“You think i’m only like this for you? You’re dumber than I thought. Why do you think my throat is so swollen? Because my beloved Dynamight wouldn’t let me up off of his cock for thirty minutes.” Y/n is standing up off of the couch, she’s red in the face and dizzy from the cough syrup and the adrenaline from arguing with her best friend over something so stupid. Kirishima was bubbling with anger and doesn’t dare let her get away.

“Get your little ass over here.” He’s grabbing her wrist.

“Let go. I’m mad at you right now.” She’s pouting, bottom lip puckered out and all. He wanted to fill her with his generation.

“Why? Because I called you out for being a slut?” His hard-on is pressed snug against her back and she shutters at the feeling of its size, “Or is it because you’ll get in trouble if Katsuki finds out? Don’t worry, bunny. I won’t tell a soul.” He’s lying through his fucking teeth and plans on marking her pretty skin and emptying himself into her cervix so the entire world will know. Y/n doesn’t try to get away for too long, knowing he’d always win in their fights. He was way too huge to stand a chance against.

Whenever Kirishima is rubbing fingers between her legs, feeling at the slick that slipped through her panties, he’s smirking, “Look at all that. You don’t look very mad at me,” He’s gently leading her back towards the couch, his hand barely touching her. Still being annoyed with his jealousy, she tries pushing against him but doesn’t stand a chance against his strength or size. At first he’s gentle but soon after, she’s being pushed against the couch, ass and pussy in the air, “You’ve made such a mess. We’ll need to get these in the wash right away.” She would have thought he was being somewhat helpful but his quirk makes his fingers sharp, slicing the fabric right off of her skin.

“Ei?”

“Shut up. Your throat is swollen.” He’s snappy and his breath makes her twitch as he talks so close to her twitching cunny. His tongue slurps at the pearlescent juices that spill from her core. She’s whimpering under his mouth.

“P please, s’ too much.” Her face is red hot, eyes squeezed shut as she becomes so embarrassed under his gaze and touch.

His large hand slaps a print onto the curve of her asscheek. “What did I fucking say?” His demeanor made her twitch around nothing and shes covering her mouth with her own small hands as her chest presses against the sofa.

Her back is arching and legs are spread as her face is being pushed further into the couch cushions. His tongue sucked and flicked at her sensitive nub until her legs were literally giving out. Large hands finally coming up towards her needy hole, he’s slipping two fingers into her cunt and its squelching immediately. Her whines get louder, “Please, I’ll do anything!” She’s begging, trying to move her hips closer towards Kirishima so he’ll go even deeper.

“No,” Tears start to fall past her waterline, “I’m not putting my dick in your slutty little pussy unless you tell me how much of a better hero I am compared to your shitty Dynamight.” She doesn’t even have to think, already fucked out on two of his fingers that literally feel like the size of Bakugo’s entire shaft.

“F- feel like I’m gonna die without your cock, Eiji. N- need you!! Need my favorite pro’s hero so I won’t die. Save me, please!” He can hardly help himself before he’s shoving his pants down, thick cock springing out.

“Such a good fuckin’ girl for me, yeah?” His cock is barely slipping in and Kichona is moaning loud enough for the neighbors to hear.

“Shhh, baby. It’s okay, you’re okay.” Gripping her plush hips and shoving his entire cock in to the hilt, she’s clenching around him hard.

“E Eiji, m’ gonna cum!” Her eyes are screwed shut, jaw slack as pants and moans fall from between her lips. He doesn’t slow his pace, keeping the same rhythm as she’s twitching and leaving a creamy ring around his dick.

“Already? Such a sensitive girl.” He wasn’t going to stop. Not anytime soon, at least. He had been dreaming and fucking his fist to this thought for years at this point and he wasn’t just going to rush and get it done.

“N’nnng hhh~” He’s laughing and it’s making her clench even harder around him.

“You tryna’ tell me something? Or are ya’ too stupid?” Her eyes are barely open but they’re staring back at Kirishima and small tears are leaving trails down her pretty cheeks.

His large hand rubs her spine all the way down to her hips and she feels so in love with him, “L’ love you s’much.” He has to hold on tighter to her skin than he has for the entire day this far due to her confession (that he was sure to her being fucked out but didn’t care).

“You love me? Is that right?” She’s nodding her head, drooling and leaving a puddle of her own saliva on the sofa. Leaning towards her ear, his abdomen is pressing snug against her back and the angle is entirely different. She’s practically purring underneath him, “Love me s’ much, you gonna let me stuff my babies in you?” At this point, Y/n’s hips were meeting Kiri’s thrusts perfectly in time as his dick head abuses her cervix.

“Y Yes! Wan’ be your lil’ wifey,” She’s rambling on and he can barely understand what she’s saying. He’s getting off on the idea and the thought of coming home to Y/n in an apron and making dinner for him and the kids make his load sneak up on him and he was cumming in her quick.

Pulling out of her, Eijirou doesn’t plan on staying out long, “Let’s turn you over, lil’ housewife. Needa’ see your pretty face.” Her chin is glistening, covered in drool and her lips are puffy from how much she’s been biting them. He can’t help himself, his dick slowly entering back into her as his lips come towards hers and end the distance between them. She’s kissing back sloppily, her coordination off because of the cough medication. One of his large hands are grabbing at her tit and her back is arching off of the couch.

“Eiji~”

“What is it, baby?” She’s so fucked out and in a head space, her hands gently rub at his biceps as she stares up at him with doey eyes. She’s not even able to answer him but he’s not upset over it, he was too busy staring at her and taking in her soft figure from underneath him. Her eyes are barely able to keep open but her pupils are still blown wide. Frail arms coming up to try and wrap around his neck, he leans down to help her out. She’s so soft compared to his scarred up chest from working so hard as a Pro and he can’t help but think of nipping up her precious skin.

“Wan’ you.” Wet lashes graze his chest as she’s so close to him and he can’t help but want to be closer to her than ever before. Arms wrapping around her figure, hands squeezing at soft love handles, he leans back on the couch and takes in the sight of her sitting on his cock, thighs on either side of his torso.

Teeth tugging on the skin under her jaw and leaving bite marks along the nape of her neck and collar, Y/n’s become practically numb at the overload of senses. Tears roll down her cheeks as she’s quivering under the pressure of his cock nudging against her cervix.

“A ahhhh, K Kiri,” They’re so close together, the two are nearly one being. The sensuality of it all had made the slightest touch feel like a firework of lust. She looks up at him with tired eyes as he slowly but deeply rocks inside of her.

“There’s no fuckin’ way i’m letting you go.” She didn’t find anything wrong with the statement Kirishima had just come out with. In her opinion, this is where he belonged. Nine inches deep inside of his best friend.

Lifting the girl for the last time that night, he’s holding her tightly and refuses to leave the warmth of her cunt as he’s putting her back against a wall and fucking her as thoroughly as he could. An entirely new noise leaves Y/n’s throat; a squeak, high and desperate. With the newfound angle, her legs began to go numb and a tingling sensation spread across the tips of her toes all the way to her tits that bounced with each thrust.

“L Love you s so much. Wan’ marry you, Eiji. Wan’ have your b babies.” She’s so fucked out and babbling every thought that goes through her head out loud. Kirishima is so overwhelmed with his senses that he barely hears her pleads. All he can pay attention to is the feeling of him repeatedly fucking his load back into her and how it dripped down her quivering thighs as well as the sound of skin slapping skin.

Lips finally locking together, Y/n feels close on the edge of finishing on her best friend for the nth time. Wrapping her legs around his hips as she’s clenching and dripping around his cock, he’s speeding up his pace and becoming more desperate as his end comes near. He doesn’t dare pull out. Why would he? His entire goal was to be part of her life forever.

Thrusting his load into her cunt a few more times, he’s slowly pulling out and laying Y/n against the couch gently. He can peek the cum dribbling out from between her legs and snickers at her body twitching at the overstimulation.

“How’s that for some good medicine?”

[skin-of-my-teeth]

A Heavy Offer

Tags: Wolf Namjoon, Bunny Koo, feedism, predator/prey, flirting, they're so cute and they're both fat <3

Tubby prey hybrid Jungkook secretly watches POV feeding videos late at night.

He lays in bed with a little bun paw on his soft belly, slowly rubbing, as he gorges on snacks while he favorite predator streamer tells him he's a good little prey and that he's fattening up so well.

Jungkook knows he shouldn't like it, but part of him doesn't care. The wolf hybrid is so thick and hot, with a heavy gut of his own.

Jungkook finds that the only way he wants to jerk himself off these days is while watching a feeding video. While feeling his tummy push out with snacks. Listening to his favorite wolfie purr that his little prey is fattening up so well.

The cute bun is rounding out from doing this so often. He rewatches old videos and always pays for the new ones. His favorite way to cum is with his slowly thickening gut squishing under his chubby fingers and his big feeder wolf purring in his headphones and whispering what a fat, yummy prey Jungkook is turning into.

...

Imagine his absolute petrified arousal when Jungkook runs into Namjoon in person at a cafe.

And the wolf peeks over at him, his gaze appreciatively enjoying the cute, fattened prey.

Jungkook is panic eating a muffin at his favorite cafe, unsure if he should go over. What would he say? "I've gotten so fat from your videos-" he blushes as he shoves more food into his bunny cheeks. The wolf rumbles with enjoyment as he watches the little fatty gorge himself.

In the most recent video, Namjoon showed his little feedee preys his own gut for the first time. Lifted up his shirt and rubbed at the fat. Told them that he was this big from being such a greedy predator. That Jungkook, his plump prey, going to make him even fatter... Jungkook came right into his hands.

Jungkook begins chugging down his milkshake when the wolf finally gets up and pads over in his direction. Jungkook can't help the way that his face flushes. Red chubby bunny cheekies. Love handles forcing up his too-tight shirt. The cutest, fattest little bunny. How could Namjoon not go over and flirt with him?

Namjoon is quite the chub slut himself.

Namjoon comes up to the bun, leaning against the table where Jungkook's upper belly gently sits on top. "Hi cutie~" His voice is so much better in person. Jungkook thinks he might combust as he has to tilt his head up to look at him. The wolf is... so much larger than he thought. In every way. "B-big..." tumbles out, cheeks flushed red, bunny ears flopped, eyes wide.

The wolf chuckles and sits next to him. "It must be nerve racking to be approached by a predator-" he misreads Jungkook's panicked scent. "I promise I don't bite." He grins. "Not without your consent, anyway."

Jungkook whimpers. He actually whimpers. Namjoon takes a look at the bun's empty drink. "Can I buy you another?" He taps on the empty milkshake glass. "One is never satisfying enough for me."

Jungkook finds himself nodding, his little doubled chin jiggling. The wolf beams at him. "Sit tight, little prey." Namjoon goes to order and Jungkook considers running out the door. His huge crush on the feeder wolf... the one who makes content specifically about fattening prey to eat... He doesn't know what to do. Should he stay and... explore? See what the wolf is like in real life. Maybe it's just a kink. Jungkook would be lying if he wasn't curious. He's so curious.

The predator is back before Jungkook can sort through his thoughts, and he squeaks as a thick strawberry milkshake is placed in front of him by a large hand, and along with it, a fat slice of cake.

"Bun deserves a treat." Namjoon smiles as he sits back down. Jungkook's cheeks heat again. Is he... trying feed him up? He must be- oh gods. "Eat up, darling." Jungkook takes a huge forkfull at the order. He's so used to this voice encouraging him to fatten himself. He loves it so much. He chews and swallows obediently before he even realizes that he just obeyed without question, and his cheeks burn even more red.

The wolf is so patient with him. He doesn't seem to mind that Jungkook is nearly mute with adrenaline and excitement. He sets his chin in his hand and watches the cute bunny gobble down the cake, and then tuck into his milkshake. "So... do you have a name?" Namjoon smiles, and it's so different than the smile that Jungkook is used to seeing, all slinky and predator. The wolf's smile right now is... cute.

"Kookie-" he blurts out. He needs to be cool and sexy, but all he is right now is slightly stuffed and flushed, with the table digging into his belly. He shifts and tries to tug down his shirt where it's rolling up.

"Oh that's adorable. Hi, Kookie. I'm Joon."

Jungkook wants to melt. He's only ever known him by 'Alpha'. Joon is such a cute name for the so, not-cute wolf...

There's a long silence as Jungkook's bunny brain buffers.

"If it's not obvious... I'm interested in you," Namjoon playfully nudges Jungkook's shoulder with his own. "Are you looking around too, or do you have a mate? I'll back off, no problem. I'm a respectful pred."

Namjoon is anything but respectful in his videos.

Jungkook gulps down his shake, and leans back with a soft whine. "I drank that way too fast-" he hiccups, "I'm nervous talking to you-" he burps into his fist and then squeaks. "E-excuse me-"

Namjoon can't help the purr that rumbles in his chest. Jungkook takes a deep breath, trying to calm his jumpy prey heart. Be honest. Calm down. It's fine.

"I'm single." He peeks at Namjoon.

"That's suprising. Such pretty prey are usually snatched up."

Namjoon looks like he just won the lottery. Jungkook feels like he just won the lottery.

"Well... I used to get more attention when I was skinny. Predators like bunnies with tiny, little waists. And I'm not so little anymore-" he chuckles and gives his tummy a pat, watching Namjoon’s gaze slip down to take in how round and jiggly he is. How full of sugar and cream he is, promising to fatten him heavily. Namjoon purrs deeper.

"Not all predators have that opinion, bun."

Jungkook wants to whine again, but he just hiccups. There's so much cream sitting in his belly, weighing him down. He never drinks two of those massive milkshakes. Much less chugs them.

He tries to be the bold version of himself that he is in his fantasies. He shoves his shyness to the side as best he can and musters his courage.

"I'm interested in you too. I like big boys. Bigger than myself." He makes a show of taking Namjoon in. To his delight, the wolf's cheeks tint a pretty, adorable pink. The surge of power that floods Jungkook makes him grin. It quickly bubbles into hedonism as Namjoon next words sink into him.

"You'll get much bigger than me if I have my way with you..."

Jungkook can practically feel the cream in his tummy turn into warm, jiggly chub as Namjoon speaks and so openly admires him. It's like Namjoon’s gaze is making Jungkook fatter. He squirms, but swallows down his prey instincts flaring up with heat.

"You... you'd better prove it then-"

The wolf's eyes glimmer that this tubby little prey basically just challenged him to fatten him up.

"Give me a chance, little bun, and I will."

[scavengerssuccotash]

How did Clint (and Nat) approach/navigate Natasha’s past when they first brought sex into their relationship? I imagine it took some time before Clint was certain she wasn’t trying to repay a debt

Oh! Very good ask! Discussion of consent usage and discovery incoming!

Sex was difficult for both of them. Not necessarily in the action of it, but more in the process of learning boundaries and respecting them. With Natasha's background, Clint was very aware that she had some baggage to work through in the sex department.

What he didn't know however, was just how much.

My own personal headcanon for Natasha's past and her sexual journey with Clint is in part her learning to voice her concerns, acknowledging her boundaries and most importantly voicing them. Consent was a huge hurdle for them to overcome. Not that Clint forced himself upon her or anything like that, but more so Natasha realizing (with ample encouragements from Clint) that she can say no to anything that might trigger her or make her uncomfortable.

I actually wrote a really emotionally heavy scene a long while ago about Natasha realizing that she didn't quite realize what she liked and what she didn't like due to the Red Room's brainwashing and her lack of agency before she defected.

So, their first hurdle was Natasha relearning a very simple word.

No.

Mind you, while simple I really wanted to stray away from the idea of a safeword when it relates to the act of sex, because with the notion of a safeword there comes a belief that the basis of consent is already there. It is simply being built upon with the introduction of a safeword.

However, Natasha never really had this foundational understanding. She of course knew the word no, but she never had the agency in which to lend it power.

Their second hurdle was helping Natasha rediscover, or perhaps discover for the first time exactly what she liked in the bedroom.

Her sexual education was vast and varied in the Red Room, but due to her lack of agency she really had no frame of reference to point back to and say, "Yes, I liked that!" or "No, I did not like that." Of course this always comes with the complication that most of her sexual experiences were work related. Did she not like it because it was with a mark and for work? Because her mark was unattractive? Or because she genuinely didn't like it?

So, due to all of this it really took very long talks and constant check-in's during the sex act for them to both discover what Natasha might like or dislike. Clint, of course, was very patient with her and consistently understanding and gentle as Natasha checked in with herself. I think its a testament to both the strength of their love and a marker for their level of trust they have in each other that this process can take place.

As for the debt bit, I don't really think by the time they had started to introduce sex into the relationship that it was a question for either of them. I realize I am a lone wolf in this thought, but that's my headcanon and I'm sticking with it. I just don't think Clint would allow sex to muddle the relationship if he had any doubts in Natasha's faith in him or herself.

"You don't owe me shit, Tasha, but if you think there's a debt you have to pay, then write it off by living for yourself and nobody else. Not even me, okay?"

So TLDR: Consent, consent, consent! Lots of sexy discovery and Clint helping (extremely willingly) Natasha retake her agency.

Anyway, yeah, probably a meta response to an normal ask. Hope you don't mind! Thanks for asking.

[silveryuki]

TF'd into an eevee and fattened up is such a good scenario. Starting out all shy and asking to be turned back, but the food is so good I can't stop myself from eating a little bit. A week later I'm obediently wolfing down anything that gets put in front of me and my belly hangs past my knees, dragging on the floor if I've been fed recently as I waddle over to my bed in a bloated stupor, full to bursting but eagerly awaiting my next meal. Wake up, clean my bowl, fall asleep in a food coma. The only things I ever have to think about are eating and sleeping. It wouldn't be long before I'm too fat to move, unable to stop myself from devouring more and more, any inhibitions buried under a thick layer of blubber. I lick the bowl clean and think "More please!"

Also, what's this about a lab that fattens you up? Would love to hear more about that.

I'm very glad you like the scenarios!! <3 as for the lab, gosh i was talking with my partner about it a while back and we came up with a cute lab idea where they have a bunch of different rooms in a lab, each with someone in there being experimented on with different tests! usually involving which foods make someone fatter than others,,, or which foods are more addicting and hard to stop eating,, u//////u <3 All with consent from the patients too! the scientists always promise to provide gym membership cards and exercise services to lose the weight once they're done! ...but once a test is done, they ALSO suggest coming in immediately for another experiment, at double the previous pay with even more benefits,,, and goodness it's always difficult to refuse going in for a lil more testing, even if you know you should REALLY lose the weight,,,

[ask-de-writer]

FIENDSHIP IS MAGIC  (Part 52 of ?)  18+ readers only  (sex scenes)

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FIENDSHIP IS MAGIC

or

Making Fiends and Influencing Ponies

An Anthro *Tail* of the Mane Six

Part 52 of ? (Work in Progress)

by

De Writer

54646 words (story in progress)

© 2022 by Glen Ten-Eyck

All rights reserved.  This document may not be copied or distributed on   or to any medium or placed in any mass storage system except by the express written consent of the author.

//////////////

Copyright fair use rules for Tumblr users

This story is age restricted to 18

years or older!

Users  of Tumblr.com are specifically granted the following rights.  They may   reblog the story provided that all author and copyright information remains intact.  They may use the characters or original  characters in my settings for fan fiction, fan art works, cosplay, or fan musical compositions.

All sorts of fan art, cosplay, music or fiction is actively encouraged.

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New to the story?  Read from the start HERE

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Fluttershy nibbled down her last Bismark and drained her iced coffee.  She reluctantly got up and took her package of nursing uniforms with her as she took her leave.  “I need to screen applicants to replace Elanar and Howzit.  With three hundred and sixty some new patients, I will need to hire at least four more nurses besides their replacements.  It is hard to believe that I am hiring help like this.”

Kin snorted into her iced coffee before replying, “I know what you mean, Flutters.  A few days ago, I was just the luckiest succubus ever summoned and lover to the most wonderful mare ever.  Now, I am a doctor, head of a trauma hospital, and training new staff as fast as I can.  Even with Princess Luna to help, it is a huge job.”

Rarity chuckled as she added, “And don't forget, we still have sixty three more costumes to sew up!”

As if that were a cue, Pinkie cheerfully barged into the shop, leading a striking dusty green mare with white mane and tail.  “Figured that you guys could use some help!  Minty here is a headliner at the Mane Place and happens to be an expert seamstress!  Had her own business before the Dawnguard moved into town.  She would not pay them for “Celestia's Blessing” and her shop was burned down.  The cops never caught the crooks who did it, either.  Funny thing that.  The investigating police ponies were the stinkbug brigade.  You know, the ones that are now in jail for attacking the Palace of Friendship with a battering ram!”

Minty's ears perked up at that revelation!  “I wonder if maybe the investigation could be re opened?  I could sure use the insurance money.  Wouldn't be enough to re start the business, though.”

Rarity led the troop of them into the work room in the back.

Minty's breath sucked in with delight at their new sewing equipment!  “A Searaid two needle type VII!  That is an amazing machine!  And you have a Morton and Smally layout and cutting table!  Is it set up for roller cutters?  Those are replaceable wing and breast forms on that dress form!”

Turning to Rarity, eyes wide, she exclaimed, “You have a great shop set up! Helping you with the costumes will be so much fun!”  Looking around, she noticed, “Where did Pinkie Pie go?”

A small clatter from the kitchen answered her.  Pinkie called from that other room, “They got a Running Wolf Commercial stove too!  Goodies soon!”

Rarity simply offered Minty a pattern file, saying, “How many of these, in which colors and fabrics is listed there in the pocket of the file cover.”

Minty took only a moment to read the specifications.  She dove into Rarity's fabric bolt racks, selecting several of them.  She set them up on the rack at one end of the layout and cutting table and fed the free ends under a roller before pulling them all out to a clip at the other end of the table.  Making sure that none of the fabrics was wrinkled, she clamped down the feed roller too.  With everything laying smoothly, she sorted out the pattern pieces, paying attention to fabric grains as noted on the parts.  Satisfied that she had the best layout, she began pinning the patterns to the fabric.

Rarity and Kin joined her, expertly pinning the parts for cutting.  Rarity set a movable clamping bar over the end of the table, loosely for now. She took a roller cutter blade, gave one to Minty and one to Kin. As stacked parts were cut from the multiple layers of cloth and carefully set aside on a work table, Rarity shifted the loose bar up and clamped it in place to keep the fabrics smooth and tight on the table.

In only a few minutes more, the parts for five costumes were waiting to be sewed up.  A smiling Rarity gave Minty a hug.  “Very well done, Minty!  Now, we sort these into the particular costumes.  We want these arms to contrast with the balance of the costume, to provide a clear and crisp movement for the dancer!  We want the skirt to work with her legs for best flare and swirl too.”

Minty, eyes about half closed, ears up in concentration, nodded slowly, “I see it!  These showpieces are really different from our regular stripping outfits, aren't they?”

Kin chuckled, as she noted, “Yep.  These are part of the choreography of the Mountain Dance set piece.  There will be eight dancers in the set.  These five are the sort of chorus to the three main dancers, one of whom will be “Star” of the piece.  Clarice and Foamy designed the dance and will be picking the dancers.”

Minty nodded briskly, “I know.  They have been drilling us almost mercilessly!  They want all of us to have parts in the big set piece dances.   Pinkie Pie is a fantastic producer, too.  If we need it, she finds it, somehow.”

Pinkie Pie emerged from the kitchen, “Break time!  I have mint filled and topped chocolate Bismarks and Rom black tea on ice!”

The costume parts lay alone and neglected on the work table as ponies stampeded to the front to devour snacks!

Down at the Ponyville Police Station, Celestia, Luna and Twilight were thoughtfully regarding all seven of the Dawnguard's Priesthood and along with them, ex judge Horsefry and  the five officers that Pinkie called the Stinkbug Brigade.

Celestia began, “As you all know, this is a trial under the Royal Wing of Equestria.  We shall be informal but do require respect for each pony speaking.  The verdict that we reach can not be appealed.”

Luna took up, “If you have information bearing on any issue that is brought up and volunteer it freely, that will be considered toward mitigation.  The same is true if you have information relating to other criminal matters that are not a part of this investigation. All statements made in this Court will be monitored by a Bridge of Dream.  That will tell me IN DETAIL whether your statements are true.”

Twilight took up, “Our sole purpose in this trial is to find the truth of matters and all mitigation that we can, for the reaching of as just and fair a verdict as possible.

“A few points to save time and effort.  One:  No plea of religious exemption will be allowed.  Two:  No plea of 'I was just following orders' will be allowed.  Ponies are expected to know right from wrong and to not do wrong.  Three:   No appeal to your religious texts will be considered.  They have been examined and found to be over one third plagiarized from the outlawed Holy Truth of Celestia used by the old Celestian Church.”

Celestia nodded politely to Twilight and then to the accused, “With these matters understood, we may proceed.”

TO BE CONTINUED

<==PREVIOUS ~ NEXT==>

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[sublieu]

╰┈➤Little Red Riding Hood

: ̗̀➛ Praising, Interspecies, overstim, no protection, accidental drugging, dub-con, clawing, marking, dirty talk.

: ̗̀➛ 1.6k wc

: ̗̀➛ Call out my name/Earned it- The weekend

Mk was always the showstopper in his quaint little village, Determined, ambitious and unintentionally, very adorable to the eyes of the village folk.

And today would be the same for Mk; Greet the villagers, collect items for his mentor and go home for the rest of the day. Except, he decided to take a different route to collect something for Wukong from one of his affiliates.

"Hello Mk! I see Wukong sent you for his perfume, yes?"

The old lady greeted Mk before handing the male a mask before putting one on as well. Holding the perfume in a clamp and gently placing it inside a glass case and sealing it tightly.

"If you don't mind me asking, what's so special about this in an extra bottle?"

He asks in mere curiosity, the lady laughs and tells him that it's to ensure it doesn't break or leak out as the contents inside the bottle are extremely strong to the smell; Tying a cute little bow on top before placing it inside his basket.

"Heed my warning little Mk, if this glass breaks then anyone nearby will be affected by the smell. So it's extremely important that you guard this bottle with your life"

Her face darkens at the glass comment, and from the fact that she held his hands tightly, she wasn't joking. He nods before her face brightens again and waves him off into the forest, the sun slowly setting behind her shop as she guides him away into the forest.

"Remember to protect that bottle with your life!"

She warns a final time before looking back at the sun, entering her shop and closing it for the night. She sighs in worry as tonight was the beginning of a full red moon, praying that Mk returns home safely.

As Mk mindlessly walks home, he couldn't help but pay attention to the glassed bottle, peaking his curiosity even more. Why was she warning him about breaking it? What would happen if he were to accidentally break it?

He trips on a rock due to losing focus and drops the bottle, the perfume itself was fine but the scent was all over the forest. And he grew scared as for what's to come if he doesn't hurry home soon.

And he had every right to worry, as you were nearby when this happened.

You were an Alaskan Interior wolf breed. And this was the beginning of your rut for the spring season, Looking around for food before the scent attacked your nose. Causing you to howl in pain as you slowly lost consciousness before your vision slowly clouded into pink. Your mind slowly losing resolve as you hunted down the person with the strong scent, turns out he wasn't as far as you thought once you saw the male, he looked around in fear once he heard a twig snap under your foot.

Mk looked around in worry, looking around to find the person or thing that made the noise. As soon as he saw your glowing eyes he immediately made a run for it, some of his items even fell out of his basket as you chased him throughout the forest; His screams loud and heard as the trees tore some of his clothes off before you tackled him to the ground. Tears slipping out of his eyes as he watched you check him.

Once you found out that the scent was coming off of him, you tore off his pants. He watched you in utter disbelief as you went down on him, your tail swaying in the wind as you watched his boner before giving it a kiss; His breathe stuck in his throat as he watched you with curious eyes.

You pulled his underpants off, the tip of his cock kissed your lips as you looked back at him. As if to ask for consent, which he did by petting your head, signaling a yes; Already sucking down on his tip before taking him down your throat, your tongue swirling around his cock as you sucked him off. His legs wrapping around your neck as you hum on his cock, sending vibrations and making him even more sensitive than he was before.

The way how your mouth felt so soft to the touch, almost as if your razor sharp teeth were non-existent. But you weren't gonna hurt him, he looked too sweet to even do that; You were considering to make him your lifelong mate, and you had enough to make him comfortable for a really long while.

All those years of being alone since teenhood really took a number on you, never making any friends or having physical contact and even worse being called a monster had turned you into a sensitive, touch-starved mess. So you were grateful he allowed you to give him pleasure and petting your head. Taking his cock down to the back of your throat as you rung him dry of his cum. His moans rolling off his tongue like ice as he held your head to his cock, as if he was bound to cum soon if you don't lay off. And you weren't planning to let go either.

He mutters and whines in ecstasy, black spots clouding his vision the more your tongue swirled and messed with him; He compared his hand to your head and would take up the offer with your head than to ever use his hand again. Completely ignoring his fallen goods next to his head as he basked himself in this selfish pleasure of his, honestly saying fuck off to Wukong as he hasn't been this sensitive in years.

His eyes flashed to white as he came for the first time, his sight temporarily limited as you sat down on his cock, rubbing the tip on your folds before sitting down on it fully. Your pussy clenching around his dick, making his head more blurry the more you grind on him; Mewling in euphoria whilst bouncing on his dick, the wet, squelching sounds growing in volume the faster and harder you bounced.

'Feels s'good' 'Can't stop' slips from his mouth like a broken record, holding your hair as he pounds right up into you, the tip of his cock brushing past your cervix and right into your womb. Fucking you as if he's trying to breed you. Your nails digging into his hair and suffocating him with your chest as you sobbed; Your tail swishing in the air from hypersensitivity as your climax was starting untie, the coiling feeling in your stomach becoming unbearable the longer you held out.

He sat up and laid you down on the ground, mindful of any rocks or sticks that could poke you as he started thrusting harder, paying close attention to how you whimper and whine the rougher he went on you. His hands snaking themselves around your waist whilst kissing you, your ears flicking to the sudden affection, which you happily return as it was getting harder and harder to not cum. Your hands

God how he missed feeling this dominant, being cooed down by the villagers could be tiring for him. And the fact that you're this submissive towards him brought him a sense of relief, his mind already hazy and rutty from the broken glass alongside the warm, fuzzy feeling he felt in his stomach again had him in a pleasurable thrill; Shuddering from ecstasy as his climax was rearing it's little head again.

'Can you cum for me?' he begs, his praising struck a chord inside you. Making the knot untie and finally cumming all over his cock, making it slippery and easier for him to do deeper inside, the head of his cock now bashing against your womb as he kissed you passionately before cumming as well. Flooding your insides with sticky, warm cum before pulling out and watch it dribble onto the ground, giving you one final kiss before you black out; sleeping peacefully as he put on his (torn) hoodie and put your sweater back on you.

Mk gathered up his items and the perfume before coming back to your sleeping form and carry you on his back to his hideout, carrying you to his bed before going to sleep in his couch, already tired from such a long (yet eventful day).

"So you mean to tell me... YOU DROPPED MY BOTTLE?!"

Wukong yelled at the man, he sighed before rubbing his head. Trying to explain how and what happened before you came outside, your tail swishing lowly as you heard them (Wukong) make a ruckus.

"Who is that?"

He asks and trails circles around you, noticing some bitemarks and other spots on you that seemed strange before putting the pieces together and deciding to torment Mk.

"Mk! You didn't tell me you were busy having randevus with this little limelight~"

He purrs before petting your head, both you and Mk were left confused and bewildered by his sudden mood shift; As if he wasn't mad a few seconds ago and looking as if he was about to start a riot.

Wukong lies there on his cloud, his tail lazily swaying as he floats next to Mk, Giving him a slap across the head before taking his contents from the demigod's hands. Spraying some of the perfume on himself before Mk asked him a question on the bottle.

"Why exactly do you need an aphrodisia-based cologne anyways?"

"For personal stuff I have to deal with"

He responds before zooming off on his cloud, probably going off to meet his date. Mk looks back in an unamused face before checking back with you if you were ok; His hands holding your cheeks before kissing your forehead. Making you nod happily before snuggling to his embrace, happy that you found someone to love on your own

©𝐒𝐮𝐛𝐥𝐢𝐞𝐮 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟐; 𝐀𝐥𝐥 𝐑𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬 𝐑𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐞𝐝

[hagoftheholler]

What I Use Animal Archetypes For

To start this off, I want to make something very clear. Animal spirits are not the same as spirit animals, and animal archetypes should not be treated as a spirit animal concept. Spirit animals are specifically a North American Indigenous concept, and not all tribes believe in such a thing. This is a closed practice.

There are similar concept among other religions and cultures, such as the Norse Fylgja (plural Fylgjur), but ultimately none of these concepts should be treated the same.

Animal spirits, literally, refer to the spirits of individual animals. I venerate animal spirits and even work with a select few, but animal archetypes (while they can give you an idea on how the spirit can be) aren't entirely about animal spirits.

What are animal archetypes?

When we look at the definition of archetype it is defined as "a very typical example of a person or thing" and "a recurrent symbol or motif in literature, art or mythology." This is exactly what animal archetypes are: symbolism of an animal based on their behavioral patterns, as well as how different cultures and religions view the animal from a folkloric or spiritual standpoint.

Animal archetypes have little to do with actual animal spirits. Venerating and working with animal spirits are different than animal archetypes, but that will be discussed in a different post.

What do I need to know before working with animal archetypes?

In order to understand animal archetypes you must research two things: the natural behaviors of the animal + how different cultures and religions view the animal. You can come up with your own personal correspondences for an animal archetype, but understand that this would be something along the lines of UPG. There is a reason animals are viewed a certain way from a cultural or religious perspective, and it's best not to disregard that.

How can I use animal archetypes in my magic or spiritual practices?

In magic, you can use animal archetypes to represent something specific relating to the results you're seeking. This doesn't require you to venerate or work with an animal spirit. It's merely symbolism, though if you're into thoughtforms or egregores then you could do that too. If you choose to use animal remains while also working with animal archetypes, pay respect to that animal's spirit. Give that animal spirit some sort of offering, ask for its consent and go from there (or don't, if the animal spirit wants its remains to be left alone).

For example; if you're doing a protection or warding working, you could use (or create) a doll of an apex predator or an animal known for having few predators that can take it down. Something strong and with great endurance. A wolf, bear, shark, rhino or lion would work well. This would be a more offensive working, since these animals are more likely to fight back.

In divination, animal archetypes can represent an individual. When I say "represent the individual", I mean from a personality, behavioral and spiritual standpoint. My personal belief is we all have that one animal archetype that best represents us throughout our entire lives, perhaps one that we've been attached to since we were children, and anything after that is meant to help guide and teach us depending on where we are in life. Not the spirit of that animal, but the symbolism behind it. I created my own spread for this type of thing and after thinking about it, I decided to share. This spread is best used with an animal oracle deck (1st question) and a secondary divination deck, such as tarot (2nd and 3rd questions). If you use this spread when doing a reading for others, or posting your own reading you've done online, at least give me credit for the spread.

From a spiritual standpoint, we can always learn from animal archetypes. When using the spread I provided, really pay attention to the second and third question. It can help with introspection and deciding what you need to change. This isn't limited to divination, though. Sometimes we can find animal archetypes in our dreams. Sometimes dreams are connected to our mental health and physical health, so if an animal shows up in a dream don't assume it is a sign from some sort of deity or spirit. If you didn't ask for one to send you a sign, don't already venerate or work with a spirit or entity... then it likely isn't a sign from a spirit or entity.

For example; grizzly bears are commonly associated with power, but also aggression. If you dream of being chased or attacked by a grizzly bear, then there are a few questions to ask yourself. What have I been afraid of recently? What has been giving me anxiety recently? Have I felt threatened by somebody recently? What am I really running from? Asking these questions after having a dream like that can help you analyze yourself and the current state of your life.

I hope this was helpful to some of you. If you have any questions feel free to ask and I'll do the best I can to give you answers.

[littlefreya]

Autumn Blood

Summary: The rumours warn to stir far from the cottage down the clearing. Who knows who hides between these pitted walls? But curiosity trumps logic, and now that the wolf caught the scent of his prey, this little red ridin' hood wandered into a trap..

Pairing: August Walker x OFC (3rd person pov - no ethnicity or body type)

Word count: 3.8

Warnings: 18+, Dark, Non-Consensual sex, dubious consent, chasing, outdoors, primal sex, fingering, orgasm, doogystyle, creampie, light breeding, kidnapping, my overuse of forest metaphor and cottagecore. Please proceed with caution.

*No permission is given for reposting my work, copying it, ideas or parts it and claiming it as your own

A/N: There you go, a dark Lumberjack August no one asked for. Inspired by a conversation I had. Many thanks to @agniavateira my love and beta and for the moral support from @the-soot-sprite  and @wondersofdreaming​. Now my anxiety attacks me so I must vanish! Poof! 

Please comment and reblog if you enjoyed my story. I work hard on each one of them and your validation means the world to me. 🖤

Autumn blood

There was a mysterious cottage down in the clearing of the forest—a house built of crude stone bricks and a roof made of red clay tiles. Verdant lichen and damp moss cloaked the rough exterior, silently preserving the house’s secrets while fooling each random spectator to assume it stood centuries-long forsaken. 

But, during the nights, dim lights beamed from the windows and smoke—thick as deadly fog—rose from the chimney.

The folks who resided in the town nearby warned her not to go into the woods. 

“The man who lives there used to be a murderer!”

“I heard he is not even a man...”

“Aye! A blood-thirsty monster, as ugly as they come.”

Angie always thought it was nothing but an urban legend. Different versions of the story would glide up in the air during drunken evenings at the local pub, played in different tunes each time like old fishermen hymns. In some of them, the murderer was a hag, and in others, a troll. 

“Bullshit!” she called out, chugging a cold beer.

Truth be told, no living soul ever saw this so-called homicidal cottage dweller. And Angie, being a nosy young thing, was bested by curiosity. On a quiet Autumn afternoon, she wore her best hiking shoes and decided to go and see for herself who lived in the cabin in the woods. 

Lithe clouds hunkered over the pines, the shy sun merely an illusion in the sky as the air ran cold despite the interstices of golden daylight. Working her way through rusty dry leaves and fresh growing fungus, she caressed the peeling scales of an ancient trunk, paying no mind to the insects and mould that flourished within. 

Fear hardly came to mind, but then again, Angie was constantly reprimanded for being “too brave”—as if bravery was something a woman should not possess. 

Following a narrow river vein that led toward the clearing, she could see the hint of dying daylight where the trees grew sparse at the edge of the woodland while the unmistakable scent of burning coals teased her nose. There was a sound; a sluggish, muffled cadence of thuds, reminding her of a blacksmith or a carpenter hitting a hammer over a plank of wood. 

Someone was indeed home. 

Adamant to solve the mystery, Angie squeezed her way through a slender crevice between two large oaks, carefully making her way out of the darkening thicket. Excitement prickled her arms and flourished in her lungs, almost bursting into a gasp at the sight of the infamous cottage. There it lay a few meters down the hill, surrounded by wild yellow chrysanthemums and a small patch of soil dotted with herbs and vegetables. Hunting and gardening gear hung over corroded iron hooks ledged to the wall; on the pebbled entrance rested a pair of muddy running shoes.

There was a fascinating beauty to the cosy structure, one dimmed by an odd, gruesome sense that pervaded her bawls like the worms digging through dirt beneath her feet. Still, the infectious hunger for knowledge left her restless. Forgoing her survival instincts, she made her way down the mushy slope, tracking the dull source of noise that became louder with her inching steps and her gut twisting with a lurching sense of unease.

Closer, closer, the legend took the shape of reality. A crisp thwack and a rattle melded into a steady rhythm, the wheeze of air was sliced by an object so sharp she could feel the wind ache. Just when she thought her heart wouldn’t race any faster, a sonorous groan of labour made her pause on her steps with a soft hiss.

It could have been mistaken for a clap of distant thunder, had the dark amber rays of the setting sun weren’t as clear amidst the cotton clouds.

‘Just a quick peek, and I’ll leave.’

Engulfed by fickle temptation, her fingers sailed across cold, slippery bricks, caressing the pillowy pith of moss while mystery and dread unfolded before her flaring eyes.

Wood splinters and droplets of sweat flew with every swing of a heavy axe that laid in the large hands of a man not older than mid-thirties; a giant, possibly, a hulking beast whose red-plaid shirt hung by stubborn threads where his massive biceps swelled. Underneath the cap that covered his dark hair was a determined scowl that complimented his shapely nose and the thick moustache decorating his stubbly face.

Angie’s thoughts lingered, fallen victim to the lure of sombre beauty that felt eerily dangerous. 

‘He is just a man,’ she convinced herself, ‘one that was not to be judged from rumours slurred by drunken old hunters.’ 

The stranger hacked a couple of logs and waved the axe as if it weighed nothing. Perching the handle against his shoulder, he kicked the cleaved remnants into a pile and huffed as if all the load of the world was on his shoulders. He turned aside toward his labour when he caught sight of his invader - and his gaze, oh god, his gaze was the incarnation of an unyielding frost. 

One look, and she was infected by the cold, her veins turning rigid inside her limbs.

“What are you doing on my property?” Menacingly, the man crooked an eyebrow, the final rays of sunlight falling on his face, soaking his eyes in various shades of crystal blue. His accent was foreign to this land—an American, no doubt—and she was wise enough to realise this man came here to hide. Locking her gaze, he stretched his shoulders, looking more intimidating, if that was even a possibility. 

Angie’s throat became incredibly parched, her muscles stiff as stone while every nerve in her body screamed at her to run. “I… I…” 

Slowly, terrifyingly, an insidious grin crept between his stubbly cheeks, a grin harbouring all the fright of nightmarish fireside stories ever told. 

Oh, the fun they would have.

“No one ever comes here. I haven’t seen a woman in a while.” 

Angie’s shivering thighs threatened to clench at the low timbre poisoned by pungent malice. Unbidden, it wished to penetrate the slippery pit that hid at the apex of her body. 

With a swift motion, he threw the axe aside where it sliced into the soaked ground with a squelch. Next flew his cap, exposing a nest of earthy curls steeped in sweat. The bewhiskered stranger swept a hand through those locks and then brushed his thick moustache.

“Shall we then, my angel?”

Despite the war drums booming in her ears, Angie tilted her head naively. Stupid little fluffy rabbit, was it so hard to realise her own doom?

“Shall... we?” 

He smiled darkly and cracked his neck from side to side. 

“One… two...”

As the earth swallowed the sun completely, her mind cleared. Led merely by a survival instinct, she paced backwards and rushed into the welcoming stygian tentacles of the forest. Shrouded by horror, her feet kicked the ground, skipping over dead felled barks and rocks that she swore weren’t there before. 

It was as if nature conspired against her, and in the back of her mind, she wondered whether this was a nightmare, but couldn’t find in her to stop and see if her chaser was but a phantom. She could still hear him counting, ‘three… four...’ in that voice that was both seductive and the very essence of lancinating fear.  

‘Five… six...’

Echoes of his trail chasing her misguided her feet. Her breath shallowed as she trod deeper into a lair of monstrous trees. Thick and long branches tangled above, turning into a cage. Fighting the burn in her lungs, she convinced herself that she was safe. He was far too large, heavy, and bereft of agility; and even more so, betrayed by his weight. This would provide her with the advantage of slipping away. 

‘Seven… eight...’

The path became slim and yet endless. A mist of pale verdant-blue draped over, a shade so gloomy she felt the layer of ice stiffening her bones while fighting her way through the dour thicket. Large roots and feral branches sought to grasp her, leaving bleeding scratches over her limbs. 

Attempting to find the way out or at least a place to hide, she diverted from the path, sneaking into a groove where the ground sounded wet and felt colder beneath her sole. Her pace abruptly halted as her jumper got caught by a branch of a giant tree, forcing her backwards.

Not bothering to turn she grunted, making a violent effort to get loose from the treacherous branch.

“Nine… ten.”

Her bawls turned to ice at once. 

‘Did that tree let out a powerful groan?’ 

“I know this forest like the back of my hand. Sweet of you to think you stood any chance, but I must thank you. I do appreciate a good chase.” Large arms trapped her in a death hold, pressing her against the wall of his warm chest while something wet and slippery slithered up her neck.

Riddled with wild tremors, she wished to protest, to claw for her freedom. Although her will screamed to fight and run, all that flowed from her body was a pathetic wail, which to her lack of fortune, seemed to excite him. 

“I’m August, in case you need a name to scream.” 

His axe-coarse palm slid beneath her top, tainting the soft flesh with a gruesome touch exuding of masculine possession. He groped and squeezed to the point of pain, wishing to leave his heinous legacy embedded under her pelt. 

Icy terror hadn’t even begun to unravel when she felt the press of his hard groin grinding into the small of her back.  

“Help!!!” Finally, she managed a scream, only to have it return a dozen times over as if 12 other girls wailed into the void. Tears of grief soon seared her cheeks at the aching realisation that her howls will be heard and seen by no one other than her assailer—who, quite clearly, feasted on her agony. 

Still a woman with a will of iron, she did her best to break his hold, her arms and legs flying to the air, no stronger than the dry brittle twigs that cracked beneath his leaden stomp.

A wolfish glee spread upon August’s face instead, pleased by the rare find that brought herself to his very doorstep. There was much pleasure to be found in resistance; he could only hope she would enjoy him as much as he was about to enjoy spreading her open, but he would have her nevertheless.  

With a slight struggle, she found herself subdued on a lush pelt of dead leaves and pillowy shrooms; her senses lost to a thick fog of despair as August raked her arms above her head and rooted fingers around her wrists. Even in the scarce light, she could make the eldritch lustre of his eyes, a beautiful pale azure glint that cut like shards of glass. Rustic musk gusts upon her like a cloud of intoxication, making chaos of her instincts. 

This uncaring feral mien must have been inherited to him from the woodland—the same harmful beauty that bathed her with guilt as wetness flourished between the legs she fought to keep shut.

The wolf in him caught the scent of blood. Beaming, he leaned closer to the trail of tears that marked her cheeks and licked the droplets with an elated groan. 

“My my, you taste so good, little one, I bet your cherry is ripe too…”

Goosebumps prickled across her skin as the soft brush of his paw lightly skimmed down her torso, knuckles feathering below her navel as he unzipped her jeans. His hand slipped below her underwear before she could even muster a protest, calloused fingertips sinking into a warm lake of unwanted lust. 

“Hmm,” he uttered with wonder, his invasive digit diving to test her waters. Despite the cry that broke from her throat, her walls already squeezed around him, trying to force him out and pull him deeper at the same time.

“Interesting.”

“No, no! Let go of me !!! Let me go!!!” She tearfully implored, only to be silenced by his prowling mouth. Forcefully, he preyed on her lips as his thumb grazed the little hidden pearl at her apex to manipulate her mouth open. His vile tongue sieged her sacred cavern, though not forgoing his style. Earnestly, he kissed her in the mien of a younger man who takes a bride, regarding each note of flavour as if savouring honeyed mead. 

Lost to shadowy ecstasy, she cried a a bemused agonised yelp into his throat. Harder he devoured her, the bristle of his moustache burning the corners of her mouth while his finger continued to pump and toy with her drenched crevice. Self-hatred gushed through her veins once her body foolishly arched into his touch, giving in to this animal despite her burning protest. 

Never in her life had she been so betrayed: failed by the forest, by her foolish curiosity, and by feral instincts that wrongfully considered this stranger’s touch to be consensual. 

But August found himself elated beyond belief, thrilled by the carnal haze that worked in his favour.

‘Ain’t no fun in fucking a dry cunt.’

Though, she had no wish to make this wretched beast feel desired. In her best offence, she clamped her teeth at his bottom lip. 

August felt the tinge of iron and tore his lips from hers; licking the blood off, he then squeezed her wrists. 

“This little rabbit appears to be a feral lynx, it seems,” he growled yet not with anger but with a deep rumble of appreciation. The girl was far more interesting than he imagined, a nosy adventurous spirit. It was time to show her what curiosity brought upon the cat. Pulling back to stand on his knees, he sent a hand to tug at his belt. Angie fell paralysed below him, covered by a damp layer of chilling panic as he pulled out his enormous shaft, presenting it with pride. Up and down, he stroked its length, the head of his ‘beast’ salivating at the sight of delicious dinner. 

Angie whimpered with distress, though between her clenching thighs, her cunt throbbed with a need she could no longer disregard. It was but a brief moment when she imagined how this animal would feel inside her, splitting her asunder, again and again. 

It made her want to scream even louder.

“I know,” August grinned, voice seeping with arrogance. His hand left her rigid wrists in favour of her jumper, peeling it above her chest and vehemently tugging her bra to expose her breasts.

It’s been so long since he fed the vicious animal within, far too long.

“Little nosy cat...” he hummed, “you screech now, but I will make you purr by the end of the night.”

Hate set fire to her blood at the sound of his words, unable to bear being his ‘meal’. As August’s hands worked to strip her of her last protecting garment, a sudden adrenaline surge burst in her heart. Her frozen muscles filled with courage, pushing her to fight back. 

Folding her knee, she kicked the large man, making him fall back with a pained snarl. 

There was little time to plan an escape strategy. Her brow furrowed with feline determination as she flipped on her knees and began crawling through the rustling foliage. Amidst a wall of elder oaks, two large roots entangled above the ground, creating a low cove. He would not fit, he could not reach her if she’d manage her way through. Still on her knees, she hurried toward hope, her heart beating loudly at the thrill presented by escape. 

Her right arm passed through the path. Digging into the soil and sinewy saplings, she managed to pull herself farther when her ankles were captured by his claws. With a blood-chilling shriek, she was dragged back.

Long, rigid fingers etched around the seams of her denim and within seconds, her womanhood was exposed to the first stars that crested the evening sky.

“Fine,” August rebuked unforgiving, “like a bitch then!” 

Somewhere among the ocean of green, a lone wolf howled at the rising moon, its melancholic yelp playing harmonically to Angie’s cry of grievous pain as August defiled her with one harsh thrust. Stretched and parted open, she was wrapped around him completely, becoming a vessel to a cruel man who seized her deeper than she could bear. 

And still, despite the pain, despite the bludgeoning shame, her lake seethed of sultry at his forced entry.

Holding one hand around her waist and the other locked at her nape, he broke into a long aching exhale sounding like a dragon awakened from a long slumber. His torso clenched at the feel of her little cunt twitching around his girth. He stilled and took this moment to bask in his astonishment, hoping to last and memorise each second of their union. 

“Oh, sweetling, you feel amazing.”

Dropping her head with defeat, she sobbed, preparing herself for the moment he would begin to ram her. Or was it some sick anticipation? The throb of the thick beast inside her brought a sensation she fought to push back, a fickle yearning to urge for more. 

Friction… she wanted it… needed it…

Keen on giving her what she needed without her having to beg, he began to pump himself inside her, slowly dragging his thick shaft out only to dive fully in. He gave no care for the yips and cries and how pathetically she shook her head with every thrust that made her flesh ripple. 

Was it him she resisted or herself? For he could definitely feel how desperately she wanted him to fuck her. 

“Purring already, kitten?” he taunted and grunted as her canal further clenched. Closing his eyes, he imagined swimming naked in a hot fjord during a harsh winter. 

She imagined bathing in darkness, the shadows penetrating her, in and out, abysmally satisfying. To her great misery, his flesh brought white-hot pleasure the more vigorously it split into hers.   

It was the way of nature and this animal that stuffed her full of his manhood, was as beautiful as the white veil of the Milky Way beyond the coppice. Shocked by the unforgiving tendrils of bliss that began to weave within her, she shuddered. Even the sound of his incoherent chants was pleasing as he crudely snapped his hips into her rear to delve faster and deeper into her lake of mysteries. 

The quivering whimper that spurred from her throat was inevitable. Little spasms tingled where his ridged shaft battered her profoundly, illuminating her from within. Desperate to maintain whatever was left of her senses, she wished to go elsewhere in her mind. Yet neither August nor her body allowed it; pleasure continued to grow inside her, consuming like fire through a forest. 

Palms plastered to the ground, she gathered wet leaves between her fingers and finally gave in,  moaning and senselessly arching her back to indulge him, to serve a better passage for the beast to graze a spot that made her see fireflies cascade in the darkness. 

August gaped as she bucked and writhed against him, no longer hissing in protest but now succumbing to desire with her head bowed down to her owner, her cunt milking in and yanking around him in a familiar gyrate.

“I can feel it, sweetling,” he gasped, feeling himself growing impossibly hard, “you want to come, don’t you, kitten? You want to come with me filling you.” 

Not waiting for an answer, his paw glided from her hip to skim toward the spot where they were connected. Tenderly he brushed the tip of his index finger from the seams of her stuffed sleek, feeling himself sliding in and out for a brief second before shifting to brush her clit. Everything fell into place in a brief moment: their rhythm, the squelching sound of their wet bodies slapping into one another, and their feral howls that laced into her powerful delirium.

Angie felt radiant light spilling down her loins, permeating through her with an erratic flush that swept her into the euphoric glow. Overrun with the intensity of pleasure, her muscles quaked and snugged around him as if he was her lover. 

August’s gasps became abruptly erratic, his spine and the taut muscles of his belly thrummed with a surge of bliss. With a final slam of his hips into her ass, he flooded her with the hot creamy promise of life before he faltered to crouch on top of her with his entire body covering hers.

Perched on her elbows she trembled, the abrupt silence between them brought back the whispers of the woodland’s natural inhabitants. She could hear the cackle of chubby toads, bats that squeaked in search of their prey, and the soft rustle of the trees with its branches waving like the veils of a sweet virgin although they stood rooted to the ground. 

Beyond her blurry vision, fireflies beamed indifferently while the man who conquered her was still throbbing and seeping inside her, his whiskers tickling her sweat-slicked back as he planted chaste kisses down the length of her spine. Waves of bliss languidly ebbed away, yet despite what he did to her body, some undermined part of her wished he would linger and wrap her with his soothing heat. 

She must have lost her mind completely.

After regaining his strength, he stretched back to stand on his knees and finally withdrew from her searing hole. She sustained a yelp at the sudden solitude gaping within her and carefully turned to her side looking at him as if waiting for him to finally grant her the permission to leave.

Tucking himself back in his jeans, August observed her once more, his eyes still luminescent despite the black of night. 

“What’s your name, sweetling?”

She didn’t answer, too ashamed of the fact that she couldn’t help but find the sight of him so incredibly handsome. Disliking her lack of speech, August leaned close and brushed his palm across her cheek.

“Answer me, love,” he begged and gently kissed the corner of her mouth where tears salted her delicate skin.

Shivering, she lifted her eyes to meet his, taking a deep breath as if she never spoke a word in her life. 

“A….an...Angie.”

How fitting, he thought, a wide grin painting his face. “Angie and August,” he chimed, “I think we are going to have a lot of fun together.”

It took a second for her mind to process his words before her eyes flared open. She shook her head but was already flung across his shoulder. Vigorously, she tried to kick her weakened feet in the air and threw her fists at his back.

“Please, please, I won’t tell! Please let me go!” She sobbed, watching the great world behind them becoming smaller with each long stride.

“You won’t,” August retorted, uncaring of her silly protests. Marching them back toward the cabin, he was enamoured with the thought of what a wonderful housewife she’d make. “I came inside you. You are mine now, sweetling, but don’t worry, Angie, I will take good care of you.” 

Ignoring her screams, August began to hum and lovingly, caressed her spine. A sense of warmth and satisfaction filled his heart when he saw the dim light that shined within his cottage. In a few minutes, he will be home with his new bride; and though he rarely sang, tonight was far too beautiful to resist chanting a tune. 

“See the pyramids along the Nile Watch the sun rise on a tropic isle Just remember, darling, all the while You belong to me.”

Additional Credits: You belong to me by Chilton Price, Pee Wee King and Redd Stewart. Dividers by @firefly-graphics 

Disclaimer: I don’t own August Walker or Mission Impossible 

[seijorhi]

To the Wolves

my (first) entry for the Deal With the Devil collab, because i couldn’t resist writing for Yakuza Getou <33

Getou Suguru x Female Reader

TW Extremely dubious consent, coercion, manipulation, threats, implied murder, smut, nsfw

“No. I- I won’t.”

Sitting comfortably on the old, worn couch in your cramped little apartment, Getou raises a single eyebrow, “Oh? Is that so?”

His voice is perfectly pleasant, the smile on his face a touch amused, but you’re not so naive as to believe that the question is anything but a generous offer for you to rethink your reply. A smart person would take it – since the day you’d first arrived home to find him waiting for you, Getou hadn’t so much as laid a finger on you. He had no need for guns or knives, never shouted or bullied you, his reputation more than enough to cow you into submission before he’d even opened his mouth.

Of course, once he had, the simple threats to your friends and family’s lives had made certain that you were more than amenable to his request.

A mutually beneficial arrangement, he’d called it, as if there hadn’t been tears silently streaming down your face, your whole body stiff with fear. 

But that was the world he came from. Violence and ruthlessness, cruelty masquerading as kindness.

By all accounts, someone like you – a lowly admin assistant living a very boring, mundane life – should never have crossed paths with a man like Getou. The irony, of course, being that it was precisely because of your job that he’d been drawn to you in the first place. 

“I-I said no,” you stammer. “I’m not doing it.”

Getou sighs, long, pale fingers idly fixing the cuff of his left sleeve. “I had no idea the lives of your loved ones meant so little to you.”  

“Please, I-” you break off, biting your lip as your hands curl into useless fists at your side, “I can’t. Anything else, I’ll do anything, I swear it, just… please.”

Men like Getou aren’t the type to be swayed by pretty words or tearful pleas, but there’s an unmistakable glimmer of interest that flickers in his eyes at the offer. Casually, he leans forward, resting his chin on the palm of his hand and regarding you with a smirk. “So you’ll bring me the list of witnesses then?”

The barely audible hitch in your breath is enough to make him chuckle.

“No? How about those surveillance tapes, hm?” Smoothly, he rises to his feet and makes his way towards you. “Careful, little one, first rule of negotiation is knowing when you have something to bargain with. Don’t promise me what you can’t give.”

“Getou–”

He raises a hand and you quickly fall silent. There’s only inches between you two now, Getou’s taller, broader frame looming over yours. He could kill you like this, you realise with panic – reach out and wrap his hands around your throat and snap your pretty little neck before you could so much as scream. The tailored line of his jacket hides the gun he has holstered at his side, but Getou knows you're aware of its presence, have been since the very first time he’d broken into your home and threatened you. 

It’d take him only moments to draw the sidearm, even less for him to pull the trigger.

The walls of your apartment are thin, would your neighbours come if they heard gunfire? Would you, for that matter, if your roles were reversed?

Yet Getou makes no move for his gun, instead reaching for your chin, tilting it up with two curled fingers until you meet his gaze, “You understand, don’t you, that I make one phone call and that charming sister of yours and her fiance meet a very tragic, very untimely end?”

He pauses, waiting until you jerk a quick nod of assent before continuing. “You love them. There’s nothing wrong with that, nothing wrong with prioritising the ones you love over everybody else.” His voice is gentle, but the words make you shake, dread rising from the pit of your stomach as the pad of his thumb grazes over your bottom lip. 

You don’t know if you’re supposed to say something to that, but even as you try, you can’t summon the words. The by now familiar scent of his cologne tickles your nose and invades your throat, the warmth of his touch burning through your veins. Your own heart hammers like a drumbeat in your chest, every cell in your body screaming danger, but you don’t run, you don’t even flinch.

Getou smiles kindly, and perhaps if you hadn’t seen first hand the aftermath of his handiwork you might be tempted to believe it. His spare hand reaches into his jacket, but instead of the gun you’re expecting, he pulls out his phone, the screen flickering to life with a swipe of his finger. “So tell me, before I make a call you and I both know you don’t want me to make, why you’ve suddenly decided that their lives aren’t worth your compliance?”

Nanami. Your boss’s face flashes to your mind, the odd, fleeting glances he’d sent your way over the past few weeks when he’d thought you weren’t paying attention. Your stomach erupts with butterflies, your cheeks unwittingly warming, but you just shake your head, “If I give you those files, you’ll kill them. You’ll hurt them.”

“Maybe,” he hums, “maybe not. It’s no less than those monkeys deserve, don’t you think?” He spits the word like it’s venom, the twitch in his jaw the only chink in his otherwise effortless composure. “You’re protecting them, even now.”

You make no attempt to defend yourself, terrified of saying the wrong thing and setting him off, but Getou seems entirely unfazed, laughing coldly at your stricken expression.

“Your boss, the one with the perpetual stick up his ass; Nanami,” potent disdain drips from his tone at the name, “Always so morally righteous, sitting up on his high horse. You think he cares for you, that he’ll protect you when all of this comes out? And it will come out eventually,” he says, his smirk widening at the sudden pallor in your face. “At some point there’ll be one too many unfortunate coincidences, and the higher ups will realise that they have a mole in their ranks. Fingers will be pointed of course, but eventually even those idiots will figure it out.”

A knot tightens inside of your chest at his words, constricting until it feels like you can’t breathe. You’re shaking your head, eyes filling with tears, “N-no–”

“Oh, little one,” Getou murmurs, dark eyes drinking in every ounce of your distress. “Surely you realised that they have security cameras covering every inch of your floor? There was no reason to look before, but once they do…” he trails off, letting go of your chin in favour of brushing the back of his knuckles along your cheek. “They’ll throw you to the wolves.”

His voice is soft and cruel, belied by the gentleness of his touch, but it does nothing to quell the rising sense of dread inside of you. You want to believe it’s a lie, another threat meant to scare you into submission, but some deeper part of you recognises the truth in his words. 

Nanami, who’d told you once that there was innocence and there was guilt and very little in between. Nanami, whose office you’d bugged, whose trial only weeks ago you’d all but derailed with a few misplaced documents. You think back to the late nights shared in his office, bowls of ramen and case files scattered across the desk between you. You think of the rare smiles, his oddly dry sense of humour, the pleasant fluttering in your heart–

“You’ll rot in prison long before I do, and there is not a soul among that insipid bunch that would lift a finger to stop that from happening to you.” 

A soft, strangled noise leaves your lips as you fight not to sob, and Getou sighs, the corners of his lips twitching downwards in contrived sympathy. “Say the word and I’ll walk away tonight. I’ll still have to kill your sister – I am a man of my word, you understand – but I promise it’ll be the last you see of me.”

He slides his phone back into the breast pocket of his jacket, taking your face in both of his hands as tears spill down long lashes. “And when they come for you, you can tell them I threatened you, show them what little proof you have – if you have any at all. Maybe it’ll even make a difference,” he says. “But I doubt it.”

Every word is like a knife, slicing away at the raw, bleeding, vulnerable parts of you.

“Please…” It’s weak and desperate, your voice cracked and broken. You don’t even know what you’re begging for anymore; your sister’s life, for Getou’s mercy, or maybe just for him to stop saying such awful things. He must take pity on you though, because he sighs once more, his right thumb sweeping across your wet cheek to brush away silvery tear tracks. 

“I’m not a complete monster, you know. I protect what’s mine.”

And in one breath, everything screeches to a standstill and a trickle of very real fear creeps down your spine. There’s no mistaking his implication, not when he’s holding your face like that, his eyes dark and simmering with an intensity that makes your stomach flip.

“W-what?”

Getou closes the gap between you two, a startled noise leaving your lips as his hips press flush up against you. “Don’t play stupid, sweet thing,” he murmurs, and it sounds like a warning, “It doesn’t suit you.”

One hand slips to your neck, the other curling almost possessively around your waist. There’s no room for you to move, to back away or free yourself. For a moment, neither of you speak, the heavy silence deafening between you.

Does he notice the way your pulse races under his fingertips as they circle your throat, how you’re shaking like a leaf beneath him? Does he want you afraid? A scared little bunny rabbit cowering from the gaping maw of the big, bad wolf? 

Judging from the bulge of his semi-hard cock pressing into the soft flesh of your belly, he’s not entirely unaffected, and for the first time it’s not Getou’s gun or his threats that you’re most afraid of. 

It’s the selfish, twisted want that glitters and glints in those pitiless depths. You’ve never felt so entirely at somebody else’s mercy as you do with Getou now, staring you down like he wants to lay you bare, claim you again and again for all the world to see. And you don’t understand. There’s a thousand and one questions running through your mind, your insides twisted up into knots. 

You know what it is he’s asking of you – though asking feels like a generous word when he can so easily just take – but none of this makes sense, not when he was threatening your family’s lives only minutes ago. 

As if he can sense the turmoil and confusion raging through you, he leans down, his lips ghosting over the outer shell of your ear. “Tell me to stop, and I’ll walk away right now.”

I am a man of my word. 

His earlier statement rings through your head as you search his face for any sign of deception – you find none. But walking away means your sister dies. It means you’re left on your own to fend off the wolves when they find out what you’ve done.

Nanami might believe you. He might even defend you, but you’ve worked in the Prosecutor’s office long enough to know that duress isn’t the bulletproof defence people think it is, and for tangling with the likes of him…

You were screwed the moment he showed up in your living room, this- this is just the coup de grâce. The final damnation.

“Why me?” 

Getou doesn’t answer, but when he draws you into a kiss, his lips moving torturously slow against yours, there’s an edge of… something there, lying hidden just beneath the surface. And it terrifies you, more than his words and his promises ever could.

But when your back’s to the wall, what choice do you really have?

It feels like defeat when he takes you by the hand and leads you into your bedroom, ignoring the uncertain glance you cast over your shoulder towards the living room. You don’t want any of this, but you can pretend that it’s just… business if he fucks you out there.

Not in the bed you sleep in.

It’d be easier, you think, if it was cold and impersonal. If you cried and it stung and the only sounds in the room were flesh hitting flesh, ragged breathing and an occasional rough grunt.

There’s nothing impersonal about the way he watches you strip out of your clothes at his command. His own join yours on the floor without much ceremony – his gun pointedly set just within reach atop your nightstand.

The first time you’d laid eyes on Getou Suguru, it was two months into your new job; a photograph pinned to a thick, heavy file Nanami had dropped on your desk. A surveillance picture, you’d gathered, snapped as the man was exiting some neon lit club downtown. And you remembered the smug smirk he’d had, staring directly down the lens of the camera like it was a challenge, but that wasn’t what had struck you most.

It was the flutter of interest that’d shot through your veins the moment before common sense kicked in. Tall and fit, with long, dark hair swept up in the wind, a sharp jaw and a handsome face, you remember thinking he was probably the most attractive man you’d ever seen.

Now, standing naked before you, bright, colourful tattoos inked across his torso, accentuating the muscles that rise and fall with every measured breath, you can’t bear to look. It’s easier just to stare at the wooden floorboards, the corner of the shagged rug you’d bought at a thrift store when you first moved in. Easier to pretend Getou isn’t pulling you closer once more, pressing searing, open mouthed kisses along your neck, murmuring words that are lost to you entirely as his hands wander. You can feel it now, the heat of his body as he cages you in, his cock, thick and heavy and flushed nudging insistently up against your stomach.

You expect him to shove you to your knees, to force his cock down your throat in some archaic show of dominance before he claims your cunt, but he doesn’t. 

“I want you to touch yourself for me,” he whispers into your ear, teeth catching lightly on the sensitive lobe as you shiver. “Like you do when I’m not here, those pretty legs spread, fucking yourself on your fingers…”

The comment feels too familiar to be entirely offhanded, striking a chord of panic somewhere deep inside of you–

But it doesn’t make a difference. It doesn’t matter now.

You allow him to kiss you again before climbing onto the mattress. Like a good girl, you fall back onto the pillows, let your legs ease apart, wrapping your lips around two fingers and sucking for a brief moment before gliding your hand down between your thighs. 

His breath hitches, a soft curse sounding when saliva slicked digits spread your folds, the tip of your middle finger brushing lightly against your clit as you stroke your pussy. Your nipples harden and peak under the cool night air and you use your free hand to palm at your breast, pinching and teasing at the sensitive bud while one finger slips into the warmth of your cunt. 

The mattress dips, Getou climbing onto the bed, settling himself back on his knees, your spread legs either side of him.

“Beautiful,” he breathes. 

Your heart stutters, movements jerking as you brace for him to interfere, to touch you, but aside from nudging your thighs further apart to get a better view of your glistening cunt, he seems content simply to sit back and watch, his own hand lazily stroking at his cock.

Trying in vain to block him out, you squeeze your eyes shut and focus on the way your fingers feel between your legs, the pleasure–

 (Not the shame, don’t think about that, don’t think about Getou watching you debase yourself for his enjoyment)

–that pools in your core as you rub the shining pearl of your clit. It’s a familiar dance, a routine you’d normally help along with a glass of wine and a few faithful toys, but you don’t exactly have that luxury here.

And even with the rigid tension in your shoulders, the unwanted presence of a man you’re terrified of impossible to ignore, you can’t help the quiet moan that slips past your lips, the way your hips stutter, grinding against the heel of your palm as your fingers hit that sweet, delightful spot inside of you. 

Getou tenses at the sound, the last, fragile thread of his composure snapping–

He strikes fast. One moment you’re biting down on your bottom lip, your index and middle fingers knuckle deep in your dripping pussy, the next he’s braced atop you, one hand locked around your wrist, the other propping himself up. And as your eyes fly open with a startled cry, his lips crash against your once more – desperate and ravenous, his tongue forcing its way into your mouth to taste you.

And you don’t fight it when he pulls your hand from your pussy and drags it to his crotch, his fingers entwining with yours as he wraps them around his heavy, throbbing cock and moans. It’s humiliating, the way he thrusts into your hand, tightening his grip so you’re forced to feel every shivery twitch of his dick while he sucks eagerly on your tongue.

This is the choice you’d made, the deal you struck. It’s too late to back out now, and even if you tried to… 

“I want you,” he pants, his lips glistening with saliva, an almost manic look in those dark, pretty eyes, “to ride me.”

… you’re not so sure Getou would let you.

So you allow yourself to be manhandled, lifted and situated across his lap like a doll. Hands braced on his tattooed chest, you lift your hips just enough for him to guide his cock to your slick entrance before slowly sinking down onto his length.

Every inch hurts. 

It doesn’t make it any less painful, the way Getou soothes you, his thumbs stroking gently at your waist as you whine and mewl, feeling every ridge and vein of his cock as he stuffs you full.

“Fuck– good girl, taking me so well,” he purrs.

You’re not sure if it’s shame, pleasure, or some sense of twisted pride at the praise that has your pussy clenching, fire racing through your veins when Getou experimentally rocks his hips upwards. And if your cheeks weren’t already burning, the lewd moan that escapes you when the head of his cock hits your g-spot would certainly do the trick. 

Ever observant, he wastes no time capitalising on your slip, lifting you up just to drive you back down onto his length at the perfect angle. You shudder around him, keening out a cry that has him groaning in pleasure.

There’s no illusion of control here between you two.

You might be the one on top, but Getou’s grip’s too tight, guiding every roll of your hips against his, his own rising in time to fuck his cock deeper into your warm, velvety cunt. And somewhere distantly you recognise that this could be a thousand times worse. How easily he could change the narrative in a heartbeat, flip you over, force your face into the pillows and fuck you like a dog until you’re gasping for air. He could use you, hurt you, probably kill you without ever needing to touch the gun he’d left on your nightstand – and you wouldn’t have a hope in hell of stopping him.

But he doesn’t. Lying back against your pillows, dark hair falling from his half up-do, cheeks flushed from exertion, Getou’s attention is wholly fixed on you - on your face, eyes screwed shut, bottom lip caught between your teeth as he hits somewhere deep inside of you that has you seeing stars, on your tits, the way they bounce every time you sink back down onto his cock.

His eyes are hooded, dark and intense, searching for every hint of pleasure he’s drawn from you. You gasp his name, fingers digging into his chest, your cunt fluttering so deliciously around him – and he loses that last little bit of his self control. 

He jerks upright, one arm wrapping around your waist to anchor you to him as he braces himself with the other, and before you can so much as gasp his mouth is at your tits, hot tongue laving at soft, supple skin there.

“Suguru,” he growls, hips snapping feverishly against yours. 

“Suguru,” you parrot, head lolling back as heat coils tighter in your core. 

You’ll worry about the consequences later, when he pulls you boneless and sated into his arms and you feel his heart thumping at your back as he kisses you and tells you to sleep. When tomorrow you arrive at work and Nanami stares a beat too long as the love bites scattered across your throat, no doubt wondering why you won’t so much as look at him.

For now, you settle for pulling him closer, gasping as you chase that quaking, blissful end.

[yeojaa]

( NEVER LET YOU GO. )

You do things without thought, making impulse decisions that’d make Freud proud.  Sometimes they pay off, sometimes they don’t.

(or:  Jeon Jungkook’s just as impulsive as you.)

pairing.  tattoo artist!jjk x f!reader.

genre + rating.  slice of life fluff, light smut.  explicit (but only at the end). 

tags / warnings.  mentions of heavily tattooed!JK, casual drinking, tender lovemakin’, JK with the bad jokes, honestly just him being funny and chill like that one guy you never get over...

wc.  7.6k.

beta reader(s).  @hobi-gif​, @papillonsgf​, and @yeoldontknow​​ 💛 ty for always indulging me and most importantly, supporting me when i begin to spiral. 🤠

author note.  i got this idea into my head one evening in the shower and now... it is this.  it’s not your usual bad boy tattoooist!JK fic but i hope you enjoy regardless.  as always, feedback means a lot! 

You and forethought aren’t close friends.  You really aren’t even distant cousins, or part of the same family tree.  You consider it a stranger, wave loftily as it passes you by, squinting like you can’t properly make out what it is.  Careful consideration?  Thoughtful patience?  None of that exists for you.  At least, not when you really, really want something. 

It’s what has you here now, bumbling your way into the tattoo shop like a newborn baby bird.  

You wonder how it must look, whether the shop assistant is used to this.  Random girl shows up on a Sunday afternoon looking like a fish out of water, eager yet afraid.  By how she greets you - with a curious stare and not quite a smile - you’re sure she is.  

“Do you take walk-ins?”

You’d meant to make an appointment.  Had sat for hours on the shop’s Instagram page, combing through the residents’ portfolios, trying to decide who to reach out to.  When you’d finally decided, you’d realised books were a thing and most of them were closed.  (Just your luck.)

Still, it never hurt to try, right? 

“Everyone’s fully booked.”  The girl sounds bored, apathetic yet genial.  (You don’t blame her.)  By the way her stare swings over you, it feels like a dismissal.  You’re ready to admit defeat - head half-bowed, words draped over your tongue.  “But our apprentice might be able to squeeze you in.”

An apprentice?  Well— that’s not exactly what you’d been hoping for, but this shop is reputable.  Well-known.  Considered one of the best in the city.  Surely their apprentice would be fine.  Just less seasoned, not as experienced. 

You all but snap your neck nodding along, gratitude tumbling out in the form of awkward laughter.  “That’d be great!”

The girl passes you off with a nod of her head, gesturing down the hall.  “Last room on the left.  His name’s Jungkook.  His schedule says he’s all clear, but maybe knock before you go in.”  It’s not the sunniest smile you’ve ever received, but the small thing she offers helps with the nerves.  Stills them beneath your skin as you do as you’re told. 

“Jungkook?”  There’s not really anywhere to knock, every wall neatly frosted glass and no doors in sight.  (You had passed a few folding screens but otherwise, it’s open concept, each room offering a glimpse into the artist who works inside.)  It feels too disruptive to tap your knuckles on one glass pane, lest it interrupt someone else. 

(His studio is minimally decorated but inviting:  one big cabinet; two of those typical IKEA shelves in the 4x4 grid that every new homeowner and their mother have; and a shop table, upon which a black backpack sits.  Various plants dress the room - both hanging from the ceiling and along the window - and Polaroids string over walls, held aloft by twine.  A Roomba sits by itself in a corner and the tattoo bed dominates most of the space, positioned closer to the dividing wall;  one teeny tiny rolling chair sits beside it.  There’s a bench on your left, with a pair of Birkenstocks tucked beneath.  All in all, very homey.  Reminiscent of your own apartment.) 

Hidden behind the bed, crouched low to the ground beside the cabinet, is a head of dark hair that speaks, drawing your attention from studying the cozy space.  “Oh?”

You’re not expecting the face that turns to you, all big doe eyes and the sweetest dimples. 

For a moment, you forget what you’re here for.  Why you’re standing in the empty door frame, staring down at the guy like you’ve spent your entire life secluded and have no idea how to speak.  

The longer you’re quiet, the more his concern seems to grow, single brow disappearing into his inky fringe.  It hangs in his vision at certain angles, shields the brightness of his stare with each turn of his chin.  “Are you okay?”  He’s even risen - stopped what he was doing - so he can see you more clearly, without any obstruction in the way.  Good for him, but worse for you. 

He’s so cute.  Were you prepared to look like an uncertain idiot in front of this… angel?

“Y-yeah.”  You manage after what feels like forever, sweeping your nerves under the rug that sits on the floor, separates the sole of his sneakers from hard concrete.  “Um— I was told you might have some time?  For, uh, a walk-in?”

(Why’re you stuttering?  You’re never shy.  Or rather, you’re not this nervous mess.  People have always called you an extrovert, outgoing as hell, a social butterfly.)

(You aren’t those things but you appreciate the sentiment nonetheless.)

“Oh!”  Realisation dawns across his features, throws his kind smile into greater relief, and you have to actively tell yourself not to stare, tearing your gaze away to focus on the wall of stencils past his shoulder.  He moves into motion then, stepping around the bed to meet you still rooted in the doorway.  “Yeah, I’ve got time.  Come in.”  Up close like this - there’s only maybe two feet between you - you can make out the little scar on his cheek;  the tiny beauty mark below his bottom lip;  each individual lash that frames his Bambi eyes and flutters when he blinks.  “I probably can’t draw you anything new right now but I’ve got some flash, if you’re interested?”

Even if you weren’t interested, you don’t think you’d say no.  You were always a sucker for a cute boy and this Jungkook?  He was that.  In spades. 

“Sure.”

“Are you looking for anything in particular?”  He’s retreating back into the room, moving to grab his iPad off the far table.  It’s balanced on his arm when he swivels to you, prominent front teeth on full display.  “I’ve got a pretty big selection.” 

When he drops onto the bench - a wayward vine above his head tickling his cheek - he gestures to the spot beside him.  This time, you don’t stare for a stupid amount of time, instead taking up the seat without hesitation. 

“So—”  He’s swiping through the photo library with his Apple Pen.  You’re sure there are pretty sketches on the screen - you just can’t focus on them, too preoccupied by the artwork that crawls across his hand and into the sleeve of his oversized, well-worn shirt.  It’s an intricate chrysanthemum, impossibly well-shaded with bold colours that demand attention and stand out over his fair complexion;  it creeps halfway up the back of his hand to tickle over his knuckles.  He notes your attention with a quiet chuckle, fingers wiggling.  The ink moves, flows, ripples with the motion, before his hand relaxes, knuckles unravelling as he offers the limb to you and your curiosity.  “Do you like it?”

“It’s incredible.”  It really is.  You’ve never seen anything like it, as if a painting has been done across his skin, laid in watercolour rather than tattoo ink.  “Did it hurt?”

(You almost want to hit yourself for the stupid question.  Of course it did.  It’s a hand tattoo.)

Jungkook only laughs again, doesn’t hold it against you despite the verbal barrage you’re faced with internally.  “Like crazy, but it was worth it.  This was my first tattoo and all the rest have just sort of been—”  He shrugs, fabric of his shirt bunching around his collar.  

“A piece of cake?”  You can only imagine.

“Exactly.”

You nod thoughtfully, as if that means anything to you.  (It doesn’t.  You’re bare as a baby’s bottom, blemish free save for the occasional hellish pimple and the scar you have from surgery on your hand when you broke parts of it in sixth grade.)

If he can tell you’re talking out of your ass, he says nothing, redirecting your attention back to the iPad propped on his lap.  “Do any of these interest you?”  He’s resumed scrolling, swiping carefully through pages of flash.  There are assorted floral pieces (plum stems, lily stalks, fully bloomed mums) and various skeletons (what looks like a deer, a dragon, a wolf).  They’re mostly blackwork with fine lines and heavy contrast, so wonderfully detailed you spend too much time studying one piece before he’s flipping to the next.

“That one.”  It catches your eye more than the others have.  Likely because it’s one of the few pieces in colour, soft hues spilling over neat lines.  A pretty little cat with a braided collar, big golden bell centered beneath its head, unravelling petals sweeping around it.

“You like cats?”

You do.  “She looks like mine.”

“It’s settled.”  He beams then, rising so quickly you’re startled;  you watch as he moves around the space with decisive steps, putting your plan into motion.  A paper is pulled seemingly out of nowhere, laid on a wooden clipboard and offered with a blue ballpoint pen.  “If you can fill all of this out, I can get the stencil ready.”

Well, that was easy.  Somehow, you’d thought it’d be more complicated, a ton of back and forth and yes and no.  You can’t deny you’re nervous, staring down at the consent form.  

(It doesn’t mean you read it any more than you normally would, though.  You gloss over all the points, making note of what you’re agreeing to without really considering any of it.  You’ve wanted a tattoo for most of your life.  There’s really no going back now.)

(You just hope it turns out like you want - that you’re not just being blindsided by a sudden superficial crush and a lack of critical thought.)

“I think I’m done,”  you mumble, slashing the date into the paper with gusto.  

“Do you have your ID?”  You’ve got it ready for him when he returns to take both it and the form.  “I’m just going to make copies and then we can discuss more.”

He’s gone with that same smile, disappearing back the way you’d come. 

Alone, the nerves set in.  You’re actually doing this.  Getting a tattoo.  Putting something permanent on your body.  It’s exhilarating and terrifying all at once, shaking your hands in your lap.  Maybe you should’ve eaten more before you’d come.  (You’d woken up late - had only shoved two pieces of raisin pinwheel bread into your mouth before you’d made up your mind about this.) 

(But had you really made up your mind?  Was this going to be it?  It feels mostly like yes, though the repetitive thud of your toe against concrete seems to indicate otherwise.  It’s as if you’re tapping out something in morse, telling yourself—)

“Okay!”  Jungkook’s back before you know it, driver’s license returned to you along with an unsealed envelope.  You eye it curiously.  “A copy of your form and an aftercare sheet.”  

He’s really thought of everything.  Or the shop has.  Either way, you appreciate that when you’re not so sure, caught somewhere between giddily excited and vaguely worried, as if someone’s pulled a weight off your shoulders, taken on some of the burden of this spontaneous choice.

“So, where do you want it?”  It’s like he has a one track mind, utterly focused on the task at hand.  (Probably a good thing, given you’re about to voluntarily let him needle your poor skin.) 

You hadn’t thought about that.  You’d always liked the idea of a back of the arm tattoo, positioned somewhere along your tricep so it could be seen while turned away.  “My arm?”

“Upper?  Forearm?”  There’s not an ounce of annoyance or exasperation or anything else negative.  He’s just genuinely curious, peering over his shoulder at you. 

“Tricep area, I think?  Would that look good?”

“If you like it, it will.”  Then he grins - beams so bright you half expect the sun to come zooming out of his mouth - and laughs, a funny little cackle that makes you do the same.  “I’m kidding.  That was cheesy.  But I’m sure it’ll look fine.  We can try laying it down first, so you get an idea?” 

“That sounds good.”  A lot better than endless years of regret for poor placement. 

“You’ll, uh— need to take your shirt off though.”

It’s then you realise your mistake:  wearing a turtleneck.  “Oh.”

“Yeah.”

A beat of silence passes, then another, and he smiles so kindly you wonder what your expression must look like.  Sour, like you’d sucked fresh lemon?  Awkward, as if you’d never worn anything less than double layers before (a proud Never Nude)? 

“If you’re uncomfortable, we can reschedule.  Or I can put a divider up so you don’t have to worry about being seen from outside.  Whatever you’d prefer.” 

The longer you stay quiet - a seemingly common occurrence today - the closer his brows furrow, preparations coming to a standstill.  You can tell he’s not trying to rush you, politely waiting for an answer with transfer paper in one hand and scissors in the other.  

(If only he could peek into your brain, see the whole reason you’re hesitating is because you can’t quite remember which bra you’re wearing, whether it’s the slinky black one that offers absolutely zero support or the lacy blue one with the cute detailing and practically see-through cups.)

(Did it really matter either way?  He was probably desensitized.)  

“It’s fine.”  You find the confidence somehow, nodding firmly.  Jungkook’s still studying you carefully, though.  Waiting as you strip your purse off your shoulder and reach for the hem of your sweater.  It feels funny in your fingers, more like steel wool than sheep’s.

One breath.  Two. 

You fold your turtleneck neatly, laying it beside your bag and turning back to face him.  “All right.  Let’s do this.” 

“So, which arm?”  He’s close now - crossed to you in two strides of his long legs - and holds up the stencil.  

Your right rises, fingers wiggling as if to say hello. 

He lays the design down, pats it into place with deft fingers.  You don’t realise the breath you’re holding until he pulls the sticky paper away, leaving neat line work in its wake.

“Oh.”  It slips out of its own accord, almost a whisper as you stare at the design in the mirror.  “It’s so pretty.” 

There’s pride in his eyes as he stares with you, bounces his gaze between it and your face.  “Thanks.”  He lets you linger, peering thoughtfully at your reflection before speaking, casually hopeful.  “What do you think?”

“This is it.  Right here.”

Maybe he’d fist pump, if he were any less cool.  As it stands, he simply nods, cheeks round like fresh baked bread, nose scrunched with glee. 

“All right.  We’ll shave you down and get started.  You like the colours, right?”  Once again, he’s buzzing around the room, gathering up all his materials and snapping black gloves on once everything is laid out upon his cart.  It’s heavily stickered, covered in video game vinyls and anime mattes.  (You recognise a handful of them, make a note to ask him where he got them from.)  He pats the tissue papered bed top when you make no movement toward him.  “Hop on up.  Face down, if that’s okay.”

You do as he says, climbing atop with minimal grace.  It takes you a bit of adjusting to get comfortable, folding your left arm under your head and allowing your right to simply dangle, uncertain of where it should be.  

“You’re sparkly.”

“What?”  You’d misheard that, right? 

“Your skin.  You’re sparkling.”  He sounds a little in awe, surprised as wetness spills across your arm, the edge of a razor following closely thereafter.  

“Oh.”  Heat creeps over your cheeks, slinks all the way up into your roots and has you chuckling awkwardly.  “It’s my soap.” 

“Sparkle soap?”  Whether he’s just making conversation or genuinely curious, you’re not sure.  He does seem delighted by the fact, though, as if he’s never seen a girl covered in glitter before.  (Which, fair.) 

“It’s this specialty holiday soap.  It has pigment in it.” 

“That’s cool.”  He’s laying the stencil down again, smoothing it over your now-hairless arm.  “It smells nice.”

Obviously, you agree.  It’s honey and citrus, brightly fragrant but not overpowering, lingering on your clothes like the subtle golden glitter does.  Still, you flush, heat crossing from a casual day under the sun to burning-on-the-stove hot.  “Thanks.” 

“Was that weird?  I hope not.”

“No, you’re fine.” 

He hums a tiny noise, something that sounds like understanding and appreciation all at once.  

Then the buzzing starts - a steady, inescapable brrrrrrrrr - and he’s gripping your arm, steady yet gentle.  “Ready?” 

Honestly, you’re not sure.  Hearing the noise makes it seem scary, has your entire body tensing up like Pavlov’s dog.  Your honesty can’t be helped, a nervous giggle chased off your tongue.  “I think so.” 

“I think so too.”

By the time you’re done - a good almost five hours later, your arm stinging so bad you wonder why you’d ever sat down in the first place - you’d fallen asleep twice, started drooling on your other arm once, and really, really have to pee. 

“All right—”“  The incessant buzzing stops.  Liquid spills where the pain centres, followed by rougher paper towel.  “You are finished.”

(You might be imagining it, but he sounds about as relieved as you.  Maybe because you’d been sitting for hours on hours, turning down his offer for a break because you just wanted to get it done and therefore forcing him to do the same.) 

“Can I see?”  You don’t want to leap to your feet - feel a bit too lightheaded for that - but you’re bouncing with excitement, the thrumming in your arm intensified when you shift to catch a better look at Jungkook’s face. 

“Yeah, go ahead.  Just be careful - you might be a bit—”

He’s right.  You nearly topple over the moment you stand, none-too-gently rolling off the edge of the bed and barely landing safely on your feet.  It’s only his close proximity that prevents you from falling to your knees, one degloved hand darting out to steady you. 

“Careful!”  It’s politely reproachful, coloured soft with worry.  

“Sorry, sorry.”  You seize the edge of the bed, gripping tight as you wait for everything to settle, the lightheadedness to recede.  Everything straightens out quickly enough.  “Got up too quickly.”

“Do you need a snack?”  He’s already up, moving faster than you, rummaging through the cabinet against the far wall.  “I’ve got seaweed and Choco Boys and shrimp chips and—”

You can’t help but laugh, hobbling to the mirror to inspect your new piece of art.  “I’m fine.”  That, and you’re too occupied with the ink that now sits embedded beneath your skin, a flurry of lovely colour and impressive line work.

“Choco Boys it is then.”  The familiar yellow package is thrust toward you, a pack of his own already ripped open.  Mushroom-shaped treats are tossed into his open mouth, lips curling around chocolate and his next words,  “it’ll help with your sugar levels.”

A thank you comes, fingers curling around the snacks, but you’re still in deep, so focused on the lovely hue that bleeds over your skin, marks up previously unblemished flesh and holds your attention.  It’s better than you could’ve possibly imagined, a piece of artwork forever yours.  It makes you giddy as you stare at it - almost reach for it, but stop when you catch the alarmed widening of Jungkook’s eyes.  

“You like?”  

“I love.”  You’d stare at it for hours, if you could.  Likely will, once you get home, sitting in front of the mirror like a zombie.  “Thank you so, so much.”

The brunet beams as he polishes off the last of his Choco Boys, tossing his dark hair back with a flick of his head.  Triumph rolls off him in palpable waves, sitting pretty in the lines by his eyes, the scrunching around his nose.  Seeing how it blooms in his stare is like a straight endorphin shot, as if you’ve done more than just be the canvas he’s laid all his hard work into.  “It was a pleasure.”

It’s a whole month later - enough time for the piece to heal - before you decide you want another one.  It’s not as spontaneous as the first time, instead led with an Instagram direct message to @jeonink.  (You half expect him not to answer;  you’re utterly delighted when he responds not five minutes later.) 

Maybe it’s fate or maybe it’s luck that has him with availability the same day you reach out, bringing you back to the studio three hours after you’ve messaged him.

He’s just as cute as before, black baseball cap pulled low over his ears, silver-lined ears twinkling beneath the shop lights.  

“So, what’re you thinking?”  

Truthfully, you hadn’t done much thinking.  Just like before, you’d decided you wanted a tattoo and, well, the rest had been history.  You figured you’d let him have free reign, given how happy you were with your first piece.  “A sleeve?”

That surprises him.  His whole face lights up, eyes wide, mouth rounding curiously.  “Like, a full sleeve?”  It’s not necessarily a no - more of an are you sure? he hides between the syllables.

“I think so.”

He nods slowly, knowingly, arms folded over his chest, expression suddenly unreadable.  “You caught the itch.”

Your own features twist, brows shooting high.  “The what?”

“The tattoo itch,”  he clarifies with a laugh, the sound sweeping your concern away like the sea.  “People say once you get one, you get addicted to the feeling.”  He’s extending both arms to you now, hands palm up.  For a moment, you’re note sure what he’s doing.  (In actuality, you’re distracted by the fact that he’s in a tee, muscle cording his limbs, undulating as he turns his arms over.)  “I got bit by it when I lived in Japan.  It’s actually what got me into tattooing myself.”

You remember what he’d said last time - how he’d spent a handful of years overseas, working in restaurants after having followed his last partner there.  He’d shared lots about his life, giving you the Sparknotes version while you’d ground enamel to fine dust.  

“I guess I have the itch then.”

“Guess you do.”  

Your dream comes to life in four excruciating sessions.  It’s some of the worst pain you’ve ever endured (you’re never going to get an elbow tattoo ever again) but you’d do it all again in a heartbeat, utterly in love with the mural that now lives on your skin.  A peony caps your shoulder while one runs halfway up your bicep.  Another takes up the entirety of your forearm.  There’s a darling little bird and delicately inked koi.  It’s breathtaking, greater than anything you could have dreamt up.  

You’ve been staring at it for at least three minutes now, tracing over the freshly laid colour with a tender touch.  You’re grateful for the SecondSkin, the clear bandage that wraps everything up and keeps it safe from your over eager hands.

“You did it.”  Jungkook’s grinning at you, feet kicked up where he sits, his usual bag of Choco Boys balanced in his lap.  “Big girl.”

From anyone else, it might sound condescending - might rub you the wrong way and have you glaring daggers.  Instead, you take it in stride, beaming at him from your seat.  He’s been there with you every step of the way, been there for every hour (seventeen over three months, to be exact) you’ve dedicated to finishing this beauty up.  Tease you as he might, you know he really is proud of you.  

“You mean we did it,”  you return, giddy like a child.  

“Ah, right.”  The chocolate-covered snack he’s devouring goes crunch crunch crunch before he speaks, mouth still full, eyes crinkled.  “I guess I did do all the work.”

“Hey!  Screw you!”  You’re glowering at him, middle finger raised in defiance.  

(How curious that your relationship has grown like this, turned from tattoo artist and client to what feels like more.  It probably makes sense, given the long hours you’ve spent together, the support he’s had to offer each time the pain has gotten this side of too much, chattering your teeth and dizzying your head.  Solidarity in pain and all that.)

(You really had tapped out once, when he’d crept his gun into the ditch of your elbow.  You’d asked him whether it’d hurt beforehand and he’d only laughed, shrugged off the question and continued with the careful shading to your inner arm.  That in itself had hurt like a biiitch;  you hadn’t thought it could get worse.)

(You’d been mistaken.)

“Am I wrong?”  He drawls, full of laughter and that big dumb smile of his you’ve grown accustomed to.  It eats up his cheeks and disappears his eyes, makes it hard to be mad at him when he looks so sweet.  

“Yes, you are.”  You’ve got absolutely nothing to back it up, but who cares.  This is the sort of banter the two of you have developed, like two old friends forced to spend too much time together.  (Not that you’d complain.  You’ve loved hearing his stories, all the tales he regales you with whenever you’re in his chair.)

A snort is his answer, the full roll of his eyes over-exaggerated and playful.  “You’re lucky we’re all finished or I’d sneak in an ugly fish somewhere on your arm.”

You think he’s kidding - know he takes too much pride in his work to do that.

Still, you stick your tongue out, hopping down from the bed with your freshly inked arm, hands clapping together in celebration.  “You wouldn’t dare.”  You’re confident, crossing to the bench to tug your flannel on, careful of the dull pain that throbs beneath the thin medical dressing.  

“Wouldn’t I?  I’m leaving anyway.”

You’re ready to call him out for it, insist he would never ruin the sanctity of his profession in such a way, when you realise the words he’s spoken, the casual tidbit he’s just dropped like it’s nothing.

“Leaving?”  

(Is it you or do you sound disappointed?  You can’t dwell on it for long, worried you’ll miss his explanation.  Had he mentioned it previously?  Slipped it in when you’d been delirious from pain?  No, you would’ve remembered that.  You swear you would’ve.)

“I’m moving to Tokyo.”  How he’s so casual, you have absolutely no idea.  You suppose it’s not a big deal for him - he’s not from here anyway.  Home is back in Korea, the place he’d spent most of his life before moving to Japan and then here, just two years ago.  (God, your memory is good.  If only you’d retained knowledge like this when you were in school.)  “My flight’s next weekend.”

Your face must be hilarious because Jungkook’s laughing, cackling like the evil villain in an anime.  

“Gonna miss me?”  

Would it be inappropriate to say yes?  Because you will, you realise the moment he’s posed the question.  You’ve grown to consider him a friend, someone who you send random memes to on Instagram (usually pertaining to #tattooartistproblems or one of your shared hobbies, like video games and finding the best noodle soup restaurant in the city).  

You go for the safe bet, answering with a question of your own.  “Are you gonna miss me?”

“I’ll miss your restaurant recs,”  he answers, offering honesty to your reticence.  “You can still send me funny photos though.”  

You can’t help your laugh, the tiny quirk of your mouth into a smile.  “I guess you’re right.  Will you still be tattooing?”  It’s an innocent enough question - you really do want to know.  You can’t imagine going to anyone else, even if it means you’ll be shelling out an absurd amount of money for a plane ticket.

“Yep, new shop.”  Something twinkles in his stare, has him giddy as he rises to his feet, tossing his empty packet of snacks into the trash bin.  “Actually, where I got most of mine done.”  You understand it then - that it’s a move of faith.  He’s finally come full circle.  You’re unbelievably happy for him, brimming with delight to mirror his pride.  

But you’re still going to give him a little bit of a hard time because you have to.  It wouldn’t feel right otherwise.  “Whoa, big shot.”

“I am actually,”  he sniffs, raking an ink-strewn hand through his hair.  It’s longer now than it was when you met him, curling over the tops of his ears, hanging in his eyes at every turn.  “You’ll be lucky if I remember you when I’m famous.”

“Famously lame, maybe,”  you tease, slipping your bag over your shoulder.  You busy yourself pulling your keys from the interior pocket, checking your phone as if you’re ready to go.  It’s only when you’re standing in the hallway - you have no real intention of departing like this and he knows that, considering you haven’t paid yet - when you level him with a half-formed smirk.  “But I guess I should take you for a drink?”  

His hoodie is on before you know it, yanked over his head and tugged into place as he joins you.  It’s become your regular routine - leaving together after your sessions, a perk of always booking the last slot he has available.  (Not that you relied on that, but simply because your work schedule didn’t really allow for anything else.)  “Obviously.”

Jeon Jungkook is a talented artist, a dedicated snacker, a lover of the colour black.  You discover, sitting on the patio of the nearby bar, that he’s also really, really good at holding his liquor.  

(Not that he’d ever indicated otherwise.)

“Do you think you’ll get anything else done?”  He’s on his sixth pint, casually leaned back in his chair as he picks at the fries you’d ordered but that he seems perfectly happy to help himself to.  (Payback for all the times he’s forced snacks on you maybe?)  “Like, a face tattoo?”

You scoff at the question as if greatly offended.  “You think I’d get a face tattoo?”  

While a little glazed in the eyes, you can tell he’s altogether coherent, grinning across the table at you.  “Hey, I don’t judge.  You like making surprise decisions, so I wouldn’t be surprised.”

Okay, so he’s got you there.  Used your own impulsive history against you.  “I would never.”  

“If you change your mind, do I get first dibs?”

“Dibs on what?  Tattooing me?”

He nods as if it’s the most obvious answer in the world.  “Duh.”

You can only roll your eyes, tossing a wayward burnt fry end at him.  “Yes, Kook, you get first dibs on ruining my face.”

His expression twists, mouth shaping around words he’s keeping caged behind his teeth.  There’s something he isn’t saying, a comeback he’s chosen to lock up.  You wonder what it is.

“Hey - nothing wrong with face tattoos.”  

“Really?”  You’re leaning forward, a clear challenge written across your face.  “Then why don’t you have one?”  He has a million others as it is:  a hand, nearly the entirety of both arms, his chest, his shoulders, one of his legs.  (You haven’t seen them all in person but you have seen them online, memorialised on his Instagram feed.)  

“And hide all this?”  One inked hand is gesturing toward his own face, gesticulating wildly as if that’ll drive his point further home.  “I would never.”

“That’s what I said!”

It doesn’t matter to him, not when he’s fully sober and most certainly not now, when he’s slightly buzzed, eyes glossier than usual.  “But I’m cuter.  It’d be a shame if it were me.  You…”  The way he trails off is suggestive, indicative of something mocking and mean.  (Except it’s never cruel - far too friendly and soft to ever hurt your feelings.)  “—not so much.”

Another fry hits him right between the eyes and then another disappears into the hood of his sweater, lost to the black fabric that bunches up around his neck and hides the flush he’s been battling since you two got to the bar an hour ago.

“Don’t be rude!”  

He beams at you then, so unnecessarily endearing you can only throw one more piece at him. 

“I’m kidding.”  You knew that already but pretend to ignore the pseudo-apology, choosing instead to polish off the last of your now-cold fries.  A bad choice, you realise when he continues, surprising you with the words that come out of his liquor-laden mouth so much so that you almost choke.  “You’re actually pretty cute.”

(So what if you’ve sort of maybe been waiting to hear them?  Wondering if the tiny crush you’d developed was in some way reciprocated?)

(Not that this meant it was.  Only that you perhaps weren’t alone in thinking he was the most lovable - and somehow simultaneously hot - person you’d ever met.  It’s almost rewarding to know the long hours together hadn’t left him unscathed.)

“You all good?”  The look on his face is worse than that smile he usually offers, instead a devilish smirk that makes him look like Satan himself.  

Were you?  You’re not sure.

“I can’t believe you just said that.”

“Really?  You can’t?”  You’re not sure what that means, whether you’re simply reading too far into it.  But then he’s dragging his bottom lip through his teeth, head cocked curiously.  It’s a bait, you realise—and one you’ll gladly take.

“Should I have expected it?”

Shoulders hike, rising up around his ears.  “I thought I made it sort of obvious.”  

Had he?  Thinking back on it, you can’t really recall.  Of course, he’d always been friendly, indulging you in your pursuit of body art, sketching up the loveliest things you’d never even think to dream of;  accepting your distracting Instagram messages without complaint, always tossing you a like or some sort of acknowledgement no matter what you’d send (and you’d send some random, random stuff).  Chatting with him daily had just become the norm, conversation flowing freely whenever you’d pop in for your next session.

But that was just because he was a nice guy - or so you’d thought.  You realise now how wrong you’d been, too occupied with your own crush to notice his (if it could be called that).

“You like me,”  you hum, surprisingly nonchalant despite the little pitter patter in your chest, the flutter of your heart within your ribcage.  

“I think you’re cute,”  he retorts, though there’s no real weight to his rebuff.  The two statements are really one and the same and you’re giddy with the knowledge, absolutely tickled pink.

Except for the fact that he’s leaving, fully prepared to start a new life in another city in just one week.  The irony isn’t lost on you, like fate’s laughing even as she offers you this little crumb.  (You feel like Oliver Twist, frankly.)

“Same difference.”

He huffs - you’re reminded of how adorable he is when he does that - and downs the lukewarm remainder of his beer.  “I take it back.”

“No, you don’t.”  Where the confidence comes from, who knows.  You grip it tight with both hands though, hold it snugly as you level him with a stare that has his own unwavering.  It’s almost as if you’re caught in a staring match, a battle of unspoken wits. 

It drags on longer than it should, just the two of you locked to each other with nowhere to go. 

Then he does the last thing you expect:  shoves his chair aside and leans across the table, stealing a kiss and returning to his seat, all in the span of time it takes you to blink.  

(His lips are so soft.  A little chapped, a tiny bit dry, but soft - deceptively delicate.  Bitter, touched with sea salt and something else distinctly him.  French fries and beer and his Chapstick.) 

(For the briefest moment, you wonder whether you’d just imagined it - if your imagination had truly gotten the best of you and you’ve absolutely lost your mind.) 

“You just kissed me.”  It seems like you’ve found your new favourite hobby of just repeating things, giving live play-by-plays like an awkward narrator in a romcom.  

“Yeah, so?”

“You’re leaving.”  Speaking the words into existence feels bad;  you see the way his eyes tighten, the subtle sobering of his expression even while he tries to keep his cool.  

“I am.”  At least he’s realistic.  It saves you from any uncertainty, keeping the what-ifs at bay. 

You suppose it means you have nothing to lose. 

“Do it again.”

And Jungkook does - over and over, sinking the taste of him almost as deeply as ink, offering a piece of himself you want to keep for just as long.  

It takes you longer to add to your collection of art, nearly four whole years before you decide what you want next.  (It’s a back piece this time - a full body suit from your shoulders down past your ass.  Another cat, dressed in traditional Japanese clothing and surrounded by flowers.  An ode to your first tattoo, to the one that had started it all.)

(You’re not sure you’re ready for the pain, though.)

“Lay down,”  the artist instructs, back turned to you, busy preparing his materials.  You’d stripped down while he was occupied, discarded all your clothes to the allocated basket and stood quietly in anticipation. 

You do as he says, dropping atop the tattoo bed with a quiet oof.  The stencil has already been laid, the entire outline ready to be inked into your skin.  You can’t deny you’re more than a little nervous.  It’s been years since you’d last gotten anything done, uninterested in finding a new artist since Jungkook had left. 

(Which he had, exactly as he’d intended, gone on a 6 AM flight that you’d driven him to, teary-eyed and embarrassed.  He’d laughed at you standing outside of the departure gate, his suitcase at his side, arms wrapped around your shoulders.  You’d refused to show your face, burying it instead into the warmth of his neck, into the familiar scent of him that was going away for who knows how long.

“Stop being a baby,”  he’d said, smothering you in kisses, the full weight of his laughter palpable through your close proximity.  It'd rumbled out of his chest all the way into yours, finding a home behind your ribcage, right alongside where your heart fluttered, shaded blue and sad.

“Stop being mean,”  you’d countered, petulant like a child.

It couldn’t be helped.  You’d had only one week with him - one glorious, chaotic week filled with eating too much junk, rewatching your favourite animes, and generally making up for all the lost time you’d never even known there was.  As amazing as it’d been, it still hadn’t prepared you for the goodbye.

That was your fault, though.  You’d wrongly entertained the idea that maybe things would work out, that he’d change his mind or ask to take it - whatever you had, that is - with him, keep it going somehow.  He hadn’t.)

“Do you have a preference where I start?”  You’re unbothered, hair loosely knotted over your shoulder.  Ready for the session to start - ready to feel the familiar sting again.  (You’re proud of that.  It might have taken you years and years but here you were, tackling something huge.)

“Nope.”  

“Sounds good.”

The buzzing begins and pressure lands upon the small of your back, a gloved hand laid over the centre of your spine.  You remind yourself to breathe in, out, focus on something other than the pain that fizzles over your skin and then ebbs into tenderness.  Where he’s started - just above the fattiest part of your butt - isn’t too bad.  Tolerable and yielding.

You can do this.

Your back aches in a different way than you’d anticipated, soreness buzzing beneath inflamed skin and making it uncomfortable to move around.  It’s not any worse than your arm had been - the lines along your spine had felt comparable to that of your elbow - but it’s fresh, not dulled by years like your sleeve now was.

The artist is stripping his gloves off, your back neatly covered and the bed stripped of its original tissue paper.  He’s leaned against the sink, onigiri held in his now-free hands, nibbling at the edge of the rice ball as you turn this way and that in the mirror.  “You did good.”

You’re still undressed, admiring the linework from different angles, shimmying closer to your reflection to catch the lighter inking that makes up the undefined edges of the various florals.  Something tells you that you should be shy - eager to redress after spending nearly five hours naked in the secluded studio - but you don’t care.  Your back is quickly becoming a masterpiece, something that might as well be hung in the halls of the Louvre.  You’re in love with it.

“Thanks.”

You mean thank you for his compliment but also for all his hard work, the long hours he’s put into bringing this beauty to life.  It means so much - like progressing to the next level.  

Which, you suppose it is.  This is a fresh start for you.  A new beginning in a new city.  

“Proud of you,”  he hums, suddenly close, broad palms searing heat over your hips.  He’s careful to avoid the edge of the bandage that wraps your back and holds you delicately, like fine china or the most precious jewel in the world, lips sweet against your temple.  

You meet his eyes in the mirror - the same sweet doe-eyed stare from five years ago.  A little darker now, aged by the hand of time but endlessly kind, shining beneath the overhead lights.

“Proud of you,”  you chirp, identical smiles spreading over your faces.  

Jungkook’s having none of it though, bratty as usual.  “Proud of us.”

You suppose you can settle for that.  You really are proud of the two of you - for how far you’ve made it and all the obstacles you’ve overcome.  From the first few weeks of sadness, all the melancholy that’d set in when he’d left, to exactly one month after, when he’d called you in the middle of the night, drunk and stumbling home.  

(It’d been infuriating at the time - incoherent and foolish as he was - but it’d bloomed something between you, something neither of you could ignore.)

Four years of miserable long distance had become this:  a love that's brought you back to his side, to a city you’re unfamiliar with but that he calls home; to a city that never sleeps, loud with pachinko machines and some of the best food you’ve ever had;  to the place you’ve been missing every minute you were apart.  

You’d never thought you would move for someone, uproot your entire life for a relationship, but he’d changed that.  Made it worth it in ways you had never considered.  Convinced you more and more with each trip you’d taken, two visits twice a year, for a measly two weeks at a time.

“Should we head home?”  He means your physical home - the apartment the two of you had decided on in Roppongi, the one you haven’t seen yet, that he’s had to move into all by himself.  It’s not quite as nice as the home in his arms.  

You say yes anyway.

“I’m so talented.”  The words come entirely too whole for your liking, loud somewhere above your head.

“Are you serious?”  You’re levelling your boyfriend with the most incredulous look, whole face scrunched up, hands fisted into his dark sheets.  It’s uncomfortable at this angle - kinking your neck as you look over your shoulder - but you really can’t believe he’s just said that.  He’s knelt between your legs, knees spread wide around his own, his hand halfway up your back and tracking heat over your spine.  

Somehow, he has the audacity to look surprised.  “What?”

“You’re really patting yourself on the back right now?”  Now, when he should be pounding you into oblivion, working that big fat cock of his through your fluttering walls, making you moan his name into his pillows like it’s his only job? 

(It truthfully could be.  You’d rank his skills in the bedroom on par with his skills in the studio.)

“Oh.”  All at once, he’s the devil - sin personified. Or would be, if he didn’t somehow still look infuriatingly cute.

The gentle touch turns bruising, heel of his palm pressed hard into the tender notches of your spine.  “You don’t like when I admire my own work?”  Asked as he shifts behind you, length dragging out of your dripping cunt to gently tap against your aching clit.  The head of it glides through your folds, mercilessly teasing but never slipping back in, never filling you whole like you need.  (Because you really do need it.  You haven’t seen him in six months, left to your own devices - literally.)  It feels like heaven and hell, too good and not nearly enough all at once. 

“Kook,”  you snap. Try to, anyway, his name far too whiny and breathless to hold any real weight.

“I’m just admiring you, sweetheart.”  He’s dragging the hand over your back, tracing all the lines he’s embedded into your skin.  They make up his favourite piece, inked permanently into his favourite canvas.  A testament to his hard work, his dedication, his love.

Any other time, you might not care.  Here and now, after not having felt his touch in what feels like forever, you’re burning from the inside out, a million volts of electricity tripping your circuits.  When you speak, it’s more a plea than a reprimand, uttered so sweetly you know he can’t deny you. “Admire me later.”  

“I’ve missed you” is his only answer, punctuated by a fluid roll of his hips, the heavy press of his cock back into your dripping cunt.  “I’ve missed this,”  he breathes out, sinking all the way in, so slow you can feel every ridge and vein as he fills you.  

“Missed you too,”  you parrot back, a little delirious now that you’ve gotten what you want.  

Now that he’s right where he should be - with you.

tag list.  @neverthefirstchoice​​​ @youwannabelostandnotbefound​​​ @snackhobi​​​​ @codeinebelle​ @xjoonchildx​

[punemy-spotted]

Busy Bee

Summary: Busy girl, little busy bee, always buzzing around. It's time to rest, little honey

Warnings: Oral Sex (F Receiving), Smut, Some Dirty Talk, Bee Puns, Aggressively Flowery Language, The Implication You Might Be Too Busy To Pay Attention to Bucky Barnes

Notes: Sometimes it's up to your boyfriend to decide when and how you need to relax.

Not beta-read, these sins belong to me and me alone.

All of my work is 18+ Only, Minors DO NOT INTERACT. I do not consent to my work being posted anywhere besides Tumblr or Ao3 and I post my work there myself. Do not copy, translate, or repost any of my content.

You’re busy.

But you’re always busy, aren’t you? Always with your nose to the grindstone, the bitch at her witching hour, typing away. It’s all very hush-hush, top secret, doesn’t help when you lock that door and apologize because you want to be with him but you know you can’t.Not right now, I know, I know, I wish I could, it’s just—

He gets it.

Bucky Barnes is patient, is steady, is a little bit grumpy and a lot bit greedy but he’s here. He gets it. He sees the tension painted all over your face and the pressure resting heavy on your shoulders and he shuts your apologies with a kiss and a hum and turns you back around to face that screen I know, sweets, you just keep doin’ what you’re doin’.

But that’s the problem.

You never stop doing.

And Bucky Barnes is patient, is steady, is yours through and through but he’s only a man. Only a man, who comes home from being the Winter Soldier, from being the White Wolf, from being the hero. Comes home to the warmth of your arms and the press of your lips and lets you patch the cuts and bruises the world leaves on him. Only a man, with all the needs and wants of one.

It’s a lonely existence, your stress.

The bed is strange. He sleeps on the couch until he hears you — you always move so subtly but he’s an assassin, isn’t he? Trained to hear it: the roll of the wheel, the minute slam of your desk against the wall, and there you are, crawling sleepily into the bed you keep right there with your desk. Office. Bedroom. Domain.

He knows a prison when he sees one.

When you’re in bed, he’s the one slipping into that room, quiet as the shadows. Pressing himself over you while you’re curled up, and kissing. You’re awake. He knows it — there’s the patter of your heart, his favorite comfort when the nightmares hit, the half-startled hum of your voice Bucky?

Hey.

I’m so so—

Don’t. Just let me…

Just let him.

Let him press you out of that ball you’ve curled yourself into, let him take a look at the strain on every one of your muscles. He knows you’re tired. Take a day off, sweets, just one, I just got home for you. It’s not an order. But he can make it one.

James, I wish I could, but I ha—

He doesn’t let you finish. Just kisses you, a little bit soothing, a little bit frustrated and slides to the side of you. Mollified by curve of your ass against his front, the catch of your breath when he grinds his hips, and the whisper in your voice, saying his name like an apology and a prayer all at once. He kisses your shoulder and promises I love you, don’t forget.

Bucky Barnes has the patience, the drive, and the passion and you are the thing he’s made the target of all three time and time again. Did you think your words — halting, disbelieving, the plea for rescuedripping from each and every one — would really stop him?

He’s good at cutting you off, at stalling the protests you don’t really mean, and while you pad around the house, fresh from a shower and trying to wake yourself up with more coffee that he thinks is medically healthy, he watches.

Because Bucky Barnes still has the patience, the drive and the passion and you are his target now. Do you even notice? How can you, when he moves so quiet and your desk is so makeshift and open and you barely even glance down when you step away to find your phone (he so cleverly hid)?

You can’t. You don’t. Not until his hands are parting your legs, not until he’s pushing you away from that keyboard so he can lean forward and rest his smiling face in your lap and there you are, eyes wide and sweet and staring Bucky, what in God’s na—

He’s good at cutting you off, remember? This time with a kiss to your thigh, the stubble scraping that delicate skin and don’t you just melt? Of course you do, sweet thing, all startled whines and soft sighs, Hey sweets. Let me help you relax, pressed against that tender spot so close to your heat and yet so far and you know he’s right. You know he’s right to look up at you and how can you deny those eyes, bright as stars and full of mischief, waiting for you to peel your fingers away from your mouth so he can see that pretty smile when you nod.

That’s a good girl. Gonna let me take care of you, sweets? I know you will, cuz you know…

You know you need this. You’re aching for it, you’ve been aching for it.

You need the slide of his hands, one cold and one so damningly warm, pulling your hips towards his mouth. You need the pull of your waistband sliding down and away, one less barrier to your peace. You need the way he practically thrums with want right against your slick little folds, careful not to overwhelm you all at once. You gotta enjoy yourself, don’t you?

Lean back, sweets, that’s it, I’ve got you safe and sound. You gonna let me have my meal? You know I’ve been dying to taste you…

Listen to him, so warm and sweet and how can you do anything but run your fingers through that shorn hair and let out a shy little yyeaah…to the sight of his smirk and the lap of his tongue.

He drinks you in like a beast, all hungry growls and soft snarls, holding you in place with the Vibranium arm like you might just writhe your little hips away from him altogether while you moan and breathe his name out. No, don’t be quiet. Don’t hold back, don’t you realize he’s missed your voice? Don’t you get it, how much he wants you, sweetness?

Busy little bee, always gotta buzz around. Always hiding her nectar from me.

He speaks up at you while his fingers — warm and soft, careful not to shock you just yet — start dragging more need from that slick center, more honey for him to drink in one drop at a time and there go your hips, writhing and wriggling over and over while you let yourself surrender to the fall.

You’ve still got more to give, don’t you, little bee? Still so sweet while he moans right against your pretty little sex and leaves you panting, shuddering, and begging for more. No don’t mind the way he shifts — you’ll tend to the throb in his cock later, won’t you? You’re so good to him, giving him all your sweetness and all your love. You work so hard, busy bee, and you deserve to rest. Rest and let him do all the work for you, right now.

That’s my honey.

[ibis-gt]

*slides you 37 pennies* how would luther handle trying to go on a public date with cam (movie, restaurant, etc.) with the whole… affection turns height to no.

had two requests for this one so here u go! luther does his best to keep it together for date night. 2750 words, warning for brief mention of violence in a movie and some hanky panky between consenting adults. not explicit, just a little spicy.

~~~

Four months into their relationship, and Luther has more of a handle on things now.

He’s got the size thing totally under control. He hardly ever shrinks just because Cam looked at him anymore. He can take a compliment like a champion. Those soft, sweet, gentle smiles that spread across Cam’s face like molasses? Barely make him lose an inch. Physical contact? He’s… still working on that one.

But at the very least they can have date nights in public now, as long as Cam behaves himself, and Cam is quite willing to behave himself. Most of the time.

It’s a snowy Saturday night in December, and they’ve got a date planned. Cam will pick Luther up at eight, they’ll go have dinner at a local sushi place, watch a late night special feature from the 80s, and then come back home for some wine and light snuggling before bed. An absolutely perfect night, if Luther can make it through enough of it full-size.

He’s still debating his outfit when a gentle knock at his front door heralds his beloved’s arrival. Five minutes early as usual.

“It’s open!” Luther calls. “C’mon in and help me choose, will you?” He’s standing in his bedroom in a pair of black slacks with the horrid green jumpsuit undone and tied around his waist, staring critically at his two choices of top. A lovely turquoise turtleneck, or a stylish electric blue button-up. The floor creaks behind him as Cam ambles in. “Which one do you think is better? I guess it depends on what you’re wear - eep!”

Luther squeaks and jumps as Cam presses his lips to Luther’s neck, big warm hands sliding up his arms to rest on his bare shoulders, sending an involuntary shiver down his spine.

“Both look nice,” Cam murmurs in his ear. “But I think I like the blue one better.”

“C-cam,” Luther whines, his face going pink. “If you keep this up we’re not even going to get out the door.” The hands remove themselves, and Cam pulls back, chuckling.

“Sorry. Couldn’t help myself. All that exposed real estate, you know.” He lets out a perfect wolf whistle. God damn him. Luther glares over his shoulder and folds his arms, letting annoyance take over.

“We’ve been planning this for weeks, and you’re going to ruin it,” he pouts. “Go on, out. Wait in the living room if you’re going to be like this.” Cam puts his hands up in a placating gesture and retreats, but that damn smile doesn’t leave his face. Luther tosses his hair and huffs, secretly proud of himself. He didn’t even lose a half inch. He turns back to consider his options.

Well, if Cam is so focused on his neck tonight, that sweater might be the better option to afford him some protection. But he said he liked the button-up better… It’s lighter than the sweater so it won’t keep him as warm, but that means he can steal Cam’s big coat later on. The turtleneck would completely cover the green jumpsuit, but the blue of the button-up actually compliments it nicely. Luther nods decisively. The button-up will be perfect.

He dresses quickly, gives himself a final once-over in the mirror, unbuttons his top button, and heads out to see Cam. His boyfriend - his boyfriend! The thought still sends a thrill through him - has picked up the cat, Scrunge, and is stroking her head, making little baby noises at her. She purrs in her usual way, fast and loud, like a revving motorcycle. Cam sets her down when he sees Luther and sighs happily.

“You look fantastic,” he says.

“You clean up pretty nice yourself.” Luther crosses the room and fondly brushes a loose strand of hair behind Cam’s ear. Cam’s in a dark grey v-neck shirt and black suit jacket, slightly tarnished silver cufflinks adorning the sleeves. He’s got his big heavy winter coat draped over one arm so he doesn’t overheat in the relative warmth of the apartment. Luther sneaks a covetous little glance at it before grabbing his own shabby coat off a hook near the door.

He bends down to give Scrunge a goodbye scritch behind the ears. “Behave yourself while I’m out,” he tells her. “No tearing around the place and knocking things over.” She meows plaintively. Luther retrieves her bag of treats and gives her two as a bribe, which she accepts happily.

“Okay,” Luther says, straightening and shrugging on his coat. “Ready?”

“Ready,” Cam says, and takes his hand.

They walk to the restaurant. No point in searching for parking, it’d take longer than just hoofing it anyway. It’s been snowing on and off throughout the week and piles of dirty slush cover the sidewalk. It’s cold, but Luther’s coat is keeping him warm enough for now. He and Cam hold hands as they walk to the restaurant, and Luther doesn’t even shrink a little bit. His chest swells with so much pride he thinks his feet might leave the ground.

The place is only a little busy, so they have a short wait before they’re shown to their table. They get their usual orders. Luther prefers simple rolls and nigiri so the taste of the fish is front and center, while Cam likes to get the complicated, loaded rolls for the variety of texture and flavor. While they wait for their food to arrive, Luther fills Cam in on Scrunge’s latest reign of terror in his apartment, and how much it’ll cost to fix the cracked frame of the painting she’d somehow managed to knock off the wall in her frenzy to catch the fabled red laser dot.

The food arrives. Cam offers Luther a taste of his rolls - he’s gotten something deep fried with cream cheese, cucumber, and crab, and another loaded high with four kinds of fish, topped with roe. Luther tries the one with all the fish, but passes on the deep fried one. He trades Cam a piece of mackerel nigiri. Then he continues on talking, telling Cam about his week, how work’s been, the new guy they hired, and the annoying new habit his coworker’s formed of singing along with the music on the jukebox, regardless of whether she knows the lyrics or not.

Luther suddenly catches the look in Cam’s eyes. There’s something… hungry in them. It’s the only way he can describe it. It’s not regular hungry, because he’s practically ignoring his food in favor of listening intently to Luther’s rambling story. He’s leaning forward, arms folded on the table in front of him, drinking in every word Luther has to say. He’s hungry for him. The realization hits Luther like a truck and he stops mid-sentence, jaw dropping, a blush starting to spread across his face.

“What’s wrong?” Cam asks, innocent as ever. How could he even know the effect he has on Luther? How could Luther ever explain?

“N-nothing, um, I… I’ve been talking a lot, why don’t you take over for a bit? What’s keeping you busy at work?” It was delightful to listen to Cam ramble on about his job. Luther barely understood a word of it, but his enthusiasm was adorable and, importantly, not about Luther. He could keep it together and breathe a bit, work on calming down the scramble of emotion in his gut.

Sure enough, he wins himself a good fifteen minutes of calm while Cam talks on about carburetors and mufflers and manifolds. He could be making it up for all Luther knows. It’s not until Cam realizes his deep fried roll has gone cold that he breaks off to eat. They finish their food, decide to pass on dessert, pay, and head for the theater.

It’s only a few blocks away, a fifteen minute walk at most. The night has gotten a little colder and darker, and now stray snowflakes drift and spin through the air, catching the streetlights and twinkling like stars. Cam has a lot of fun pretending he’s a dragon, his warm breath turning to steaming clouds in the freezing air. Luther’s shivering now, his old secondhand coat doing little to protect him from the chill. Cam notices, of course, and whips his own coat off in an instant.

“Oh, please,” Luther demurs, “You’re so chivalrous, but really, I’m fine.”

“You’re shaking like a weathervane in a hurricane, sweetheart. I’ll be fine, I’m my own space heater.” Cam arranges the coat over Luther’s shoulders neatly and slips his arm around Luther’s waist, pulling him in close. It’s so warm and so nice, and so very, very close. Luther’s shivers slacken and cease, and then one more shakes him, different from the rest.

“Oh no,” Luther whispers, “I was doing so well, please…”

Luckily, he only loses about three inches. His clothes are a little looser, and he’s engulfed a little more by Cam’s huge coat, but he’s still a perfectly normal height. He sighs in relief.

“So what’s this movie we’re seeing?” Luther asks, trying to take his mind off of things.

“Oh, so it’s this old sci fi cult classic based on a book no one’s ever read. I saw it the first time when I was like… eight? And it scarred me for life, really, and now I’m obsessed with this shit. The special effects are super gnarly, and they hold up okay, even though you can totally see the tube for the fake blood in the decapitation scene. Don’t worry too much about following the plot, it’s not really the point of the movie, but what you should know ahead of time is…”

Cam rambles on like that, filling the night with fog. Luther snuggles in closer and listens happily, totally at ease. He made it through the most important part of the night, and once they get in the theater, he can relax. It doesn’t matter if he shrinks in the theater - from what Cam’s said, the only people watching this late-night special feature will be die-hard fans who’ll be glued to the screen, and in the darkness they won’t have to worry about anyone catching sight of them.

That also means, of course, that Cam might get a little handsy once the lights dim. If he’s being honest, Luther would be disappointed if he didn’t.

They get a seat in the back row. As the previews start up, Cam reaches over and takes Luther’s chin in his hand, turning it gently so they face each other. For a moment, he just holds them there, staring into Luther’s eyes with an adoring softness that makes Luther’s heart sing. Then he leans in and kisses him, just once, softly on the mouth. Luther shivers and loses another few inches. Cam lets him go, but Luther’s not satisfied. He grabs Cam’s collar and pulls him down for another kiss, this one deeper and hungrier. Cam chuckles against his mouth and nips at his bottom lip, catching it between his teeth for just a moment. Luther sits back heavily in his seat, breath coming in shallow gasps. He grips his armrests tight, trying to pay attention to the trailer for the newest slasher flick as it blares out through the theater. No dice. He’s losing height fast now, shrinking down to four feet tall, his normal clothes hanging off his frame.

They stay apart for all of a minute before Cam’s hand sneaks across the seat and slides into place on Luther’s thigh. He strokes his thumb back and forth in a slow rhythm, humming happily. Luther gasps and shrinks more, staring wide-eyed as Cam’s hand covers more and more of him, soon easily encompassing his entire thigh.

He’s maybe two feet tall now and he can’t see the screen over the seat in front of him. Cam glances down, catching the pouting, grumpy look on Luther’s face, and presses a hand over his mouth to stifle his laughter.

“Here, sweetheart,” Cam murmurs, and picks Luther up with one hand. With the other, he frees him from his clothing so that he’s only clad in the jumpsuit. Cam settles Luther gently on his lap. This has fixed the problem of not being able to see the screen, but only momentarily. Luther goes bright red and dwindles down even further. By the time the previews have finished, he’s only eight inches tall.

As the opening theme blares with discordant trumpets, Cam pinches the back of Luther’s jumpsuit between thumb and forefinger and lifts him up. He dangles Luther in front of his face for a moment, expression torn between adoring and apologetic, then brings him in close for a gentle kiss. He sets Luther on his shoulder and hands him a piece of popcorn.

Luther hides his burning face behind the buttery morsel. He’d been expecting a little hanky panky, but nothing so direct. Stolen kisses, maybe a fake yawn that disguised Cam putting his arm around Luther, a little playing with his hair. Going for the thigh like that… that was entirely unexpected. He’s beginning to suspect Cam was trying to get him tiny.

The movie is just as gory and weird as promised. Luther isn’t super squeamish, but more than once he turns and ducks his face into Cam’s neck, squealing in disgust, his voice quiet enough at this size that he doesn’t have to worry about disturbing anyone else. Every time, he feels Cam shake under him with silent laughter, enjoying Luther’s reactions.

The movie ends before too long, and the other theatergoers file out, chatting animatedly with one another about the flick. Cam holds his hand up to his chest, and Luther pushes himself off Cam’s shoulder, landing gracefully in his palm. Cam sets him down on the armrest while he folds up Luther’s discarded clothing and tucks it in an inner pocket of his big coat. He looks down at Luther and tilts his head to one side, lips pursed in a calculating expression.

“You’re just a little too big to hide comfortably… here, let’s fix that.” Cam puts his elbows on either side of Luther on the armrest and looms over him, completely blocking the dim theater lights overhead. Luther takes a few involuntary steps back and bumps up against Cam’s hands, linked together behind him to form a ring penning him in. “You’re all mine now,” Cam breathes, quiet as a whisper. “So tiny and cute. I’m going to put you in my pocket and carry you home, and then… well, then we’ll see what I’ll do with you, hm?” A crooked, meaningful grin spreads across Cam’s face, and that hungry look comes back into his eyes.

It works like a charm. Luther’s legs shake, his heart pounds, and he shivers. He dwindles down to half his height, a mere four inches.

“There we go,” Cam croons, and scoops him up in one hand. Cam stows him safely in his coat pocket, held in a loose fist to keep him safe from jostling and the cold. He exits the theater and moves through the crowds easily. People tend to make way when they see a man his size coming towards them.

Luther curls up against Cam’s fingers and sighs happily. Cam’s hand is warm, calloused in places but soft in others, and the pocket sways gently with his gait. It’s so safe and cozy, combined with the late hour and the exhaustion of the day, it’s the perfect recipe to knock him out. He fights the heaviness of his eyelids as long as he can, but only makes it a few blocks before he’s fast asleep.

~~~

“Whew, cold one out tonight,” Cam says as he unlocks the door to Luther’s apartment. He can already hear Scrunge wailing on the other side. “I hope you weren’t too frozen in there.” He pushes the door open and addresses the cat. “Yes, we’re home, hello darling, we missed you too.” She winds around his legs and purr-meows at top volume. “Okay, okay, other people are trying to sleep,” Cam hisses. “You’re gonna wake up the whole floor, shitty kitty.” She mrrps in disapproval.

He pulls Luther out of his pocket. “So, babe, do you wanna - oh.” The little dear is asleep, snoring softly. Cam smiles and presses a kiss to his chest. He takes a seat on the couch, sighing as he plops himself down. Scrunge leaps up into his lap immediately and puts her front legs up on his chest, sniffing at Luther in his hand.

“Poor dear’s all tuckered out,” Cam murmurs, giving her a scritch. “Let’s let him rest.”