#my expectations were getting a bit low as of recent

[the-californicationist]

hi cail! this is sizzleee2 from another account 😅 i was wondering if you could possibly make a fic with anyone from tf141 with fem!reader who immediately after sex feels asexuel and gets a little distant, doesnt need aftercare because shes never had any and then finds out how good aftercare feels??? idk, if you dont want to then no pressure! you r just my favourite writer and i love to read your fics!!

-sk0 <3

I’m slowly making my way through my ask box, and you probably forgot about this but I didn’t! lol 😂 I don’t think I fulfilled this request though. Epic fail on my part. Aftercare?? Maybe. If you squint. I’m so sorry. I just got too horny for Gaz. Forgive me? 🩷🩷

TW: female reader, the expected amount of Kyle sass (see gif)

——— MDNI ———

Tethered

—

The skin-searing warmth of his body left you as he finished, falling away and leaving you cold and lonely. The air of the room rushed across your skin, reminding you that he was done with you. He’d used you, and much like the tarred end of a smoked cigarette, you were filthy, you were wet and sticky from his mouth, and you were no longer smoldering from his burning affection. You had been savored and snuffed out, and that was that.

As soon as his heavy frame rolled off of you, you flung the sheet away and darted into the bathroom, ready to be clean again.

You wished you could be like those girls in the movies; the ones who curled around their emptied lovers, laying her head upon his chest, letting him squeeze and fondle her as he dozed, playing in the sweaty mess of her hairline, skirting his brutish fingers along the slope of her brow.

But you weren’t. You were something else. You weren’t sure exactly what, but your past partners had called you all sorts of things. Low-maintenance. Easy-going. Little Miss Quickie.

“Hey,” the door to the bathroom was wrenched open, and in the dark portal of its frame stood your most recent conquest: Sergeant Kyle Garrick, scowling down at you.

He was still naked, as were you, and now that the sparkling fire of your pleasure had been extinguished, it was less exciting and more practical than it should’ve been. Sure, the heavy musculature of his neck and shoulders were still beautifully aggressive. The broad span of his chest was yet as inviting as it had been at the bar last night. The deep v-cut of his Adonis belt was just as tantalizing, particularly when it lead to a softer, shinier, well-used cock, still dripping desire from its gleaming slit.

“What?” You asked, turning to face him, your washcloth in hand.

“Where’d you go? I’m not done,” he asked.

As Gaz stepped forward into your space, you turned to give him your back, watching him in the mirror, feeling and seeing his enormous arms curling around your shoulders and belly like a giant kraken, ready to pull you back into the sea of his bed.

“You felt done to me,” you shrugged, continuing to wash your face, “Was it not good for you?”

The incredulous look in his eye froze you to the spot, and the suds of your soap foamed and popped across your cheek as you waited for his reply.

He pulled himself away, unwinding himself like ribbon from a spool, slipping through you like sand through loose fingers.

“It was proper brilliant. You know it was. You were there,” he laughed, a hint of bitterness tinging the edge of his mirth, “Am I wrong, babes?” Then, his timbre darkened with a quiet uncertainty, “Am I wrong?”

“No,” you turned to face him, wiping your cheek clean, “It was really nice. It’s not you. I’m just usually Ubering home by now.”

You raised your eyebrows at him, pushing back. But he didn’t shy away. He smiled, almost knowingly, as if he expected you to say as much.

“Not much of a cuddler, is that it?” He smiled a bit wider, reaching his arms around you cautiously, waiting for you to pull away again.

You shook your head, and he held your chin in one of his large fists, lifting you up to face him. He studied you, looking into your eyes as if trying to see your mind working away behind them,

“Want me to show you how?”

You met his gaze, and you didn’t know what expression you wore on your face. It was hard to even describe the emotion you were feeling, much less name it. But, when he looked down at you, he seemed to know.

Gaz grabbed your hand in his and dragged you over to the large shower behind him. He turned the water on hot and coaxed you inside. For a few moments, you thought it may be too warm for you to stand it, but as your skin became accustomed to the steam and the heat, you felt your body relax. He didn’t bother with soaping you up or washing your hair; he simply held you against him, your head tucked into his chest, shadowed by his hulking form, covering you in the oppressive warmth of his affection and the pouring water. It flooded your senses, and you felt yourself becoming more pliant to his whims, more open to suggestion, blooming under his touch like a reluctant bud, afraid of the bite from the frost you knew too well.

Because this wasn’t forever. He’d say goodbye eventually. You’d feel the sting of loneliness one way or another. Better to rip the bandage off now and get it over with. Right?

“Hey, come back,” he held your jaw in his strong fingers, making you meet his eyes again, “That’s it. Stay with me, baby. You don’t need to go anywhere. Don’t need to do anything. Just be here, right now, with me. I’ve got you.”

You didn’t know why, but you rejoiced to hear those words. There was something in the way he insisted, something in the comfort of his steady, unhurried embrace that allowed you to melt down into his arms.

When he began to rub you down, chasing the rivulets and currents of the cascading water, you didn’t feel rushed. There was no urgency. He fondled you and caressed you; he squeezed your soft breasts in his palms, but he wasn’t after an orgasm - not yours nor his. He just wanted to touch you.

You felt his hand find your tender pussy, his fingers stretching their way into your hole, still sore from taking his challenging length, still slick from the sticky mixture of your come.His fingertips pressed inside of you, and it was his turn to sigh, his body relaxing into yours, warm to his bones from how joyful he felt at being so welcomed into your hot core.

Pressing your head into his chest, you let yourself live in the moment. You were allowing yourself to be in this steamy limbo with him, feeling him as he was feeling you and yet in no rush to the finish line.

“I’ve got you, babes,” he kissed your forehead, pushing into your cunt even deeper, rocking rather than thrusting his hand against you, letting you grind your hips into the heel of his palm, “I don’t wanna stop. But, if you —“

You shook your head, and even though you weren’t looking at him, you felt him smile. You whispered into his chest,

“It’s alright. We don’t have to stop.”

“Come back to bed with me, then,” Gaz demanded gently, his voice holding a stronger challenge than it had before, steeled by your precarious consent.

You looked up at him, unsure if you could give him what he wanted, but you were willing to try.

You nodded, and he flipped off the water, reaching out of the door to wrap you in a big towel. You watched him dry off quickly before leading you back to bed. He climbed in before you, turning back the duvet, giving you a shadowy little burrow to stuff your body into. You turned away from him, your back to his chest. You held your breath in your lungs still for a moment, wondering and waiting, but once you felt his skin on your skin, you could relax again.

Reaching behind you, you found his hard prick and guided it so that he would slip between your legs, nestled right below your lips, curving through your chubby thighs and up against your mons. The trembling sigh that came from his throat as his cock slotted itself into place lit a fire in your chest again, reigniting the once-cold embers.

He thrust himself against you, testing the waters, waiting for you to reject his advances, but you canted your hips, letting the wetness of your hole glide against the body of his cock, licking him like a mouth as he rutted between your legs. His tongue was on your neck, his hands were on your breasts and belly, his scent invaded your nose; he was everywhere. You didn’t have a chance to second-guess yourself or your smoldering excitement because he was like the steam from his shower; he suffocated your doubts with his desire.

“That’s my good girl,” he muttered against your kiss-bitten flesh, “Use her on me like that. Just like that.”

Gaz reached down to cup your mons, his fingers cradling his head each time he fucked his cock against your folds, keeping it pressed into the slit of your wet quim, nudging your clit every time he shoved himself forward. You helped him, rocking your hips back and forth, matching his rhythm, listening to the soaked, milking noises your sex was making with him.

“See?” He whispered, slurring his words from the pleasure that he was stoking inside of himself, using you to build his fire back to a high roar, “A cuddle isn’t so bad. That’s why you gotta stay here in bed with me, baby. Give me a chance to get hard for you again, yeah?”

You nodded, moaning in agreement, arching your neck to give him more room to work his mouth on you. He took advantage of it right away, feasting on your sensitive skin, raking his sharp teeth across you like the flat edge of a knife, stinging but not ready to draw blood.

“Wanna take you again. Let me have you,” he snarled, all his gentility burning away against his blazing want.

Before you could so much as whimper his name, his hand pressed down until his cockhead was prodding against the soft mouth of your cunt, waiting for your body to swallow him whole. He held his breath as he dipped inside of you. He went slowly, inching his way through your soaked walls, drowning his long shaft in its familiar sheath, groaning and shaking from the bliss of it.

You twisted your hand in the sheets, nearly screaming from the pleasure, too full to move, overstimulated and yet begging him for more with the hungry grind of your hips.

Then, he used his heavy body to shove you beneath him, rolling you onto your belly, pinning you beneath his chest and wrapping his arms around you, stealing away any chance of your escape. But you didn’t want to escape, not anymore. All of your thoughts had been rewired and rewritten with his ink pen, reminding you that you were his to take.

“Ungh, fuck!” He bit down on the nape of your neck, whimpering in a dark, gravelly tone, “Just like that. Squeeze me, baby. Use that fuckin’ pussy on me.”

“Gaz…” You keened, feeling the edge of your orgasm rising within you like a white-hot sun.

“What?” He snapped a little cruelly, “Still wanna go home? Fuck that. Not done with you, baby. Gonna make this tight little pussy remember the shape of me, yeah? I’ll keep you hungry for it.”

As your legs began to shake, Gaz fucked himself into you even deeper, reaching too far and stretching you too wide, forcing a wall of pleasure to slam into your core, making you clench around him that much harder. You felt yourself flood with your own sticky come, and right at the top of your blinding joy, you heard him hiss against your ear, chuckling in a teasing, devilish tone,

“That’s what I thought. Not goin’ anywhere, are ya?”

[cyle-stuff]

Yo forget about this poll I made!

The gay shit is actually happening!

I’m still surprise that they animated the hand holding, I didn’t think they would

But they did!!

[thedreadvampy]

sometimes I forget that my experience has been. um. not 'your experiences are not universal' vibes but more like 'your experiences are EXTREMELY atypical'

[entitled-fangirl]

Bravery.

Cregan Stark x Strong!reader; Aemond x forced betrothed!reader

Summary: Aemond drags Y/n Strong alongside him on his journey to appease the great Lord Stark. Seems she's more loyal to her deceased father and brother than she cares to admit.

Warnings: cursing, manipulation, talks of death

Masterlist

.........................................

"You're a fucking fool, Aemond," she sneered at him.

"You don't think my conscience speaks that enough?!" He exclaimed. "I made a mistake, but my love, I did not kill my brother's heir. That was Rhaenyra's choice. Not mine."

"You killed one of hers!" She argued. 

"I did not pay men to become traitors to the crown," he growled.

"You do not have to," she sneered lowly. "You have the greatest dragon alive in your claws. You're like a snake the way you spit venom on everything you touch!"

Silence filled the room, the two staring at one another in full contemplation of what had just been said.

"Aemond, I-"

"ENOUGH!" He yelled, throwing his hands up. He took a breath and continued. "I have given everything to my mother and brother. My grandsire. This kingdom. And I get nothing."

"True service is doing so without expecting return."

"I expect recognition for sacrifice." Aemond glared.

"And what of your brother's sacrifice for the kingdom? His own heir?" When his jaw ticked, she continued. "And do not think for a moment that Rhaenyra has not sacrificed, because she knows it better than you. Better than anyone."

"Better than my mother?" He dared to ask.

Her mouth opened to combat him, but she had nothing so her mouth closed again.

"I'm tired of sacrifices," he explained.

"Do you believe that your family is the only one? What of the scattered high lords throughout the kingdom? What of me?"

"What of you?" He asked, as if the thought was ridiculous.

Her jaw dropped a bit in shock. "You don't…" She then scoffed, the shock turning to anger. "You don't think I sacrifice? My duty is my sacrifice."

"Oh, and mine is not?" He asked. 

"If this is your duty, then you're piss poor at doing it!"

Something flashed in his eye, the blue somehow holding red to it, as if that's all he could see. "Get out." His voice was low, clearly a final warning to her. 

She took that as it was, going to leave. She paused in the doorway, "We leave on the morr-"

"Go."

…

With the recent happenings, Aegon had almost reconsidered sending the two to the North to reason with Lord Cregan Stark. The thought had been questioned, as well as the girl's loyalty. But all in all, what family did she have but her older brother Larys who had taken her under his wing after the mysterious death of their father and brother? They couldn't ever see the girl daring to side with her bastard nephews. The idea was ridiculous. The Strong house under Larys refused to claim the boys, and so was she expected to.

So when they arrived in Winterfell, Cregan was surprised. 

He knew they were coming. They had said so moons ago, but that was before the attacks, before Jace's visit, and he had figured it would be put aside until matters grew better.

As if war ever got better.

"My prince," the stone-faced lord greeted. "My Lady Strong."

"I thank you for your hospitality, Lord Stark," Aemond smirked. "The Crown thanks you."

Cregan gave a small nod. "Yes. I see." His eyes dart to Y/n, and back to Aemond. "Please rest and we'll discuss in the morn-"

"-Let's discuss now," Aemond remarked, dragging his betrothed along and moving past the Lord.

Cregan's eyes watched the two walk by. Though he already knew his loyalty was to the blood oath he made to Jacaerys, he would enjoy watching the Hightower squirm for his honor.

…

"And what might appease you then?" Aemond asked. 

"And what could the crown have that I would want?" Cregan countered. 

"Gold, honor, protection… dragons," he listed.

"I have gold, honor, and though I have no dragons, I hold a direwolf that does more than enough protection." Cregan leaned back in his chair. "You are asking a Stark to go back on an oath made by my father. We do not do so easily."

"Tell me what you want then," Aemond reasoned.

"It will take some time to figure that out, I'm afraid."

"That is the one thing I cannot give you. We're running out of time."

Cregan gives a curt nod, then completely turns his attention to Y/n, "My lady, surely some sustenance would do you well. You've traveled far."

Her eyes snapped to him, now realizing that he was indeed talking to her. "Do not fret over me, my lord. I am completely content."

Aemond smirked, reaching beside him to grab at the back of her neck. "Indeed. Don't worry over her. Let us focus on our business here." He leaned towards her, "To bed with you. The morning will come sooner than expected."

Y/n stood, giving Cregan one last look before quietly excusing herself.

The door closed behind her and Aemond gave a sigh. "Women are life's greatest pain."

"Women are images of the Mother," Cregan snapped harshly. There would be no talk like this in his halls. "That is your religion, is it not?"

"Rather she be like the Maiden," Aemond retorted.

Cregan chewed on his bottom lip to keep his thoughts straight. "And what would you wish to be, my prince? What beacon do you follow?"

"The Father," He answered without thought. "I follow the Father."

The northern man stood with a loud creak from his large chair and began to lightly pace the room. "Justice is a narrow slope. Sometimes you become so focused on it for others that you become the judged."

"Meaning what?" Aemond's eye narrowed. 

Cregan shrugged, as if he didn't mean anything by it, though he clearly did. "Meaning… we all have our faults, my prince. If I lived for justice and justice alone, I'd find myself paying for every crime I committed."

"Don't Starks live by honor?" 

Cregan's lip turned upwards. "Aye. But those do not compare. Not in the slightest."

Aemond picked at his nails, his hands on the table. "How so, Stark?"

He stopped and considered the prince's question- more… how to answer it without saying all of his thoughts. "Judgment can easily turn to anger. Honor upholds hope over anything else."

"You can't compare something so complex as if they're simple things like night and day," Aemond taunted. "You cannot be all honor, for you'll be the one ruled, and your people will stomp you into the ground. Judgment keeps peace-"

"-At what cost?" Cregan countered, his head tilted as he dared to argue with the man.

Aemond's jaw ticked, and Cregan quickly realized that he may have said the wrong thing. The prince's head tilted down for a moment, then back up as he decided his words. "You believe Rhaenyra has honor?" He asked, pure venom in his tone, though his metaphorical fangs weren't showing.

Stark paused. "It doesn't matter what I think. Does it?"

Aemond's lips turned up into an amused smirk. "So stuck in your idea of honor that you won't do what's best for your people?" His arm waved dramatically. "A dragon lies outside your castle and still it does nothing to your 'honor'?"

"I won't go back on my father's word. That is my answer to you."

Aemond slammed his fists onto the table and stood with a glare that could melt the Wall. "And your answer is death!"

Cregan met his glare with one of his own. "So be it."

…

He let Aemond stay that night against his better judgment. He should have made him leave, but the thought of dragging the Lady Strong into their fight cause an ache in him. 

The next morning, he stood on the balcony overlooking the courtyard. He had a lot on his mind, and no way to fix them.

"Jace's promise to you must have been grand," a voice piped up from behind him.

Cregan turned to see Y/n standing there with a polite smile to her. He felt himself grinning. "More of mine to him, my lady. He'll accomplish great things for the Realm."

She hummed. If she caught onto his meaning, she didn't voice it. "Tell me about him. My nephew Jace."

Cregan's face fell a bit. "My lady-"

"-Lord Stark," she said with a knowing look. "I only meant that I will be married to Aemond soon, and therefore Jace will soon be my nephew. I don't care about titles. I care about Jace."

He let out a breath and ran a hand through his hair. "The prince is… honest. And kind. And quite fair. Should he be named the successor, then I hold no fears for the Realm."

"He seems to be like his father," she quipped. "Harwin was… His very essence was beautiful. I wish I remembered him more."

Cregan ran his tongue across his teeth. He knew that Jace was no Velaryon as well, but he found himself not caring. Jace was more than the lack of royal blood that ran through him.

"Aegon holds the crown, though," she admitted heavily as if the very thought of it was horrid to her.

Cregan shuffled his weight to his other foot. "Tell me. Why are you marrying such a fool of a man?"

"Aemond is," she hesitated, realizing there was no point in defending something that has no defense. "It wasn't by choice."

"Stay in Winterfell."

Her head shot up, her wide eyes meeting his confident ones. "No."

His nose twitched. "Why not?"

"I can't. He'll have my head. And… and Rhaenyra would never accept me-"

"-You don't know that."

She sniffled and studied him. "What you do mean?"

Cregan cleared his throat as he prepared to finally say the thing he'd been holding back. "Jace spoke of your kindness. From when they visited King's Landing just before the death of the King. You… you welcomed them more than his own family."

He was right in that. She had. And she had scolded and fought with Aemond endlessly that night about it after helping clean Luke's bloody nose and Jace's split knuckles. She shifted uncomfortably, "I suppose you're right."

"What I mean by all this is," he paused and heaved a sigh. "If you and Jace are truly made of the same blood as I know you are, then you cannot idly sit by while your brother's sons' inheritances are taken."

The thought brought back the tears from her fight with Aemond not a day ago. 

Aemond had killed Harwin's boy. 

How could she sit by and let herself be married to such a man?

"Larys is like a spider," she whispered, unsure if Cregan even heard it. "You crawl into his web and… and you only realize the dangers of it when your hands are tied."

Cregan gave a tiny nod.

"I'm tired of his web. I may be tied to Aemond forever if I do this."

"Then stay here. I'll get you to Dragonstone."

"Those are too high of promises. Even for a Stark."

Cregan's shoulders moved back. "Starks do not forget an oath."

"What of Vhagar?"

"What of Vhagar?" He retaliated. "She's useless here in the cold. And to unleash an attack on the North is to seal the victor of this war before it truly begins."

She let out a small scoff and threw up her hands. "You Starks and your bravery. Do you think that's what makes a man? Bravery? Bravery only makes a man dead."

"Then I'll die contently," he calmly answered. His head tilted. "Will you?"

Her eyes shifted down to the northernman's lips, noticing the small quirk to them as if the strongforce of a man was somehow holding back a smile. 

"I die regardless. Might as well be for my brother's sons."

....................................

Taglist: @twinkletwinklenotastar, @kidd3ath,@yujyujj, @misswynters, @cosmosnkaz, @sithapprentice, @kaniromi, @lovemesomevesey, @its-jackie-bb, @8812-342, @thorins-queen-of-erebor, @kingdomzeldaquest @nyxbranwenn, @callsignwidow, @a1lexh-blog, @alyssa-dayne, @ethereal-athalia, @ashovertheriver, @lost-in-fiction-like-ur-mom, @dozcan123, @wangjiangelangel, @kamitargaryen, @aegonswife, @lv7867, @helpmedecideaname

[javierpena-inatacvest]

Stress Relief

Summary: After a recent promotion, Javi has had a lot on his plate. Thankfully, you know just what to do to help him de-stress.

Word Count: 2.8K

Pairing: Husband!Javier Peña x Wife!Reader (no use of y/n, post season 3)

Warnings: SMUT (18+), unprotected p in v sex (make safe choices pls), oral (m receiving), creampie, size kink (ish?), praise kink, sex as stress relief, Subby, whimpering Javi because giving him a surprise blowjob when you know he's stressed would make him crumble, this is literally porn without a plot WHOOPS

A/N: Shoutout to my job for having a system wide data outage today so I didn't have to work and got to write this instead ��� Poor bby cow eyes deserves all the stress relief in the world, and who am I to deny him 🤷🏼‍♀️ Also proud of myself because this is the first thing I've written without an obscene breeding kink in God knows how long, gold stars for me LMAO

Can be read as a standalone or as a part of the Never Too Late Series!

“You’re still working?” 

“No, I just really like sitting here and going through all this fucking paperwork for fun.” Javi sighed, sarcasm oozing out of his words as he leaned back in his chair, pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration. 

As thankful as Javi was for his much more structured, low risk job at the Laredo Sheriff's Department compared to his time back in Colombia, his recent promotion had put way more on his plate than he had expected. 

Begrudgingly, Javi had been bringing work home with him most nights to make up for what he couldn’t finish in the office, leaving him in an exceptionally sour mood that he was spending his nights finishing paperwork instead of spending time with you. 

“Sorry, I’m not trying to be an asshole, Querida.” Javi huffed, upset with himself that any ounce of him was resorting to taking his frustrations out on you. “I just- I’ve just been really stressed about trying to get all this shit done.” 

“Really? I can’t tell. You don’t seem stressed at all.” You quietly teased, your sarcasm enough to at least crack a small smile out of his pouted frown. 

Pushing the office door open, you softly padded into the room, placing yourself behind Javi’s desk chair and draping your arms around his shoulders, gently resting your chin on his shoulder. His hands reached up to wrap around your arms now resting against his chest, his thumbs rubbing soft circles onto your skin as he let out a heavy sigh, your presence flooding him with at least a little bit of calm amongst the chaos.

“Is there anything I can help you with?” You asked, pecking a soft kiss onto the scratchy stubble of his cheek. 

“No, it’s just some paperwork shit.” 

“You sure?” 

“No, thank you though, Hermosa. I promise I’ll be done soon, baby.” 

Javi assumed his reply and gentle pat to your arm still wrapped around him would have enough to send you back out of his office so he could finish the rest of his work, but as your lips began to slowly travel from his cheek to down his neck and back up to nibble at his ear while your hands slid down his chest, he slowly realized that your offer to help had nothing to do with the actual work he needed to finish. 

“You sure there’s nothing? It sure seems like you could use some stress relief, Javi.” The tone of your voice shifting from sweet and innocent to low and sultry, the whisper of your words dancing in Javi’s ear and fingertips raking lower across his stomach and thighs making his breath hitch in the back of his throat as he realized what kind of “help” you were planning to offer him.

You smirked as you watched the bulge in his slacks begin to stiffen, your hand just grazing along the seam of his crotch while you kissed his neck, sucking at his pulse point and nipping at his skin. You could practically feel Javi melting into his chair at your touch, hoping that your plan would provide your husband with some much needed stress relief. 

“Pobrecito (Poor thing). You’re so tense. And so hard,” You laughed quietly to yourself, hand now cupping the full blown erection in his pants, “You gonna let me help you, baby? Help you get rid of some of this stress?” 

You began to swivel his desk chair to face you, Javi’s lips already parted for his heavy breaths as his hungry gaze met yours. Slowly, you climbed into his lap, your legs straddling over his hips as your hands ran up and down his chest, toying with the buttons of his dress shirt to expose his soft and tanned skin. 

Your mouths met in a hungry clash of tongues and teeth, capturing Javi’s muffled moans as you kissed him with an electric intensity that already had him needily bucking his hips up into you, desperate to ease how painfully hard he was from the few short moments since your proposition. 

Javi could barely find it in his mind to string together a coherent sentence, frantically nodding his head in agreement to your question between sloppy kisses, letting his hands roam down your back until they were grabbing your ass, kneading the plump flesh in his grasp. 

“Use your words, Javi. You want me to take care of you?” You cooed, grinding your hips into his lap as you watched his head tip back against the chair, jaw going slack and mind running blank as you rubbed against the straining fabric of his pants. 

“Fuck. P-Please, baby.” He moaned, Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat as he gulped, trying to use any ounce of composure he could to somehow make words travel from his brain to his mouth. 

“Good boy.” You smirked, placing one last kiss on his lips before climbing off his lap to settle yourself between his legs on the floor, letting your fingers toy with the clasp of his belt buckle until it broke free.

“Fuck me.” Javi whispered to himself under his breath, watching you free his belt to carefully unzip his slacks, lifting his hips just enough to help you pull down his boxers to reveal his aching cock, tip already red and precum weeping from his slit. 

“Maybe if you behave and let me take care of you, then yes.” You teased before letting your kisses trail up his thighs, inching closer and closer to his length, only making him groan more. His hand ran through the dark locks of his thick brown hair, trying to center himself enough to keep from busting right then and there. 

Your hands ran up and down his thighs as you scooted closer to him, kisses trailing behind the gentle graze of your fingertips up towards his length. You couldn’t help but smirk at him with a devilish grin, seeing how needy and worked up he already was without you even touching him yet. 

Letting your lips inch closer and closer to the base of his cock, your hand wrapped carefully around him, your thumb swiping over his tip and collecting the precum that had been leaking from it, sending a shiver down his spine and a low groan in his chest.

Slowly, your kisses made their way up his length, your lips replacing your hand, tenderly licking at sucking at his tip, eliciting a low groan from deep within his chest. “Relax, Javi. Let me take care of you, okay?” You cooed, letting his cock tap against your tongue before licking a long strip from base to tip, the sensation making him shutter. 

“O-kay. Fuck- Yeah, okay, baby.” He managed to stammer out, looking down at you perched between his legs, beginning to sink your mouth down on his length, hollowing out your cheeks until you could feel him hitting the back of your throat, coming back off him with a pop and a satisfied smile, batting your lashes at him. 

Javi’s head hit the back of his chair as you began to repeat the motion, slowly taking the full length of his cock in and out of your mouth, letting his tip graze the back of your throat with each movement.

Letting your tongue drag up his shaft, your lips wrapped around his tip, sucking and flicking at his most sensitive spots. One hand was wrapped around his cock and working in tandem with your mouth, while the other grasped at his bare thigh, fingertips digging into his skin. 

You began to pick up your pace, shifting your hand to cup his balls so you could take him back into your throat, sinking down just enough to let the deep, musky scent of the curls at the base of his shaft tickle your nostrils. 

You couldn’t help but let a small smirk form between your lips as you worked at his cock, seeing and hearing just how wrecked Javi was from the short time that you had gone down on him, quiet whimpers and moans escaping from his lips, followed by muffled whispers of mixed expletives in Spanish and English to himself in any attempt to keep from spilling down your throat just as soon as you had started. 

“Jesus fucking Christ… F-fuck me. You feel- mierda- you feel so good, Hermosa.” Javi managed to stammer out between gasps, looking down at you nestled between his legs with a desperate expression painted across his face, already feeling his balls beginning to tense and stomach start to swirl. 

While you knew it wouldn’t take much more to get Javi to your intended point of stress relief, you selfishly couldn’t deny the fact that you were now also in need of your own relief, feeling the arousal that had been pooling in your underwear, coating the inside of your thighs and forcing you to squeeze them together in attempts to ease your growing ache. 

Pulling off Javi’s cock and planting a soft kiss to his tip, you peered up at him with a devilish grin, phrasing your next proposition as a question, even though you undoubtedly already knew what his answer would be. 

“You wanna cum down my throat, or cum inside me? You choose, handsome.” You cooed, fingertips grazing the inside of his thighs as your kisses trailed behind, teasing Javi to the point you were half convinced he might cum just like this, considering his half coherent babbles as he tried to string together words to form any sort of thought. 

“I-inside. Fuck- Let me cum inside you, please.” He stammered, nodding his head frantically in confirmation of what you already knew would be his answer. 

Gripping your hands around his thighs to push yourself up to stand, you reached down to tug the hem of your shirt, pulling it over your head, quickly followed by your bra, both now crumpled in a pile on the floor. 

You couldn’t help but let out a little giggle at how Javi was gawking at you and your now bare chest, eyes bulging out of his skull and jaw hitting the floor as if he was a goddamn cartoon and it was the first time he had seen you topless in his entire life. 

Your bottom half slowly followed the same fate as your top, pants and underwear shuffling down your hips and legs until they were pooled around your ankles, leaving you completely naked as you began to crawl back into Javi’s lap. 

You let your legs straddle over his hips, your cunt ghosting over his cock as you placed your hands on his stomach, letting them slide up his chest until they were buried in the thick locks of his dark hair, gripping and tugging his curls while your mouth engulfed his in an electric kiss. 

A soft moan rumbled in your chest as his firm grasp found a home on your hips, his fingers digging into the meat of your stomach, holding on for dear life while he felt you hovering over his length. 

“Please, Hermosa. I need to feel you, baby.” He whispered into your ear, now all but begging for you to sink down onto his cock and let himself get lost in the mesmerizing warmth and wetness of you. 

Reaching below you, you wrapped your hand around his cock, positioning it beneath you to lower yourself down, whimpering at the sweet stretch and sting of his girth, letting his tip kiss your cervix as he filled you with every inch of himself that you could take. For as many times as you had found yourself in this position, you were convinced that you would never get over just how full you felt with Javi inside you, and how breathtakingly incredible it felt. 

Cupping Javi’s strong jaw in your hands, your forehead rested against his as you let your hips start to grind into his, long and languid circles of your lower half, rolling back and forth, burying Javi’s cock deep inside the warm, wet walls of your cunt. 

“Fuck me. Holy fuck.” Javi groaned, his hands snaking up your front to grab your breasts, kneading the soft flesh greedily in his hands. His fingers reached for your pebbled nipples, rolling them between his thumb and index finger, the new sensation sending a jolt of pleasure to your core. 

That, combined with the hairs at the base of Javi’s cock rubbing deliciously on your clit and the way Javi’s cock punched against your g-spot was already making you see stars, vision going white and brain going blank from just how good he felt buried inside you.

Instinctively, you rocked your hips faster, feeling an all too familiar tingle begin to build at the base of your spine. Almost as if Javi could sense the way your cunt was starting to clench around his length, he couldn’t help but buck his hips up into yours, his thrusts filling you in a way that had you absolutely reeling and breathless, the two of you both teetering on the brink of collapse to chase your own highs. 

“You feel, oh shit- you feel so good, Javi. Feel so good inside me. I’m close, baby.” You whimpered, burying your hands in the sweat curled hairs at the nape of his neck, lost in your own pleasure as your stomach swirled faster and faster with arousal. 

You could tell Javi was close, too- The gritting of his teeth, the wild and wanting look in his sweet brown eyes, the sloppy pace of his dick pounding into you and nearly incomprehensible babbles were all the tells you knew far too well to realize he was quickly about to come undone. 

“Yeah? F-fuck, I love being inside you. So fucking wet and tight, holy fuck.” 

You could feel your walls beginning to tighten around him, moaning as you buried your head in the crook of his shoulder, fingernails digging crescent moons into his skin as you braced yourself for the wave that was about to crash through you. 

 “Fuck baby, don’t stop- ahhhh- please don’t stop.”

“I know, baby, I know. Let go for me, Osita. Wanna feel you soak my lap before I fuck you full of me. Gonna cum so deep inside this tight little pussy.” Javi reached down so the pads of his fingers rubbed along your clit as you rolled your hips, sinking yourself deeper onto his cock with each thrust, your vision going white as you could feel yourself come undone. 

“Fuckfuckfuckfuckkkkkkkk!” You cried out as you felt your orgasm pulse through you, pleasure shooting through your body as you came, clamping down around Javi’s cock and gushing with your arousal, your body melting limp into his as he followed suite. 

“That’s it, baby. I’m gonna- fuck- g-gonna cum too. Fuck me, gonna fill you so full of me you’re- oh shit- gonna be dripping out of me f-for da- Oh fuckkkkkk-” With a final stutter of his hips, Javi thrust up into you, letting the warm rush of his spend coat your walls, milking himself of every last drop before carefully pulling out, letting the rhythmic breathing of your chests rising and falling sync together. 

“Holy fuck.” Javi sighed, kissing your bare shoulder before letting his plush lips peck across your neck and jawline before meeting yours. “I think it worked.” 

“Think what worked?” You asked, still trying to come to in your blissed out state, gently combing your fingers through the sweat ridden curls of Javi’s hair, giggling as he knowingly ghosted his fingers across your stomach, smiling to himself at your ticklish laughter. 

“The stress relief. God, I love you. I’ll never know what the fuck I ever did to deserve you, but I won’t question it. Thank you, baby.” Javi grinned, softly swiping his thumb across your cheek, leaving his other arm to wrap around your waist and pull him closer to his chest. 

“I love you, too, Jav. Glad I could help. Hopefully this was enough motivation to get you through the rest of your work.” 

As you started to scoot yourself off Javi’s lap to clean up the mess of arousal, clothes, and a few scattered papers you had left in your wake, you were taken aback to feel his grip tighten around you, holding you in place. 

“It’s gonna be a long night, because I’m not even close to being done.” Javi smirked, his tongue darting between his lips as his eyes darkened with a hungry gaze. 

“Then you need to let me get off you, you goofball. Last time I checked, your naked wife sitting on your lap isn’t helping anyone to get paperwork done.” You teased, playfully crossing your arms over your chest, tilting your head at Javi in a mix of sass and confusion until a shriek of surprise escaped from your chest as Javi stood up to set you on top of his desk, caging his broad body over yours. 

“Oh I’m done with all of this shit,” He paused, gesturing to his desk before letting his kisses lazily trail down your body until he was on his knees with your legs draped over his shoulders, spreading them open to reveal the swollen and glistening mess still between your thighs, “but there’s not a chance in hell I’m done with you.” 

Taglist:

@chaotic-iguana @rhoorl @bbiophiliaa @purpleprincess75 @angelofsmalldeath-codeine

@pedrobaby @fatima-marisa @beboldbebravethings @poodlebae @kittenlittle24

@3sriracha @jungchloee @perennialdoll247 @prettyinpunk85

@partyofone3413 @harriedandharassed @pedrohoe04 @theorganasolo

@endlessthxxghts @beware-my-thorns @missladym1981 @milly-louise

@jay-zzle @the-one-with-the-grey-color @persephone-girl @bitchesuntitled

@pedropascallvr @millennial-teenybopper r @nastiasnow @vee-bees-blog

@hopplessilse @mxtokko @its-nebuleuse @mandoisapunk @msmorningstaarr

@amyispxnk @honeyedmiller @mountainsandmayhem @picketniffler @burningnerdchild

@copperhalfcent @theoraekenslover @bloodyinspirationaldemon @vee-bees-blog

@samgirl4life @pigeonmama @survivingandenduring @itsokbbygrl @javierpena-inatacvestnotifs

[luviwon]

MY PERSONAL STYLIST | y.jw

kinktober day 2! back to the masterlist here!

☆ stylist!jungwon x model!reader

; jungwon always finds the most fashionable pieces of clothing for you to try out, but when one day he decides to wrap you up in his own hands, well that becomes your new favourite fit.

genre ; smut

taglist ; @blushbunini @moonpri @blackp1nkfan @mitmit01 @pasteltheghost16 @harukayoiiiiiiizzz @mlywon @lhspeachie @seraphira @kaykay11sworld @winuvs @yuniesluv @shhth @rizzki09 @mylettterstoyou @d-dilemma

“i don’t think that fits well,” you complained loudly, without any sort of shyness. “i want something that screams that girl, you know? something to turn heads when i walk by, something that no one else has”

what a hard life, indeed. you pouted while laying down on the leathered sofa, throwing away the last piece of dress you’ve tried on. unhappy, disappointed and frustrated. these were 3 amazing words to describe the exact way you were feeling. it did, although, make sense, as the [brand name] fashion week was approaching by and all you could do was pray you will find something unique before that.

on the other side, jungwon snorted at your gesture and picked up the delicate dress from the floor, making sure to get rid of any dirt before putting it back on the hanger. it’s been nothing less than 6h since all the wardrobes in the building were emptied out for you to try every single item, but your expectations were somehow higher than the 24th floor you were on.

“look, giving their most recent collection, i believe we need to definitely include denim. it’s basically their signature, we couldn’t not take advantage out of it” the stylist explained in his simplicity while closing the doors of the closet. “what about a denim skirt? that’s both stylish and comfy; although going for a sleeveless denim top would be just as great”

you nodded, having a look around you. there were now low chances to try something new on as you were more than 99% sure you put on everything already. "i shouldn't be doing this," jungwon mumbled under his breath, casting a quick glance over his shoulder as if someone might walk in at any second. your interest piqued immediately, sitting up straighter on the sofa, eyes glued to his every movement. he turned his back to you, walking towards a wardrobe that had a small lock to it. he effortlessly took the keys out from his pants' pocket, following to unlock the mysterious closet.

the soft clink of the lock turning was like music to your ears—something forbidden, exclusive. jungwon swung the door open with a sense of purpose, pulling out a garment that instantly caught the light. a smile tugged at his lips as he walked over, holding up a stunning denim corset.

"now this—this is what you've been waiting for," he said, carefully laying the piece across his arm like a treasure. it wasn’t just any denim. it had the perfect balance of structure and softness, the kind of piece that would mold to your body, hugging your curves in all the right places. the corset was minimal in design but bold in impact, with sharp seams and an impeccable cut that made it scream sophistication. there were no buttons or zippers, just a sleek back, held together by what looked like a barely noticeable magnetic closure.

"oh my god, jungwon," you gasped, practically leaping off the couch to inspect it closer. your fingers itched to touch the fabric, running across the smooth denim that was far softer than you’d expected. "this is perfect. no, more than perfect. this is exactly what i was talking about." he chuckled at your excitement but quickly added, "there’s just one little thing... it’s not out yet."

your head snapped up, eyes wide in disbelief. "wait, what? this is from the new collection?" jungwon nodded, grinning but looking a bit mischievous. "yeah, technically, it’s part of an unreleased line. i’m not supposed to show it to anyone just yet." you blinked at him, utterly floored. "but... you’re showing it to me?"

he shrugged, smirking like this was all part of some grand conspiracy. "i figured, if you’re just wearing it for the fashion week—after the official release—then we can make an exception, right? besides, this is the piece. the one no one else will have."

you could barely contain your excitement. "oh my god, yes! no one else is going to have anything like this!" you practically snatched the corset from his hands, already picturing how it would look paired with just about anything. the versatility of it was unreal—denim, but with an edge that made it feel couture.

“try it on,” he urged, standing back to give you space.

with a grin, you quickly shed your current outfit, slipping into the corset like it was meant for you. as jungwon helped close the back, the magnetic closure clicked seamlessly, feeling almost like magic—no fuss, just an instant fit. you turned to the mirror, barely recognizing yourself in the best way possible. the corset cinched your waist, accentuating your figure in ways that made you feel like a walking masterpiece. your reflection practically screamed that girl, exactly as you had wanted.

“how does it feel?” jungwon asked, watching your reaction closely.

“it feels…” you twirled, taking in every angle. “it feels like i’m going to break every neck at fashion week.”

jungwon smiled, a mix of pride and amusement. "good. that’s what we’re going for."

you couldn’t take your eyes off the mirror, completely mesmerized by your own reflection. the denim corset hugged your body in all the right places, accentuating every curve. the sharp lines of the piece sculpted your silhouette, making you feel powerful, like you were already walking down the runway at fashion week. a smile tugged at your lips, growing wider with every second you spent admiring yourself. you had to admit, jungwon had completely outdone himself with this.

but as you stood there, swimming in the confidence the corset gave you, you found yourself subtly adjusting it. your hands instinctively moved to your chest, pulling the corset up a little each time. it fit your waist perfectly, but around your chest, it felt like it was slipping ever so slightly, not quite sitting the way you wanted it to.

jungwon, who had been silently watching from behind, couldn’t help but admire the way the corset shaped you. the way the denim cupped your waist, accentuating your figure—it was flawless. his gaze trailed over your body, lingering on the soft curve of your hips and the way the fabric contoured to your form. his breath hitched as his eyes moved upward, taking in the way your cleavage was framed by the low-cut neckline. it wasn’t just the fit; it was the way the corset transformed you into something almost untouchable.

"wow," he muttered, voice low, almost like he was speaking more to himself than to you.

you caught his reflection in the mirror, his expression a mix of fascination and appreciation, and your smile widened even more. "you like it?" you asked playfully, even though you could already tell by the look on his face.

"it looks incredible on you," he said, stepping closer. the admiration in his voice was undeniable, and his eyes never left your figure as he moved. "every curve, the way it fits your waist—it’s perfect."

his gaze shifted to the neckline, noticing how you kept adjusting the corset. "except maybe here," he added, gently reaching up to pull the fabric up a bit for you. his fingers brushed against your skin, sending a shiver down your spine. "feels like it’s not fitting you quite right up top."

you nodded, looking down at your chest and laughing softly. "yeah, it keeps slipping a little. not the best fit for my, uh, chest."

jungwon tilted his head, his eyes still locked on the way the fabric clung to you. "we could probably make a small adjustment to the top. just enough to keep it secure without losing that sleek look."

he stood directly behind you now, his presence warm and steady as he eyed your reflection in the mirror. his hands hovered near your waist, not quite touching but close enough that you could feel the energy between you. "but honestly," he added, voice dropping, "it’s hard to notice anything wrong when it looks this good on you."

you met his gaze in the mirror, cheeks flushing slightly at his words. there was something about the way he looked at you—like he was seeing more than just an outfit.

your heart fluttered as jungwon's words hung in the air. his gaze, warm and intense, never left your body, and it felt like every second he spent behind you made your skin tingle. you could feel the heat rising to your cheeks, and before you knew it, you were looking down, trying to steady your breath. your fingers played with the hem of the corset, pulling it up again, even though that wasn’t really the issue.

get it together, you thought to yourself, chewing the inside of your cheek to keep from grinning too wide. it’s a professional relationship. he’s your stylist. this is what he does.

but every time you dared to glance back at the mirror, your resolve cracked just a little more. jungwon was still there, standing close behind you, his eyes lingering on you like you were the only thing in the room worth paying attention to. and it wasn’t just the way he looked—it was the way he felt standing there, like the air between you was charged with something you couldn’t quite name.

your heart skipped a beat, and despite trying to keep your composure, you couldn’t stop the small smile from creeping back onto your face. god, get a grip, you scolded yourself, but it was impossible not to feel something when his gaze was that intense.

he seemed to realize it too. there was a moment—a brief flicker in his expression—where he caught himself staring. almost like he forgot for a second that this was supposed to be all about fashion. jungwon blinked, then let out a soft, almost embarrassed laugh, quickly brushing his hand through his hair. his fingers tousled his dark strands, and he turned away from you, moving toward one of the racks like he was suddenly very busy.

"so," he began, his tone light and casual, as though he hadn’t just been admiring your every curve moments before. "should we go with shorts or a skirt? i feel like either could work with the corset, but we should go with whatever makes the most impact for fashion week."

you exhaled quietly, feeling the tension ease as he busied himself with the clothes, his back now to you. he was already flipping through hangers, acting like nothing had happened, but you could still feel the lingering energy between you two.

jungwon rummaged through the rack with practiced precision, flipping through various fabrics before his hand landed on something. "ah, here it is," he said, pulling out a sleek skirt with a satisfied grin.

you watched as he held it up for you to see. the material was a smooth, structured twill—something that could perfectly complement the denim without clashing. the fabric had a bit of shine to it, just enough to elevate it beyond casual wear, but what really caught your attention was the unique detail at the waist. there was a thin, adjustable thread running along the top, almost like a drawstring but far more elegant, allowing you to tighten the fit as needed. it added a subtle edge to the skirt’s design, making it feel more versatile and modern.

"this could be perfect," jungwon said, his excitement matching yours. "the material’s got just enough weight to balance the denim, but it won’t overwhelm it. and with this thread detail," he ran a finger along the waist, showing how it worked, "you can adjust it exactly how you want it to fit."

your eyes lit up the moment you saw it. "oh my god, yes. it’s perfect." without even thinking twice, you reached for the skirt, your fingers brushing against his as you took it from him. "i’m trying this on right now."

he stepped back with a grin, giving you space as you slipped out of your pants and into the skirt, the fabric sliding smoothly over your legs. you turned to the mirror again, adjusting the waist with the thread until it sat snugly against your hips. it hugged your body in just the right way—tight where it needed to be but still comfortable, and it gave your whole look a balanced, polished feel.

you couldn’t help but smile, feeling an overwhelming sense of satisfaction as you twirled slightly to see how it moved with you. "what do you think?" you asked, your voice barely hiding your excitement.

jungwon was watching you again, eyes filled with approval as he nodded. "it’s everything. the corset and the skirt—it’s like they were made for each other." his gaze lingered just a moment longer before he added, "and they were definitely made for you."

you looked at your reflection once more, the outfit transforming you into exactly the vision you’d had in your mind since the beginning. "i love it," you said, beaming. "this is it. this is the look."

you couldn’t contain your excitement. the outfit was perfect—beyond perfect, and it made you feel unstoppable. without even thinking, you spun around and practically launched yourself into jungwon's arms. "oh my god, you’re the best!" you squealed, throwing your arms around his neck in a burst of joy.

he barely had time to react before you were in his arms, your body colliding with his in a tight hug. His grip instinctively tightened around you to steady the both of you as he let out a soft, surprised laugh. "whoa, okay, glad you like it!" he said, still smiling, clearly amused by your reaction.

but just as you buried your face into the crook of his neck, something unexpected happened. you felt a soft click behind you. for a split second, you didn’t understand what it was. then, suddenly, you felt the denim corset loosen completely.

your eyes widened in horror as you realized what had happened. the magnetic closure had come undone, and before you could even react, the corset slipped down, hitting the floor. you froze, every muscle in your body stiffening as the air around you seemed to stand still.

"oh my god," you whispered into his chest, your voice muffled and filled with embarrassment as you buried your face deeper, cheeks burning. you wanted to disappear, to melt into the ground and pretend this wasn’t happening. "oh my god, oh my god…"

jungwon’s body tensed at first, clearly just as surprised, but then, almost instinctively, his hands found their way to your waist. the warmth of his palms rested gently against your skin, holding you in place as if to steady you, even though both of you were standing perfectly still. his breath hitched for a moment, but he didn’t say anything.

the two of you just stood there, glued to each other, neither knowing what to do. you could feel his heartbeat against your cheek, a steady rhythm that seemed louder in the silence, while your own heart raced wildly, your face still hidden against his chest.

you let out a shaky breath, unable to move or even think straight, trapped in a whirlwind of embarrassment. "i—i didn’t mean for that to happen," you mumbled against him, voice small and apologetic, barely above a whisper.

jungwon, who had been frozen for what felt like an eternity, finally spoke, his voice low and soft. "it’s okay," he said, his hands still resting on your waist, as if anchoring you both in the moment. "it was the magnet."

you both laughed nervously, a quiet, shared moment of awkwardness but also something else neither of you could quite name.

jungwon's hands still rested gently on your waist, his touch warm and steady, grounding you in a moment that felt anything but. your heart was racing, and you could feel his pulse thudding just as strongly against your cheek. the awkwardness between you grew thick, heavy, as you tried to make sense of what had just happened.

but then, without saying a word, jungwon's hand moved from your waist, gliding up slowly. your breath caught in your throat as his fingers gently tilted your chin upward, coaxing your face away from where you’d buried it against his chest. your eyes reluctantly met his, wide and uncertain, your body instinctively pushing closer to him to keep your chest covered.

his touch was soft, yet there was something deliberate about the way he held your chin, guiding you to look at him. you could feel the heat from his fingers, his thumb grazing the edge of your jawline, and for a moment, the world outside of the two of you didn’t exist. it was just the quiet, the subtle rise and fall of his chest beneath your hands, and the intensity in his eyes as they locked onto yours.

but he couldn’t stop himself. his gaze flickered, almost unwillingly, sliding down from your face, tracing the line of your neck before settling lower. his eyes dipped, just for a heartbeat, to where the corset had fallen away, and though you’d pressed tighter into him, he could still catch the soft curve of your bare skin. his eyes did a slow, unintentional marathon—from your eyes, to your chest, and then back again, as if he was trying to fight it but losing that battle with each passing second.

you felt a shiver run through you, your entire body hyper-aware of his presence, the closeness, the heat between you. his fingers still held your chin, his grip gentle but firm, and the way he looked at you—like he was seeing you in a way he never had before—sent your heart pounding even faster.

"jungwon…" you whispered, your voice barely audible, not even sure what you were asking, or if you were asking anything at all. maybe just for the moment to slow down, or speed up—something. your cheeks burned with embarrassment, your arms still wrapped around his waist, pressing tighter as if that would somehow make everything less exposed, less vulnerable.

jungwon’s gaze was intense, almost overwhelming, and you felt your pulse quicken under the weight of it. his eyes seemed to linger just a moment too long on every part of you, tracing your features with a softness that made your breath hitch. unable to take the intensity any longer, you instinctively turned around, trying to break free from the moment, hoping to gather yourself.

but in your flustered state, you didn’t realize the full gravity of what you’d just done.

the cool air on your bare skin suddenly felt more noticeable, your nipples hardening in an Instant, and before you could react, you were standing there—completely uncovered—facing the massive mirror. your heart skipped a beat, panic flooding through you as it hit you: jungwon was right behind you, already facing the mirror. his eyes had a perfect view of everything reflected back at him.

"oh my god," you gasped, realization crashing over you like a tidal wave.

before you could move, jungwon was already there. his reflexes were quicker than you expected, and without hesitation, his hands shot forward, gently but urgently covering your exposed chest. his palms pressed against your tits, shielding you from both the mirror and himself, the warmth of his touch sending a jolt through you.

the room seemed to freeze for a moment, the tension so thick it was almost suffocating. you could feel jungwon’s breath behind you, shaky and uncertain, his hands resting protectively over you. your pulse raced beneath his fingers, the intimacy of the situation more than either of you had anticipated.

“i knew they would fit just right in my hands” jungwon whispered merely for himself but your ears couldn’t ignore it either. his hands were warming up your chest a lot in that moment, and if before you’d be positive that your nipples are the hardest they could be, well, jungwon decided to prove you wrong and circle his palms around them to make them even rock hard. he couldn’t stop staring at the mirror, at the way your body was glued to his, at the manner in which there was only one obstacle from seeing your beautiful chest and that was his own hands.

you bit your lower lip, resting the back of your head against his chest as he lowered his head to place a wet kiss against your exposed skin. you trembled under his touch as his plumped lips left saliva on your beautiful neck, following to be licked off by his long tongue, going all the way to your ears. and because he couldn’t leave them just like that, he bit your earlobe, still, so gently. his hands continued to tease your nips against his palms, now your shoulder being devoured by his hungry lips, kissing, licking, sucking and nibbling all over.

naturally, one of his arms went lower to unwrap the thread along your skirt, causing it to fall down so carelessly, exposing your simple, pale pink panties, along with a wet stain against them. “do i turn you on, y/n”? jungwon asked, eyes locked on the mirror, pushing his hand lower to cup your pussy completely. he rested it there, using his middle finger to press against your hole, hidden behind the drenched piece of lingerie.

“mhm” you nodded, closing your eyes as arching your back in response, unable to resist to his soft, attentive yet dangerous touch. you pushed your chest up, the lonely left breast showing off its round and perky shape. jungwon smirked at the view of that, turning you around and pressing you against the mirror. the cold touch of the glass gave you a short shiver, followed by another one coming from jungwon, who couldn’t help but get on his knees in front of you.

“as a model, you should control yourself regardless of the circumstances, is that true?” he asked you on a deliberate sarcastic tone, a mischievous smile appearing on his face. he stuck out his tongue, licking his lips like a hungry animal. “let’s see if you can keep your moans to yourself then, sweetheart” he added, just before pulling down your panties, his hot breathe hitting your soaked pussy immediately. you felt your legs getting weaker already, but jungwon made sure to hold you still, his mouth taking a full bite of your dripping wet cunt. if before he presented himself to be the greatest gentleman, now he surely proves the contrary. jungwon aggressively sucked on your clit, using a finger to push inside you unexpectedly.

you whimpered out, loud enough for the whole staircase to hear. “shh” he whispered to you, pushing his finger as high as possible and taking it out to make you desperate. his lips were taking over your folds, giving each of them their own turn, leaving wet kisses and fainted marks. additional to his index finger, another one joined him, pushed hard inside you again, letting another moan out, even louder this time. jungwon smirked, and curled them inside you, making your legs tremble. you clenched around his fingers, his tongue giving your clit now all of his attention.

at this point, you had no more strength to stand still and kept going lower, his fingers deeper inside you. “ride my fingers” he urged you, raising his head to see your face full of pleasure, rolling your eyes back with each movement. he stopped moving his hand now, and waited for you to do your turn. with a small gulp, you pushed you body lower until his finger were all hidden inside you again, biting your lips not to let another sound escape from you. it felt so good you couldn’t raise anymore, legs still shaking in pleasure. that’s when jungwon’s patience went down to 0 and his fingers curled again inside you, this time his thumb rubbing your clit in sync.

“do you like how i finger you, sweetheart? your wet sounds say it all”

his smirk couldn’t leave his face at all, not for a second, nor could his gaze let go of yours. he was obsessed with the way you rolled your eyes back, the way you pushed your chest up and the way your shaking legs couldn’t help you stand still anymore. all of this because of him, because of his hands, his fingers, simply him, his voice, his touch.

“i feel so close” you whined, the words barely coming out of your mouth correctly. but to be fair, how could you say anything right when all you could feel was pleasure? hearing your statement, jungwon stood up and pulled down his jeans along with his boxers, revealing his hardened length. “then cum around my cock” he imposed as he pushed his dick covered in precum inside your cunt. he pressed his hands against the mirror, pumping himself into you. he threw his head back, speeding up his rhythm as your tits jumped up and down.

“j-jungwon” you moaned aloud his name, crying along with it. you did not have a single thought on your mind anymore, all you could feel was jungwon’s cock hitting your g point a million times, until your body couldn’t take it anymore. “jungwon i-“ you started saying, but before you could finish, he was already painting your walls white. you let go of your pleasure and came on his cock, throwing your arms around his neck to find some support.

legs shaking, you were still trying to catch your breathe. completely naked against the dressing room mirror, you felt a shiver down your spine and a moan was shouted out again when jungwon pushed himself inside you one more time. he chuckled, seeing your reaction and lifted you up, walking effortlessly across the room to the leathered sofa. he sat down on it, you still on his lap, his cock still buried inside you.

“round two?”

[lustylita]

Switch Haven

COME AND GET IT!

@hurthermore and I collabed together and created this masterpiece! Enjoy!

Imagine him waking you up in the dead of night with his hot cock rubbing between your thighs.

With intrude, you wake up ever so slightly with a grogginess you weren’t expecting. Taloned claws gripped the flesh of your cheeks before a familiar voice hushed you, telling you, warning you to be good and just let him fuck your tight little cunt. “I’ll do all the work darling, I just need to feel you. Now open up and let me fuck you senseless.”

Still out of it, you respond with instinct alone by lifting one leg and bending it at an angle by the knee; giving him full access to the intimate area only he had the pleasure of ever experiencing. Your walls throbbing with need, you didn’t know what had happened for you to become so wet while you were still sleeping.

With praise, Alastor mumbled into your ear, vocalising how good you were, how you’re his perfect little slut, obeying him and only him without even needing to be fully conscious. His cock began sliding into you oh so slowly as one hand gripped around your neck whilst the other slid down to strum your clit.

The slow and passionate pace he set had your orgasm rising quicker than usual, the soft pets he gave you touched you just right, the way his hot, groaning breath tickles your ears as he kisses your neck had you overwhelmed with stimulation.

Clenching down on him with how fast your orgasm began to rise, your back arched to get his long length deeper into you, forcing an incoherent whimper of his name to become the only thing you could manage to articulate. The pull of sleep still trying to claim you, even though your body was exhaustedly hot and tense, you bucked into his cock that thrusted in and out of you, but the hand that played with your throbbing bud kept you right where he wanted you.

Softly, his sharpened yellow teeth bit into the flesh of your shoulder as your walls squeezed him with intent, massaging and pulsing down on him as you coaxed him further into his own peak. The fingers against your clit pressing harsher against it as his thrusts become slightly faster, his enjoyment of the situation becoming all too clear. Your eyes became heavy, unable to truly process anything as your exhaustion remained present, yet you cried out as Alastor claimed a peak from you, forcing your gushing juices to coat his hard and throbbing cock that laid within you.

The feeling was unique, the pleasure, on one hand, was blinding, but the relaxation it brought you was exquisite. Becoming slightly more aware, the tips of your fingers reached back, finding their destination through your lover's red and black hair before scratching at the base of his ears; knowing full well that this little act of petting would help him reach his peak quicker.

Rubbing his ears with softness, his groans became louder in a shuddering sensation. His lips that laid against your ear began to mumble away as his ecstasy induced orgasm began to cover not only your walls, but had seeped into your cervix. Whining out your name in a low husk as he fucks his orgasm into your cunt, he speaks, relaying to you how perfect you feel, how you belonged to purely him. As his cock began to splatter the last drops of his cum, he placed his lips against your shoulder, sucking with harshness, creating a suction against your skin as he left sloppy hickies marked on your flesh.

Letting out a content moan at the familiar feeling, you loved the sensation, the idea and the enactment of being filled so completely by him. Chuckling in his grasp, you had found this to be the most sexually arousing thing he had done to you by far. "You should wake me up like this more often, my love." Your voice is still groggy due to your unconscious mind only recently being awoken, but the call of sleep was far out of your reach now.

He sighs contently in your ear at your comment before whispering against it. “Careful what you say, my darling, or you’ll be losing sleep at a rate that will have you begging me to stop.” He mumbled before gripping your posterior, pulling you apart to watch, to witness his own ejactulation glisten from your cock stuffed cunt. 

“Promise?” You murmured in a tease, your own breath stuttering as you jolted from the sudden sensation of his large hand spanking against the flesh of your ass in a retaliating act of your comment, his pelvis pushing into you ever so slightly as he assaulted you.

With a wicked smirk you pushed back against him harshly, clenching down on his sensitive cock still buried balls-deep inside your stretched cunt. 

"Why don't I return the favour? You took care of me, my big strong buck, let me take care of you instead now." Turning your head to look at him in the eye, you batted your lashes softly, knowing, understanding, that this little act of begging would get him to agree to just about anything.

Breathlessly, he agreed by manhandling your still slightly sleep induced form to straddle his lap; his cock not once leaving you, somehow. With a moaning grunt, you flinched as his cock reached further within you, bullying the opening of your cervix at the new angle. 

“Go on then darling,” He groans as he gyrates his hips, thrusting them up into yours to push his tip into your cervix. “Take care of The Radio Demon and jump on his cock.” Letting out a breathy moan at his words, your form leaned backwards to grip onto Alastor’s thighs for support. 

You loved this side of Alastor. He had always felt so authentically himself when he was tangled in your sheets and his cock snugged within your core.

Lengthening out your spine, allowing his large cock to hit even deeper into your cervix, you smiled down at him as you began to move, began to rock against his thrusts, twisting your hips with every downward stroke. Increasing your speed, your breathy moans stayed still within the depths of your oesophagus every time Alastors tip rammed against your cervix, not caring that your core and thighs stung with overexertion.

"You feel so good my buck; so big. No one could fill me up the way you do." You moaned as you tilted your head back, exposing the bite on your shoulder that he had inflicted but moments ago before you bucked against him, practically bouncing on his fat length.

“And no one can take me like this, darling. Only you get to take my cock. Always you.” He murmurs as you bounce slowly against him, your mouth agape as his claws etch into the crevice of your hips. 

Crying out at his words, your back arched backwards as you pressed yourself further into him with every bounce. “I’d hope so,” You moan as your bouncing never ceases. “Considering that you’re all mine.” You hiss as your jumps against his cock become harsher.

Purring at your words, Alastor bucked his hips into you harshly as his palms assisted in guiding you onto his cock, showing how he loved it when you got as possessive about him as he was for you. "Prove it to me, my little doe~" He groans up at you, causing your eyes to light up in challenge.

Gracefully you lean forward, forcing Alastors thrusts to halt as he peers up at you curiously. Attempting to ignore the way his burning hot thick cock throbbed against your twitching walls, you place a supporting hand on the flesh of his sternum as the other wrapped around his throat with a subtle squeeze.

It was a sight to see; your delicate fingers hardly making it around the circumference of his neck. But with the help of your freshly manicured claws you were able to restrict his airflow successfully. "Careful what you wish for, my buck~" You smiled dangerously as you slowly began to resume your aggressive pace from before.

Oh how the tables had turned as you jumped against his cock with vigour, with such force it caused your skin to enact a slapping sensation against his with an echo. The bed creaking with more potency than intended. 

As his groans mixed in with the tunes of the sexual sounds that already reverberated within the room, his tongue lapped out from his lips as he panted like a damned dog, unable to speak but a word as you only slightly cut off his air flow. You could tell he was becoming dizzy, disorientated as his eyes stopped looking at your beautiful face as they began rolling back into the depths of his skull. 

“Dont you dare stop watching me as I fuck you, Al.” You mumbled through your teeth as his cock bullied your womb.

On your knees, you buck against Alastor harder, your combined fluids sticking your ass to his pelvis every time you grind down against him. Grabbing a fist of his red hair with your free hand, you forced him to make eye contact with you.

“I want you to remember every detail of this, Al.” You bared your teeth at him, the friction against your clit borderline excruciating, but it didn’t slow your pace, as you were determined to see the Radio Demon cry. Loosening your grip on his neck, you could tell he desired air as little droplets of tears emerged from his waterline. “Come on handsome, sing for me, I know you can.” You groaned down at him.

Lifting your hips up until only the head of his cock stretched your entrance, you grinned with cheek and cockiness. But knowing that your actions were sure to bite you in the ass later, you stop and clench down, intending on milking the entire situation as far as you could before it ceased.

“Fuck, darling.” He groaned behind his sharpened yellow teeth as your hips snapped your clenching cunt down on him, fucking him into submission, his cock twitching as you squeezed your walls with intention, milking him, coercing him into another orgasm.

His claws dug into you, forcing droplets of blood to seep from your flesh as you continued to bounce, each bounce harsher, harder and more ferocious than the last. His moans begging that you don’t stop, that you were perfect, and all entirely his. And as he focused his eyesight at the action of your core slapping against his cock and pelvis, he could feel a second orgasm peak as remnants of his previous ejactulation splattered against the flesh of your cunt and the skin of his pelvis.

Moaning at the delicious pain, your fingers grip against his neck again; Alastor's words of love and encouragement spurring you on, motivating you to go even faster. Without thought, you morphed into your demonic form, using the extra strength it provided you to stay upright and push against him harder.

Crying out your lover's name, your moans raised in volume and pitch as your own orgasm began building up within your lower abdomen, the heat of everything becoming more and more prominent. With a harsh grind against his pelvis, you crashed into your orgasm, full lips parting in a wordless cry as you gushed around him. You weren’t sure if you had screamed or not, as the blood rushing through your ears made it hard to audibly intake anything.

Feeling your walls clench in a fit of spasms, Alastor’s clawed talons gripped your neck and shoulder before pushing your entire form backwards; forcing your back to hit the bed behind you. With a snarling grin, Alastor fucked into you relentlessly as you continued to cum on his large, throbbing cock.

Eyes rolling back, you let out a pitched squeal that faded into a choked gasp as Alastor clenched his large, clawed fingers around the delicacy of your neck. Stuttering out Alastor’s name, you could barely coherently speak as the blood that circulated your body rushed south, his strong thrusts forcing your orgasm to intensify into a squirt, flooding his length with your orgasm-induced juices as he continued to abuse your cervix with his fat, wet and throbbing cock.

Needing something to grasp onto, your palms reached up to grab one of his pointed, fluffed ears as your other hand gripped the back on his head, forcing him down into a messy open-mouthed kiss.

Feeling his lips connect with yours. your cries become muffled, ceasing them to echo into the pits of the room and into the mouth of your lover. His reciprocation of the kiss forced your squirting cunt to prolong ever so slightly as your legs twitched around his hips. Yet despite your orgasm, Alastor seemed hell bent on fucking you back into submission. “Such a dirty girl, cumming all over me like that.” He teased you as he pulled away from the kiss. “It’s quite the sight when you take control, darling.” He had somehow managed to mumble through his sexual groans. “But I do love seeing you submit beneath me; so submit and cry for me.” He mumbled through his teeth as he thrusted into you at a pace that was sure to break your pelvis bone.

Lips trembling, you could barely hear your lover’s words, but the look he sent your way had you squeezing hard against his length. You loved egging him on, the rewards made it so worth it.

Would you be able to walk today? No. 

But will the ache be worth it? Yes.

Tilting your head back you let out a keening whine, eyes blurring with tears as your pelvis goes numb with the pleasure. Screaming out his name, your voice strained with how much you were screaming that your mind began to become dizzy, too overwhelmed, but also wishing that Alastor fucking you with such roughness and passionate love would never end.

As you yelled out his name again, his thrusts became uneven, uncontrollable. And as he continued to kiss your swollen and abused lips, Alastor’s cock stilled into your cunt as he released his own additional orgasm with an usual moan that echoed into your mouth. His movements twitched with every spurt that left his tip, forcing him to thrust against you when every new spill that exited his cock.

You swore you could hear him mumbling your name against your lips as he rode through his orgasm, and as your fingers latched around his face, he seemed so in love as he finally relaxed inside of you.

With a content moan, you trembled underneath him, body now aching in the best way as you became boneless. You craved to have him as close as possible, to have his heated skin flush against yours. Trailing your hands to travel up his back ever so gently, you ran your claws lightly up and down his back. "Fuck Al... i can barely feel my legs." You let out a breathless giggle, nuzzling into the crevice of his neck before pressing open mouthed kisses to any piece of skin you made contact with. "I hope you know I'm not leaving the bed today."

Pulling away from you, Alastor pressed a soft kiss against your lips before descending his head to your cunt. With wide eyes, you watched as he lifted your thighs over his shoulders, only to hover his face over your cum soaked core; his eyes not once leaving yours as he inhaled the musk of not only your cunt and its juices, but the musk of his own seed deeply.

Your eyes widen at his movement, your legs trembling as you suck in a sharp breath. "Al?" Your voice cracked as you knew if he even pressed his nose against your clit, it would sting in such a delicious way.

Choking a gasp, his face pressed against your core; his tongue flattened as he petted your clit. 

Mewling, you could only reach for his antlers as the pleasure and overstimulated pain he inflicted onto you had you conflicted on continuation. You could hear him almost growl as you tugged his antlers, seemingly unsure on whether you wanted him to pull away or carry on. 

But Alastor had seemingly decided for you as his claws latched into your thighs before he sunk his prolonged tongue into the depths of your cunt. Bucking against his mouth involuntarily, you let out a moan, not really understanding if it was induced by pleasure or pain.

Twisting your fingers you begin to stroke at the base of Alastor's antlers in retaliation, your hips twitching against his mouth from the pain. "Fuck!" You cried out with a stutter, panting so hard that your lips began to tingle.

How was this pleasurable? 

You had no idea how, but the warmth, sloppy and wet feeling of your lover's long tongue lapping at your walls began to feel less sore and more warm and tingly.

"Al, please!" You had no idea what you were begging for, but fuck did you need it. Feeling him tightening that stupid smirk of his against you, you cried out in overstimulated pleasure. His teeth grazing the lips of your cunt as he furthered his tongue within you; purposefully prolonging it to fill out your cum soaked walls.

You didn’t know how to feel as he drank up the juices of both of your and his evidence of cum that mixed within you, but you found it undeniably arousing. 

He wouldn’t stop, wouldn’t cease plunging his tongue in and out of you whilst smelling the flesh of your clit. His hair sticking against your sweat and cum soaked thighs as he became sloppily relentless with his pace.

“Al! Don’t stop!” Not caring that your voice reverberates through hell, you moan out loudly into the morning air, clamping your thighs against the sides of his face, further sticking him to you, needing him pressed against you.

“Use your teeth Al, please, I can barely feel anything.” Tears of frustration and overstimulation gather on your lower lashes as you grip his antlers harder, pulling him even closer, grinding against his tongue. “Please I need-“ you were practically babbling a stutter now, half delirious and half extremely aroused, your orgasm so close but not quite at the peak.

With a growl, he ragged his head away from your cunt, your palms being scratched deeply by the sharpened ends of his antlers as he pulled away. 

“Can’t feel anything?” He bared his teeth. “Greedy little darling, aren’t you? Always begging for more despite me going above and beyond for you.” His claws latched around your face, squishing your cheeks together as his tentacles slowly began appearing behind him menacingly. “I’ve had an awful day, my love. And I thought my lovely little darling could help alleviate some of that for me; but no.” His claws became sharper before he stuffed them into your cunt. “You always have to beg for more, don’t you?” Every word rumbled from his throat with anger and pause, making sure every single word was pronounced individually as his fingers rammed deeply into you along with every pronunciation.

"N-no Al that's not what I mea-“ Eyes widening at the switch from his soft tongue to his sharp claws had you drooling – head going empty, the pain travelling up your spine sharply and making you dizzy.

“I’m sorry you had- AH! A bad day-“ Barely able to get the words out with how aggressive Alastor was ramming his fingers into you, you truthfully felt bad; remorseful. But since your mouth was the one that got you into this situation, if hurting you slightly for being a brat would help your lover calm down, you would do it happily, and with a smile.

Baring your neck at Alastor you let out a soft moan. “You can take your frustrations out on me, I’m yours to do with as you please, Al.” Closing your eyes tightly, you attempted to ignore the way your walls clamped down on his fingers from the mere thought of being covered in his sharp, sloppy bites and hickeys.

Growling yet again, he leaned into your neck before piercing his sharp, pointed teeth into your flesh, forcing pools of blood to seep against his tongue as he continued to ram his fingers into you; his cum and your juices sputtering out of you with every push. 

Sucking the ink of blood that he had forced out of your skin, he lifted his mouth away from your throat, your blood dripping from the corners of his mouth before he spoke. “You just can’t help but be conflicting can you? Always good, always bad; the only thing you’re consistent at is being mine aren’t you? Dirty girl.” He spat as his fingers never relented, and before you could attempt to touch him, his black appendages wrapped around your limbs, holding them down tightly against the bed.

Writhing against the cool shadow-appendages you started to cry, you couldn’t help it, this was a new overwhelming sensation, the urge to be good outweighing anything else, the ache of the bite helping you go into this new headspace. No words could escape, not even moans, your chest locked up as your vision swirled.

All you could realistically do was do what he wanted; be his good girl and take it. And that’s what you did, what you had to do. Blinking the tears out to clear your vision, your breath hitched at that sight that greeted you: Alastor above you, his tongue lapping up the remnants of your blood, his tentacles pinning you down as he fucked his cum back into you at a painful pace.

The sun in hell had begun to rise, lighting up one side of the man above you. His eyes locked onto yours, the sunlight highlighting the cum and blood that still coated his mouth, his chest and lower stomach in a light sheen from his sweat and your cum. He was so attractive, especially like this. Closing your eyes, you couldn’t help but cum at the sight before you. 

How did you manage to get the attention of the Radio Demon to begin with?

[macabr3-barbi3]

CTRL ALT DELETE- Task Manager (Vox/Reader)

Something's up with Vox and you offer to help troubleshoot- it both does and does not go how you're expecting it to.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/54688282

The least serious thing I've ever written: inspired by the time i started a timer in class one day to see how long my teacher talked about her son instead of teaching us; i ended up realizing 4 months later that i never stopped the timer and it was just running in the background and making my shit slow that entire time lmao there's a screenshot in the ao3 notes

Tags: Stress Relief, Sexual Tension, Chair Sex, Vaginal Fingering, Begging, Computers. Dirty Talk, very basic knowledge of computers

<3<3<3<3<3<3

Your new boss seemed stressed. 

Not in the usual way that he was stressed, either- the note from the assistant you had replaced was that usually when Vox was having an off day he would call for Valentino or have you pull a list of low earners for the month, banishing you from the room in either case. But he hadn’t spent any time with Val in months, basically the entire time that you’d been working with him as a personal assistant after getting promoted from a stage grunt for the news channel.

You had thought for a bit that he might make a move- that maybe that was why he promoted you, that he was charmed enough by you to end the on/off thing he had going on with Val, which made sense based on the timing. But when you tested that theory recently- made double entendres, brushed your hands against his arms or leg or back, blatantly invited him out for dinner and drinks- he didn’t seem interested. He declined your invite, allowed you to touch him without being overcome with lust, and the sex jokes just seemed to go whoosh. 

Right over his head. 

He was on edge and twitchy. He took longer to respond to things than he normally did, his processors slow, occasionally getting a ‘buffering’ message that flashed across his screen when someone asked a question. His hypnotic eye seemed to be suffering as well, the swirls having slowed down now to the point that they were no more mesmerizing than watching paint dry. It was frustrating and enraging him, and in turn frustrating you- he was fucking hot when he was angry, which didn’t help your attraction to him that he was ignoring. 

He was sitting at his desk in the control room when you entered, head in his hands as he stared at a piece of paper on his desk. The monitors were all lit behind him, showing recorded footage of the Tower throughout the day- you spotted a short recording of yourself talking to some of the marketing team a few hours ago. Like a Valentino caricature he read the paper, blinked his eyes a couple times, read it again. Picked it up and pulled it closer to his face like that would help, and his screen scrolled the words along the bottom like his internal system was trying to transcribe it so something he could understand. He finally dropped the paper with a groan, letting it flutter to the floor where it slipped under his chair and stopped just before you. 

“Are you okay, sir?” The question is out before you can stop it, and as was the normal recently it took a few minutes for him to answer. 

“I don’t know what’s wrong with me,” he muttered, swiveling around to look at you. He clutched the sides of his screen, eyes narrowed and mouth delayed in its movements as he spoke. “I feel like I can’t focus on anything. I can’t process anything. My- just, fucking everything is slow and useless in my head right now! How am I supposed to be a master media manipulator when I can’t fucking concentrate for more than two minutes at a time?”

“You have seemed more… stressed than usual,” you agree. “Are none of your usual relaxing activities helping? Or have you done any troubleshooting?”

He raises an eyebrow. “Pardon?”

“Troubleshooting,” you say again, and at his blank stare you chuckle a little. “You know, doing a couple ‘quick fix’ things to see if that’s what’s causing the problem. Do you have like, a cache or something that you have to clear? An archive dump to get rid of old files?” You let your eyes track his body from top to bottom. “I’m not super familiar with how your… anatomy works?”

God, but you wanted to be.

He blinks a couple times. “I think I used to have someone that did that for me,” he says. “Years ago. I fired them because it didn’t seem necessary, I was running perfectly fine.”

“Yeah, well, that might be what the problem is.” You offer him a soft smile. “Sometimes stuff will work in sub-optimal conditions for a while before it starts causing issues. I used to do programming customer support when I was alive- it’s been a while but I could take a look if you want?”

His mouth twists in a frown. “I guess so,” he agrees. “I’m desperate enough to try anything. I need to be able to fucking concentrate if the Vees are gonna stay on top, everyone fucking knows that Val is hopeless with the business aspect of everything.” He gets the buffering symbol on his screen for a few seconds, groaning and shaking his head as he clears. “What do you need access to?”

“Do you have a way to access your… system? Externally,” you clarify. “I’m not a surgeon- I don’t plan on cutting into you to get to anything.”

Vox gestures behind him. “I can hook up to the monitors,” he says, “but we’ll have to be pretty close, doll. I have to be sitting here to be hooked up, and since this is the only chair, looks like this will have to be your seat.” He pats a hand on his thighs, not so much an invitation as a statement.

You fucking wished. You know this isn’t him trying to initiate anything though- you’d been trying for long enough that you’re ready to give it up and just accept that your hot, overlord boss didn’t want to fuck you. Helping him out felt more important than that anyway, so you would do your best.

“You got it,” you say, and cross the remaining space to perch yourself gracefully on his lap. You push the inappropriate thoughts about how firm his muscles are underneath you- how exactly did this man’s body work? Was it really just his head that was not organic matter?- and let him rotate the chair back to face the monitors.

The sight is intimidating, as is the position- you’re surrounded by reflections of yourself from every angle, Vox’s lithe frame seated behind you. This is where he does most of his business, the background site of everything that VoxTec handles. And he’s trusting you to help him fix whatever is wrong with him so he can get back to handling all of that, free of distraction.

You watch as thick wires come up from the floor to plug into the back of his head, the sharp hiss making you wonder if it was painful or intrusive. You won’t ask though, not when you’re getting ready to try to restore him to his usual ruthless self; he might consider that to be prying.

He pulls something up on the main monitor, the one that sits directly across from you, and waves a hand to it. A little keyboard and mouse emerge from the desk as the monitor powers on, and when you glance back you can see the same thing reflected on his face. “Have at it,” you hear him say, even though you can’t see his mouth moving.

Ignoring his open programs for the time being in case he needs any of them, the first thing you do is go in and clear his archived files. He’s got entire terabytes of useless information; employee records for people that have been dead or fired for decades; funny videos that he saved; resources for old news stories that are no longer relevant. Some of it you help him upload to a cloud server- after explaining to him what a cloud server is- and create files to designate for actual important shit.

You find the internal browser that he uses to pull information on the fly and help him clear the cache and cookies.

You help him sort security footage from Vee Tower and get rid of stuff that wasn’t actually necessary, like the short bits of static and dead air that happened whenever he used the cameras to teleport around the building. Everything that he has saved about mentions of that fucking radio demon also goes into the garbage. There are some files you can’t access, things like his memories and day to day recordings of conversations and things that he personally is part of. 

You delete what you can and empty the recycling bin.

As the process has gone on, Vox has relaxed more and more behind you. “I still don’t feel completely back to normal,” he murmurs, “but this is already loads better. It’s like a massage directly on my brain. You know, if I still physically had one.”

You hit the keys to open his task manager- CTRL ALT DELETE. “Unholy fuck- Jesus, sir, if you thought that was good this is gonna feel orgasmic,” you say absently, scrolling through the opens apps and programs that he has running. Has this man ever closed anything? You hadn’t realized a person or device could even have so many things going at once. “Do you just leave everything open in the background?”

He peers around your shoulder, bracing his hands on your hips as he sits up a little straighter. The movement causes your stomach to drop, arousal threatening to make itself known, but you push the notion down as he sets his hands back on the arms of the chair. “I guess so?” He watches you scroll through the extensive list. “I guess it just never occurred to me to close them. Opening the programs to use is just like my stream of consciousness I suppose.”

“Kay, well, that’s stopping now.” You click on the first item on the list- VoxtaGram. “I recommend closing non-essential stuff out at least once a month. More, if you have the time to go through everything. For now, just in case, there is something important we’re gonna go through some of the more recently opened things, set them up to open automatically when you start up, before we reboot your system- wait, can we reboot your system entirely without killing you?”

“No worries there, dear. I can, I just haven’t done it in years because it can take a while to start back up afterwards.” He sneers at the social media page. “You can close that shit. Any of Velvette’s crap she can handle on her own. Same with any of the fucking games that Val loads up when he’s bored- can I delete those entirely? Or block them? Fucking moth and his blue-light addiction…”

You get through a lot of the list, Vox kind of dozing off and only passively participating in the process. You’ve got the gist of it; things like his news sources, contacts list and phone, and the notes app are staying open and set to automatically launch when he does reboot and start back up. Pretty much everything else is closed out, things he pulled up for two seconds weeks ago to check on something or another before abandoning it. You’re making excellent progress when the next thing on the list gives you pause.

“Vox? Why is this- oh my god.” You can’t help it- you start laughing, throwing your head back to rest on his shoulder as you look at what’s now displayed on the screen.

A stopwatch had apparently been started and never stopped. The elapsed time was over three thousand hours, which came out to something like four months if your mental math was correct. He had had this running constantly in the background since you had started working for him, possibly even before. “I think I found the problem,” you chuckled, and his eyes were narrowed as he looked at the timer continuing to tick. “What is this?”

“What the actual fuck?” He buffers for a second- and you’re pleased to note that it’s already much faster than it has been lately- before you hear a dinging sound coming from him. ‘Fucking Hell, I should have known this was all Valentino’s fault.” He drags a clawed hand down his screen in an imitation of a facepalm. “I was timing him. He was fucking ranting about Angel Dust again while we were in a strategy meeting with Velvette- I had the stopwatch going to see how much of the hour session he wasted talking about that whore. I must have forgotten to turn it off.” He barks out a laugh, throwing his head back with the force of it while you look at him with amusement. “I’m gonna owe you big time for this, doll, you’re a lifesaver.”

You close the app out with a smile. “Just trying to help,” you say. “I think that was probably the worst of it- do you want to just try rebooting now?”

He lets out a groan when the app closes, and the sound shoots through your body straight to your core. “Go for it, hun,” he says, eyes closed as he leans back against the chair. “I think I’m good to go now, but it can’t hurt. You were right, sorting this shit out feeling fucking good.”

You’re suddenly very aware of the dampness of your panties as you bypass ‘kinda horny’ straight to ‘fuck me on this desk.’ You scold yourself mentally: Don’t jump your boss. He’s trusting you to help him right now- do not take advantage of that. Do not ride his leg like you very clearly want to because his voice is fucking hot. Fucking focus.

You clear your throat, closing out the task manager and hitting the button to restart him. “See you in a bit, sir.”

You stay seated on his lap just in case- he might still have something he wants you to do when he comes back online, some settings you could apply to close out things that are used for more than a week or so. It’s definitely not because you like the feeling of his strong thigh underneath you, tantalizingly close to your cunt if you, by chance, decided to tilt your hips forward and start grinding down on him. 

After just a few minutes get a message on the main monitor telling you to wait a moment- things start popping up on the other screens surrounding the central one, and it takes you a moment to recognize the pattern.

Its all videos of you- shot from Vox’s perspective, and a mortifying blush takes over your face. They’re all the moments that you had tried coming onto him. The innuendos and subtle entendres, the times that you touched him, pressed yourself against him in a tight space despite having another way to get to the copy machine, when you had invited him out for dinner. There’s also videos where he had just been watching you, apparently, taken from a distance as you spoke with Velvette or passed instructions along to a member of the team or discreetly tried to hide behind a vending machine when you noticed  Val coming into a room. 

There’s a satisfied grumble behind you, and before you can turn to look at him Vox has settled his claws onto either side of your waist and shifted you over a bit, to rest directly on the erection straining his pants. 

Which is a surprise, albeit a pleasant one.

“Thanks for the reset, doll,” he says, and his voice is a quiet growl as he lets his hands wander from your waist to your hips and back again, claw tipped fingers catching on the fabric. “I got a chance to look at some files while I was under and found quite the treat in your logs.”

This could either be very bad or very, very good. “Sir-”

“You know, I’m usually pretty good at picking up what a woman is putting down. Imagine my surprise when I realize you’ve been coming onto me for weeks and my shit was so fucked up and bogged down that I didn’t even notice. Like that?” He uses one hand to point to a screen in the far left of the central monitor, while he snaked his other hand down to rest on your thigh, his hand large enough to encompass the muscle at the edge of your skirt. On the screen, you had come to his office to drop off meeting notes for something you attended on his behalf. You had dropped the stack as you came around his side of the desk, and got down fully on your knees to pick them up, glancing up at him through your lashes. You blush watching it now- it had seemed obvious to you even then, but watching it now, the way that Vox had seen it? When he didn’t say anything about you being face level with his prick you had used a hand on his thigh to brace yourself to stand up, letting your fingers run along the inner seam of his trousers when you rose back to standing. Still no reaction, and you had left his office equal parts turned on and irritated with yourself. Him not having acted on it had been the final nail in the coffin cementing the fact that he was not interested in the slightest.

You let out a weak exhale as the Vox sitting under you gets his other hand in the same position as the first, using his grip to ever so slightly spread your legs on his lap. He lets his fingers skim your inner thighs and you shake with the effort of not begging him to just touch you. This was delicious, agonizing torture.

“Had I been in my right mind for that display, baby, I would have fucking ṛ̣̬̫̍͌ͩ͟ụ̴̴̾̀͟͡i̧̻̻͉̜͑ͪ̾͟n̫̫̘̗͕̲̲̎ͥḛ̡̰̳͓̥ͬ͋ͪͧd̶̵̯̯̼̘ͨ̓ y͙͙̪̰ͫ͌́o͙͙̙̘̙ͤͫ͞ụ̴̴̾̀͟͡.” His voice crackles and glitches on the last words, and the sound of it forces a moan from your throat as you let your head fall back. You clutch your hands to the arms of the chair as his tongue- and who even really knew he had a tongue, what the fuck?- licks down the side of your jaw and at your exposed neck. “I would have had you choking on my cock before getting a taste of that sweet cunt and fucking you into the desk for hours.”

One hand finally slips under the edge of your skirt and you shiver when his fingers make contact with your soaked core. “Is that what you want now, babygirl? You want me to give you my cock as thanks for helping to set me straight? To make up for lost time?” He slides a finger under the thin material of your panties, groaning in your ear at how slick he finds you. “That’s what I want, doll. I want you to ride me so hard you go stupid with the feeling, and you never feel whole without some part of me in your cunt for the rest of for-fucking- ḛ̡̰̳͓̥ͬ͋ͪͧv̹̹̘̼̞̻͆ͩ̓ͪ͢ḛ̡̰̳͓̥ͬ͋ͪͧṛ̣̬̫̍͌ͩ͟.”

“Fuck, please,” you gasp out, the word devolving into a cry as Vox finally slides a finger into you, mindful of the claws as he pushes in and quickly follows the first with a second. He uses his free hand to hold your hips still as you try to grind into his digits, keeps you held firmly against his erection as you squirm in pleasure.

His sharp fingertips angle to prod gently at a spot inside of you that has you seeing stars; your eyes are clenched shut as you ride the feeling, so close to the edge you feel like you’re going to implode with the force of it when you finally tip over. “Fuck, sir, please, so c-close,” you mumble, and his tongue is back to licking at whatever parts of your skin it can reach.

“You wanna come like this, sweetheart?” The main monitor in front of you glitches out, and when it comes back into focus you see yourself on the screen- like a mirror, you’re reflected, and you can see Vox’s grinning face behind you. Your skin is flushed, sweat dripping down your face, the hint of tears along your lashline as your mouth drops open when he adds a third finger. “Look fuckin’ beautiful, baby, you were made for this- maybe we give Valentino a call, he could-”

“No!” You release the arms of the chair to grab onto his wrists where his hands meet your body. “No one- no one but you, sir. Vox, please, l- let me come. Please?” You let a little whine into your voice, and you can see the way his mouth goes lax and his eyes laser-focus on where you’re grabbing at his hands.

“I didn’t mean to join us, dollface, just to record- but you’re right, you’re right.” He pulls his fingers from your pussy, slicing the center of your panties in the process before he brings his digits to his mouth- you watch on the screen as he curls his tongue around each one, licks the flavor of you from his skin and glitches out at the taste. “How could I possibly share such a fucking vision with anyone else?

He shifts you to one side so he can get his dick out, and the sight of it in the monitor, his own arousal beading at the top and rock hard, has you whimpering before it’s even inside of you. He carried himself like a man with a big cock, but Christ.

“Hope you like what you see, hun, cause it’s all yours.” He scoots forward in the seat, tilts his hips forward for the right angle, and moves you back into your previous position with ease- this time, the tip of him is pushing inside you, and you watch in the monitor as you sink inch by glorious inch onto him.

Once you’re fully seated, Vox seems to lose capability for rational thought. “Fuck me, you’re perfect,” he moans, bracing his feet more firmly on the ground to thrust up into you, getting a firm grasp on your hips to pull you down into it. The result is a beautiful stab at that sweet spot inside of you that makes you clench and cry out, watching Vox’s hypnotic eye start spiraling at its normal speed on the screen, and you can see backwards scrolling text of his stream of thoughts- a bunch of nonsensical letters and cuss words interspersed with your name. “I want to fucking- chain you to my desk so I can have this perfect pussy whenever I want it. Fuck, I can’t believe we- we could have been doing this for weeks.” He punctuates his sentence with a hard thrust.

“A-all the more reason to regularly clear your task manager, sir,” you say, so caught up in the feeling of him railing you from below that you can hardly believe you formed a coherent thought. He feels so fucking good and you’re a hair trigger away from collapsing and wringing him for all he’s got.

With one quick movement he’s shifted, and there’s a hand on your throat arching you backwards at the same time that he gets a couple clawed fingers rubbing at your clit. The shock of the combination makes you flutter around his length, a choked noise escaping your throat before he tightens his grip- not enough to really cut off your air supply, but enough that your brain starts going soft and mushy and the vice grip your cunt has on his cock gets impossibly tighter. You can see the shine of your slick arousal coating him every time he pulls out to rut back into you, and the sights and sounds are threatening to rip you into the chasm of ecstasy that you’re flirting with. 

“Vox,” you whine, “please, I’m so fucking- please please please-“ 

“Christ, babygirl, whatever you fucking want.” His eyes are wide and frantic as they watch the place you’re joined, his mouth set in a snarl as he fucks into your pliant body. The cry you release is nothing short of agonized- it’s so fucking close you can taste it, nearly overwhelmed with the tension.

“You wanna fucking cum on my cock? Do it, angel, let me see it- come on, baby, cum for me-“

Your walls clench down hard as you reach your orgasm, Vox’s grip on your throat making your vision and mind go fuzzy with the force of it as you choke on a moan that tries to escape your tensed muscles. You’re distantly aware of Vox thrusting hard into you, more praise and curses falling from his lips as he hits his peak as well, pressing his screen to the side of your face when he relinquishes his handle on your throat to clutch at your hips and grind into your cunt as he spills inside of you. The aftershocks of your release leave you twitching, milking his cock of everything he has to offer before he collapses into the chair behind you, a boneless pile of a man now simply running his hands over any bit of skin he could reach. 

It’s truly a testament to how helpful the reset and reboot had been that Vox’s system doesn’t simply crash. “Fucking Hell, I haven’t felt this good in decades,” he mutters in your ear, and you shiver at the feeling of his tongue brushing the sensitive skin.

“Ha, you think that’s the reboot or the mind-melting orgasms?”

He hums contentedly. “Jury’s out on that, doll. Guess we’ll have to do a re-run on both and see how it stacks up to this one.”

“I’ll make sure to schedule some time out for it,” you chuckle before fixing him with a stern glare through the monitor. “I’m serious about clearing your apps and shit more frequently though. Christ, you had decades of backed up shit open-“

“Don’t berate me while my dick is still inside you, fuck.” He leans you forward far enough to pull out, and you grimace at the feeling of his cum starting to spill back out of you. He notices the expression though- “Whoops, sorry,” he says, and after a quick second during which he tucks his softening prick away he scoops you into his arms, standing from the chair and stepping away from the desk. “Let’s get you cleaned up at the penthouse, angel, what do you say?”

“If you’re carrying me then lead the way.” You gesture towards the door out of the control room. “Just don’t start any timers to see how long it takes to get there or anything and we should be good.”

The glare he fixes you with shouldn’t be hot, but it fucking is. “Hardy har,” he deadpans, and rolls his eyes while he stalks towards the elevator, control room door closing behind you; but there’s a small smile on his screen despite his ire and he’s functioning normally, and when you see the little stopwatch icon pop up in the bottom right corner of his face and start counting, you can’t help but laugh.

[lizard-on-a-window-pane]

Exposed

pairing: Miguel O'Hara x reader summary: You come back from a mission with a tear in your suit. Miguel's reaction to what he sees underneath surprises you in the best way. tags / warnings: smut (minors do not interact!), p in v, fem reader, sassy spider-reader word count: 2.3k

You were coming back from a successful mission. Anomaly eliminated. No casualties. Well, except your spider-suit. An annoyingly claw-y bad guy had swiped at you from behind, and even though you’d just managed to dodge his attack, he’d nicked your suit and sliced a long strip of it down your side, from your back all the way down to the top of your thigh. Half your ass cheek was exposed, but you were so exhausted it was beyond you to care. You’d be suit-free and in bed soon enough. You just had to report in to Miguel first. He’d ordered you to because this had been a “potentially significant anomaly.” There seemed to be more and more of those recently. And he seemed to be assigning them mostly to you. You didn’t know of any other spiders that had to report to him personally after missions so often. 

You could feel the cold on your lower back as you walked up to his HQ platform, it slowly descending in front of you. You hop up as soon as it’s low enough, wasting no time. Miguel’s back is to you as he watches what seems like a million screens at once.

“Mission successful, spider-boss.” “Don’t call me that.” You knew he hated that nickname. That’s why you kept using it. 

“You prefer spider-captain? Spider-chief? Oooh maybe spider-king? No, that doesn’t sound right. Aren’t spiders more matriarchal anyway? You could be spider-queen if you want. Has a bit of a bite to it.” “Y/N,” he deadpans. “Hm?” “Shut up.” “Yes, sir, spider-queen!” 

He finally turns around to look at you, exasperation all over his chiseled features. You catch the end of his eye roll. Knowing engaging will only get more out of you, he opts to go straight to business. “You eliminated the anomaly?” “Yup.”

“Cleaned up the contamination afterward?” “Like the top-class interdimensional janitor that I am.”

“Anything unusual?” “Well, there was this big scary dude with giant claws that was only ever black and white when the rest of the world was especially colorful. Soo that was weird.” “I mean other than the exact reason I sent you there in the first place.” He runs his hand over his face, the other on his hip, looking sassier than he probably intended. “Oh! Then no.” 

You come over to his desk, leaning on it.

“And you’re alright? No injuries or anything?” In the back of your mind, you notice his voice softening as he asks you this. 

“I’m good. More than I can say for my suit though,” you laugh. You lift from the desk, turning slightly, twisting to look at the tear, exposing it to Miguel. “Why’s it called ‘tearing someone a new one,’ huh? Doesn’t make any sense. I need a new one specifically because this one’s torn.” 

You don’t expect him to respond to your stupid question, but when you look up at Miguel, the look on his face is more than unexpected. His eyebrows are shot up, his mouth the slightest bit ajar, his eyes fixed intently on your exposed ass. 

For once, you have no idea what to say. Why was he looking at you like that? Were you in trouble? Just because this was a bit inappropriate? I mean, c’mon, you were all spider-people; you’d all had your fair share of injuries that needed patching up and the like. It felt like a big sports team: bodies rendered just bodies by the heat of battle. Of course, you’d never admit to anyone out loud that while that was true for all the other spiders in your eyes, Miguel was the sole exception. His body could never be just a body. It was too imposing… too striking… too beautiful. You caught yourself staring at him much more often than you liked. Always talked incessantly when he was around to keep yourself distracted and from looking like an idiot. Well, you still looked like an idiot after everything you said, but you were an idiot on your own terms, usually getting some laughs while you were at it. 

“Miguel?” You come up with nothing else. 

Your voice snaps him out of his trance. His eyes shoot up to your face, and he looks — what is that? you’d never seen that look on Miguel O’Hara… was it… flustered?

“Um, yes, uh, right. Your suit,” he’s looking around at his screens again, trying to look busy but you can tell his gaze isn’t actually taking in any of the images. “We’ll get you a new one.” 

The tension lessened and, more importantly, his eyes no longer on you give you back a bit of your confidence. 

“You in charge of tailoring too? You really gotta learn to delegate, spider-boss.” He doesn’t say anything. Not even with you specifically trying to push his buttons with the nickname. “Okayy…” you elongate. “So, can I go now?”

He just grunts, not sparing another look toward you.

You start walking back across the platform but remember a detail of the mission you had wanted to tell him before making it too far. 

“Oh, there was this thing with my watch —“ you start, but all words get caught in your throat when you see Miguel as you turn back toward him. He’s staring at you like a viscous predator just about to pounce. His chin is down but his eyes are on you, even darker than usual and penetrating. You can tell by the rise and fall of his ridiculously broad chest that his breathing is a bit labored. He’d clearly been looking lower than your face level, as his eyes shoot up to yours when you look at him.

Neither of you say anything for what feels like the longest, heaviest moment of your life so far. Then, in what feels like the quickest, he’s closed the distance between you, coming to a stop just in front of you, closer than he’s ever been to you before.

He’s towering over you. Any movement forward at all and you’d be touching. You’re sure he can feel your heavy breathing as you look up at him. You can feel his.  

He looks like he wants to murder you. But Miguel O’Hara has a way of encoding all emotions into shades of anger and aggression. And you’ve watched him closely enough for long enough to sometimes think you have an idea of what lies beneath. You haven’t cracked it completely, but you certainly see shades of gray where others see black and white. 

The stakes have never been quite this high for your getting it wrong, but hoping beyond hope that you know what he actually wants, you push your face the fraction of a distance to his, crashing your lips together. 

From the moment they graze, his hands are on you, groping your exposed ass with one, pulling you into him with the other. He devours your mouth, so feral you even worry for a split second about his fangs coming out. You’re so consumed by him you probably wouldn’t mind if they did.

Not breaking apart from you, Miguel takes the few steps back to his desk, dragging you with him. When the backs of his thighs come up to the desk, he flips you around so that you’re pushed up against it. You’re caged between it and his broad body as his hands continue exploring your body, his tongue continues exploring your mouth. 

At this point you can feel the huge bulge between his legs pressing against you, his spider-suit doing nothing to hide it, doing little to separate you from it. 

When his mouth leaves yours, dragging hungrily down to your jaw and neck, you whine his name. He groans in response, and you feel the vibrations where your chests are flush.

Taking the opportunity to do something you’d often dreamed of, you lift your hand and run it through his thick hair. His moans get louder, and you take it as a sign scratch and tug harder. 

You know you didn’t pull strongly enough to move him if he didn’t want to be moved, but he pops off from where he’s sucking on your neck and looks into your eyes. He gives you a harsh kiss then says simply, “Turn around.” You do. He bends you over his desk.

You feel his hands on your hips first then they squeeze your ass hard. He slaps your exposed cheek, and you jump at the sudden sensation. 

“Tell me if I’m too rough,” he says, voice low. 

You nod and confess, “I want it rough, Miguel. Please.” “Fuuck, chula. You drive me crazy.” You just whimper in response. 

He spanks you again then tears your suit further, exposing your entire ass and your by now soaked cunt. “You walk in here with half your ass out like it’s nothing. Like you can show me what I spend my nights imagining and expect me not to do anything about it.” He slaps your other ass cheek. “You’re soaked, mami. You wanted this as badly as I did?” You nod desperately. “Tell me what you wanted.” “Fuck, Miguel. You. I wanted you.” 

“You want me to fuck you?” You can already feel him messing with his suit. 

“Yes, fuck, please; please fuck me.” When the head of his cock touches your cunt, your entire body shudders with anticipation. He pushes in forcefully, your wetness enough for him to start sliding in. But he’s big. Really big. As he keeps pushing, you feel a bit of a sting. When he hears you hiss, he slows his entrance but doesn’t stop entirely. “Relax, nena,” he coos. His hands massage your hips. “Breathe, baby.” You take a long inhale, and by the time you’re exhaling, you feel him finally bottom out. “Eso, mi amor. Just like that. Fuck, you feel incredible.” “Migueel,” you whine. “Yeah, baby, I got you.” His hands tighten on your hips as he slowly drags his cock back out until only his tip is inside. You’d never felt so empty. Then he pushes back in, faster than the first time. And again. And again. 

Miguel’s pace quickens probably a bit faster than you’re ready for, but you love the intensity of the sensations. You love the feeling of him deep inside you, of him desperate to be deeper. You start rocking back in time with his thrusts, slamming your ass onto him. 

“Fuuuck.” His voice is gravel. One of his powerful hands comes to your shoulder to help pull and push you at his now brutal rhythm. He fucks you with a stamina only possible for a superhuman. You’re sure you wouldn’t be able to take it if you weren’t one yourself.

The large room echoes your slapping skin, your yells and moans as he spears into you repeatedly.

Your thighs tighten as you start nearing your climax. Your cunt starts squeezing tighter. “Fuck, fuck, eso, nena, eso,” he chants, getting even rougher. His praises start sounding strangled, and you know he’s close too. 

“Cum with me, Miguel,” you beg desperately. He groans animalistically at your words, giving you a strangled affirmative moan and pushing his pace to what you imagine is his limit. 

“C’mon, baby, cum for me, cum for me,” he urges. It’s easy to let go with how hard he’s fucking you. You can’t really feel the rest of your body except for a hot heaviness. All you feel is where you’re connected and how every thrust sends pure pleasure coursing through you. 

You’re orgasming a second later, and to the feeling of your clenching cunt and the sound of your euphoric screams, Miguel comes right after. 

You’re unable to keep up your movements, too spent and too blissed out, but he keeps thrusting, albeit slower, until you’ve both rode out the hardest orgasms of your life. Then and only then does he still, still inside you, and collapse onto your back. His broad torso covers you completely, warming you despite how sweaty you are now.

His labored breathing on the back of your neck tickles, sending a shiver down your body. He chuckles and peppers kisses on your neck and shoulder, pulling your suit down to kiss at more skin. 

He eventually lifts himself up; you were never going to push him off, that’s certain. You could spend forever under him, wrapped up in him. 

His strong hands lift your especially malleable body, turning you to face him and helping support you as you lean back on the desk. 

When your eyes meet, Miguel smiles at you. It stops your rapidly beating heart. 

One arm around you, his other hand pushes sweaty hair off your face then lingers there, caressing. 

“You okay?” he asks, voice softer than you’ve ever heard it. You just nod. He laughs. “What?” you giggle. “So that’s what it takes to make you stop talking, huh?” “Shut up!” you tsk, shoving his wall of a chest. He doesn’t budge at all, just catches your hand in his, bringing it to his face and kissing it. His lips linger over the skin of your fingers, the back of your hand. You trace them lightly, and they shift into a subtle grin. 

As you look into his big brown eyes, you’re pretty sure you know what this ever-thinning shade of serious is covering.

“Miguel?” 

“Hm?” He pecks your hand again. 

“All those missions… they weren’t ‘potentially significant’ were they?” 

He lowers your hand but keeps it in his. His gaze follows your hands down, looking away briefly, but he’s looking into your eyes again when he shakes his head ever so subtly. You hum in understanding. He just needed to make sure you were okay after.

After a beat, you whisper, “Can we stop pretending?” “That the missions are special?” “That what we feel for each other isn’t…” 

“Ah.” He looks torn. You know he thinks it’s dangerous, know he feels the weight of literally the entire universe on his very broad shoulders. You lean up and kiss him gently. 

“We can figure it out,” you whisper against his lips. His nose brushes yours as he nods then kisses you again. 

[velvet-paradox]

Oops!

Fandom: Call of Duty Pairing: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x Female reader Summary: you accidently call Simon while taking care of yourself. (got inspo from lovi on twitter) Length: Medium Warnings: NSFW 21+ ONLY, strong language, explicit content, porn with very little plot female masturbation, male masturbation, descriptive actions, anal mentions, toy mentions, A LOT of dirty talking, detailed smut. ENJOY!!!

It's not that his phone is ringing in the middle of the night. It's not even the fact he'd just finally drifted off to sleep either. When he fumbled and grumbled, (of course he was grumbling) Simon Riley wrote the book on the Art of the Grumble you were certain, he was just relieved it wasn't Price. He was exhausted and was thisfuckingclose to telling the captain to pound sand if he had to pull another fifteen hour shift on base!

But no, it was not captain Price and it wasn't Johnny either. The screen of his phone stark white, taunting him in the dark of his room, as the time and your name and picture popped up. The one he'd taken of you and König in Vienna.

What was this about now? Simon huffed, dark blonde brows forming together. You better not be calling him from the bar again, needing a ride home, not trusting anyone else to swoop in to the drunken rescue. You saved money on Uber's and he got to look after you.

WIn - win.

" 'ello bird, what is it this time?"

Silence.

"Foxy, come on now, it's late. If you need a ride jus--"

"Oh yeah, oh that feels so good." You said through your teeth, hissing from a bit of a distance. What was that? Were you getting laid? Jesus H. You sounded breathless, out of it until some more rustling and now your voice wasn't so clouded in mystery.

You whined out something fierce which both confused and interested to the masked devil.

"Fox, can you hear me? Bird answer m--"

Another low whine followed by a low and quiet buzzing. "Oh fuck, I wish you were here. Oh fuck that feels so good, bet you would have a fucking ball using this one me. Oh Simon… please!"

He sat up quickly, his ear to the phone burning hot, a blush of discovery rising through his naked body, Ghost ran hot most nights, even in the winter months and said fuck it about four years ago and slept nude. Either you were having a decent fucking shag with another man named Simon, or you were thinking about him.

Well what have we here, you little sly little fox?

"So glad I got that princess plug, this feels amazing. Oh Simon, if you only knew, if you only fucking knew the things I want from you. What I'd let you do to me, what I want -oohhh fuck too much too much--" you cried and the buzzing stopped abruptly. You were panting and humming and without a second thought Simon's hand was stroking his waking cock through his sheets.

And just what did you want him to do? Simon bit his lip as he listened in, pulling his phone away only for a moment, making sure the volume was at it's highest before he put it on speaker.

"O-oh god, yeah. I don't wanna' cum again just yet! Want you to tease me, tie me up and make a mess. Mmmm maybe you'd make me clean it up too. I'd ride your fucking boots if you asked!"

Oh. Simon was not expecting that sentence or the filthy way you moaned, satisfied with saying it out loud.

"Can I? Can I L.T. can I ride your boots, I'll clean up m-my mess, I promise. Mmm, sitting under desk, your personal desk bunny you're," you really started breathing hard then, whimpering as he could now make out a wet, splotching sort of noise. Oh fuck- you were fingering yourself now. "Your fucktoy. Oh god! Yeah, I wanna' be your little fuck toy. Use me. Use my mouth, use my fucking pussy, I am so wet right now, oh shit!" You giggled wetly to yourself, gasping and Simon could only imagine you adding another finger into your spongy hole.

A fucktoy? boot riding? a plug in your asshole with fingers in your cunt? You were a nasty, freaky little thing. Oh this was better than any video he had watched recently! Interactive as he continued to stroke himself with you, the sheet had earned a wet pre-cum spot and had to be pulled away, Simon put his head down and spat on his cock, smearing his saliva around the girthy crown of it.

You were a dirty girl.

He loved it.

You were demure in the halls, paid close attention to detail, slick and sly when you need be, hence your call sign being Fox. You were quiet but funny, witty and no one had a bad word to drop about about you. Your lore on how you ended up with the 141 was something of legend, a myth that one day you just appeared like an apparition and no one questioned why. Just roll with it. You didn't cause trouble, kept your nose down but you knew things about each team member that soldiers could only dream of knowing. A book of secrets. Clearly.

Simon chuckled darkly to himself all the things you could come up with, possibly thing he hadn't even heard of. Simon wasn't into the BDSM scene, he knew a variety of knots of course but to use them on someone, never given the opportunity. As he spat on his cock again, the image of your face appeared. Maybe you liked to be spat on in too. The cute little whimpers and gasps you were doing on your end might suggest you like a lot more than just spit.

"Simon please! Bet you feel good, I know y-you're big, you'd stretch me out. Make me gape for you, oh fuck that's so hot!" You're erratic, your sheets are rubbing together faster and you're now on the verge of squealing like a stuck piglet. "Hold me down, pull my hair, those big fucking hands of yours on me, in me. Oh baby, finger me nice and deep, deeper than I can reach."

You wanted him so desperately and that made the lieutenant fuck his fist faster, slippery and noisy and wet. His hard cock just sloppily going up and down his shaft, he squeezed the mushroom cap like head of it, felt himself jerk and twitch before going hands free. Slapping it against his messy palm.

"Talk me through it baby, tell me what to do, how to do it. How fast, how slo-ow, oh yeah that's nice. Oh fuck I can feel it coming, I'm gonna' cum again. Shit." You grunted and made the most delicious sound Simon had ever heard in his whole damn life.

You were moaning, tapping the gem of the plug if he were correct.

Tap tap, tap tap.

"Oh yeah! Fuck my ass, finger my pussy, make me cum. Make me squirt, shoot your fat fucking load all over my face. I'll be your best girl, I swear it I swear it! I'm gonna' cum if I pull this out now." You cried, panting to your little hearts' desire. Simon was close too, he did his best to match your moans and sobs of pleasure, planting his feet and bucking his defined hips.

"I'd cum just about anywhere on ya', Foxy." Simon grunted quietly to himself. "Foxy fucktoy. Mmmm that does 'ave a bit of a ring to it, aye? Bad fuckin' girl."

You slapped something then. Your face, a tit perhaps, your pussy but you were whining and carrying on and Simon had to shut his eyes, imagining you working the princess plug in and out.

Oh for fucks' sake, he'd sell his left nut to see your pretty face, worn out, fucked out, in bliss and pleasure, sticking your pink tongue out. Eyes rolled back as you continued to fuck your fingers in tandem with his own fist.

"Gonna' cum oh shit, I'm gonna' cum again. For you. Only for you, sir!" He could hear your sloppy fingers plunging in and out of you pussy, faster and faster, louder and louder you became.

"Oh fuck yes, Simon! Yes, sir!"

You came with a shout, groaning and grunting behind your teeth. You sounded absolutely feral, pornographic. He couldn't hold it back any longer either, Simon bit into his cheek and came into his hand, it shot up and onto his stomach, muscles tight as he coaxed the last dribbling bits of cum onto his skin. He gave his palm a 'good game' type slap with his cock, laying back further into his pillows.

God damn.

"Fuck that was good. If only, if only you were here mmmm." You finally huffed out. You rolled over, to whatever side of your bed or maybe just readjusted yourself and your toys but he heard a clank of something and then your voice, clear as day. "What the fuck…oh my god. Oh no! Oh please don't be a voice note!"

Simon had to chuckle at your change in attitude.

"Oh for the love of… please be asleep. Pleasepleaseplease L.T. be asleep. I didn't mean to call --"

"On the contrary love," Simon held up his phone to his mouth, he heard you gasp on the other end. "I heard every last word and you sounded so damn fine. Bet you're glowing after coming so damn hard," you scrambled for words on your line, mumbling out a sorry excuse for an apology. He clicked his teeth at you like one would a horse. "Ah ah, Foxy. If there's a green Post-it on my door when I wake, your wish will be my command. And I am often fond of those aren't, Fox?"

"Very much so, sir."

"That's a girl. Now why don't you go get cleaned up and get some rest. Depending on your answer, soldier, you just might need it."

Simon chuckled to himself when he rose that morning, his entire door was covered with little green Post-its and none were the wiser when you passed each other in the mess hall.

[bangtanficsforyou]

Fine Line (JJK)

Pairing: Jungkook x Reader.

Au: Enemies to lovers.

Word count: 2.4K

Genre: angst, smut, fluff (i am ninety percent sure I'll write a part two at some point with all the spice)

Summary: You hate Jungkook. Jungkook hates you. It's simple. Until it isn't.

A/N: here's my patreon for early access to all my works and exclusive drabbles and aneek peaks!

Part two here!

"You're beautiful," he speaks loudly to be heard over the loud blaring music.

"Thank you," you express your appreciation not only through your words but also through your red hot cheeks and shy smile.

His hand tightens around your waist as the both of you sway gently along with the music. "You're welcome, pretty."

Chuckling, you place one of your palms on his chest and look up at him.

The night has been filled with subtle touches, light teasing and full of laughter. You didn't expect you'd have this much fun when you agreed to go on a date with the guy you matched with, a few weeks ago. But it has been a pleasant surprise so far and you have been feeling glad over the decision of going out tonight.

You both dance with low giggles and occasional compliments are thrown in the air. That is until the music changes into something more upbeat.

"Would you like to go to the bar?"

You're relieved on hearing that question and couldn't agree sooner. It's not unknown to you that with the change of music comes the typical club activity aka grinding on each other. And you're not in the mood for that so it's rather wise to remove yourself from the dance floor.

One might question, why then did you choose a club of all places? Simple reason, a crowded place is safe for a first date. Why not a restaurant? Because you were not really that excited about the date at first and a restaurant felt a bit too intimate. What if there's no flow of conversation? What will you do then? Sit there awkwardly and enjoy the sounds of knives and forks?

Hence, clubbing.

You two sit yourselves next to each other on stools and ask the bartender to make the both of you drinks. Something sweet for you, something strong for him.

"What's the last book that you have indulged yourself in?"

You perk up at the mention of books. You had mentioned to him previously that you absolutely love reading books and you would stay in fictional worlds if you could. And you're impressed that he remembers that small piece of detail.

You tell him about the book you're currently reading and all the reasons why you love it. You get even more excited when he adds his recent reading experiences and from then on, there's no stopping the chit-chat between you two.

The conversation moves on from books to people in both of your lives and then to food and then lord knows, to what.

At some point, you both get tipsy and you can tell he's more affected by the drinks than you are. It gets to the point where you feel like it's better for him to head home now before he gets to a stage where he cannot get home by himself.

"You should probably stop with the drinks now," you suggest, softly. "Would you like for me to book you a cab?"

He dismisses your words with a wave of his hand. "Nah, sweetheart, I am only getting started."

He throws his hand in the air and before you can register what's happening, he's placing them over your shoulders. His fingers rub the skin of your arms and he grins at you. You squirm in your seat, suddenly finding his grin to be not that attractive. You try to tell yourself that there's nothing to be scared of, some people tend to get a little touchy when they get drunk.

"The night has only got started, sweetheart," he mutters, getting incredibly close to you. You think he's attempting that thing where someone whispers in your ears in a sexy gruff voice in hopes that it'd be attractive. But if anything, you shiver in disgust and fear.

You try to put some distance between the two of you but he doesn't budge. It's only when you put a little more force that you're successful at your attempts.

He's taken off guard by your sudden use of force but his surprise fades and he smirks. "Do you like it rough, babygirl?"

Okay, that's it.

"I need to go use the washroom," you come up with the most basic excuse ever but you doubt in his drunk state, he'd ever pay attention to how lame you sound.

You're right in your assumption that he doesn't pay attention. However, he's not happy that you're leaving him. "You should not leave me here. We should leave together for my place."

The lopsided grin on his face makes your stomach churn in a bad way. Before you can get a word out to come up with some excuse, a glass of shot is being placed in front of him.

"Sir, your order," the bartender says and that seems to be the magic words as he seems to forget that he had an issue with you leaving him moments ago.

You ease up a little bit and don't miss the look the bartender is giving you. She seems to be telling you with her eyes that she will make sure that your date doesn't follow you.

The relief on your face is the only thing that serves as a mode of expressing your gratitude as you quickly flee the spot. Not knowing any place better, you actually do find yourself in the washroom. What if you were to stand outside the club and somehow he catches up with you? In the washroom, at least there will be other girls.

You take your phone out and hesitate for a brief moment. Would it be the right thing to do to ask your best friend, Jisoo, to come and pick you up? You could take a cab but with the sudden turn of events, you feel scared to be alone.

Pushing your hesitance aside you shoot her a text, knowing she would be very mad if she were to learn you didn't text her when in need.

You: can you please come and pick me up?

Jis 🥵: sure can

Jis 🥵: but is everything alright?

You chew on your lower lip and decide this is no time to go into details.

You: I'll tell you once I reach home

Jis 🥵: sure

Jis 🥵: i can see your location

Jis 🥵: I'll be there in fifteen

You sigh in relief when you read the text. You wait for exactly twelve minutes before stepping out of the washroom, getting a little impatient to get out of the club.

However, the moment you step out, you're met with a figure that you recognise immediately. Jungkook. And by the looks of it, he looks agitated about something as he looks at his phone screen.

You're no fool to think that Jungkook being here is a mere coincidence and walk towards him. The sound of your heels catches his attention and he looks up, finally noticing you.

"Why are my calls not reaching you?" He asks, looking absolutely pissed. Any other time, you'd have felt extremely satisfied at that but you fail to feel any of that right now.

To address his question, his calls are not reaching you because you have him blocked. Why?

Before answering the why, you should probably get into how you and Jungkook know each other.

You see Jisoo has a boyfriend, Taehyung. And Taehyung, bless his sweet soul, has an absolute devil of a best friend, Jungkook.

You never imagined that you'd ever have this much animosity with your best friend's boyfriend's best friend. But for some reason unknown, you and Jungkook just simply do not get along. You both are involved in constant bickering, pulling pranks and throwing insults at each other.

Which leads to the why, you have Jungkook blocked. Last time, he posted an advertisement on his social media saying there's a need for someone who can do a good Minnie Mouse impression and put your phone number at the bottom of it. For several days people kept calling you asking if they can give you their demo. Some didn't even bother asking, they thought saying hello in the Minnie Mouse voice would earn them brownie points. It made you so incredibly furious that out of sheer pettiness, you blocked Jungkook.

"Why are you here?" You ask instead of answering his initial question.

"What? I'm your prince charming for tonight," Jungkook smirks, his previous agitation melting away and it immediately irks you. "I heard you needed a ride and so here I am."

Your eyes follow his and you immediately shake your head when you realise he's asking you to get on his bike. Jungkook and his bike go hand in hand, so much so that you hadn't paid attention to it when you first saw him. However, now you feel incredibly stupid for not realising any sooner that his bike is supposed to be your ride for the night.

"No, no, no, I'm not getting on that," you shake your head vehemently.

Jungkook raises a brow. "You have no other choice, sweetheart."

"I'll book a cab," you grumble, knowing very well that you are not quite fond of that idea.

"I'm already here. Just get on the bike Y/N."

You don't reply for a few moments before sighing when you realise how your argument is incredibly stupid. "Fine."

Jungkook grins and gets on the bike. He starts the engine and motions you to take your seat. You hesitate for a moment but then get behind him. He hands you a helmet before putting one on himself.

You wait for him to start the bike but you are confused when Jungkook doesn't do so. "What are you waiting for?"

"For you to wrap your arms around me," just by the tone of his voice, you can tell he's enjoying this thoroughly.

You scoff. "Why would I ever do that?"

Your question is answered when he revs the engine and the force of it makes you stumble forward. Involuntarily, your arms wrap around his torso as you cling to him for dear life.

"There's my good girl," Jungkook comments with a cheeky grin on his face and takes off.

With how fast he's going, you find yourself feeling scared and hold on to him tighter. His hard back presses against your chest and you rest your chin on his right shoulder, soon finding the position comfortable and despising it at the same time. You both spend the entire journey to your place in this manner and in absolute silence.

You're surprised at how quickly you reach your destination. It's like his motorbike flies. Untangling yourself from Jungkook, you get off the bike. You remove the helmet and throw it at him, not wanting to spend another moment in his presence.

But before you can walk inside your home, he grabs your hand. "Woah, woah, woah. Do I not get a thank you?"

"Fuck off, asshole," you roll your eyes and free yourself from his grip. You're aware that if you were to ask anyone they'd tell you, you are the one who's being an asshole but you and Jungkook simply do not share the kind of dynamic, where one thanks the other. If it were Jungkook in your place, he'd probably say something cheeky or call you names. He'd do everything but not say thank you.

You take the key out of your purse and are about to unlock your door, when you're swiftly turned around in the blink of an eye and the next thing you know, you are caged between your front door and Jungkook.

"What do you want, Jungkook?"

The corner of his lips lift up. "A simple thank you."

You smile too, the only difference being yours is sarcastic. "Thank you so much Jungkook for coming to pick me up because Jisoo asked you to."

"She didn't ask me to," he replies, immediately, shaking his head. The action causes a few of his curls to fall on his face and with him being this close to you, you let your mind drift to how easy it would be for you to just gently remove those strands out his face. However, you control yourself, getting annoyed with the whole situation.

"Of course, she didn't ask you to! You came because you wanted to really help me." Your words are so sweet that they drip venom.

Jungkook observes you closely, before curiosity gets the best of him. "Why do you hate me so much?"

You're caught off guard by his question. The hate between you and Jungkook has always been mutual and reciprocated. None of you have ever questioned it. Hating each other is what feels right, what feels natural. You never imagined that any of you would ever question it.

"Well…you know," you stutter, finding yourself at a loss of words.

"No, I don't," he challenges. "Tell me Y/N, what have I done for you to hate me so much?"

"Y-you know, y-you know you are not a good guy," the words sound lame to even your own ears but that's the best you come up with.

"That's it, huh?"

You roll your eyes and look away from him, not wanting to make it obvious that you do not have a proper answer to give. However, Jungkook grabs your chin and makes you look at him.

He leans in incredibly close and you feel his breath on your skin. It makes you wonder what he's doing, it makes you wonder if he's going to kiss you and it makes you wonder why you aren't moving away from him. Your breathing speeds up and your chest heaves to give testimony to that. Your eyes drop to his lips and for the first time you find the previously annoying mole under them, cute. Just when you think he's about to close the distance he goes straight to your ears.

"I think you want me to be the bad guy," he whispers. "Because you know I'd be too good to you."

He nips at your earlobe before backing away, causing a shiver to run down your spine.

"What are you doing?" You may not have been kissed but you sound just as breathless as one gets after a heavy session of kissing.

"Good night princess," he winks at you before getting on his bike. "Have sweet dreams."

What just happened?

Part two is available here.

[shhhsecretsideblog]

They had been trying for a baby for a while, when finally she was looking at a positive test. Unfortunately, there was only one time it could have happened. A bit too much to drink, a few confessions that she'd sometimes thought about her husbands best friend in some of her more intimate fantasies, and just like that his little secret had taken root in her belly.

She was excited to be a mom, but can't bring herself to tell her husband she's expecting. Hiding her bump as best she can, not letting herself be intimate with him in case he noticed her beautiful changing body, how firm and heavy her belly had gotten. She has a plan. Give birth in secret where he won't find out, and then claim someone left the baby there. "Probably some teenager or something, can't imagine how she could raise it." Of course, since they're struggling to have one of their own, it's all but a sign. Of course they should take it in.

A perfect little plan for the eager mom to get out of her bad choice concequence free.

At least, it would be, if her waters hadn't broken in the shower, and the contractions were starting to get worse and worse, no matter how she tried to pretend otherwise and act like nothing was happening...

Extramarital Consequences

AN: I just wanted to write a short little rp drabble, but instead it comes out as a full scale 3k word fic. Thanks for the prompt MuchBirth, it was a great concept. Hope you like it. [fpreg, tw: vomit, tw: cheating]

“Are you alright in there, babe?” My husband's voice sounded through the bathroom door and I tried to swallow the groan that was sitting in my throat.

Why now, why today?! I had done so well concealing this pregnancy from everyone, thanks to the cold winter and the abundance of thick oversized jumpers and coats. And for the fact I was carrying a rather modest, if heavy, bump. Said bump had dropped in recent days and I had hoped the baby was merely getting prepared and wouldn’t be coming for another week when Daniel would be away on business. The baby, it seemed, had other ideas.

The contractions had started in the early hours and I laid beside my husband quietly breathing through each pain and praying it was just braxton hicks. But they just kept on coming. Every 40 minutes… every 30 minutes… and when they got down to 20 minutes apart I knew I had to move.

Hiding downstairs in the dark, I paced around our living room and kitchen as the contractions got closer together and more and more intense. Why couldn’t it have been a work day?! Daniel would leave the house early and I could labour and birth this baby in secret just as I’d planned. But it was Saturday and we were scheduled to go to a family event that afternoon. The heavy weight of the baby sitting low in my pelvis confirmed there was little-to-no chance of me making it to that party.

I paced around the downstairs of our town house until the early morning with its first glimpse of a rising sun filtering through the windows. Bracing myself against walls, tables, all manner of furniture, I spent hours swaying my hips through each agonising contraction that struck, praying they would eventually stop but they never did. I heard Daniel get out of bed and jump in the shower and I busied myself doing the dishes when he came downstairs. He looked at me curiously, seeing my sweaty and flushed face and asked if I was coming down with something. I assured him I was fine as he made his morning coffee, but soon had to twist back around to face the sink to hide the grimace on my face as another strong contraction barrelled its way through my womb. My hands gripped the counter in a white knuckle grip and it took everything I had not to whimper from the pain.

After assuring Daniel that I was alright, I disappeared quickly back upstairs and locked myself in the bathroom. I turned on the shower, the tiled room echoing the loud noise of the powerful jets, and allowed myself to groan deeply through the next contraction. They were less than 15 minutes apart and had the ability to steal my breath away. Gripping the sink and panting heavily, my mind began to spiral and panic. How the fuck was I going to keep this from Daniel?! We were struggling to conceive, if his discovered this pregnancy there would be no way I could pass this baby off as his. He would find out I slept with his best friend and my dream of a suburban family life would be destroyed. The baby sank lower in my hips and my knees dipped into a semi-squat from the increase in pressure. We were supposed to go to a party later, with family and friends, and Daniel would be by my side all day. But this baby was coming, soon if the pressure between my legs was any indication.

I stepped into the shower, attempting to ease the pain knifing at my lower back. Cupping my protruding belly I whispered a plea to the baby to stay put a while longer. I loved my pregnant body and was sad not to have shared this experience, to marvel at the incredible changes of pregnancy, with my partner. But there was an alluring excitement in keeping the baby secret - something just known by them and me. I couldn’t wait to meet the life I had been growing.

My thoughts tempted fate and the next contraction was soon upon me and I doubled over in the shower bracing my knees. The pressure between my thighs was building, the steaming hot water doing very little to ease the pain as it crested, my belly turning to stone and pushing everything downward. “Mnghhhhhhh!!” I grunted, involuntary, and almost dropped into a squat as the urgency built. No… baby, not now.

The water at my feet turned a pinkish murky colour and I knew from the release of pressure that my waters had just broken. Fuck.

When the contraction faded and my legs stopped shaking I carefully stepped out of the shower. Okay… my water’s broken but that doesn’t mean I’ve run out of time. I just need to think of a way of getting Daniel out of the house. I could feel the baby shift and kick within my womb, protesting the situation as much as I was, its head pressing eagerly against my cervix. “Hoooo… it’ll be okay little one. I promise— mnnnnhhhh…” Every breath, every word, that slipped past my lips now laced with a pained groan.

“Are you alright in there, babe?” Daniel asked from the other side of our bathroom door. I clamped my mouth shut and swallowed the involuntary noises from escaping.

“Nng— yeah— fine.” I somehow gritted. The weight and pressure pushing down in my pelvis was quickly making me nauseous.

“Are you sure? You weren’t looking too great downstairs.”

Damn him and his caring nature, just move away from the door before I scream! A contraction struck mere minutes after the last and I couldn’t stop the gasp as my belly visibly hardened and contorted inwards. The pressure was mounting, expanding like a balloon about to burst, my pelvis being shoved apart to make space for the large head that was pressing atop my cervix. I couldn’t breathe, the sensations overwhelming my senses, my stomach rolled and my throat gagged. I was going to be sick.

Dropping to my knees, naked on the floor, I hunched over the toilet bowl and promptly vomited the remnants of last night's dinner into the porcelain. My whole torso contracted in on itself in more ways than one and I completely lost all semblance of control. My taut belly, hardened by labour pains, convulsed and I heaved and coughed loudly. The force of throwing up also resulted in my womb squeezing against the bowling ball in my pelvis, bearing down on the already low head and pushing it into the birth canal.

“Oh sweetheart, are you sick?” Daniel asked through the door. “Let me in honey.”

“No, just— give me a minute…” I gruffed, laying my head in the crook of my elbow.

“We don’t have to go today if you’re not well. I can stay here and look after you.”

Hell no, that is the last thing I need. I asked him to get me some water from the kitchen, to buy me some precious time to gather myself. When the sickness passed I hesitantly put a hand between my legs… the baby so low it felt like it was about to fall out at any minute. I had pushed. I didn’t mean to, it was automatic. But still my body had pushed the baby lower towards its exit. Thankfully it was not as low as it felt as I couldn’t feel a head, but I knew it wouldn’t be long. Wrapping myself in a fluffy dressing gown and schooling as neutral a face as I could, I unlocked the door and greeted my husband as he brought me the requested water.

“I don’t think I’m going to go today, I feel like shit.” I said honestly, taking a sip and slowly walking towards our bed, careful not to waddle from the massive head lodged in my pelvis.

“It’s okay babes, we can cancel. I’ll call your parents.” Daniel offered, helping me to sit.

“No—” I said a little too quickly. “You- you can still go. I’ll just take it easy and s-sleep it off…” He looked at me curiously, trying to ascertain just how unwell I was and if I could be left alone. “Really,” I pleaded, “I’ll be fine. Go, have fun.”

“Well, if you’re sure.”

“I am. Really—mmhh…” My hands clenched tight as another contraction was beginning to appear, my fingernails burrowing deep into my palms. “W-why don’t you go e-early… see if they need h-help setting up.” My stomach tensed beneath my fluffy dressing gown and I shifted subtly on the bed as an immeasurable pressure returned with the pain. This baby was not waiting until the afternoon for Daniel to leave for the party, I desperately needed him to go now.

“Are you trying to get rid of me?” Daniel joked, tucking a frazzled lock of hair behind my ear. “I want to stay and look after you darling, make sure you’re okay.”

“Mnnn… I just need to lie down…” I huffed, trying to keep the strain from my voice. My body was itching to move, to sway and move my hips, to open up for the emerging baby as the contractions worked hard to deliver the child. But I had to fight against the instincts, ignore all the cues in the recess of my brain. Slumping sideways down on the bed, I curled over my contracting belly and arduously moved to lie under the covers. My skin was radiating heat but I couldn’t remove my dressing gown, couldn’t risk exposing a glimpse of my pregnant body. Had to stay covered, had to hide this baby, had to stay sweating beneath the fluffy gown and duvet covers.

Daniel stroked my hair as I curled up and I couldn’t help but scrunch my eyes through the pain barrelling between my hips. Oh baby, wait a bit more… please.

“Are you sure you’re going to be alright hun?” Daniel questioned once more and I managed to gruff out an assurance, stating that I’d be fine and just needed to be alone.

Thankfully I felt the bed shift, my husband getting up and leaving the room saying something about calling the family and giving me space to rest. I sighed in relief at the sound of the bedroom door closing.

Lying on my side helped the constant stabbing pain in my lower back but it was doing nothing to prevent the baby from making its way further down. I could feel it pressing against every nerve from the inside, pushing its way through the narrow space. I tried to squeeze my thighs, to clench everything I could to stop its movements but nothing worked. The pressure was constant, sitting heavily and urgently at the apex of my thighs. Rolling forward I buried my face deep in the pillow to muffle the rattled groan that came from the pit of my stomach. The baby was right there, its imminent arrival clear by the agonising pressure consuming me. I tried to fight it, meeting every wave with defiance, but my attempts were failing. I needed to push.

Before I was even aware of what was happening my whole body tensed and bore down with the peak of the contraction. It felt…satisfying, to give in to the urge and push alongside the tensing muscles, to work with my body instead of against it. Gasping a ragged breath, I pushed again, more forcefully this time. It was moving, inching closer towards my folds. Without thinking I grabbed my leg, still wrapped under the layers of clothing and duvet, and I pulled it towards me so my thigh was beside my contracting belly. I had to make more room, I needed to open myself up for the emerging babe. The back of my knee was damp from sweat and I gripped it tight, opening my hip beneath the covers, and gritting my teeth I pushed again.

It was coming, I could feel it! The contraction soon ended and I let my leg fall back against the other, curled up sideways on the bed and panting frantic breaths. A knock on the bedroom door brought me out of my birthing bubble, suddenly remembering Daniel was still in the house. Oh fuck, what if he heard me pushing?!

“Honey..? Can I come in?” His tentative voice asked and opened the door a crack. I groaned, neither an acceptance or refusal, but it was all I could manage.

Daniel stepped in our bedroom softly. “I’ve spoken with your parents and I’m going to head over there early and help them set up. I know you like to be alone when you’re unwell.” I nearly cried with relief.

“But I’ll come back to check on you before the party starts, okay?” Daniel perched on the edge of the bed and brushed his fingers through my sweaty hair. I nodded and exhaled heavily, hoping it looked like I was just fighting nausea and nothing more. “I’ll get you a bucket, just in case.” Daniel said sweetly and disappeared into our en-suite bathroom.

The contractions were right on top of each other now, the baby was sitting right between my legs desperate to get out. The next wave hit when Daniel was out of sight and I panted as quietly as I could. Don’t push… don’t push… don’t push… I thought over and over again. Curled up on my side my legs drifted apart, one leg bent at the knee, the other straight down the length of the bed. The pressure was slowly killing me; the strain of holding everything in, the baby slipping lower, pressing gently against my labia despite my efforts. Fuck I needed to push, but I daren’t. Daniel was still here…. Breathe… don’t push… breathe… don’t push… Even with the mantra my body did not adhere to the instructions. At the end of each measured breath I could feel my muscles bearing down and pushing the baby, its head starting to part my sensitive lips.

Daniel came back into the room and placed a bucket beside the bed, right next to the pillow where my face was half buried. “How you holding up?” He asked affectionately. I couldn’t speak, could barely breathe, every ounce of strength going into not actively pushing. Instead I closed my eyes and tilted my face further into the pillow.

In the faint background of my personal hell I could hear my husband slowly pottering around our bedroom as he got himself dressed and ready to leave for the party. Every minute dragged on for hours, as he found his trousers and shirt, muttering to himself, all the while I wanted to scream and howl and push! The baby was parting my folds, its head surely poking out between my thighs. Tears dampened the pillow and I was trembling, trying desperately hard not to push. But even without my participation, the baby was slowly making its way into the world. I nervously lowered one of my hands beneath the heavy covers, feeling between my legs. Oh my gosh… that’s my baby I thought as I felt the slimy surface of the partial sliver of its head. It was moving down, every contraction squeezing it further out of my body. My palm clamped hard over the emerging head… don’t… don’t pushhhhhh… a weak groan rumbled my throat as my body uncontrollably pushed, hard.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Daniel asked.

I was far from okay, I was pushing his best friend's baby into my own palm for fucks sake. In between pushes, I gulped a breath and offered a short and snappy “uh-huh” before my body was forced to bear down once more. My hand remained steadfast in its position between my legs and thankfully the baby didn’t slip out any further. Once the contraction eased I panted a relieved sigh.

“I’m heading out now babes.” Daniel stated aloud. “I’ll be back to check on you later. I love you.”

“Ngghh— love you too—” my rasped voice came from under the covers. I was in too much pain to notice the guilt that twisted in my chest.

I remained frozen in the bed, my ears listening desperately for the sound of the front door to close and his car to start. The roar of the engine, the glorious sound, slipped through the vents in the bedroom window and I sobbed with relief. He was gone!!

Immediately I threw the covers off my sweaty skin and tore myself out the tangled mess of my dressing gown. The baby was partially crowning and my gods I needed to push. Everything hurt, everything ached, I needed to move but there was no strength left in my body to get up. Hooking a leg over the edge of the mattress I rolled off the bed and slipped down to my knees on the luscious carpet.

With my elbows on the mattress and my face buried against the sheets, my knees widened on the floor and my hips sank downwards as I pushed with everything that I had. Burning fiery pressure erupted between my thighs and I growled through the excruciating pain, pushing and pushing and pushing. I couldn’t take it anymore, this baby had to get out. My entire body trembled as the baby stretched me open, but I kept going push after push and with a primal grunt the head finally slipped out. Relief flooded through me as the pressure eased. Panting, desperate for air, I was barely aware of any of my other senses; of the now-damp carpet under my knees, or the sound of the engine returning to our driveway, or the creek of the bedroom door being opened.

“Honey?… I errr… I forgot my phone and then I heard you scream. What’s… what’s going on?” Daniel asked, frozen in shock at the door.

“…um… I erm…” I stuttered, speechless and naked beside the bed, an illegitimate baby hanging between my legs. “I umm…I— I— ohhhh… oh I need to push….!!!” Before I could think of an explanation my body was bearing down once more, birthing my husband’s best friend’s baby right beside our marital bed.

[percyluvr]

hi! i loved u recent pjo angst fic, n maybe (if ur willing to write pt2!) (a bit of a back story (for the prompt) before i rq, reader & percy have always met up like every 2 weeks in a spot, n he usually forgets so reader stops coming.) reader gradually gets over him. and one evening percy & annabeth have like... an argument (on the today he and reader used to hang out on) so he goes there expecting to find her there but instead it's her n another character? (probably grover since he's also percy's best-friend, it can be another character if you wish!) n he gets kind of jealous cs their getting along more n like giggling teasing stuff and percy gets kind of jealous? (it can still be angst or fluff if you prefer.) tyty

percy jackson x reader, jason grace x reader summary: when percy's relationship ends, he goes to you hoping to get a second chance to be with you, but finds you happy and in love with someone else wc: 1714 pt 1

When Percy, whom you considered to be the love of your life, got with Annabeth, you thought your heart had shattered beyond repair. Watching them be happy, while you were completely alone, ignored by the one person that you thought understood you, had completely broken you. You found yourself at a new low, thinking of how they were probably hanging out and kissing, while you were sat at the place you and percy used to hang out, alone for the nth time. You couldn't blame Percy for forgetting, or purposefully ignoring your planned hangouts together when he had her, his dream girl. 

Eventually, you realized that your and his friendship was most likely beyond repair, and you stopped coming to the spot, I mean, it wasn't like he would notice, right? But you were wrong, he did notice. He didn't start going again, but he did realize when you were with the rest of the campers at the time the two of you would usually go to the spot to hang out, and it made him realize what he had done to your friendship. Though he now knew it was him that ruined the friendship, he tried his best to put it at the back of his mind and focus on his relationship with Annabeth.

Meanwhile, you had met Jason, or rather, began hanging out with him more. It's not like the two of you had never met before, but you'd never really clicked or anything, so the most you two did was give each other a little smile when you crossed paths, but now, it was different. You thought that this friendship was even better than what you had with Percy. Jason really understood you, he knew what it was like to lose someone that you cared so deeply about at one point in your life and have to watch them be happy with someone else, while you sit alone, thinking about all the great memories the two of you had shared.

At first, you thought you would never be able to get over Percy, even if you met someone else. 

"Jason, have you ever loved someone so deeply that you thought you would never in a million years be able to get over them?" You asked him one sunny day, as the two of you sat at the spot near the river that you and percy used to hangout all the time.

"Yeah, a few times. Only one of them was in a romantic way, though. I really thought I would never be able to get over her, but here I am now," he said, a small smile gracing his face, which was quite handsome you realized. The thought came as a surprise because you'd never really found anyone attractive when you had been completely infatuated with percy. 

"Do you think you've completely gotten over her?"

"Yeah, I think so. She's still my friend, so if she's happy, then I am, too," he says, as if it was the simplest thing in the world.

"Do you think there's any chance for me to get over Percy completely?" You inquire.

There was a long moment of silence before he finally spoke again, "Yes, I do. and I think you know it, too."

And you realized he was right. You hadn't thought about percy in days.

The two of you continued talking, and you realized that you really were getting over Percy. It was all happening excruciatingly slowly, but it was happening nonetheless, and the more you thought about it, the more you realized that you were beginning to develop a crush on Jason.

While it was nothing in comparison to how you had once felt about Percy, you thought that maybe, just maybe, this could be good for you. Contrary to how you once felt when Percy looked at you and you saw nothing but platonic love for you in his eyes, when you looked into Jason's eyes, you definitely saw something else. Not quite love, but he was definitely interested in you, and that made you feel better than you had ever felt in your life. for once, you felt adequate about yourself. 

As you and Jason continued to hang out, you slowly realized you were falling in love, and you desperately hoped that he was too. Every lingering gaze, every lingering touch, and every word on the tip of his tongue that was left unsaid had you praying every night that he truly felt the same way about you that you felt about him.

"Hey, has anyone ever told you that you're gorgeous?" He asks you randomly one day, causing you to move your head from its place on his broad shoulder.

"No, actually. Why?" 

"Because," he takes a deep breath. "You are gorgeous, and I just thought that if no one had told you, I would want to be the one to make you realize that you are," he finally says, his hand softly running up and down your arm.

"Really? I mean, you're not just saying that, right?" You ask, turning your head down in a failed attempt to hide your flustered state.

"Of course not, I don't say things I don't mean. You are pretty and you should know that. anyone that doesn't see that is just plain stupid," he states matter-of-factly, making you smile.

"Thanks sparky," you playfully say. "If it means anything, I think you're very handsome too."

This statement, and the endearing nickname, causes all the blood to rush to his face, and you hear the way his heartbeat speeds up immediately after you say it.

You felt that this moment was what marked the start of a romance for the history books between you and Jason. And while yours and Jason's romantic journey was just beginning, Percy and Annabeth's may be ending. 

At first, their fight wasn't anything serious, but it quickly escalated as Annabeth slowly got more and more annoyed by how incompetent Percy had been acting lately. Deep down, she knew that something was up with him, and that something had to do with you, and she was almost 100% sure of that. She knew something was up, she just didn't know what.

It had started when she noticed Percy staring at you and Jason whenever you two were in view, and continued from there. Annabeth felt that he wasn't paying as much attention to their relationship, or literally anything but you and Jason for that matter, and she had enough of it, telling him to fix his priorities and quick if he didn't want to lose her.

This argument led to many others of the same variety, all of which were contributors to the inevitable breakup. He saw it coming, but didn't do anything to stop it. All he could think of was how he ruined a beautiful friendship by not being able to balance a relationship and a friendship, and now the two of you were more distant than ever. He knew that you and Jason were getting close, he just didn't know how close, and now he was experiencing the insecurity and inadequacy about himself that you did while watching him and Annabeth fall in love. 

Watching you and Jason was probably the most painful experience Percy had ever gone through in his life, which anyone would find insane if he ever told them, because really, he had been through so many things that he should consider to be more painful, but he somehow didn't.

Now, Percy wasn't a stalker or anything, but he couldn't help but notice the small things that you had once noticed about him and Annabeth when they were falling in love.

He noticed the way the two of you shyly looked at each other, you giggling and something Jason had said, which probably wasn't even that funny, Percy thought.

To say he was jealous was an understatement. The once happy and sarcastic boy was now a heartbroken, jealous, and bitter boy. He wasn't sure if he was heartbroken over his breakup with Annabeth, seeing you with Jason, or a strange combination of both, but he did know that no matter what, his heart was so shattered that he would probably never feel happy again.

This point was pushed even further when he saw the two of you happily cuddling at the campfire one night. He saw the way you were looking up at Jason, body completely leaning on him, and whispering things that must've been flirtatious judging by how Jason's face went up in flames. You two acted like you didn't care who or if anyone saw you. if it was even possible, Percy's heart broke even more.

The universe seemed to be playing a cruel joke on Percy, as your positions had now switched. He'd been going back to your hangout spot on the days you two would've hung out, and was severely disappointed each and every time when you didn't show up. 

That was, until the time you finally were there, but to his dismay, you were not alone. He didn't want to be weird, but he couldn't help it when he acted on his thoughts and hid behind a tree, intently watching the two of you interact. When he saw the two of you share a sweet kiss, he wished that he hadn't been watching, and he wished that he hadn't even come at all. He didn't know why he expected you to be there alone, not when you weren't there any of the other times. He didn't know why his heart broke more in this moment than it did when he broke up with Annabeth.

Until he did. He realized that he was in love with you, and there was absolutely nothing he could do about it, because you looked at Jason like he was the only person in the world, and Jason looked at you like you personally created every good thing on earth, and there was nothing Percy could do to get in between this love, not when you finally looked happy with yourself. Not when you were happier than he had ever seen you in the 10 years he’d known you.

Not when you were more in love with Jason than you had ever been with Percy.

a/n: i went a littleee crazy with this & ik it wasn't exactly what u req but i hope u'll like this idea too!

[togglesbloggle]

Why do you think tumblr will die in only a few years?

Answer with jargon: a strong correlation between recent economic shifts and chaotic choices by major tech companies is most easily explained if the 'traditional' social media platforms of 2005-2020 are mostly a zero-interest rate phenomenon.

Longer answer, with less jargon: Even though Musk's takeover is making all the headlines recently, the last year has in fact seen major shakeups at many social media platforms, so Twitter is actually part of a trend. Almost inevitably, these are cases of social media companies trying to find a way to squeeze more money out of their userbase (Reddit), cut costs dramatically (Twitter), or both. This marks a sudden departure from a much more relaxed attitude towards revenue in the Pictures Of Cats industry, where the focus was historically more on expanding the userbase to a global scale and then counting on world domination to sort of <????> and then the company would become profitable eventually.

We joke, correctly, that Tumblr has never been profitable. But the entire structure of ad-supported content curation between human users is deeply suspect as a business model; IIRC Twitter was never profitable either, and Facebook has been juicing its numbers in very shenanigany ways. Discord was actually making money on net last I checked, at least a bit, so they're not all completely in the hole. But even if you take the accounting figures at face value, none of these companies has anything like the amount of money that their cultural prominence would suggest. Instead, they're heavily fueled by investment dollars, money given by super-rich people and institutions in the expectation that fueling the growth of the company now will pay off with interest later.

So what changed?

I'm not an expert here, but I'll do my best to muddle through. The American Federal Reserve has one mandate that dominates all others (sometimes called the 'dual mandate'), and one primary tool that it uses to enforce that mandate. The goal is to maintain low (but nonzero) rates of inflation and unemployment, which in their models are deeply interlinked phenomena. The tool is 'rate hikes', or more specifically, tweaking the mandatory rate of interest that banks charge one another when making loans.

As a particular consequence of this, hiking the rate also means that bonds start paying out much better. When the rate hike goes through, that affects people who let the government borrow their personal cash- that is, people who buy bonds- as well as institutions like banks that lend to one another. A rate hike means that you, personally, can make a little extra money by letting the government borrow it for a while. The federal government of the US is a rock-solid low-risk choice for this kind of moneymaking scheme, so the federal interest rate sort of defines the 'number to beat'; to attract investors, a company has to give those investors money at a better percentage than whatever the feds are offering. Particularly since a company is a lot more likely to go out of business than the state!

To wrap this back around to the Pictures Of Cats industry: the higher the rate hike, the better your company needs to be doing (or the less risky it needs to be as an option) to attract big investment dollars. Very high rates make it very hard to convince people to invest in business activity rather than the government itself, and very low rates put moonshots and big dreams on the table, investment-wise, in a way that wouldn't otherwise be possible. Social media companies were one of these big dreams.

In the great financial crisis of 2008, the Fed took the dramatic step of reducing their rate to zero, trying to juice the economy back to life. And ever since then, they've kept it there. This has produced an unprecedented amount of funding for very crazy stuff; it's part of what has allowed so many weird new tech companies (Uber, streaming services, etc.) to get so much money, so quickly, and use that to grow to massive size without a clear model of how they're ever going to make money. This state of affairs kept going for quite a while, with no clear stopping point; that zero-interest environment has been one of the shadowy forces in the background that shaped fundamental contours and limits in how our Very Online World has grown and developed. Until COVID.

Or rather, the bounce back from COVID: we suddenly saw a massive spike in inflation and an incredibly strong labor market, as employees quit in record numbers, negotiated higher salaries, and found better work, and at the same time supply chain issues and other economy stuff caused prices to climb dramatically. Recall the Fed's 'dual mandate', to control the employment rate and inflation. This was, basically, kicking them right in the jooblies. They responded in kind, finally finally raising their rates for the first time in 15 years. For some of the people reading this, it'll be the first significant shift in their entire adult lives.

The goal, as I understand it, is to fight inflation by reducing the amount of outside investment into private companies, forcing them to hire fewer people and pay smaller salaries, ultimately drawing money out of the working economy and driving prices back down by lowering demand for everything. You get paid less, so you eat out less, and buy at cheaper restaurants when you do, so restaurants have to compete harder by lowering their prices; seems pretty dodgy to me as a theory, but it's the theory. And the first part will almost certainly work- companies are going to see less investment.

For social media companies that are still paying most of their salaries with investor dollars instead of revenues, this is especially catastrophic. Without outside investment, they're just a massive pile of expenses waiting to happen, huge yearly costs in developer salaries and server fees. This is why, all of a sudden, every social media company is suddenly making bonkers decisions. They're noticing that nobody wants to give them any more money! So they're trying to figure out how to live a lot more cheaply, to actually somehow for reals turn their giant userbases in to some kind of actual revenue stream, or both.

Tumblr is kind of the ur-example of this kind of thing, supporting a very large userbase with no coherent plan whatsoever to start paying its staff with our dollars instead of investors' dollars. When interest rates were low and Scrooge McDuck had nowhere else to hide his pile of gold coins, a crazy kid with a dream was the best alternative available to him. But now, unless something changes, he's going to notice he can just buy bonds instead, and that crazy kid can go take a hike.

That's why I think Tumblr is living on borrowed time, though I don't know how much. Like all cartoons, the economy doesn't really fall off a cliff until somebody looks down and notices they've been standing on thin air this whole time. But they always fall eventually; that's the gag.

[pandapetals]

The Beach

professor logan howlett x professor fem!reader - established relationship (y'all married), cute, fluff, teasing, no y/n used, no reader description, your an english professor, logan is a history professor - imagine days of future past logan with the white streaks in his hair

Request from anon (sorry it took so long). You, Logan, and some of the X-Men go to the beach. This is pre-marriage and Logan gets jealous at some guy checking you out.

read on ao3 or find more parts for the series: here

It was the perfect summer day—clear skies, warm sun, and just enough breeze to take the edge off the heat. Ororo had suggested a beach outing for the team, a rare chance for everyone to relax together, and the idea had quickly caught on. It wasn’t often that the mansion emptied out for something as simple as a day by the water, so bags were packed with towels, snacks, and sunscreen, and soon enough, the entire group had set up camp along the shoreline.

Standing there now, the hot sand curling between your toes and the rhythmic crash of the waves in your ears, you felt an unusual sense of calm. You wore a swimsuit you’d recently bought for occasions like this, a little bolder than your usual style, and as you adjusted the straps, you allowed yourself a satisfied smile.

That sense of calm, however, slipped away the moment your gaze landed on Logan.

He was only a few feet away, standing by the water’s edge, his back to you. The sunlight glistened off his broad, bare chest, and beads of water ran down his skin in slow, winding trails, dripping from his damp hair onto his shoulders. His swim trunks—low on his hips—clung to him in a way that left little to the imagination, and for a moment, you forgot to breathe.

You quickly looked away, heat rushing to your cheeks as if the sun had suddenly gotten twice as hot. You hoped no one had noticed the way you’d been staring.

"Beautiful day, huh?" Rogue’s voice pulled you back to the present, and you turned to find her grinning at you with a mischievous glint in her eye. "Nice gettin’ away from that stuffy old mansion for a bit. Plus," she added, her gaze darting meaningfully over your shoulder toward the water, "seems like there's plenty of... scenery to enjoy."

You followed her line of sight and spotted the guy she was referring to—a tall, athletic-looking man who was clearly checking you out from where he stood with a surfboard tucked under his arm. He gave you a casual nod and a crooked smile, as though inviting you to come say hi.

Rogue nudged you with her gloved elbow. "Go talk to him," she urged, her smirk widening. "He’s cute, and it looks like he’s interested."

You hesitated, casting a glance back toward Logan, who was now closer to the group, shaking water from his hair. You tried to ignore the little flutter of disappointment in your chest when you realized he hadn’t seemed to notice the guy watching you—or maybe, hadn’t cared. 

Rogue’s expectant gaze was on you, and the surfer was still waiting, so you shrugged and took a step in his direction.

As you started walking, you heard a low voice call out behind you. "Leavin' so soon, sweetheart?" There was a familiar gruffness in Logan’s tone, one that always seemed to carry the slightest hint of challenge. You turned to find him standing a few feet away, arms crossed over his chest, his expression unreadable but with a flicker of something in his eyes—something that might’ve been amusement or maybe... annoyance?

You flashed him a teasing smile, trying not to let on how much his sudden attention affected you. "Just stretching my legs," you said lightly. "Besides, I thought you’d be busy with your own fun." You tilted your head toward the water, where Jean and Scott were splashing each other playfully.

Logan huffed, the corner of his mouth quirking up as he stepped a little closer, his gaze flicking toward the surfer before settling back on you. "Doesn’t look like you’re headed for the water, darlin’," he drawled, his voice low. "Unless that guy’s got a better wave to offer than I can."

You raised an eyebrow, folding your arms. "Jealous, Logan?"

He gave a small snort, as though the very idea was absurd. There was a subtle tension in his jaw, and his eyes didn’t leave yours. "Ain’t nothin’ to be jealous about," he said, his tone casual but carrying an edge. "Just didn’t figure you for the type who’d go for a guy like that. "

"Like what?" you challenged, enjoying the rare opportunity to push back. "Tall, handsome, friendly ?"

Logan’s mouth twitched, a dry chuckle escaping him. "Pretty boy like that wouldn’t know what to do with a woman like you." He took another step closer, his voice dropping to a murmur as his eyes met yours with that familiar intensity. "And you know it."

You felt your pulse quicken at the closeness of him, the way his gaze held yours as if daring you to look away. "You think you know what I like, huh?" you asked, tilting your chin up slightly.

Logan’s smirk deepened, his eyes gleaming with a mixture of a challenge. "Maybe," he said, his voice a low rumble. "Or maybe I’m just hopin’ you’re smart enough not to waste your time with a guy who’s more interested in his own reflection than in you."

Before you could respond, Rogue’s voice called out from behind you, interrupting the moment. "C’mon, you two! Are you gonna join the rest of us or keep flirtin’ all day?"

You shot Logan a final glance, a playful smile tugging at your lips. "Guess I’m stuck here," you said with a shrug, stepping back toward the group.

Logan’s smirk softened into a small, almost fond smile as he watched you walk away, his eyes lingering on you for a moment longer than necessary. "Looks that way," he muttered under his breath.

As you joined Rogue and the others, you couldn’t help but steal one more glance back at Logan. He was still watching you, a slight frown pulling at his brows as the surfer gave up and headed back to the water.

"Logan seems a little protective, " Rogue remarked the moment you reached her, a knowing grin spreading across her face as she glanced back at Logan, who had resumed his spot by the water’s edge, his gaze flicking between you and the waves.

You shrugged, trying to play it off, even as your heart beat a little faster. "Yeah, well, that surfer didn’t seem all that great," you said, the lie slipping out more naturally than you expected.

Rogue snorted, giving you a playful nudge. "Oh, please. That guy was a dreamboat—"

Before she could finish, Logan’s voice cut through the conversation. "Dreamboat?" he drawled, walking up behind you, his shadow falling over the sand as he came closer. "Didn’t look like much to me. Just some guy with a surfboard and a pretty face."

You turned to face him, catching the glint of something sharp in his eyes. It wasn’t quite jealousy, but there was an edge there—something possessive, a little territorial, and it sent a thrill through you that you couldn’t quite hide. “Seriously, Logan?” you said, raising an eyebrow as you took a step closer.

Logan's mouth twisted into a familiar half-smirk, his gaze never leaving yours. "Like I said, sweetheart," he murmured, his voice low and rough, "Bet he spends more time flexin’ in the mirror than actually surfin'." His eyes flicked over to the surfer in the distance, who was now stretching on the sand, oblivious to the tension playing out behind him.

Rogue stifled a laugh, glancing between the two of you. "Well, someone’s in a mood," she teased, but Logan didn’t break eye contact with you.

You felt a spark of mischief light up inside you, and you tilted your chin up defiantly. "I don’t know, Logan," you said, your tone teasing. "A guy who surfs and doesn’t spend all his time brooding might be a nice change of pace."

Logan’s eyes narrowed slightly, his jaw tightening, and for a second, you thought you saw a flash of something darker there. He took a step closer, so close you could feel the warmth radiating off his skin, the scent of saltwater, and that familiar musk surrounding you. His voice dropped lower, just for you to hear. "You think you’d like that?" he murmured, his tone edged with a challenge. "A guy who’s nice and easy ?"

You swallowed, feeling the air thicken between you. "Maybe," you shot back, though your voice wasn’t as steady as you’d hoped. "What’s wrong with easy?"

Logan’s smirk deepened, his hand coming up to gently brush a strand of hair from your face, his fingertips lingering near your cheek. "Nothin’," he said, his voice rough, "if you’re lookin’ for boring. "

The word hung in the air, and you couldn’t help the smile that tugged at your lips. "And you think you’re the opposite of boring, huh?" you challenged, though your heart was racing at the intensity of his gaze.

Logan’s eyes gleamed. "Sweetheart," he murmured, "you know I am."

Before you could respond, Ororo cleared her throat loudly, breaking the moment with a pointed look. "Are you two gonna keep flirting all day, or are you gonna join us for some volleyball?" she asked, a knowing smirk on her face as she folded her arms.

Logan’s eyes flickered toward Ororo, then back to you, his hand dropping back to his side, though the heat of his touch still lingered on your skin. "Guess we should give the team a break," he muttered, his tone lighter but still carrying that underlying tension. "Wouldn’t want anyone thinkin’ we’re havin’ too much fun."

You couldn’t help but laugh, shaking your head. "Oh, wouldn’t want that," you echoed, the sarcasm clear in your voice.

As you turned to follow Ororo, you felt Logan’s hand brush lightly against the small of your back, the touch barely there but unmistakable. You glanced over your shoulder, catching his gaze, and there was a glint in his eyes that told you he wasn’t done teasing you— not by a long shot.

[hispg]

My love mine All mine

Pairings: DI! Leon X Fem! Reader

Summary: Your husband returned from his mission, the house was quiet until he heard your daughter's commotion.

Wc: 2.4k

Warnings: comfort, domestic things, established relationship, mention of pregnancy, mild angst, Leon mentioning some of his traumas, bit of fluffy.

Leon was tired, months away traveling back and forth, doing missions that seemed endless. That last mission was hell, coming back from Alcatraz was like a light at the end of the tunnel.

And he couldn't stop dreaming about this damn vacation that he needed so badly, he didn't have the same stamina to keep going back and forth.

He was completely exhausted, he didn't even know how he'd got home. The fatigue in his body simply alerted him that all he needed was a hot bath and a soft bed.

But nothing mattered more to him than getting home, seeing his beloved family. You, his wife, together with your little daughter. His little family, one of the only reasons he woke up every day.

And once he opened the door to your shared house, and smelled that sweet scent he missed so much, something in him woke up.

Of course all the tiredness was still there, but he was at peace, he was finally home.

With his family. With his two girls.

He silently entered the house, placing his heavy bag on the floor, making a small noise. The silence was comforting, but at the same time he was missing something.

Then he took off his boots and put them in the corner. He didn't realize how much he missed home until he saw the picture frames scattered around the living room.

The photos of when the two of you met on a trip to Paris, he was there on business, and didn't expect to meet the love of his life right there.

Or even the photo of when he proposed to you, your bright smile as you looked at the ring on your fingers, or the way Leon looked at you with such tenderness.

In the next photo it was you dressed all in white, him dressed in a suit that was strangely out of his usual, he felt like a clown every time he wore a suit, even though he looked beautiful in it. In the photo, your hands were occupied with a bouquet, while he held you in his arms like a princess.

There was the photo of when you were pregnant, the first picture of your daughter, so many picture frames all over the living room. Leon loved every one of them and would remember them for the rest of his life.

Just as he couldn't help but notice the Polaroids you put up on the wall, with recent photos of your little family, even though Leon wasn't a very smiley man, he always smiled in the photos he took with you and your daughter.

Because he was always happy in the presence of his own small family.

He felt his heart fill with joy as soon as he saw a baby playpen in the living room, the hello kitty teddies resting inside the pink playpen, along with dolls and small toy cars.

The environment made him feel so real, so normal. Being at home made him forget who he really was, made him forget his messy life. Because this was the place where he belonged, the place he would never leave, never forget. His precious little place, where he was happier than he could have dreamed.

His family, his wife, his daughter. Phrases he spoke with pride, without having to think twice.

The silence in the house was almost soothing, nothing but his breathing in there. But soon the calm was interrupted by a familiar whimper, coming from your daughter's room.

He hurried a little, looking through the crack in the door to see you rocking the little one gently back and forth.

You had told him that the little one had recently caught a cold because of the low temperatures. You had even said that she had high irritability and the usual flu symptoms, as well as a slightly higher body temperature, but nothing more.

But he couldn't have imagined finding you crying with her, the dark circles in your eyes showing him that you hadn't slept much recently.

You looked so much like him, both of you tired, the expression of someone who hadn't had a minute's rest in the last few days.

You were so focused on putting the little girl to sleep that you didn't even notice that Leon had arrived, you didn't even hear when he opened the door to enter the house.

Your senses only returned when the little girl stopped crying for a brief moment, a faint smile forming on her lips as she looked up at her father, stretching out her arms for him to pick her up.

"Shh, Daddy's here..." He whispers, rocking the little one gently, looking at you as he does so.

"I'm sorry." The first thing you manage to sob out, he didn't know who was crying more, the little one or you.

He nodded, giving you a soft kiss on the forehead, "No, love, it's okay."

"I don't know what to do... She doesn't stop crying. She can't sleep for more than five minutes..." You say, gently stroking the little girl's hair, trying to calm her down somehow.

Leon sighed, giving your daughter a kiss on the forehead, looking at her with gentle eyes, as if her constant crying was tugging at his heartstrings.

There wasn't much he could do. Just try to make the little one comfortable in this difficult phase.

He knew you were upset at not being able to welcome him in a better way, with a nice dinner as usual. But he would never judge you for taking care of your family, he knew how difficult the last few days had been for you.

His eyes fell on the coffee cup on the bookshelf, the children's books spread out on the floor. You should have read all the stories to her by now, hoping that the girl would go to sleep or calm down.

Which apparently didn't work.

"Go and rest, love. I'll take care of her." Leon tells you with a half-smile, singing a soft lullaby.

You frown, looking at him calmly. You were both tired, but for now he wanted to take responsibility for your daughter.

The baby girl was still whimpering on Leon's chest, her little hands clutching Leon's shirt, holding on so tightly that it felt like she would pull it off him.

As he hummed a little lullaby, the child put her arms around Leon's neck, hiding her red, swollen face from crying in his arms.

Seeing you also crying from exhaustion at not being able to do anything, he kissed your forehead, giving you a small smile.

"Rest, sweetpea." He didn't care how tired he was, he'd spent days in worse situations. A few more hours awake wouldn't make any difference.

You reluctantly went to your shared room, mentally promising yourself that you would only sleep for a few hours. You were just as tired as he was.

As soon as Leon heard the door close, he looked at the little girl with a smile, kissing her forehead gently.

"Shhh... I know it hurts, but Daddy's here." He said, and she looked at him with a pout for a moment, stopping crying briefly.

Leon's heart calmed down for a while, seeing that she had stopped crying a little. Only for her to start whimpering once more, burying her face in his chest.

"Shhh shhh..." He soothed, carrying her into the bathroom of her room.

Perhaps a fresh shower along with clean clothes would calm her down a bit, or at least bring her a little comfort.

He turned on the hot water to fill the tub a little, while he sat the baby on the edge of the tub and began to gently remove her clothes. It hurt his heart to hear her sobs, seeing how hoarse her little voice was getting with how much she had already cried.

You had told him that because of the flu, the little one had acquired a small irritation in her throat, causing you to go to the doctors and start treatment with some medication. And he knew that the fact that she was crying so much didn't help the irritation one bit.

But as if by some quirk of fate, when Leon put her in the water, she relaxed a little. She closed her eyes and leaned against his chest.

Her golden strands were so reminiscent of Leon's that every time he looked at his little girl, he saw himself.

A being full of innocence and purity, an angel in his eyes. It's a pity that unlike her, he wasn't lucky enough to have a good life, or a less turbulent one.

His innocence was taken away early on, giving way to a terrible bitterness that he only cultivated over the years.

But it would be different with her, he swore he would protect her with his life. She was his daughter, the treasure of his life, along with you.

Sometimes he finds himself wondering what things would have been like if he hadn't met you? If he hadn't taken a turn. If you hadn't shown him that he was still worthy of being loved.

That he wasn't bad. You showed him the light, and it was still hard to believe that the honor of having a family with you was his.

All this happiness was his, all his.

He was snapped out of his thoughts when he heard the tiny girl yawn, which for him was a sign that his plan had worked. He gently wrapped her in a towel and carried her in his arms, taking her to the changing table and putting on a new diaper.

Soon he spotted a pair of pink onesies, which looked comfortable enough for her to sleep in, so he started to put them on her.

Gently placing his hand on her chest to calm her down, a habit he always did with her, just putting a little pressure so she wouldn't move, and she would always stay quiet. Sometimes with a smile on her face.

When he had finished, he took her to bed and put her under the covers, making her warm and comfortable. He even put her various plush toys around her.

She was already feeling sleepy, her little blue eyes were threatening to close slowly, she wasn't crying anymore, just hiccupping every now and then. Her fever was better too, at least Leon didn't feel her body getting so hot.

Leon picked up a children's storybook, Sleeping Beauty, her favorite. When he lay down next to her, he began to read the story quietly.

"Once upon a time..." He began, until he was interrupted by her protesting in a low voice.

"Use your princess voice, Daddy." She says, a pout forming on her small lips.

Leon had to bite his lip to keep from smiling, trying to take the proposal as seriously as possible.

"Right, right. Let's start again.'" He murmurs, giving her a kiss on the forehead before starting again.

This time he's done it right, starting in a soft voice, trying to imitate a princess voice somehow. And he couldn't have been prouder when he got a small laugh out of her, almost imperceptible, but it was there.

From the yawns she was giving, it wouldn't be long before she fell asleep. And neither would Leon, he didn't know how he was still awake. He already knew that he would soon fall asleep with her.

So he kept reading until she eventually fell asleep, and he did the same, sleeping surrounded by her soft toys, feeling her little legs on his torso as she slept.

Both sleeping peacefully after a restless night.

......

Hours later, you wake up from your peaceful slumber, feeling a little better that you've at least had some rest. And from the silence in the house, you could tell that Leon had managed to put your daughter to sleep.

The sun was already rising, its warm rays beginning to illuminate the house, along with the birdsong that filled your ears. You thought about getting up to make breakfast, after all Leon must have been starving.

So you got up and decided to check on them before going into the kitchen, and you headed for your daughter's room. As soon as you open the door, you see one of the cutest images you could imagine.

Leon was lying in bed, pretending to still be asleep while your daughter was putting make-up on him. You had to stop yourself from laughing at the absurd amount of blush on his cheeks.

She had even put a little princess crown on his head, she was really dolling Leon up.

You could see from the smile he was tugging at the corner of his lips that he was enjoying this immensely. He was the type who would do anything for his little girl.

And you couldn't contain the laugh that escaped your lips when the little girl took a section of his hair and tied it into a pigtail, one on each side of his head.

When he heard your laughter, he opened his eyes, smiled softly and mouthed a silent 'good morning' to you.

You did the same, entering the room and approaching the two of them.

"I bet you'd make a great Sleeping Beauty." You tease, looking at your husband with amusement.

And he looks back at you, a smile forming and his mouth opening to let out a cheesy joke. But your daughter's cute, croaky voice echoes through the room:

" No, 'cause Daddy snores a lot." She says, the little gummy smile that made you crack up, showing her little teeth.

The next thing that was heard in the room was your laughter, along with your daughter's sweet giggles.

Leon snorted, crossing his arm and looking at the two of you. He even tried to make an angry face, but the moment he saw his two girls smiling at nothing, he couldn't help himself and let out a smile too.

He propped himself up on his elbows, pulling the little girl towards him and starting to tickle her.

"That's no way to talk to Daddy, young lady." He says, trying to keep his tone serious, but your daughter's giggle is simply infectious.

"Daddy!" she squeals, bouncing her little legs with laughter.

You were grateful for the family you had formed. Grateful for the kind of lazy mornings that were so enjoyable. Maybe breakfast can wait a bit, can't it?

The calm, happy atmosphere there. It was something that Leon had cherished and acclaimed so many times. A haven where he could forget his own demons.

A place where he could relax and forget about the world outside, a place where he could be himself. The person, not the agent.

And he was grateful for his two girls.

For his life, because nothing would make sense without you.