#or think about how that would come across

[kooyabooya]

ENTROPY

m reader x karina // 13k words

“It’s a stupid bet, Karina.” 

Karina lifts an eyebrow, only at certain points in conversation where she thinks your opinion is highly invalid. 

“No, it isn’t. You didn’t even let me properly explain,” she tells you, “All I want is a favor. Not a bet.” 

“It’s still asking a lot from me when I’m already dealing with your bullshit.” 

She sighs, leaning back on the counter. You’ve got a hand to your hip and an expression on your face that says: “fuck off six ways back to Sunday,” That’s how these usual briefings go, the quick dump or fill-in of whatever the fuck is worth sharing in each others’ lives. 

Instead, she raises her hands up in surrender, lips pulled inward. “Fine. Would it be better for me to come back to you on this sometime later?” 

“Can I suggest not having you bother me ever again?” 

A snort, then a cackle is what she gives. So, you roll your eyes because you know that it's always, always a tell-all for disaster. 

“Oh honey,” she says, patting your shoulder while you look over to see her running off to do her own thing, “You’re gonna be stuck with me for a long time. You just haven’t seen it yet.” 

–

To bring things up to speed: you didn’t know what the fuck you were thinking when you brought Karina along as your roommate. 

At first, things were great. 

The living styles were well complimented. Separate rooms, similar schedules, the usual activities you’ve done together for fun. Even the chores were assigned (though by second nature and good habits). This small space was well put to be a slice of home away from home whilst going through the ranks of college. 

She invited some of her friends and classmates over from time to time; some of which you had a partial interest in. Sometimes you’re out with Karina’s setups, other times she’s the one that’s out and about while you were holding the fort down. For the most part, life was easy having your best friend since middle school hang around with you. 

Still, no issues to mention whatsoever. 

But then- 

“Do you have a minute?” 

It’s 8 pm on a Saturday and Karina’s coming to you for her regular yaps and endless rants since the girl just talks and talks and talks. 

You curse at yourself at times for always being the listener.

“Yeah,” you say, closing your laptop on the kitchen island when she rounds the corner, coming to your side. “I don’t have anything, so I’ve always got time.” 

You’re hoping that it isn’t anything out of the ordinary; from the looks of things, all signs seem to point that way. She’s in her sports shorts with one of your (stolen) t-shirts - the collar cut off highlighting her shoulder - hair tied up and in glasses, you automatically assume that she isn’t going anywhere. 

“Remember when I brought up that thing?” 

“What thing?” 

Then it hits you: that thing. 

You had your fingers crossed that she would forget about asking you for whatever she needed you for. Sucks that she had a good memory - not only that, you’ve made yourself reliable for her so many times before; turning her down was simply an impossibility. 

Not all heroes wear capes, sadly. 

Karina slaps your shoulder, easily seeing through your mask of sarcasm. 

“Don’t act dumb, genius. That ‘thing’ was just coming along with me for once.” 

Her brows furrowed, the corners of her lips tracking back across her cheeks. You can’t say no let alone ignore the poor girl. 

“You know me with outings,” you reason, sensible. In most cases like these, Karina comes to you out of others to bring up her issues, her dilemmas; her self-inquisitions, as she would like to call them from time to time. And usually, they’re straightforward. This should be an easy cakewalk. “I’m all for it, but what’s the point when you force me to be more sociable when you’re dragging me around?” 

“Because maybe you’re the biggest pussy I’ve had the misfortune of being with.” Karina huffs, arms crossed and face left in distress. She examines you so closely under her microscope that it’s borderline invasive - but you don’t tell her that. So you twine your fingers in between each other and return the laser-focused stare she’s giving you, taunting almost along the lines of - look, if you’re gonna be convincing, you gotta do better than that. 

All she does is throw a shoulder shrug, awkwardly -  dropping them so fast that you’re putting everything in your willpower to not notice the subtle bounce of her chest. 

Her palm faces up toward the ceiling, hoping for a response. You purse your lips out to spite her. She has to deal with your bullshit head-on, tragically. 

“It’s always the work, gym, eat, sleep, do more work at home, and repeat. All the fucking time. So bland and-” 

You tilt your head the more her insults fill your ears. 

“You disgustingly piss me off.” 

Her fingers press on your forehead when you give the subtle eye smile and smirk combination, finally pushed over the edge now she doesn’t want anything to do with you. She paces around the kitchen and you can see her eyes dart over at the corner. 

She won’t leave you alone. 

Not until she gets what she wants. 

Besides, you’ve learned that Karina isn’t very good at persuading people to do something. Though eventually- 

“Why didn’t you just say you’re inviting me to go out for a night?” You ask, knowing that the bluntness is one of the few ways to bring Karina back around once she’s done with her tantalizing tangents. “You wouldn’t be here going crazy if you just told me-” 

“Because you’re the one who can’t seem to get it through your thick-ass skull in the first place!” She exclaims, first underneath her shirt that reveals some of the skin on her waist, the ends of her panties now apparent the more her boxer shorts keep slacking off her hips. You can’t afford to stare. You know you can’t. 

The recurring cycle of interest: keeps coming back to haunt you. 

You concluded or accepted the fact years ago that Karina was never meant to be yours. Yet- she would always come to you whenever she had boy problems or wanted your opinion on what she should wear or do with every single one of her crushes she ever had throughout her life, hiding the fact that you wanted to be one of them at some point. 

All those wet dreams, fantasies, the fake situations of romance you’ve deluded yourself into - those kinds of things had to be channeled into something else to fill the space. 

You’ve kept it cool. Sometimes, in between the bleeding weeks, where she’s roaming around the house in the shortest pair of shorts, the tightest of tank tops, the curves way more present when she’s light on the balls of her feet, you eventually broke and resorted to that trusty old lotion and sock combo behind the door to your room. 

With a girl dressed like that, and those tits filling up your brain- 

(You’d be committing perjury holding yourself back for as long as you did.) 

“Okay, for the last time,” says Karina, hands stacked and her feet crossed. “All I ask is for you to just get out of the apartment for once, and have some fun. Is that hard?” 

You shake your head. “No, of course it isn’t.” 

Karina nods, content. She takes off her glasses and puts it on the marble counter, her pretty lashes batting with those violet-black eyes of hers. “There. That wasn’t so difficult, was it?” 

And there she goes, tapping your forearm while you nod in agreement; does a little hop in place like some cute bunny, her shirt loose and flowing and moving everywhere. She’s such a fucking bitch. So shameless. This girl’s attitude will be the death of you. 

She’s shaking her fists up in the air, doing some cha-cha move. The shirt isn’t doing her justice for her fucking breasts. 

Then she leans in, close. Her breath grazes your face and neck. She scrunches her nose while you’re ‘shooing’ her away; aware of the message and her point. Karina then steps back, tying a knot to her shirt, making her figure a lot more apparent. By some crazy form of timing, you turn your body towards her, freezing in place while the shirt molds around her chest, her waist - you’re clenching your jaw and gritting your teeth behind your lips since you wonder if she’s doing it on purpose. 

The imagination. The possibilities. 

“C’mon,” Karina says, reaching for your hand and tugging it, tilting her head up and angrily pouting. For fucks sake, the slightest resistance of pull makes those mounds bounce in place. You’re sick and twisted; she’s the sole reason to blame. “I want you to be my plus one.” 

“Had I not already said yes?” You’re asking, swearing under your breath. The ‘plus one’ role is a direct translation to ‘hey, i’m going to get fucked up tonight, and i want you to be there on standby to carry me home or even dd, okay?’. You remember from past experiences that it also means that being with her is a dice roll of what kind of Karina you have to deal with: the kissy Karina, the pissed-off Karina, the Karina with the ‘carry me home with the eyes that say fuck me until I can’t walk’ attitude. 

Sigh and roll your eyes back, it’s burned into your memory anyway. 

Putting it in layman’s terms wasn’t gonna cut it. Being honest isn’t gonna change her mind. You could get the King of England to threaten her for a price on her head and she’ll still find a way to get it overturned. 

As nicely as you’d want to be, it can only hold for so long. 

Karina isn’t the kind of person to throw you into the fire right away -no, she’s smarter than that. 

“You did,” she says, shaking her head side to side, moving her shoulders along since you’ve put her in a good mood. You’re trying to decode the action to the expression, connecting the dots possible if she’s fucking around or being genuine. Give into the preaching and encouragement that if you did go with her you’d have your fun with someone like her carrying half her energy - okay, you have a type; nothing wrong with that, but still. “Why? Don’t tell me you’re having second thoughts already?” 

You have a hand up along with your mouth open; Karina’s a bit dense to think pragmatically. 

“What’s it gonna take with you to get off of your lazy ass and live life? When was the last time you and I went out together and did some dumb shit? That was when you had that thing with- who was that one girl? Winter? Or was it Giselle?” Karina carries on, trailing off with you walking not far from her. 

She pulls the hair tie out of her head - after what it seems to be five minutes since putting it on - her head moves to let the messy locks flow and pool behind her back, stretching her arms out before turning left and into her room. You stop at the doorway when she turns around, arms braced to the frame, smirking. 

“You said you weren’t doing anything, right? And you don’t have work until next week, right? So that automatically means that you’re free for the weekend?” 

“Well, yeah. Don’t forget that you went out with me and Ningning for that boring ass movie. So please, if you stop giving me shit for this, can I at least get ready before we head out?” 

Karina groans. “Ugh, why are you so fucking difficult to work with? I’ve set you up with three of my friends so far and only one of them has gotten close to getting in bed with you.” 

“Maybe I’m complicated,” you say back, turning the other cheek and thinking about that specific time not that long ago when she gave you the double thumbs up before being dragged by Winter onto the dance floor at that club near the school. 

“Complicated people don’t put their hands behind their back and let the girl get all touchy with them,” she teases, stopping in the middle of your doorway, shirt off and all she’s got is that jet black bra with the thinnest straps you’ve ever seen on her collarbones, but she doesn’t stop there: “Might I add that you wanted to try your luck into dating again and- hey. I know that kiss with Winter was the best one you’ve had in a while.” 

Karina smiles at your confused expression, hitting a pressure point. You’ve folded for girls before. She was there for some part of the fun. It’s a weakness; playing to your ideal characteristics and all she has to do is play the matchmaker and watch the magic happen. She got close. Almost. The support was unwavering, but you’re still searching. 

You don’t take long to get yourself situated, putting on whatever essentials you felt was right. Karina took a little bit more time to get ready. You know how she is: every part of her outfit has to be thought-out and well-layered if means of raising the ‘down to get fucked’ meter up past the 100-point scale. Sometimes it takes five minutes, other times it takes hours. 

She walks out of the hallway in a simple outfit. A grey tank top and baggy jeans that nearly cover her feet. Her brown leather jacket was the finishing touch draped around her arm, wrist, and fingers shining in her typical jewelry. 

The makeup was light too, a soft blush applied but the main culprit was her lips - and man, they have no right being that plump. 

“You’re staring.” 

A blink and a smirk here. An eyebrow raised soon after: “Are you saying I’m being rude?” 

“No.” 

It doesn’t register in your mind that she’s all up in your space the next second, holding your breath when she looks up to your chin. 

“Is there something that you want to tell me?” 

“Karina-” 

“C’mon, you’ve thought about me that way at least once-” 

“Fucks sake Karina, you’re delusional. I would never. ” 

She nods with a devilish grin, tilting her chin up, humming. You’re breathing out of your nostrils when she backs away, heading over to the door to put on her shoes. Everything that this woman does makes you reconsider the consequences (but hey, you’ve imagined what it would be like for her to wake up in your bed, wear your clothes she won’t think of returning unless you fuck that bratty attitude off her tongue.) A woman like her who can do it all, and you’re holding her jacket once you and her step out of the apartment and close the door. 

Most people would give their praise and high regard for putting up with her for this long because you’ve held out longer than anyone would have imagined. 

You’ve dealt with her energy all these years, the countless shenanigans that you have gone through with her since high school, and occasions where she shouldn’t have dragged you in but still did anyway. There’s a tolerance that one can only take so much of with Karina, and you always fail at that. (Always.) 

She’s too good to be real. 

Later, she’s on the phone, calling and texting her other friends that she planned on meeting up with, waiting out in the front yard while you’re keeping her close - like what a natural bodyguard would do with their assignment. 

“Are you wearing my jacket?” asks Karina, pinching at the pelt. “I was gonna use that for later.” 

“I look better in it,” you muse. “But I’ll give it back to you later when it gets colder.” 

“I’m gonna need it later for my look.” 

“That look you have right now is gonna get you fucked.” 

Karina gives you the same tilt of her head; this time, there’s a slight twinkle in her eyes that looks like the lightbulb just went off in her head. You’ve lit the match within her or signed someone off to their demise waiting for them in the next hour or so. 

She bites down her smile, her ego inflated. “Guess we can put that as a separate bet between us, then.” 

–

Well. 

Fuck.

You realize right away that going out didn’t seem to be a bad idea after all. 

Plus, it’s only been roughly two hours since Karina convinced you to help her out and tag along so now you’re here: a half-full cup of her go-to and watching the sight of everyone having their fun with one other person or in a group. She, on the other hand, has a guy with her - breaking down the awkward wall and playing the act of softening up with the blaring music. 

It’s a steady groove, music flows in her body so elegantly. 

The ambiance alone pounds your eardrums, eyes occasionally getting blinded by the flashing lights coming from the DJ’s stage, dancing her heart away and letting loose because it’s the weekend. She’s not the only one, too. Her little entourage surrounds her, dancing along and giving their attention to Karina - each one of them attractive and dazzling to look at. Karina was never one for the limelight, but once she’s got something going, it never leaves her. 

You can catch yourself getting sucked in the moment you laid your eyes back on her. 

The law of attraction: embodied by Karina. A phenomenon that you’ve learned happens on a weekend basis. Everyone that knows or has met her for the first time, is automatically influenced by her which doesn’t take much for that to happen. Some are joining in for the vibe, while others are trying to lean into her ear and get her attention that way, let their bodies do the talking, and see if she’s willing. 

Bad news, this girl is. You’re treading dangerous waters carefully. 

Moment by moment, every single guy who tries to approach Karina retreat in dejection and defeat. You can see it in their heads hanging in shame, the slanted lips, some make a last-ditch effort to bring her back to the bar for another drink, only to be stopped with the simple raised hand of hers, friends coming along as reinforcements to stop the inquisitions. 

Her eyes lock on to you, watching from afar. Like a lighthouse; a signal and a haven for her to find comfort in. She motions you to come to the dance floor; and to that, you raise your glass in earnest, insisting that where you are right now is fine. 

You keep staring, sipping. 

She’s fixed up her top again to where the curves are much more present than usual. 

So you decide to down your bearings, hoping that the thought of Karina could be swallowed down with ease; her damned smile, head tilts,  the swaying of her body (along with bouncing in some places without a care in the world) to the upbeat tunes until she’ll decide she can’t do it anymore. 

At some point, she’ll have to come get you to join. 

And you’ve accepted that it will happen sooner or later. 

Your shoulder gets bumped by one of the people making their way through on accident, diverting your attention for a second. Then- 

Karina’s out of your line of sight. 

Next thing you know- 

She taps your shoulder, tugging on your shirt. 

“Hey-” 

The words you were going to say were: ‘hey, what gives?’ or ‘something wrong?’; but for some reason, you’re left in a stun lock - a trance. There’s also another thing that you realize right away when she has her arms slithering around your middle and up your shoulders. 

She looks around as you track her head movements, checking for something - ensuring that the coast is clear - you can start to get an idea of what she’s trying to do. Your brows furrow, thrown off by Karina’s stoic expression. It’s impossible to see or understand what’s going through her head, but she nicks her head back towards the dance floor, and you instantly get the message. 

“Need you in here, now,” she mouths, but you tilt your head down to hear her repeat it. She then pulls onto the floor while you’re also surveying the crowd, seeing if there was anything fishy. 

Karina guides your hands around her waist, noticing her fingers twitch as they graze your forearm, hinting that something was off. You’ve been near her before, but not like this. She then bumps into a few people standing behind her, prompting you to pull her back towards you - pressing her body, hand now to your neck, chin resting on top of her head- 

You can deduce that this is not her usual self - the reverberating bass pounding into your bodies and hers serving as this sort of proxy to dance more and think less. 

She scratches the ends of your hair right above the nape, irises burning into your face. You assume that this was the favor that she was talking about: going to the club with her and having a good time? Why the fuck did she have to make it sound so complicated in the first place?

“Stay close to me, okay? There’s this guy that’s been trailing us since we got here. I just need some time - help me out, please.” 

You look over your shoulder, Karina centers herself with her hands cupped around your neck, peering over as well. The strobe light blinds your vision for a second before turning back. “Wait, how can you be sure?” 

“Trust me,” she tells you, expression flat, serious. “You’ve got a good sixth sense about these kinds of things anyway, you’ll know.” 

“But-” 

“Isn’t that the guy you mentioned just now-” 

Karina’s quick to get a finger between your lips, darts her eyes out then onto you. The indication alone confirms all of your suspicions. You can’t even see the poor guy, not when the flashing lights are giving you nothing but snapshots amongst the silhouettes and shapes in the dark. “Look, be cool. You’re safe with me. If he gets close I’ll get in–” 

“No wait- it’s fine. Just leave him alone,” she butts in, leaning her head against your chest so she can hide her face. “This is already good, okay? You did great.” 

You cradle the side of her head when she looks up, tongue caught between her teeth slightly. “No, I want to see what was his deal-” 

“Can you shut the fuck up already?” 

“Karina, I-” 

She pulls your head into hers: locking lips, derailing your train of thought. 

You make a sound in her mouth in response to the confusion, but it stops the bickering you two were doing a few seconds ago. She could feel you pull away, but leans her head up back for more, claiming your lips through the kiss; you swear that you and her aren’t that drunk yet. 

It shuts you up, alright. A moment of reprieve that doesn’t give you any time to think because fuck, this girl is making you second guess every single choice you’ve made in your life up till this point, wondering if you’re ever going to take your golden chance or give Karina an earful when you and her get back home later. 

Your fingers dig into the dips of her lower back, her hands on your cheeks, overloading your senses with her lips, giving you hard teeth and a swiping tongue - no time to think or catch up. 

The rest of the world fades out from your head, nothing between you and Karina putting everything on the line in terms of her feelings - almost like the roles had been reversed with her struggling to believe you had a thing for her and you letting your actions do all the talking.

You’re not thinking about the amount of regret you’ll have once all of this is over. Friends just don’t kiss each other out of the blue. No. Karina fed you the false belief that you’d do anything she’d ask you to do, which is why you’re doing this with her. You think this is all a dream, but you sense everything; that diminishes the present thought right away. 

You’ll give as much passion back to Karina, because it’s what you would do for her regardless:

Follow her lead, and listen to what she says; there’s always something with her that you’re blindly agreeing to. 

Karina pulls away for a moment to breathe, next thing you know her tongue slips past against yours, and your grip on her body becomes a lot less pleasant since she’s unleashed that craving hidden within. 

You touch her teeth, smiling. Her forehead gently rubs against yours, breaking the kiss, when you notice it in your peripheral: 

A girl with a hand to her mouth.

One girl next to her with her hand wound up in her hair, in complete shock. 

The third girl behind the two nodded in approval with a sly smirk. 

Yeji, Ryujin, and Yujin: Karina’s other cute little trio, watching their lovely friends finally have their moment together. 

You look back at Karina, rubbing her bottom lip with her finger, internalizing the taste of you. 

Then the realization settles in. 

“That guy backed away from us,” she tells you, “but I gotta say, you’ve outdone yourself.” 

You glance over to see Karina’s trio watch as said guy turns his back into the crowd, retreating away. 

“What’s the matter? Speechless?” she asks again, finger happily dancing along your skin, and your hands aren’t moving off her body. You’ve never been shy with her, except this one time: right now. 

“Never with you,” you answer, matching her smug expression. “Never.” 

Karina hides her true intention again for a second, knowing that it’ll wither away the more she acts like this. Right, she can say one thing, though her actions are so easy to read from the minute she’s invaded your personal space. 

This girl is bad news in everything.

So you hold your gaze with her, wondering, connecting the dots. Speculating how long she’s been planning for this to happen, to be like every other guy that’s ever tried to get her in their bed or between those legs. Even so, she knows you’re not simple to break, and that’s where she’s got you. “I knew you had to be sure somehow, just didn’t think you’d go this far.” 

“Desperate times, desperate measures.” Karina eyes cross slightly as she stares at you, thumb grazing along your chin. “You were taking too long for my liking.” 

Liking? Surely not. 

There’s no possible way she could-

“What the hell does that mean?” You ask, staring back, tongue tip between your teeth. Your breathing starts to shallow. 

Karina leans into the side of your head, amidst the noise of the speakers and funneling her voice well in your ear canal. “It doesn’t make sense to me, you know. How we’ve known each other for this long, and we haven’t thought of even trying it at least once.” 

She knows where she’s going with this - all those times you’ve ogled at her hoping that she wouldn’t notice - or all of those times where you’ve talked about everything that had to involve life at any given point. You’d hoped that you dodge the question for a little longer. 

Karina’s friends managed to crack it out of you a while back, remembering it well. Her touch on your body has gone gentler, never breaking her gaze on you.

“How come you and I have never hooked up with each other?” 

You freeze. Feel the warmth spread across your cheeks; it’s an immediate catch, and you were praying silently that this was a dream. 

Exposed. Is what you are. 

Though Karina doesn’t falter here. Her eyes shimmer in the dim lighting. Wistful. You’re giving her enough time to figure out where your head was leveled at; like she would understand whether you wanted this or not. 

“Honestly, we could’ve.” You admit, with a sharp inhale. Hoping that the answer alone is enough for her sake. “Like- god, it would’ve been so easy. I wanted-” 

“Is it because you and I are just friends? That’s complete bullshit if that’s what you’re sticking with. I’ve seen you look at me that way before, or with my back turned; goes to show that you don’t have what it takes to get what you want, but I do.” 

You pull her close, and that gets her flustered. 

Both of your hands are on her face, leaning on her, stopping right at the lips, watch her eyelids flutter in anticipation. The thrumming of your heartbeat pounds between your eardrums, until she looks at you dead in the eyes, sliding her hand lower and lower, quirks her eyebrows once her fingers lay land over your pants. 

Your throat bobs, swallowing on nothing. The lightbulb sets off in her head. 

“Would you look at that? Oh my. Honey, you’re just like the rest of them. Try to deny it all you want, but you can’t get the thought of using my body to get yourself off. And guess what? I’d let you.” 

She’s got a key charm in being forward. And you find it to be so fucking sexy; saying things like that with no care for who hears, keeping it blunt and straight to the point; she could talk her way out of a speeding ticket and she really could. Karina was simply being herself, you could point the culprit in the alcohol or maybe her friends, but you’re still caught in her crosshairs and the window of escape is closing fast. 

You don’t do anything to resist the pair of hands at your neck and the seat of your pants - or the fact that she’s yanking your head back to meet hers and you hear all her friends squeal at the mere sight of Karina getting her chance. Everything about this is sensational, a new thing to adapt and learn by the minute. 

Here, when she lets you pull away: “You can do better than that, sweetie. Tell. Me.”

You’ll tell her everything that she wants to hear: how you’ve had a crush on her since high school, how you’ve managed to stay by her side after all these years, the fact that you couldn’t jeopardize what you already had. Besides, the risk of losing her as a lover and a friend was too much to bear, that she isn’t the kind of girl to have sex with because you love her and that will be the end of it all. 

Sooner than later, you’ll tell her that. So to suffice, you say: “I could’ve, believe me. We just never did.” 

From that alone, Karina shakes her head, neither rejecting nor accepting. Her wrists slack behind your neck, bring her waist closer until you’re able to lace your fingers around your arm. You’re nervous at what might be going through her head right now, gnawing your inner lip to keep your mind occupied. 

She looks you dead in the eyes, a twinkle behind them: full of inspiration, desire, hunger, want. 

You kiss her again, because you believe that’s the only thing right to do. “How bout this,” she says, giddy and sultry, “Why don’t we find this out for ourselves?” 

–

This wasn’t the first time you’ve been in this position. 

And certainly, it won’t be the last, either. 

You’ve put up with Karina’s bullshit for as long as you could remember: from carrying her on your back after a long night out to those times of sleeping on the couch since she complained her bed was too stiff and decided to use yours. You can think of one instance of every emotion she has, nothing but fun memories in those moments. 

However, you’ve never been like this with her. 

Until tonight. 

You catch yourself failing miserably in keeping your guard up with Karina. Not when she’s taking every red light as her chance to kiss you in the car, her hand sliding under your shirt and grazing your pants shamelessly. Not when you’ve pressed her tits up against the elevator door and flipped her around kissing you once more so that the camera guy can see, hear her giggle and hum at this new and improved version of you that she’s created. 

It’s all a rush for her, the way you can’t let go of her past the door, pin her hips against the kitchen counter, peel off the layers of clothes starting with her jacket, grasp her breast held captive by the tight holds of her tank top. You raise her on the marble so that she can match your height - make her feel taller, build that ego up, give her the false impression that she’s the one having fun.

Most definitely on the fact that you’ve got her tank top off in record time, gawking at the immeasurable amount of skin along those luscious valleys you’ve classified as her breasts. 

Karina’s head goes sideways, inquisitive. She sees you have your sights set on the prize, all within arms reach. “That’s cute, you’ve been eyeing these babies ever since I moved in, god you’re not that hard to whirl around.” You have your fun at her neck while her fingers are working fast at your pants, sliding her hand underneath the elastic of your boxers- 

“Jesus baby,” she husks, appalled with the curl of your fingers along the length. She thought the bulge earlier was already apparent enough - oh how wrong she was, looking down at the newly claimed prize. “Since when the fuck were you hiding this from me? This is not the same cock I hear you jerk yourself off with now and then-” 

“Just one of my few surprises,” you cut her off, jolting your hips forward when the grip around your girth gets a tad bit tighter. “Believe me when I say this, you ain’t seen nothing yet.” 

Karina wets her lip, biting. 

She’s getting used to the new feeling of this. Of you. Her small hand holds you in place, trying to find the right words to describe or end with. You’re trying to see how far she would go - how much could she take; then, she drives another nail into the coffin: “Fuck. You’re like- really big.” 

You grin, since that’s got enough weight in the words to inflate your confidence through the roof. She twists her hand around while you’re peppering her face with your lips, over and over and over, until she’s completely broken you down and all signs seem to be pointing in that direction. 

You hear her hum in approval, sighing in relief, whisper these praises laced with your name. And when she says your name, genuinely, it comes off in a moment of seriousness - hallowed even. 

She’ll make you plummet into the depths of hell, or raise you to the golden pearly gates above; no matter the difference, you’re falling for one of two ways with her. 

It’s also putting you in a bad position because you know her experiences, what she wants, the mere basics of it. You pull her hips as she twists her hand by reflex, like it has a mind of its own, pumping your length. 

You hate how good she is at working you up. The wonders in sleight of hand: where to curl her fingers, how fast she should handle the strokes, the press of her thumb down on your tip, studying it while trying to figure out where to even start. 

“It’s not even fair at this point,” she tells you, sly smirking while you see her eyes fall halfway, softly laughing as she sees your knees buckle and hit the cabinet beneath her because you can’t respond properly. “You’re gonna take care of me so well. Using this to fuck my brains out.” 

Her smile goes even wider when your head falls back involuntarily, giving Karina the window to leave some marks of her own across your chest. 

Her ankles rest at the back of your thighs, leaning forward to get her other hand on your throbbing shaft, paying attention to your balls, weaving them between her fingers, dividing and conquering to no avail, to turn your mind into a puddle. 

“It’s gonna look so pretty in my ass,” Karina whispers into your ear, leaving more kisses behind, making you feel like you’re on cloud nine. “I bet I could make you cum with just my mouth, my hands. Maybe I’ll give you a tease, spread my legs and let you slip inside right here, since you’re so fucking hard that you could knock me out with this cock, hm?” 

Oh, what in the actual fuck- 

Right out of the gates, this girl is forcing you to be head over heels - to submit and bend to her will; she knows what to preach, her words alone fulfilling every single fantasy you have in the book, to take what’s hers and feed you that overpowering urge above all: to simply ruin her.

Unpredictability is something that Karina takes pride in: going slow at one point, then faster the next, dragging and shortening your breath in every stroke until the pressure becomes too much. 

She nods at her handiwork, sliding off the counter and pulling you by the dick across the apartment. That alone makes you snap and pin her - grab her by the arm and spin her around - press and bend her body over on the couch for a quick second. 

You pull her by the hair and shift her head; forcing her to lean up for a kiss. Flush your hips with hers where the weight of you might make her crumble right away. 

You almost feel bad about it, but that thought gets quickly diminished, because Karina knows how much she can handle. She wants to be taken rough, split apart, worship her body like it's some new testament you’ll reflect on in adoration, have her cunt fucked so thoroughly by you that she’ll come crawling back craving for more. 

“How long have you been waiting for this?” Karina grins into your cheek, running her hand up over yours greedily grasping at her tit. “All those slutty things I kept telling you, seems like you wanted some of the fun as well, huh?” 

Okay, she’s not wrong at all. You’ll bank that on the fact that she has most definitely heard you jerk yourself off at night, or the fact you’ve seen her walk out the shower naked but pretend to look the other way. With all those stories of her escapades, part of you wanted to join along now and then. 

So you give her mercy and lift yourself off from her, watch her glance over her shoulder when you’re following her to your room, fingers to the latch of her bra, the garment slipping off and falling to the floor. Her back is hypnotic to look at, and you find yourself chasing after her for another go. 

“This is gonna be bad for you,” she giggles, holding her by the door frame while your hands have a mind of their own, freely roaming across the canvas of her perfect body, sliding up and down and feeling the untouched territory yet to be claimed. “Can’t even stay away from me even for two seconds.” 

She sticks her ass out, dips her head down when you get a hold of her mound, the flesh alone having its little weight to it, graze your thumb over her nipples, pinch it, kiss the back of her neck, and leave another mark. You are going to take your sweet time with her; use your teeth, your mouth, your cock. Anything and everything in your arsenal to make Karina yours. 

It starts with the letdown. Now, we’re at a shuffle - a waltz, a sloppy waltz - until Karina spins herself around while you settle at the edge of your bed, hike up to your hips, rest them there, forearms on shoulders, kissing you once more. 

A gentle moan slips out of her mouth when you finally start indulging yourself in her fabulous tits. Seeing out the amount of fun you are going to have: licking, kissing, biting along the perfect skin. Your mind can’t seem to register the fact that your hands were made for holding them; the fit alone, it feels so nice. 

Fuck, it’s even better once you realize she’s so responsive to the touch. That alone prompts you to add oil to the fire and drop the intimate act for something more primal, hungrier. She does this little shimmy with her upper body, moving her breasts around for your mouth to be caught in between them like two mushy pillows molding around your face. 

Her hand slips under and grips around you again, the friction causing you to bite down on her skin. A fair trade at least - a two-way system - you touch her, she touches you. 

“God, I think I know why you held yourself back with me for this long,” her words heavy and just coherent enough to understand, “maybe I convinced myself that I couldn’t handle you.” 

You laugh into her breasts, her hand on the back of your head, tugging while she hears the hums. 

She sighs, relieved. Like there’s a weight finally off her shoulders. “Why didn’t we do this sooner?” One second later, she pushes your head away, jaw slack, eyes clouded with lust, drunk on the taste of her skin, your hand sliding lower and lower from her waist, the warm surface getting even hotter when you reach her panties, grazing the lace. 

“It’s unreal, I don’t even have to tell you to say anything-” she sucks in a breath at the feeling of your fingers soaking up her slick, swipe your thumb upwards across her clit. “You win baby. I’ll let you have your way. I promise.” She tilts your head up for a kiss, grining her hips down, forcing the groan from you down her throat. “I can give you everything you ever dreamed of having.” 

You don’t even know where to fucking start. 

“Don’t put words in my mouth,” you say, hitting the tip of your nose against hers; get a light-hearted laugh out. “I’ll make you regret them.” 

“Oh yeah? Why don’t you tell me what’s going through your head right now? With me on top? I’m all ears.” 

It’s even worse when you see her hand slithering down from her tits. Lower. Lower. The influence already affects you when she brings your hand around your cock, slowly tugging along as she treats herself to such a sight. 

That said sight of Karina playing with herself; sighing, murmuring, tilting her head slightly as her breath shudders at the sound of you groaning whilst doing the same thing with yourself. You see the damage, the marks, the places where you’ll leave more bruises than before. 

You just have to- fucking- look. You have her in such a state that you have never imagined yourself being in, and now that’s realized right in front of your eyes. 

So you tell her exactly how you’ll fuck her. What position she likes the most, where does she want you to take her, how much you’ll twist her mind into becoming more desperate for you and your cock, when you’ll make her cum, rail that poor cunt of hers until she’s sobbing in the filthiest fucking mess possible. 

“I’d be sinning,” you tell her, admittedly. “If I didn’t say that you’ve never imagined me fucking your tits unlike now. Better yet-” 

“And let me guess, you were hoping to God that there was at least somebody out there who could fulfill that desire for you, right?” Karina interrupts, hand still in between her legs, watching you shamelessly jerk yourself off. She sighs, “So original. I think you deserve more than that.” 

Uhm- well- okay, yeah. 

“What, too weird?” You ask right after, breathless, your shaft throbbing around your fingers a tad early for your taste. “Ouch. I get it. It’s fine.” 

“No, no, no,” Karina sighs, licking her lips. Her eyes shine through yours, a supernova unraveling. “I think we can settle with this. You fix me, I fix you. Deal?” 

Who’s to say that there was a chance Karina had the same vision as you? 

–

It’s a freeze-frame moment when the realization hits you for the first time. 

You’re seeing, but still having a tough time believing:

The sight of your cock being swallowed up by her tits, tongue laving at the tip, her hands compressing her chest inwards so that she can hold you there - focus on her lips and listen to the soft moans all lovely and adoring. Your poor cock: leaking with precum mixed with spit and when it’s all slicked up, you’ll put her on her back and make her press her breasts together, slip right back inside the heat and press into the friction. A gift from the heavens, you think. God, you’ll praise and worship them for as long as you live. 

“Shit,” you barely manage, rasping, like it’s some epiphany, as if this was new for her. “Karina, that’s incredible.” 

Her eyes dart at you, lashes flickering. The subtlety alone is near cute, even when her fingers dig into the skin of her tits, pinching at the nipples, tongue hanging out as some of the spit starts to drip over into the cleavage. 

She lowers her mouth right above the tip, seals it around your thick cockhead lightly. “Really?” 

You clench your jaw a little tighter, “God,” you huff, tensing up your hips for the thrust, fucking into the pressure, stare as she moves her tits downward to meet in the middle. “Fuck, yes.” 

“Don’t you suppose that this is good for me as well?” She then asks, dazed. 

“Why- fuck. Why the fuck are you asking me?” You rasp, tone gentle the next second. “Judging how hard you’re pressing, I hope that you won’t let that go to your head.” Karina’s face lights up with excitement, tilts her head down into your hand, smirking as she hears the stable breathing. Her brown eyes - like her tits - are soft, easy; her plump bottom lip sweeps the head of your cock once again. 

She hums as she stares. Chuckles at the mere buck of your hips. Cute. 

“Hmmm, maybe I will,” she accepts. 

You scoff, mixed with relief and with disbelief because Karina’s tits are fucking unreal and to top it all off she’s sucking you off while your cock is held captive between them; though you’re stuck in a hypnosis and that’s the only sensible reaction of Karina that you could give her. “Karina,” you’re seething, “Jesus, Karina-” 

She moves her chest in this side-to-side motion, wiggling her tits like it’s some shameless dance move, proposing. “What’s the matter, baby? All that waiting and you can’t hold it together?” She asks, arms moving inward with her elbows at the bottom line - her drool dribbling down her tongue and into her cleavage in this messy waterfall. “You wanna cum in between my fucking tits, hm? Right in the middle? Paint them white over these red marks you kissed all over-” 

The sound ripping from your throat is an indication of the first layer of your inner wall being broken down. It’s just for show, but she’s taking it literally. She has a knack for talking filthy. Here you are losing it. Her hand holds you by the base and pumps you - rubs your balls for good measure, pushing, soothing, encouraging - and Karina’s eyes shimmer while her mouth shifts, something more shrewd, vicious. 

“You fit so well here,” she gasps, “God, I wonder how it’ll feel when you stuff up my tiny pussy-” 

Your head falls back and you’re swearing. Clenching your fists while your elbows start to slide back. 

“Karina,” you say again, because it’s easier to speak than think. “I’m- I’m,” 

Her lips pout, shaking her head, disappointed. “No. Don’t,” she sighs, “Don’t you dare,” she says next, “please, I want it inside, inside me - in my pretty little pussy, make me feel good, so full, want your - mmm,” you see her eyes close, biting her lip at the idea, whining, “you’ve dreamt of cumming inside me - breeding me, knocking me up for fun-” 

This girl is something else - good on you to match up to her craziness - and you’re biting your lip along with her as well, watching her hand slip under to her clit while she holds your dick between her tits, thighs shaking as she spreads - it’s ingrained into your head, the sight of it. She wants you to breed her, or whatever is remotely close to cumming on her - and Karina will keep on asking for your input of all these things she’s projecting, leave it up to interpretation before acting on it. You’ve never thought you’d see yourself be like this, let alone have Karina act this way all for you. You’ll keep pondering about it long after you’ve had your fill - or her having her fill - it could go both ways for all you know. 

Still. The girl keeps moving. 

“Oh my fuck,” you slip out, different sayings all preaching the same message, “that feels so fucking incredible,” which isn’t enough to describe the present state of things nor does it fulfill the bare minimum of everything either but for Karina’s ego and with her smirk - because that’s how it always was, just feels right. 

“You’ve never said anything about it, but you’re obsessed,” Karina taunts. “This mouth, these tits, they’re all for you - you could have me any way you want,” she keeps her hands moving while her head sways from one end to the other, sighing as her tongue stops at her teeth. “Look at you. I’ve never seen you so desperate to fuck a slut like me and claim her like she’s yours.” 

She presses inward with her tits. You feel your shaft swell even harder. A lift up, then a drop. Repeat. You’re tensing every muscle in your waist as hard as you can. 

“So?” You ask weakly, huffing. “So what, okay- shit. You-” 

Next thing you do is pick up right where you left off. Thrusting into her tits and feel your pace fluctuate to the point that it’s gotten so dirty as you’d imagine fucking her cunt could get, hips smacking skin on skin, into the softness of her breasts, wet sounds and gasps let out through every slap. 

“Right there, cum,” she mutters, irises foggy, straight out of your wet dreams, leaning her neck forward with her jaw hung open so that you can fuck yourself straight into her mouth, look down at your wobbling hips - throbbing and twitching as she drinks in the sight of you nearing that edge. “Fuck my tits like that, cum all over them, wanna feel, wanna hear how much you want me.” 

You say her name, or at least try to. The sound incoherent, broken, and apologetic; just downright humbling. The best thing you can do is make good on your part. Your cock is so deep in between her tits, the messy slick and warmth enveloping you wholly; fingers doing the little adjustments, a rough measure of how her pussy will wreck your dick later - dragging her breasts across the sensitive edges, the lightest touch of her fingers at the top, flicking the underside. It’s too much, too fast, too- 

“God, Karina-” 

“Oooh,” she beams, ecstatic. “Oh my god.” 

Soon you feel yourself spilling everything in the tightest spot of her breasts, mouth slacking as she watches in awe of your cock tensing and erupting your release all over the skin of her chest, her throat. Her chest heaves along with the pulsing, shaking her tits soon after, gently pumping out the remnants of white, squeezing. It’s unholy what she’s doing, eyes glassy and spit slathered across the space, face flushed and chin dripping with your cum; and she lowers herself to where your shaft is in line with her face, pursing her lips - like some money shot - full and getting an appetizer of what’s to come. You ghost your hand to the back of her head, cautiously - the hand between her legs treats to her clit, the other wrapped around your shaft and smacking your dick on her cheek, so it’s a definite premonition come to life: her on her knees and dreamily staring at your dick while she’s soaking up your white hot mess. 

“Aww, well that’s too bad. Couldn’t hold it at the first go. Shame on you,” mutters Karina, grinning and letting out a soft pitiful laugh. 

“You’re fucking insane.” 

“And what are you gonna do about it?” she asks, patting your ass in comfort. She massages her tits right in front of you, the webbing of cum spread across the inner parts of her mounds, in the gap of the heavy curves. “I can’t believe you- God, you came so fucking much.” 

You keep on staring while you’re fighting for the last bits of consciousness left - like if you hit the canvas in a boxing match, and your coach helped you up with counting: one, two, three, four, up, up, up, up; you’ll try to focus on the breathing, take your time, continue to blink while the rest of the world fades out from your vision and all that’s there in the middle is Karina’s sluttiest form fully culminated. That’s all you see: the right angles and curves of her breasts, well sculpted and detailed that you’ll keep observing in reverence. It’s so much to process, the first glance at the scene of the crime, all over Karina, unreal and cute and just- perfect. You’re not dreaming, the nerves in your body overloaded with stimulation to properly conclude that Karina was purely made as a vessel to take limitless loads of cum in and all over her outright beautiful body. 

“Well-” You sigh heavily, a weight lifted off your shoulders. “I’m kinda- ugh. Yeah.” 

But Karina still has you on the palms of her hands, deciding what’s enough on her terms. 

Because one second later, she spreads your legs more and slides her tongue up from your balls and upwards against the underside, then to the tip. She giggles at the feeling of you snapping to attention from the contact, and you sharply inhale at the sensation, ready for more. 

“You should know that you have to deal with me the right way,” adds Karina. “This was just the start.” She then glances down to her fingertips, picking up the cum smeared all over her chest and licks it up, eyes fixated on you with interest while alternating the treatment of her lips to her fingers, to your cock. “Still speechless about my performance?” 

You roll your eyes, flaring your nostrils. “Do you do this with every guy you get in bed with?” 

Karina laughs at that, batting her lashes. “Not really. But if you’re gonna shut me up, make sure it’s with your cock.” 

Her brows light up in excitement when rake your fingers into her hair, pull her back, at the point where she surprisingly gasps. You flick her hand away from your cock, notice her mouth drop lower, expecting you to do as she says: plug one hole up for the time being. 

You don’t do that, though. Your mouth finds hers and it fills the space for the moment. 

A moment where the intimacy reaches the sweetest. In all the right ways, you’re defying her wishes through actions rather than words. Karina forces a high-pitched hum down your throat, clashing her teeth into your face, catching your lip in the midst, pulling. You’re sure she wants to see you hurt - she’s already done that - two can play at that game. 

Your hands slot themselves at the slides of her face, gripping, eager mouth keeping you focused on the task at hand, and it’s second nature when her arms wrap around your neck, lifting her up from the floor. She won’t stop giggling, laughing; the noises a spell of their own, cursing you - an unsaid promise that you’ll give to her even when you’re flipping her around back on the mattress. 

The weight of you two creaks the springs when Karina rolls herself over and finds herself on top of you. You feel her slick folds glide up your leg, the stickiness mixing in with your skin and tainting. Her conquest doesn’t stop there, until she settles the heat over your cock, grinding, the ache alone enough to make you writhe in wanting. 

She flips her head over to one side, breaking the kiss, falling back down for more. Her eyes and yours are both out of focus, panting heavily. She’s fucking unbelievable, a red herring that you had all the wrong ideas for, finally seeing the truest form of her nature being awakened. 

You say something remotely close to your thoughts. 

She looks at you, astounded. 

Sighs. 

You feel her hand cradle your head tenderly. 

Meets your forehead with hers and smiles. 

Tracing a finger to your jaw, pinching the skin soothingly. 

“You’re going to ruin me,” Karina whispers, kissing your cheek. “I hoped it was you to be the last one I try my luck with.” 

You close your eyes because it’s the truth.

Your hand shoots up for the headboard behind you, gripping. She helps grab the other arm and pins them together, captures your lips once more and it’s too intoxicating to fight against. She continues to grind her hips against yours, feel the heat of her cunt and her folds glide above you.

The teasing is insufferable, feeling her warmth wash you over. 

“I’ve waited long enough.” 

The words are at the tip of your tongue, but they won’t come out. 

“I’ve always wanted it to be you,” she carries on, softly laughing as you’re crumbling underneath her weight. “And now, you- and this cock, is mine. Mine, mine, mine, mine, mine.” 

She dips your cock in, sinking, slowly, the inches getting swallowed up in increments. You moan in response, kissing her collarbone. You’ve imagined what it would be like, prayed that one day you’d get the glorious chance to be inside this wonderful heat. It’s something else, like a long reward that you’ve sought out for but it's the fact that Karina’s tight cunt is practically making you choke where you could die and be happy with it. 

“Jesus fuck,” you groan, the fibers in your body tensing. She just sighs, hoists her hips up, and sinks back down again. 

She does it again - and again, and again. The movement alone; painstakingly slow and increasing with every passing second. Her hips seizing yours in place and fucking you like that’s all she’s meant for; like this opportunity was a once-in-a-lifetime moment and she’s going to take every advantage of it. As if she feared you telling her to forget everything about tonight and move on like it’s normal. 

“It’s not even fair, the way you make me feel,” sighs Karina, yielding to the pleasure, head dipping down. “I should’ve known - fuck, I really should’ve known. Why didn’t we do this sooner?” 

Your hips match hers in a dance, unable to answer. Unwilling to, actually. 

Because you’d rather save the words for later and live in the present, her body consuming you at a rate that shouldn’t be humanly possible. The way she rides on top of you, head and shoulders and arms invading every corner of your being, reigning fire. It’s so fucking good - her cunt, the warmth, the feeling, it’s impossible to think straight and there’s a part of you in the corner of your mind that’s jumping for joy. Walls tearing down from within, freeing you. 

If you’re not careful, it’ll be even worse when you’re guzzling your cum into her tight pussy before she even has had the chance to fuck your cock properly. She’s holding you hostage, bounding your hands with hers - a beautiful punishment to undertake. The moans and sighs alternate, complimenting one another as she continues to jut her hips forward and back - back and forward. “I hate you,” she’s saying, “I hate how you had the fucking guts to not let me try.” 

God, it really is pathetic for you. Karina figuratively digging her fingers into every nook and cranny of your brain, making you want - want to lose it, to be desperate, to be the version of you that’s capable enough to go beat-for-beat with her. The groove of your index and thumb settle at her waist, picking up the pace, use the drag of her cunt across your cock, but Karina grasps your jaw, mouthing an ‘ah, ah, ah’ as a consequence for your eagerness. 

Slamming her ass back down, she chokes an utterance out of you, “Fucking- Karina-” 

And Karina hums, letting her lower half do the work. “What’s wrong?” she asks, all innocent and sweet that doesn’t cover her sinful act. Perfectly calculated in her head of how she’s working you up. “What are you gonna do? Fuck me?” 

She took the words right out of your mouth. 

She finally managed to break you. 

You’re not nice about it, either: breaking the little restraint from her hands, hooking your arms underneath her shoulders, turn her over and yank her hips back to yours. 

The gasps. You want more. 

Karina tests the waters again when she breaks free from your grasp, forcing you to push her down on the mattress by the head, claw your fingers into her scalp, raise her up to flush her waist and hold her mouth open, taking account of the newly formed arch in her back - the perfect fucking bell curve. 

She sighs again. Not in shock, no. In relief. Satisfied, ecstatic, excited, as if she’s finally getting what she wants - for you to have enough and put her in her place. “God, yes. Fuck yes. Fucking do it. Do it! C’mon-” 

You slip yourself inside and shut her up for a second, feel her walls clamp around your throbbing member. “Like this?” You ask, snarling into her ear cuff, pulling her by the hair where she won’t even complain about the pain. “Want me to be like this with you from now on?” 

“You have no idea,” Karina says, nodding frantically, the arch of her hips moving backward against you. “How much I needed this from you.” 

Pushing your buttons and limits is what she does best. 

So you grab her by the throat, give a sloppy placement of your mouth at the corner of her lips, forcing her to look up and back. The angle where your cock is embedded rips her apart at the first slam. You’re going to fuck her. You’re going to fuck her ruthlessly. Fuck her cunt so bad like you’ve always wanted to the day she accidentally flashed herself at you and the image of her figure burned into your memory. 

She keens when you bottom out completely, filling her up to the brim with your cock. Stokes coming along easier and easier as the claps of skin start to reverberate around the walls of your bedroom -  thrusting up into her cunt and not giving a fuck about the rest. 

Karina tugs at your hair, finding a place to hold herself together, hips stilling and moving and eventually freezing. You’re up to the plate now, dishing out the real work far better than her. 

You are going to break her. Pound her ass. Bounce her cunt all over your dick, listen to how her breaths shudder and choke in the stale air with every upstroke. Your mind is working double time - trying to figure out how much she can take, where are her sensitive spots and capitalize on the weak points. 

The hints are in her body, you take that into account. She takes in every inch with her cunt, eyes fluttering shut, sighing in complete adoration. Willing to let you pour every ounce of your being onto her; these feelings, these frustrations. A place where you can let your imaginations run wild, her body a sacred temple built to ruin, in all of the harmonious sounds that come out of her mouth, occasional screams to let you know what you’re doing is right. 

When she cradles the side of your head again, staring forward at the mirror placed behind your bed along the wall, she grins, watching you place a kiss along her throat, leaning her head back to deepen the angle, runs a hand over yours, treating itself to one of her tits. “Baby, you can never have enough of me.” 

That earns her a firm grasp of your arms, pulling her closer. She shouldn’t even be able to speak, let alone have this much fun. You push her down back on the bed, hands sliding down her waist, stopping at the indent of her hips, dragging your cock out and yanking her ass back in. “Do you ever fuck your girls like this?” 

“Are you always this talkative during sex?” 

“Not exactly,” her breath hitches when you bend over the swell of her ass, swipe your finger above her clit to tease. “I’m eager- ah, eager to see,” she bites down her moan when you spread her sopping pussy lips apart, feel her leak even more on your cock, “how far you’d go-” 

You’re getting there, that’s for sure. 

Now you’re wondering what else you can do with her hips up and knees spread wide. 

“Stay right there,” you say, pressing a hand down her spine to deepen the arch, her ass getting bigger at your waist, palm full of fine skin, “and let’s see.” 

Her fast shriek registers a second after you smack the surface, the sound mimicking the crack of lightning. 

You slap her ass, impale yourself back in, watch as your cock disappears from your view. 

Karina’s face dives into the sheets, muffling her scream. 

“Big mistake,” you growl, seeking your fingers into the roots of her hair, snatching. You spank her again. 

And again. 

And again. 

The punishment and reward: you smack her ass, fuck into her, feel her body blossom with heat and flushed with crimson; handfuls of sheets or pillows or anything that’s within reach. Her cunt gushes even more, the throaty moans hiccuping as her body convulses more because of the blowback, and she’s still smiling.

“God- oh my God,” Karina pants, fingers back between her legs as she throws her ass back now, completing the motion. “So forceful.” 

You cup the sides of her waist, press your fingers over the blotches of red, skin rippling each passing second your hips flush with hers. The sounds of the smacks and the gentle creaks of the bed are already erotic enough that the spanking in between is just the cherry on top. 

All that Karina has to do in this situation is to simply ride out the wave of pleasure, body slightly jaded through every firm impact of your cock weaving itself inside her cunt, the vice closing in every millisecond. 

“-so good. You’re so good,” spits Karina, eyes cinched shut; a sharp inhale when you reach that spot, body seizing. “K-keep using my cunt, just like that- wanna feel your dick ruck up inside-” 

You’re grasping at her neck, deepening the angle. You want to melt into her, to feel everything. To fill her mind up with nothing but just you. 

“You did this to me,” you grit, pulling her back on your cock; listen to her stutters for an answer. “This is all on you.” 

But she giggles, head swiveling forward and face first into the pillows, but her wailing still breaks through. She comes back up for air soon after. Whatever she can get, “The plan, baby,” she’s telling you, “It was all part of the plan. Always.” 

That twists your mind in more ways than one. Her mouth, her hands, her body, all within arm's reach. You grasp at her tit again, drive your cock back into her cunt, her moans inching up an octave, and the shimmer coming out of the corner of Karina’s eye gives you all the more reason to keep going. 

“I’ll break you until you’ve had enough,” she breathes out, and her face contorts to something remotely pained, “please, for the love of fuck- don’t stop bouncing my pussy on your- fuck!” 

It hits you when you’ve finally worked Karina to stop talking. Breathless. Heaving. You sigh out of rapture, the feeling washing over you like you got dunked in water. A new enlightenment fully realized - the full manifestation of her creation, and now she’s on the receiving end of it.  

You give her two more firm strokes inside her; drag yourself out and rub your tip over her folds. She wiggles her ass in response, tempting you. Having another fill as her cunt clenches your cock once more, slick soaking up your skin until the friction is almost seamless, siphoning every part of your being just for her. 

This angle is dangerous: the way her stomach is nearly flat, you find your bearings above her, pushing in, too deep, holding her by the hips, anchoring, knees apart and at an angle where they would be if she was kneeling on a pew. Instead, you grab one leg, then the other - get your palms full of her waist in supplication as the undersides of the peak of her thighs meet yours, curves rippling on impact, thrust your cock into her open cunt where you’re rubbing all of the spots at once, gliding in so easily where the pace alone really sets itself into place. Her hand tends to one of her tits, hopelessly keeping it in place while you’re hooking her back for that arch and cementing the motion as your own. The time of teasing and playfulness is over, as you’re chasing to make the aches in her body a problem and sever all the nerves in her system until you can visibly see her limbs shudder - fuck out a complaint from her lips to make you stop and not act so greedy about it; but then your mouth is back on her again, hoping to sedate her thoughts as you let your lower half keep up the work. 

Then you sigh something between the space of the lips, an undertone: “You like this, love?” 

A nod is the only response she can give you, mouth parted and unable to coherently say anything in particular, so grab her chin. 

She’s getting there. You know. You can tell. 

“This pretty little cunt, all for me, no?” 

Karina mouths a ‘fuck���, biting her lip immediately after. 

“I’ll use you in whatever way I want.” 

Her hand swoops over and presses your forehead against hers, whining in pure euphoria.

“Let me hear you,” you urge, hand moving up so you can close her mouth, lighten up on the pressure so that she speaks a bit more freely. “I want you to say it.” 

Karina locks onto your eyes, searching for the right words in your head, and you know she will- 

Because Karina knows that she’ll be good for you. Your perfect little fucktoy. A personal slut who’ll always let you have and you know this well enough since it’s taken you this long to finally see it. “Oh baby it’s all yours, it’s all yours, it’s all yours. I promise- I promise that it’s all yours and it’s no one else’s- I promise it’s only yours just keep fucking-” 

To say that your ego was inflated would be an understatement. But man, words can not describe how much you wanted her to scream it out at the top of her lungs. 

Your groaning matches hers in volume, the bedframe not too far off to scrape across the hardwood. You’re pretty sure that the springs will bounce along with your bodies as well. 

“So pretty,” you praise, kissing her. “I’m gonna have this cunt all to myself. Whenever. Wherever-” 

Karina’s head lolls back and up, clutching onto your neck for added support. Heaving as you’re fucking the air out of her and makes her voice have this raspy tone attached to it: “That’s cute. You won’t have to look very far now that there’ll be one room for us to share.” 

You pause, blinking. Your finger moves a wisp of her hair away from her face, her eyes widening and fulll with sparkles. Never in a million years, you’d find yourself to be in this position - inside of Karina - but here we are. No need to move fast when you’ve done the hard stuff already. 

“So what,” you say, picking up a stable pace in her cunt, saving the dissipating control where you can. What’s there to be left said when it’s already shown? “It’s bad news for you because I’m gonna have you every chance I can get.” 

“You wanna let the whole world know how rough you’re fucking me? Be my guest,” she tells you, palm braced to your waist and moving her hips in this body-roll motion, biting her lip as the entity of sin returns in her mind, taking over. 

“I’m too good for you,” continues Karina, light-hearted and giddy, as if she’s not trying to milk every bit of you into her fucking pussy. “And here I thought I knew everything about you.” 

She’s right about that. Fortunately, this is more than just a dream. This is reality. You have endless memories with her as it is, and you’re positive that you’re excited to create more of them with her. 

“I guess you could say this is one more secret kept away.” 

A hand to your face, gentle. Loving. “My handsome boy.” 

“Fuck you.” 

“You are.” Karina breathes with an airy laugh, voice getting hazier. Cock drunk and fucked out of her mind. It’s working. “So hot.” 

“Gonna talk?” 

“Fuck-” she then sighs, hissing, and the smirk fades from her face, something more warm, languid, laid back. Her mind is gone. “Fuck.” 

You nod and give her a smirk of approval. Proud of your latest curation. The girl that everyone wants, only wants you. The beauty in that exclusivity lifts a weight off your head, and you’re far inclined to accept it head-on. 

“How bad do you want me?” You ask, biting down a kiss to push some life into her. Tears welled up at the corners, letting her feel every inch where you could take it. 

“I should be asking you, how far are you gonna hold out for me?” Karina purrs. “I’ll give you what you want if you let go first.” She tells you, pulling her body upwards and shifting the limbs around before you find yourself sliding back into her where the angle is at her cunt’s hottest point. A spot where you’d never turn back on. 

The pressing of the crease at her knees, legs pushed up high. Your cock is so embedded and consumed by her pussy that you’re having trouble staying upright. 

She then says this mantra - a phrase said differently but its message is very clear: “I’m all yours,” she wails, “I’ll always be yours if you let me- fuck! Only let me have this cock all to myself.” 

It’s happened multiple times before in your life: being wrapped around her finger. But this- this takes the meaning to a whole new level. Her body claims you as its own and you’ll surrender to that discovery for as long as you walk on this earth. 

The strokes keep going, the mindnumbing sensation coming to its fated end - that blissful release and last bits of pent-up feelings of Karina; her cunt a glove, sheathing your cock perfectly with every thrust, clenching around your girth to pump you out. 

You’ve already laid the cards on the table a long time ago or- even now, when she’s seen you in the most vulnerable state, fucking into the mattress so deeply and loudly that you’re not even worried about the potential noise complaint coming from the neighbors. 

She’s calling out your name. Just your name. Nobody else’s. Telling you how to keep fucking her. Hard. Fuck her poor little cunt until you’ve dumped every last bit of your load in her and fill her until she’s leaking out white between her legs. 

“Baby, I can feel you throbbing. Are you gonna cum? Gonna cum so fucking much- Please, I want it. I need it. Just- fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck-” 

She loses first. 

And my lord, she’s fucking wrecked. 

You bottom her out and hold her hips in place, cunt quivering and her toes curl and feet in the air, moving with what little mobility they have left because you’re pressing down the underside of her thighs, yelping and wailing and screaming to the point she might break the fucking glass on mirror and windows. 

“Baby. Baby, I can’t fucking move- you son of a bi-” 

Karina’s pussy squelches around your cock, a new layer of slick added to the mix of spit and precum. You pull out halfway and rub her clit at an inhuman rate, feel her liquid sputter out, hit some parts of your body, squirting. 

She’s squirting even more when you’re slapping the head of your cock across her pussy lips, watch her body spazz out and tense up almost like she’s having a seizure or going into shock, blabbering complete nonsense and you’re kissing her harshly on the fine column of her throat. 

You could care less, because all you just want to do is fuck Karina, feel the glide of her cunt become even smoother than before. Read into how her body responds to yours and the mess just gets even more filthier. The sounds- God, the fucking sounds. It’s a perfect harmony. 

The pace steadies with the beat of your heart, thrusting your cock into her cunt and keep her figure moving until she’s able to gather her thoughts, finding the right words along the teeth to where she says: “cum in me, fuck your cum into me,” and the sobs compliments her heaving. “Please, I want it. Give it to me. I wanna be full-” 

It lights a fire under your ass, every ounce of your being finally collapsing. 

You’re managing where you can; burying yourself in the deepest depth of Karina’s pussy, cumming in the hottest point - and the senses and nerves in your body are contracting and expanding in all the right places- 

Your body and Karina’s: finally becoming one. 

Your cock and lips are the sole sources of connection to her as she coos at the multitudes of cum filling her pussy up. 

The embodiment of perfection. The tightness. So snug. You can feel it. Every fiber of your being let out through your release and her small little hole - holding your cock through the pulsing, legs frozen as your arms slither to Karina’s back, exhaling so hard that you’re certain one of your lungs might break. 

“That’s fucking amazing, baby. Oh, baby, keep giving me your cum - I need- I need it, ah. God-” 

You could feel your vision start to blur in and out of blackness, her whimpers and soft moans a gentle sonata, soothing through your high as her fingers grazing across your skin is enough contact to course electricity through you. And you rest your head against hers, taking asylum in the space above her shoulder, hips slowing and breath racked with exhaustion. Her hand rubs against your lower back, massaging the last bits of cum deep while the rest of her body goes limp, sweat glistening all over her skin as if she got baptized, finally blessed with the afterglow. 

“So much cum,” she’s saying, over and over, a prayer in itself, “There’s so much cum in me.” 

You release the restraints of your hands from her body, pulling on her side until her legs start to tangle with yours, cock still wrapped around her pussy, unable to leave or pull out. Her thumb swipes across your eyebrow, tapping the temple. Internalizing the events that occurred just now, reeling away from the pure emotions and the mere point of it all. 

At last, you and her are both drained. Like you’ve gone twelve rounds with her. You’re willing to go one more, because she’ll want that too. 

You’re then combing Karina’s hair down, patting the back of her head while she leans into your chest cavity and showers your collarbones with kisses. She nestles her face deeper when you bring her closer, swooping the sheets from beneath until it covers both of you. 

It’s comforting. This new home. 

It’s everything. 

“Don’t sleep yet,” you whisper to her, kissing her forehead while her eyelids flutter lazily. 

Her head tilts. There’s a slight shake on the ends of her fingertips; she brings them close to her face. You gaze down to see her mouth try to form a few letters - a word - only say nothing at the end of it. 

“It was always you,” she breathes, the projection alone a new belief to instill. Your face shifts to something confused, thrown off. But you’ve repeated and reciprocated the same thing even though most of it was unrequited. “Part of me was worried for like- the longest time, and now-” 

You hush her, her body sinking more into your touch, the warmth encapsulating her like a cocoon. The aches soon settle in and you let the pillowed conversations flow to a more interesting topic. 

–

When the next morning comes around, your mind is doing its best job to make you succumb to the inner machinations of your visions. The effects of the alcohol still present - which explains the partial dizziness, though your memory is kept intact. Most of it feels a bit smudged, like the faint image of a mirage of some haven out in the blistering heat of the desert. Soon your eyes are filled with the endless plane of the ceiling above, and you feel a whole lot lighter- 

The weight pressing down on your arm was no more. 

You arch your back, feel the limited mobility in your lower half, and inhale deeply. 

A prop of your elbow betters your view; realizing the sheets were off your body, your legs slightly spread apart, feel the shocking tingle of nails scratch along your skin, crotch surprisingly warm - not to mention wet. 

Karina looks up with a neat pop off the head of your cock, an airy laugh passing through her lips, slides her tongue up the length before she carries on with bobbing her head between your legs, cock hardening in the heat of her mouth. 

“Jesus fuck-” 

You feel her hand wrap around you, grinning, biting down a patch of skin near the base. She pumps you once, maybe twice, and tilts her face sideways when she sees your jaw slack and lips salivating. 

Well. It's one hell of a way to say good morning. 

“Aw, did I scare you? Well, you better enjoy this because I won’t be waking you up like this unless I feel like it.” 

That’s how all things go, unfortunately. The ways Karina wants you to do these favors of hers.

Except now-

You can bet your ass that you’ll love every fucking second of it. 

[clockwayswrites]

A Bird's Wings - Part 30

masterpost this is a first draft, please no editing or concrit <3

Danny’s first thought when he woke up in the morning was how rested he was.

It was almost shocking.

He’d been so exhausted for for the past few weeks that to feel rested was a relief that almost made him cry.

Danny’s second thought was about his wings, which he still seemed to have. That was a pretty quick revelation caused by the fact that he was asleep on his stomach. The wings pulled at the sheets as he stretched lazily. At least they hurt less than yesterday at least. He was careful as he sat up, a cumbersome affair with the wings. It basically resulted in Danny getting his legs off the side of the large bed and simply standing up backwards, but at least it did result in him standing.

Grateful for Alfred’s thoroughness, Danny brushed his teeth before taking an awkward shower. He kept to the shower wand only and tried to keep as much water off his wings as possible. Despite the care, he still felt (and looked) like a rain ruffled bird after he had dressed in the modified sweater and a pair of his normal pants. He did what he could to at least tame his hair, swallowed his morning medication, and left the sanctuary of his borrowed room.

“Master Danny, impeccable timing,” Alfred said when Danny came across him in what Danny thought was the foyer. “Breakfast will be served in half an hour in the kitchen. Would you like some coffee or tea to start your day?”

“Coffee would be great, if it’s not any trouble,” Danny said with a bashful smile. He still wasn’t quite sure how to handle Alfred’s uncanny ability to show up and offer his service.

“A standard request of coffee is hardly trouble,” Alfred said in such a way that Danny felt bad for trying to be polite.

He didn’t think that his Midwest manners were going to get him very far in this house. Manor.

Still trying to puzzle out how his life got him into things like this, Danny followed Alfred to the kitchen. Bruce was already there, looking still half a sleep as he sipped on his own mug of coffee. For the moment, the table was children free.

“Cream or sugar?” Alfred ask as he headed towards the counter.

“Cream please,” Danny said. He turned to Bruce and gave a little smile. “Morning, Bruce.”

“Good morning, Danny,” Bruce said, his voice a low, sleepy rumble. (Danny did his best to fight the blush that the tone caused.) “Would you like some help drying off your wings?”

So much for not blushing. “Ah, yeah. That would be really nice. I tried to do what I could, but…”

Bruce chuckled softly. “Completely understandable. It’s a very awkward angle to try and manage.” He set down his mug and stood. “Fortunately for you, Damian is quite the animal buff and I was sent some very extensive articles on caring for wings.”

“Oh gods,” Danny said. The words were muffled by the way he buried his burning face into his hands.

“Damian simply wants the best for you,” Bruce pointed out.

“Sure, but still,” Danny said. He rubbed at his face as he let himself lean his head back and stare up at the ceiling for a moment, “I’m not a pet.”

Danny saw Bruce come over out the corner of his eye, towel in hand, and rolled his head a little to glance at him. He thought it was progress that he didn’t flinch when Bruce reached out, clearly telegraphing his motion, to run a hand over Danny’s wing.

“No one thinks that you’re a pet, Danny,” Bruce said with so much sincerity in his eyes that Danny had to look away. “Knowing how to take care of your wings is the same as making sure that Damian has easy access to vegetarian meals or that the computers at the manor have a dyslexic friendly font installed for Dick or that Barbara can easily get around in her wheelchair. Your wings, even if only sometimes, are part of you. And for better or worse, my family and I seem rather intent to see you well.”

Danny rubbed at the back of his neck as he glanced back at Bruce. “Part of it may be that I’m not exactly used to that sort of attention. I mean, Lucius tries to make me take care of myself, as well as some coworkers, but in Gotham that sort of feels more like new rogue prevention,” Danny joked.

Luckily Bruce chuckled at that. “I am sorry that we’re so overwhelming.”

“No, don’t be. It’s… excuse the bird analogy, but it’s just a very full nest, isn’t it? It feels cozy. It’s just something different to try and wrap my head around,” Danny explained. “And I won’t pretend that I don’t still have issues, as much as it’s something that I’ve worked really hard on personally and in therapy, dying at fourteen leaves a person with some issues.”

Not to mention being a super hero, staying half dead, dying a second time, and all of the other things that went on during his high school years.

“Yes, I would imagine so,” Bruce said after a pause. His voice was soft and sad.

“Bruce—”

“Sorry,” Bruce said. “When Jason was fifteen, we thought he had died. He ended up out of reach and with extensive brain trauma and memory loss. I know how much it effected him. I’m sorry you had to go through something at that age also.”

Danny squeezed one of Bruce’s hands where it was clasped tightly around a towel. “He’s here now. He’s alive and he seems happy. He has a boyfriend and everything. I’m not saying it doesn’t still pull at him, but it hasn’t dragged him to the bottom. At least not anymore.”

Bruce smile was a somber, soft thing. “Thank you. And you’re here too.”

Danny blinked at that. Bruce wasn’t wrong. He didn’t know almost any of the story, but he wasn’t wrong. Wings and all, Danny was still alive. He smiled softly back. “Yeah, I am.”

[sturnmeovr]

♡‧₊˚ Babydaddy!Chris x Sweetheart!Reader – Emotional Support

Chris was a mess; it was three in the afternoon, and he was still in bed. Trapped under his thick comforter, hiding away from the sunlight that took over his bedroom. A groan leaves his lip whenever he hears light knocks coming from the other side of his room, “go away!” 

“C’mon kid,” Matt jiggles the knob, cracking the door slightly to poke his head in, “you gotta eat something — it’s been three days.” Nick abruptly kicks the bedroom door open with his foot, “you’re gonna eat these mini pizzas we cooked with love, just for you — or Matt is gonna hold you down while I shove them down your throat,” he spits out, stalking across the room and snatching the comfort off of Chris’ curled up figured. Chris fights his hardest to win the tug of war battle, but he loses, practically giving up, due to the lack of energy in his body. You’d think he’d be fully rested with all the 'sleep' he had gotten the last few days, never leaving his memory foam mattress unless his bladder told him he absolutely had to. Chris wasn’t sleeping his days away like his brothers assumed, a lot of the times he was up thinking about you and his unborn son. About how he ruined the only relationship he ever had with the girl who meant the most to him — the girl who was carrying his baby, the girl who he was certain he wanted to marry one day. 

The last conversation he had with you, he was telling you how sorry he was, how much he missed you, that he needed you home with him. Your only reply was that you needed more space, so that’s what Chris has been attempting to do. Only problem is — he can’t get you out of his fucking head. Chris often stays up all hours of the night, scrolling through your Instagram or the old snapchat conversations he had saved, looking at the old messages from when everything was normal and okay. He was absolutely gutted; he missed everything about you, and he wished he never took the bond you two shared for granted. 

“M’not hungry,” he croaks out, grabbing a pillow to throw over his head in an attempt to block the sunlight that blinds him. Matt lets out a lengthy sigh, “you have to eat something,” taking seat on the edge of Chris’ bed, and rubbing a hand down his back in a soothing manner. It killed him to see Chris in such a sad state, he was usually the life of the party, so it was odd seeing him moping around the house like he had been the last two weeks.

“Chris, seriously,” Nick chimes in, “it’s not the end of the world, kid.” Nick was a bit more insensitive to the situation than Matt because of how close he had gotten with you throughout yours and Chris’s relationship. You were like the little sister they'd never got, when Nick found out about Chris cheating on you, it broke his heart a little bit too. Nick didn’t pick sides, but he definitely showed you more support than he did his own brother. You were pregnant with his nephew for crying out loud. Chris was wrong and he knew that there was no excuse for his actions. Nobody wanted to see Chris in the state of mind he was in, but it wasn’t anyone else’s fault but his own. Nick definitely wasn’t the one to baby him, unlike Matt who loved playing the therapist role to both you and Chris. 

Chris dramatically throws his pillow back and glares at Nick, “it is the end of my world, Nick.” Nick rolls his eyes at Chris’ over-exaggerations, he knew you distancing yourself would last long since you were due in a couple weeks. Plus, you had been texting him the whole time you were gone, updating him on your plans and how you felt about the Chris situation. You were at a crossroads, but Nick knew you too well, he knew you'd crack once Chris applied enough pressure like you usually did.

The two brothers share a similar look, biting back smiles at Chris’ dramatics. Matt snatches the pillow away from him, “c'mon you’re getting up.” He tosses the pillow across the room, adding it to the pile of dirty laundry and Chris’ thick comforter. Another groan erupts from Chris’ chest, the mattress making it come out a bit muffled, “I’m not leaving from his bed until my baby momma tells me to.”

“Fine,” Matt huffs, crossing his arms over his chest, “I’ll FaceTime her so she can see how foul you look — seriously, man. I can smell your feet from the next room,” he tells him before tapping a few buttons on his phone. Chris lays there motionless, calling his brothers bluff. He didn’t think Matt would actually FaceTime you but when your voice sounds from the other side of the phone screen, “yes — Chris?” Concern weaved through your words like a tight braid, your tone makes Chris sit upright in one swift movement. As much as he wanted to cry out to you, confessing his true feelings and expressing how sorry he was, he didn’t want you to see him in the state he was in, he knew you'd feel bad. The last thing he wanted was you to be upset over his own fuck up. “What’s wrong with him?” your voice sounded worried. Chris would be lying if he said it didn’t make his heart warm, knowing you still cared made him feel like there was still hope to repair the relationship he damaged so badly. 

Matt opens his mouth to speak but Nick quick wittedly cuts him off, “let’s start with the fact that the kid hasn’t showered in days ‘cause he won’t leave his bed,” pinching the bridge of his nose in disgust. Chris knew his brother was just poking fun at him, only trying to lighten the mood by cracking jokes. A long sigh can be heard from your side of the phone, “well if he checked his phone then he’d know I’ve been texting him for over an hour.” As soon as the words leave your mouth, Chris' eyes widen and he's scrambling for his phone. He taps his finger against the screen a few times, only to reveal 6 unread messages and 2 missed calls for you. The last one reading - “I miss you 😑” 

Overjoyed with emotion, a bright smile forms, making his lips curve upwards. Chris stands up on his bed, tangling a hand thru his brown locks before snatching the phone from Matt, “you want to come over? I can pick you up, we can get dinner on the way,” he rambles on, desperately shooting out any suggestion, hoping and praying you'd take his offer. He didn’t want to miss the opportunity to see you. Your absence left him physically and mentally ill. 

“Yeah,” you squint at him, studying his expression. He looked thrilled and exhausted at the same time. Dark circles made their mark underneath his puffy, bloodshot eyes. His hair is messy and tangled like he hadn’t been using the apple scented conditioner you introduced to him while you were gone. Seeing him so unkept broke your heart, but not more than the revelation of him cheating. You shake your head, pushing the negative thoughts to the back of your mind before clearing your throat, “I need to talk to you.”

︶︶︶ ⊹ ︶︶ ୨♡୧ ︶︶︶ ⊹ ︶︶

The sight of an all-black, tinted out Audi parked in front of your best friend's house makes you take an uneasy breath — you knew exactly who it was. You sigh loudly, tugging your jacket on to protect you from the cool night air. Your best friend, noticing the hitch in your breath, chimes in from the open living room, “he’s here?” 

“Yea,” you breath out, your voice barely audible as you look over at her, “I’ll be back soon. Jus’ gonna get some food and talk for a little.” If it was up to your bestie, she’d lock you up and throw away the key for good, hiding you away from him at all costs. You can tell she’s stopping herself from saying what she really wants to, “be careful and make good choices,” she forces a toothless smile before turning her attention back to the tv. She didn’t want you to go back to Chris; she hated the emotional damage he forced on you, mainly because she was always the one to pick up the pieces once you were shattered and broken. She was a great form of emotional support for you, much like Matt was for Chris. Regardless of anyone else’s opinions on yours and Chris’s relationship, your due date was right around the corner, and you were vulnerable. You couldn’t fathom the idea of raising your newborn son without his father. Each time you thought about it the idea made you sick to your stomach. 

You make your way to his car, pulling the passenger door open to reveal your babydaddy. The familiar scent of his cologne sends a chill down your spine, it was comforting in a way. You sink down into the passenger seat, setting the purse he gifted you last week on the floorboard of his car. Chris was determined to win you back. He made sure he still came in clutch whenever you were craving random food combinations, he left presents and takeout food on your best friends' doorstep with cute notes attached to them - “not a gift to win you over, just a gift to show my appreciation” and “Chinese food because I know Bear won’t let you live without it. I miss you. I love you. I’m sorry.” It was sweet how attentive he still was, even if you weren’t one hundred percent present, he still showed he cared and that meant something to you, aside from his prior shitty decisions. 

“Hey,” he stretches, a gummy smile plastered on his face. You could tell he was happy to be within a close vicinity of you. You set your eyes on him, taking his appearance; he was freshly showered and doused in his signature, making it obvious he was trying to look his best for you. As weird as it sounds, you missed the smell of him so much that it was always like a new craving for you. He shoots you a playful look, already reading your mind because he knew you that well. “You look good today,” he coos, placing a hand on your thigh to give it a squeeze. His firm grip sends tingles thru your core, his touch was another big thing you had been craving while you two were apart. 

You swat his hand away while a dark shade of redness makes its way to your cheeks, making Chris throw his head back to bellow out a laugh, “too soon?” He knew he still had a certain effect on you which is why you never stay around him too long, you’d fold under pressure quick. As much as you wanted to let your smile break thru, there was no time for games. Furrowing your brows at him as you desperately try to hide your red cheeks, “this is serious, Chris — we don’t have time for jokes.” 

His smile falls into a slight frown, and he shifts in his seat, “I know that. Sorry, I jus’ miss you.” Chris reaches down into the compartment of his door, pulling out one of your current pregnancy cravings, “I got you gummy bears,” he presses his lips together in an awkward manner. It was weird to him, not being able to touch and kiss you like he used to – like he really wanted to. A mix of emotions swirl through your gut. You felt guilty for putting him through the emotional trauma of not having his nearly due girlfriend by his side, you knew he was worried if you’d come back to him, worried if Bear would come earlier or not. At the same time, it was validating that he cared enough to go through all these lengths just to get you back – camping outside of your best friend's house, showing up with presents and food cravings. The most important part was him actually leaving you alone when you told him you needed more space. It gave you a lot of time to think about your next move. Was Chris texting another girl worth throwing all the work you two put in?

“I miss you too, but that’s not the topic of discussion right now,” you mumble, looking down to your lap, smoothing a hand over your bumps as Bear kicks repeatedly as the sound of Chris' voice, like always. You weren’t there to make Chris feel worse about what he did, your absence was enough to make him sulk in his own sorrows. By the way his brothers had been texting you nonstop about Chris not even getting out of bed to do his bare minimum daily routine, you knew it was time to stop distancing yourself and actually work past the problem, whether it meant going back to him or not.

A faint smile forms at his lips when he hears you finally say you miss him, “you do, really?” One thing about this whole fucked up situation, Chris never failed to expression his emotions. It was a big change for him, but then again, he acted like a new man ever since he found out you were pregnant. 

“Of course I do, but that doesn’t —,” you fiddle with the sleeves of your jacket, your small voice getting interrupted by his raspy one, “it doesn’t excuse what I did.” You watch as he gnaws at his bottom lip out of nervousness, his wet hair making water stains on his white t-shirt, “nothing will — I know that, Y/N.” 

It was known Chris loved to call you his Sweetheart, so anything less was gut wrenching to you. He was more serious than you had ever seen him. Chris turns his body towards you, his hard gaze fixed on you as his own way of letting you know he meant everything he was about to say, “but I’m willing to do whatever it takes to prove to you that I can be a better man for you and Bear.” His words make their mark on you, making you nod in agreement to everything he was saying. Maybe it was his convincing demeanor or maybe it was because you missed his company. Or maybe it was because he was saying all the right words, telling you everything you wanted and needed to hear. You open your mouth to speak but quickly close it, not knowing what to say, so he does it for you, “I have a therapy consultation later this week,” he starts, clearing his throat before he reassures you once more, “I’m willing to do whatever it takes – however long it takes, seriously.”

You raise a brow at him, staying quiet as your thoughts run rampant through your head, picking at the skin on your fingers as you try to muster up a response. Therapy; he was willing to go through therapy if it meant keeping his relationship afloat and his family together. Chris can practically hear the gears turning in your head. He knew you were thinking carefully, going through all the possible outcomes, and weighing out the future, not only for your relationship but for your unborn son. Chris watches intently as you pick at your fingers, he had picked up on the nervous habit of yours a long time ago. He knew you too well. He wanted nothing more than to reach out and stop you from damaging yourself any further, but he knew it wasn’t the right time. Hot tears brim the waterlines of your eyes, you suck in a deep breath before looking at him, your mouth gaping open to speak but the words get stuck in the back of your throat once again.

You could see the pain in his eyes as he watches you struggle to speak, his voice lower than before, “I don’t want to miss anything.” He sniffles, a stray tear escaping his eye and rolling down his cheek, only to get whipped away by Chris’ large hand rather quickly. The sight of him crumbling in front of you made your heart ache, you knew what he was implying, he didn’t want to miss out on fatherhood or the chance at a picture-perfect family. You didn’t blame him; you wanted Bear to grow up in a two-parent household as badly as he did. Both you and Chris knew nothing other than being raised by two amazing parents, and that was a long-term goal for the two of you. A family, marriage, a few pets, and a big house on a large plot of land built specifically for your family; it was something you talked about and planned with him for the last eight months. The thought of letting go of all those dreams and goals you and Chris shared together made you queasy. 

He sucks in a breath, “fuck – sorry, I told myself I wasn’t gonna do this in front of you,” letting out a deep breath and pulling sleeves over his hands to collect the tears spilling from his eyes. You sink back in your seat, his outburst felt like he drove a stake right thru your heart, he had never been this open with you. Of course, he expressed how badly he wanted you back and how sorry he was, but he never broke down crying and pleading for you back. The therapy consultation just topped it off, he was willing to work through his faults for his family. You look over at Chris, his body hunched forward while his head is buried in his hands, his wet hair still making water marks on his white t-shirt. 

“I’ll come home,” your voice is shaky and your hands tremble. Chris picks up his head in one swift movement, fixing those icy blue arctics on you. He wipes his face, sniffling once more, “you will? Y’really mean it?” His words come out pushed together as he fights back his sobs. You nod to him, holding your index finger up, “under one condition.” 

Chris’ eyes are puffy, his face red from crying, “anything – anything you want – y'name it.” The urgency in his voice tells you he’s serious, “I’ll sleep on the couch, diaper duty forever – anything, sweetheart.” He lets his intrusive thoughts win by scooping your hand up, interlocking your fingers and bringing it up to his mouth to plant a light kiss to the back of it. The feather-like feeling of his lips leaves goosebumps on your arms and a pool forming between your thighs, you bite back the smile pulling at your lips before looking him in the eye seriously, “couples therapy.”

wc - 3163

♡‧₊˚ Cheys Note - Long awaited 🫣 I'm so sorry, I rewrote this twice and I still don't know if I like it or not 😩😩 I hope you guys enjoy, though!! Name reveal coming soon if you guys haven't figured it out already 😋😋🫶🏻 Lmk what you guys think, I apologized in advance to everyone I pissed off with this one lmfaoo. Love you guys <3

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© sturnmeovr - Please do not copy my work. Please ask to use my work as inspo.

[sparkingoverload]

I’m suddenly feeling inspired by a Captain America Batman plot bunny. You see, Peggy Carter (in most interpretations) worked with the OSS and their British counterparts. I may never write it (especially since I was more of an Iron Man fan when I was into the mcu) but it’s fun to metaphorically pet the bunny and think about the plot.

Obviously, Alfred is a retired spy, who in teaching his charge (Bruce) and his charges (Batkids!) life skills, semi-accidentally taught them tradecraft too. So, WWII happens and they’re all spies, contemporaries of (or somewhat younger than) Peggy. Alfred gets recruited to train more spies. Probably. It’s classified.

Jason is probably embedded with resistance groups, teaching them ways to make infrastructure go boom as well as apply the lessons on sabotage in that book.

Barbara, the all-knowing Oracle has to be a code-breaker.

Tim (17) claims to be Cass (19)’s twin on paper. They���re a team and between her ability to read anyone, his ability to charm anyone, and their combined skills in stealth and disguise, they’ve been in and out of So Many Secure Areas. So Many.

I have no clue what Steph is doing, but she’s doing it with Flair. Maybe she’s a nurse and just keeps stumbling into zany situations that require her to use her natural charm, fighty tendencies, and what interesting selection of skills she picked up from Alfred and the Wayne’s while maybe-dating Tim.

I didn’t mention Dick, because either he or Bruce is on the homefront, running a Justice League analogue group that works to co-ordinate across countries and departments and other groups and acting as Damian’s guardian. (if I ever actually wrote this it would probably be Damian centric, a sort of “here’s a story one of Damian’s siblings told him and here’s how he applied the mentioned skills/lessons/morals himself” duology thing) If Dick is on the homefront, Bruce is out co-ordinating small strike teams. I think if Bruce is staying with the JL analogue then Dick gets to assassinate people. As a treat. (I promise I did not forget Duke! He’s coming!)

Damian (13) is ecstatic about being an only child again for like five minutes before he realizes he misses his siblings. Then he’s pissed about an inability to do anything, having to move out of Wayne manor to quarters closer to whatever facility his guardian’s working out of, he misses his pets, he misses Alfred, he is never going to admit it but he’s lonely. And bored.

Except! People keep trying to sabotage the JL analogue, so it’s up to Damian and his new friend Duke Thomas to apply the lessons his siblings taught him and that are referenced in his copy of the OSS’s Field Manual and save the day!

Duke Thomas (15) works in the motorpool either as driver for all the bigwigs co-ordinating with whoever Damian’s guardian is, or as an apprentice auto mechanic. He did not expect being the youngest and lowest guy on the totem pole to mean being relegated to babysitting duty, and he really didn’t expect babysitting duty to see more enemy action then all the other motorpool jobs combined.

…I think the ideal medium for this would actually be a period comic that’s at least 30% propaganda. And I haven’t even mentioned Captain America.

Funny about that...

[aajjks]

Broke Boy, Fake Girlfriend (m)

synopsis. Your annoying roommate, Jungkook’s shameless fake dating act goes hilariously wrong when he thinks he can charm you into paying for his café splurge, but you turn the tables with some dangerously sweet flirtation.

pairings: jungkook x fem!reader.

genre: 18+, crack, roommate au.

warnings: 18+, fâkë dätïng tròpë, châôtïc flïrtïng, brókë bøy Jûngkook, tëâsïng, ëmbârrássïng mômënts, önë-sïdëd crùsh, pûblïc hümïlïâtïön, pówër shïft, hëâvy tënsïön, tëâsïng bântër, spïcy flïrtâtïön, crïngë mômënts, slöw bûrn.

note. I can’t thank you guys enough for so much love on the both parts so I thought maybe I should give you another one. Also, I found this GIF on Pinterest so credits to owner And Let’s just hope you guys would like this as well and tell me what do you think of the chaos and y’all can talk to him whenever you want. ENJOY.

“My girlfriend will pay for this.”

How do you always end up in this situation?

You blink.

You’re standing in line at a café, hands casually tucked in your pockets, minding your own business when those words hit you like a freight train.

Jungkook’s standing at the counter, a devilish grin plastered across his face, watching you with those damn puppy dog eyes. His tattooed hand casually gestures to you, like this whole scenario is as normal as breathing.

The barista, the one who’s been shamelessly flirting with him this entire time, looks back and forth between you two, her cheeks flushed pink.

“Oh—;” she giggles, voice breathy. “That’s so sweet of you.”

Sweet.

Sweet would be not dragging you into his latest ridiculous plan just because he’s broke again after spending all his money on gaming skins and who knows what else.

You narrow your eyes at him. He doesn’t even flinch.

“Yeah, my baby’s got me,” Jungkook hums, stretching lazily against the counter, his hoodie pulling up just enough to reveal a tantalizing glimpse of toned abs. Intentional. “She takes such good care of me.”

You swear you could hear the little pitter-patter of his fan club forming in the background.

‘My baby?’

You grit your teeth, gripping your wallet like it might suddenly escape your clutches. “You—;” you inhale, trying to remain calm. “I’m paying?”

“Obviously.” Jungkook doesn’t even hesitate.

God, he’s insufferable.

“Since when are we dating?”

Jungkook gasps.

Gasped.

He puts his hand on his heart, pretending to be hurt and makes a dramatic expression that makes you almost cringe.

“Babe. What do you mean?” His voice cracks with that exaggerated hurt, and you can’t help but roll your eyes.

The barista giggles again, and you can see the sparkles in her eyes as she watches this whole ridiculous exchange.

Jungkook still has that pleading look, trying to play it off like you’re the one at fault for not realizing you were in the middle of his latest fake-dating fantasy.

You both know he’s out of cash and desperate.

He can’t possibly pay for this.

You should say no. You should do the right thing.

You should humiliate him right here in front of the cute barista and walk away, satisfied in your moral high ground.

But then—

“I’d get her anything off the menu,” Jungkook sighs, voice dropping an octave, his gaze lingering on your lips like he’s about to pull the most dramatic move of the century.

“She’s my princess. My world.”

Oh no.

Oh, he thinks you won’t play along.

And that—that little shit—that’s when you realize.

Jungkook’s not just doing the broke, flirting for sympathy… act. No, he’s flipping the script. He’s going full-on fake boyfriend mode.

He’s giving you those eyes, the ones that usually make girls melt on the spot.

His voice is suddenly, smooth and heavy, like he actually wants this to be real.

And then? The barista is still watching.

Oh, you know exactly what he’s doing.

You step closer, fingers lightly brushing against his chest as you lean in, your lips barely a whisper from his ear.

He freezes, clearly not prepared for the full-on flirtation storm that’s coming his way.

“Kookieee,” you say, voice dripping with saccharine sweetness. “Of course, I’m paying for my baby.”

Jungkook’s eyes go wide, and he makes this little sound—like he’s actually short-circuiting. He’s malfunctioning, visibly thrown off by how casually you’re playing along.

The barista is living for this. She’s practically sparkling now, too, and you know she’s ready to ship this fake couple straight to the moon.

But Jungkook? Jungkook’s dying.

He’s still standing there, mouth hanging slightly open, blinking rapidly like he needs to reset his brain, but you’re not done yet.

You lean in just a little bit more, hand still firmly placed against his chest, pressing your body close enough to feel the heat radiating from him.

His breathing gets heavier, a little shaky. And then you make your move.

You brush your fingers down his shirt, just enough to tease him, watching the way his whole body locks up, like he’s trying not to make a scene.

He doesn’t move. Doesn’t say a word. He just stands there like the world’s hottest, most embarrassed mess.

“Oh, you’re so cute when you’re all flustered,” you murmur, leaning back slightly to get a good look at him, your fingers brushing his jaw.

His skin is so warm, so soft, and it’s making your whole body heat up.

Fuck, he’s cute.

Jungkook doesn’t even try to respond— he’s too busy replaying every single moment you’ve touched him in the last few seconds, and he’s mentally begging for you to finish the job.

He’s literally so embarrassing, but for the first time in your life, you had fun embarrassing him.

You take a step back, giving him just a little space. He’s still staring at you like you’ve just turned his life upside down.

Good. You’ve won.

“Let’s play, babe,” you say with a smirk, voice lighter now. He’s completely melting.

You swipe your card, taking your drinks.

You turn toward the door, but before you leave, you lean in one last time, brushing past him just close enough for your lips to graze his ear.

Oh, this is fun.

“You owe me, babe,” you whisper.

And with that, you leave him there, dazed, red-faced, and completely undone, just standing there like a mess in front of the barista, who is looking at him like she’s just witnessed an angel descend from heaven.

You walk out of the café like you’ve just done your civic duty in the most chaotic, teasing way possible. The power is all yours.

Victory. And Jungkook? Well, he’s got a lot to think about.

And a raging boner to take care of.

[gyeomsweetgyeom]

The Return of Superman- Jaemin

(cw: f!reader called “mama”, children)

Jaemin liked his privacy. He liked knowing that only certain parts of his life were shown, certain parts he shared, he liked having the clear distinction or public and private. He, of course, enjoyed providing content for his fans and living a dream that millions of people could only dream of.

He got the best of both worlds. He got to date you for a good few years without getting caught, he'd spent two years of newlywed marital bliss with you with only so much as a statement from his company to let the world know that he was a married man. When he was asked about you, his wife, he merely smiled and expertly evaded answering. So how did he get himself here?

What had happened in his years of famous privacy to now allow a whole camera crew into his home to film him and his daughters-- who, no one had even seen since they were posted with obscured faces in a birth announcement post 3 years ago?!

It had definitely been his management that suggested he do the show, they planted the seed in his brain, but it was you who pushed him to do it! "Come on, my love, the fans will love it. You can do just one episode and then the girls won't be seen until their 30! Come on, it'll be fun," You'd convinced him. And Jaemin, well, he wasn't a strong man when his wife was whispering so sweetly in his ear and pressing even sweeter kisses against his cheeks.

So that's how he got into this mess, at least he would have you to help him out... right, he wouldn't. Damn this show!

-

"Would you stop rubbing your head against the pillow, please?! Appa just did your hair!" Jaemin yelled in exasperation, his eyes locked on the three year old who for some reason was rubbing her head across the pillows on his bed. Meanwhile, his hands were preoccupied with the identical girl standing on a stool right in front of him.

"Well, what an introduction to the Na family," a commentator laughs while they all watch Jaemin struggle to pull one of his daughter's hair into a bun while simultaneously also trying to sweet talk the other twin to stop being a menace. He was unsuccessful.

The scene cuts to show Jaemin sitting in front of a black backdrop smiling at the cameras as he introduces himself, "Hello, I'm Na Jaemin from NCT. I have twin daughters, Taera and Sora. They're both 3 years and 5 months old and the light of my life-- along with my wife, of course. Taera is the older of the two and struggles with listening, at least to me while Sora is the better listener of the two."

The producer behind the camera asks a question and Jaemin listens intently before answering, "honestly, of the two of us, I'm the parent that let's the girls get away with a lot. She plays the authoritarian role, which admittedly, I struggle with. The girls are just too cute to get mad at!" He takes a break to think over his answer, "I do think it will be a little difficult with it being just me and the girls. Usually my wife and I are each responsible for one of the girls, and we rarely go out just one of us with both of them. It will be very interesting to see how this plays out."

-

The scene cuts to a scene of the toddlers running around the living room, hair done in tiny buns on top of their head, looking messy, though no one can tell whether that's from their running around or their dad's lack of skill. Jaemin can be seen scrambling around the kitchen filling matching purple and pink water bottles with water and tossing snacks into the bags.

"I wonder what Jaemin is getting the girls ready for..." One of the commentators adds as the girls play tag with each other, giggling wildly.

There's nothing telling quite yet, both girls are wearing matching pastel pink shirts and pink sweat pants with white socks. Jaemin wrestles them into sweaters, then their backpacks, and finally their matching Crocs. He holds one twin on each hip, making his way to the car to load them into car seats.

"Wow! He's a professional! Look at the way he carries both of them at once!" A commentator exclaims in wonder.

"Wait a second, this song sounds familiar," Another commentator adds quickly. The panel quiets down, all eyes locked on the screen to watch the girls dance around in their car seats.

"Chew-chew-chew-chew chewing gum! Chew-chew-chew-chew," the girls chant, legs kicking out as they wiggle and dance in their chairs. They look so happy, smiles plastered on their faces and Jaemin, he looks like he'd rather be anywhere else right now. His face is set in a mild frown, listening to this repetitive song that he made when he was 16.

-

The scene changes, showing Jaemin helping one of the girls into a tutu while the other, who is already dressed, twirls around laughing as her skirt flares out. "Oh my! The girls are in ballet! How cute!" One of the producers coos.

Jaemin can be seen sitting in front of the black screen once more. "Oh yes, the girls are trying out ballet. We want to get them more involved in other activities and find some way to get their energy out. They're not very... good yet, but it is only their third lesson. I think Sora might be more of a ballerina in the future, and maybe Taera will be better at something more... energetic."

True to his word, the scene cuts to show a very focused Sora following her dance teacher's instructions. Her arms are posed in front of her while in the first position. She listens intently and copies the teacher's moves, she wiggles her feet out until they point outward and extends her arm.

"Good job, Sora. That's perfect!" The teacher praises softly. Sora giggles excitedly, a blush spreading across her small, chubby cheeks.

On the opposite end of the room, her twin is jumping and reaching for the small window that allows parents to look into the small studio. Jaemin is busy taking pictures of Sora among other adoring parents to send to you when he hears a familiar sound, even muffled he'd know that sound anywhere. He casts his eyes down and catches Taera with tears in her eyes and red cheeks with her arms reaching for the window.

Jaemin jumps into action quickly, moving his way through the small group of parents around the window and enters the small room with a look of concern on his face. Taera has never reacted like this before. He pulls Taera into a hug, calming her down until her tears have stopped. He sends an apologetic smile to the teacher and she sends him a small bat of her hand as if to say, 'it's fine.' Jaemin cups Taera's face, wiping away her remaining tears with the pads of his thumbs, "princess, what's wrong?"

She lets out a shuddery breath, her tiny chest trembling while she tries to breathe in a deep breath, "I want Mama to watch me too."

Jaemin feels his heart break, pouting sympathetically at his daughter, "I want her to be here too, princess, but she'll be back before you know it. Tomorrow we can wake up early and make breakfast for her when she gets back. How does that sound?"

"With berries?" Taera asks with wide eyes.

Jaemin laughs softly, booping the girl's nose, "yes, with berries. Now, go be a good big sister and dance with Sora. We can't leave her alone can we?"

"No," She smiles, turning to run to her sister's side before she comes bounding back to Jaemin. She presses a kiss to Jaemin's cheek, "love you, Appa. Stay with us?"

Like Jaemin said, he can never say no to them. Instead of joining the rest of the parents on the other side of the small window, he finds himself following along with the teacher's instructions behind the rest of the children in the class.

His daughter's turn to look at him with the biggest smiles he's ever seen. They're so excited that he's in class with him and even more so, doing the dances with them!

The commentators coo at the scene, gushing over Jaemin being such a good dad. He raises his arms, drops them, extends them forward, and situates his feet into the right positions to follow along with the teacher.

At the very end of the episode and his girls sit in front of the black backdrop. The girls raise their arms over their heads, forming the biggest hearts their little bodies will allow. In unison, all three Na's scream out, "we love you Mama!"

Jaemin leans forward, getting close to the camera with his arms wrapped around the twins to keep them from falling, "you're not allowed to leave me alone with these monsters ever again!"

The girls giggles persist as the episode fades away, a faint, "but Appa you said we're princesses."

"Yes, baby I did say that. You're like monster princesses, do you like that?"

The girls can be heard screaming a loud, "no!" in perfect harmony.

[salontiwon]

- 𝙿𝚕𝚊𝚌𝚎 𝚘𝚏 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚍𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚖𝚜 ִ ֶ 𓂃

[nonidol!hubby jw x fem!wifey]

࣪𓏲ּ ⊹ ˑ ִ ֶ 𓂃

Summary: [you and jw are married, and lately you've been feeling insecure/left out cuz he's been spending so much time with him co-workers, staying late at the company and work "parties", he hasn't even slept with you in bed for a long while, it made you feel less specially bcs you're unemployed and just his housewife, your intense insecurities made you think that you're just there for his pleasure, in a heated argument he says some words that were heavy on your heart, he felt guilty and decided to take a break with you away from this world]

Warnings: unprotected sex, breeding, fingering, creampie, cock stroking, pet names? (Baby idk), insecure/paranoid reader,smoking, overstimulation, idk what else tell me if I forgot or didn't know abt something

Note: I can say this is my first (I've been writing tho) but it's my first time posting in this acc and I'm kinda embarrassed/anxious idk why, hope nobody judges and if there's any mistakes I'm willing to receive corrections and education from anyone who comes across my work, thank you.

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT FOR YOUR OWN GOOD OR IMMA GENUINELY CRY.

Waiting on the couch, finally deciding to confront your husband about his insanely busy time lately, despite knowing it even before marriage that his job as an important part of that company will automatically take most of his time.

biting on your nails as your insecurities race in your head, like you're hearing another version of yourself making fun of you, look how the "sweet" husband is making you wait, he's out at work parties and god knows where, but all you can do is sit here and clean his dirt.

as the door clicks open, you sit up without a second thought, leaning on the wall at the end of the entry hall "jungwon we have to talk" you say firmly before walking back to the living room

with a loose tie and a few buttons of his shirt undone he follows you, "now? But sweetie I'm so tire-" , "jungwon I said we need to talk" you repeat, making his frustration grow slightly, "and what's so important that you're willing to take the time I should be resting in to 'talk' huh?" He says, and your sensitive heart already started beating faster, scared of not handling this discussion well.

"where are you staying till this hour this last period? Yes you'd say at work but even work won't give you the right to leave me like that!" Your voice trembles, and yes to keep strong, you thought raising your voice slightly would make you feel strong but it only fueled the fire of his frustration and exhaustion, "really?! Are you questioning my loyalty now?! You knew what you were getting into the day I knelt to propose to you!" He yells back.

"I'm not questioning your loyalty I'm just saying, whatever it is, you shouldn't have been THIS absent, it's like I'm single!" You argue.

"'it's like I'm single' my ass, darling please stop being so paranoid I'm too tired to deal with your insecurities right now" he walks to the bedroom, taking his clothes off and slipping under the blanket.

"really jungwon!! You're infuriating! Get up and let's discuss this!" You walk to bed madly throwing the blanket off his body, he sits up but with a deadly gaze this time.

"oh really now you wanna be like this huh?! Okay guess what, I didn't tell you to be here 24/7 , I wouldn't mind if you went to work anywhere and stayed all you wanted doing your job! But you can't force me to drop everything and come running to your arms because of your little insecurities probably about some stretch marks and a massive inferiority complex! You chose to be a housewife then be it! I don't have to fucking pay!" He stands up, his pillow in his hand and a blanket he grabs from the closet in the time you were frozen there, goosebumps all over your skin and tears threatening to fall. It was like a slap on the face making you feel ashamed, embarrassed, hurt and even more frustrated.

he walks down to the living room, falling easily asleep on the couch, signaling that the exhaustion he was going through wasn't as satisfying as you thought it was for him. You slip under the blanket crying yourself to sleep, feeling slightly guilty for ruining his rest, yet you feel hurt yourself.

The night then passes quietly and so are the next few days, awkwardness growing between you two, both feeling guilty but obviously his guilt was greater, he'd occasionally buy your favourite snacks and put them in the drawers without talking to you, or asking about you, above all the stress he was under, your expression that night couldn't leave his mind, how could he say such a cruel thing to such a sweet little soul, he understood your frustration because from where you saw it, it was just the surface, he only thinks about how he left his exhaustion get the best of him, he had the perfect way to gain your smile back but he still has to work on it a little more.

-

Your eyes slowly fluttering open, you feel a gentle hum, like a car's engine, and after a few blinks and checks, you finally hear

"finally awake?" You feel a big hand on your thigh waking you up completely.

"what's that..my head's spinning" you place your palms on your temples.

"you'll be fine, just lean back and take a deep breath" jungwon smiles pushing you against the back of the car cushion gently by your chest, and as minutes pass, you feel better as you get distracted by the view of the rainy weather and nature surrounding you both and running back as the car paces forward, you even forgot to ask the questions that were in your mind, with your head resting against the window, the sadness started creeping through your calm heart, you immediately start feeling frustrated again at being stuck with him in the car, "how did I get here and where are we going?!" You look at the car's clock, noticing it's 6:00 am, where the hell could he be taking you at this hour. "Do you trust me?" He asks, "jungwon answer me and stop-" he cuts you off "I said, do you trust me?!" He turns to face you just seconds before refocusing on the road, you can't help but nod, after all, an argument won't immediately kill the trust you had for him, "yes I do, so stop being ridiculous and answer my questions" you insist in a slightly annoyed tone making a reassuring smile spread across his face, even tho deep inside you, you knew it's whether a surprise or a way for him to reconnect with you, you wanted an answer.

"just relax, I'm kidnapping my wife is it illegal now?" He smiles making you scoff, you were still so frustrated, but at least seeing this side of him, now you know it really is something good for you, taking you to a restaurant or something, just before you get distracted again by the view and you find yourself out in Dreamland.

-

At the slight trembling of the car and the sounds of the wheels crashing the hard dirt rocks, you wake up again, your eyes immediately at the clock and they widen, it's now 11 am! You really slept for another five hours in such a position , you look through the window at the pine trees everywhere then look back at him.

"where are you taking me you've been driving for hours! My back is sore" just after hushing you, a wooden, modest house in the middle makes its way to your sight, making you let out a "eh?" , A wide smile you tried to suppress taking over your confused features and a slight flush of embarrassment, cuz after all, you're still hurt and frustrated.

His own face breaks into a grin, brushing your hair back to take a better look, "looks like my girl's excited" , your blush deepens and you push his hand away but gently, "stop it...tell me where we are instead"

without answering, he's stepping out of the car, rushing to the trunk under this heavy rain, he carries the bags he prepared last night, the ones you saw him preparing and thought he was leaving you before you fell into a strange slumber, while he's heading towards the front door, he stops outside the passenger's seat side, knocking at your window with one busy hand.

"afraid of rain?" He jokes, his voice muffled by the door and the sound of rain drops surrounding you, making you shake your head before opening the door and stepping out yourself.

"You look like a maniac" you take one of the lighter bags from his grip.

"oh madam mature, we used to kiss under skies like that". He smirks again, his words making your heart skip a beat at the memory.

-

With that you finally are stepping inside this house, welcomed by a warm, well tidied up place and the natural fragrance of pine trees surrounding the place outside, the sound of the heavy rain again gets muffled letting both your ears buzzing, you drop the bags in the entry and step in, looking at the modest place, old fashioned couches and handmade details, everywhere you look you'd see a frame, a vase, a rug, and it makes you feel so warm inside, it's nothing like those modern almost empty houses that look nothing like your inner soul, a fireplace at the end of the living room making you mumble

"wow..." You turn back around to face him, he was ruffling his damp hair in the little mirror by the entry and fixing it, before smiling and walking up to you, "like it?" He asked, wrapping his arms around your waist, you immediately tense, you were still frustrated with him, still insecure and slightly embarrassed that this all might be just because he noticed the dilemma you were in. to play it off, you step away taking one of the discarded blankets on the couch ,that was part of the house aesthetic and you knew it, but you're too nervous to play the knowing girl, "god.. why's this here.." You whisper nervously like ‘to yourself‚ making him roll his eyes, a flush creeping to his ears at how you pulled away but he tried not to focus on it for now, but again he didn't give up , grabbing your busy hand, "let me show you the rest", you nod with a blank stare and follow him.

Walking up a few rugged stairs, it was a larger space, with two closed doors and an open one, he steps inside, "here's the kitchen" he turns to face you but you were already stunned, looking at the small fridge, the colored napkins on the counter, the small window and the colored, decorated plates, unlike the plain ones you had back at home, it was like the kitchen you always wanted, since you were a little girl even, the sight makes you squeeze his hand excitedly, and he excitedly responds by stepping out to show you more, he opens one of the closed doors, and there it was, the cozy, warm bedroom with printed walls, and a bed in the center with a soft thick mattress on it, covered with soft printed sheets and pillowcases and a thick blanket, a big window with the incredible view of the rainy weather outside, a beautiful, old fashioned wardrobe with beautiful carved details. You continue looking around in pure awe before he breaks the silence again.

"I'm going to bring the bags so we can make ourselves home"

You turned to ask but he was already walking down the stairs, you were again left with unanswered questions and a frustrating confusion.

Ignoring the awkwardness of the situation he left to do so as you continued checking the place, time passed and you two organised almost everything, showering and changing into comfortable clothes, the sky darkens and the house gets warm when he turns on the fireplace, your housewife and caring nature kicking in, heading to that kitchen of your dreams wanting to cook something, he stepped in behind you, "need help?" He asked, "of course I do, I don't know where anything is" you manage to make him chuckle, immediately start opening the drawers and closing, you two delve into the task and it turns to awkward jokes and forced giggles, you were still deeply hurt and paranoid about his love for you, and he was still thinking about how he could envelope you in his arms again.

Dinner, cleaning, joking, organising, it all passed now and it was kinda too platonic too. you're sitting alone by the fireplace with a cup of cinnamon tea in your hands, he was sitting on the couch across from you, his laptop on his lap completing the final point of his work as he said.

"drink your tea before it gets cold" , without being told twice, he folds his laptop closed and places it beside him, grabbing his mug, you kinda regret telling him that, your paranoia making you think that you're forcing him to enjoy his time with you, you zone out on the fire that's eating on the woods, minutes passing as you both sip and sip, before he immediately places his mug down.

"y/n, I'm sorry..." He breaks the silence making your heart jump with his directness, but you feel guilty for making him feel bad for doing his job, so you just go with "sorry? For what..or what exactly?" You place your own cup down.

He moves to sit beside you, "we know each other too well to act this clueless.." his voice drops to a low murmur, and there you were, realising he's right, you're both mature, adults, grown ups enough to address the elephant in the room. Or at least FINALLY cuz you told him to do so multiple times before his hurtful words, but now that he isn't busy and you're both ready, it'll be more logical.

"you're right...but jungwon, I genuinely hate feeling triggered by you doing your job, I wanna change it but...I just can't and.." hearing your voice admitting that, it almost makes his eyes tear up, as you look into his eyes and you both admire the vulnerability in each other's features, he cups your face and leans closer.

"why are you so precious?" He couldn't hold himself back anymore, his nose tracing your jaw, you squeeze your eyes shut and take a shuddering breath.

"jungwon i.." you were stopped by his burning lips against yours, you immediately melted into the kiss, despite your insecurities eating at you, don't give in, it's just for his pleasure, just for his satisfaction, but fuck, you were deprived of his touch for too long to complain.

He pulls away to look into your eyes, his cinnamon scented breath brushing against your delicate features. "Can I fuck the doubts out of your little pretty head?" He asked, and a slight, shy smile spreads across your face, he's my husband, he chose me to be his, he picked me to be his wife, you think looking at him then back at the diamond ring on your finger "do you want to?" you whisper almost shyly.

"do I want to? Do you wanna find out if I want to?" He whispers with a smiley, deep voice, one of his hands unbuckling his belt, his face nuzzling your neck to make you smile and you did despite your attempts to fight it back, your thighs squeezed together as if trying to hold back the wetness that's uncontrollably leaking out of you as well, cuz with the way his breath is brushing against your skin, and the way he was licking and kissing on your neck? You couldn't say no. All you could do is let out a whisper of "I want it..."

Now with your legs around his waist and arms around his neck, you don't even notice the way to where you're now bouncing on that bed as he threw you.

Unbuckling his belt completely and baring himself before you, he straddles you and rips your pjs top off, tracing the outline of your bra.

"so insecure for what" he whispers as if in disbelief, mostly to himself, before turning you around like you weigh nothing to unclasp your bra, throwing it across the cozy room, followed by your undies, making you shiver.

and he can finally see the ass he loves , the stretch marks he adores,his palm connecting with your ass in a hard slap, making you whimper, reminding you both of the first night after your wedding party. He gets up again, grabbing a towel from the bathroom and lifting your hips, placing it beneath you.

He turns you back to face him, smiling up at you reassuringly, his big hands on your skin, it reminds you of all the times you let yourself go with him and ended up being a satisfied little thing nestled in his arms ,you uncontrollably smile back at him.

He kneels beside your legs, lifting one to rest on his shoulder, his finger gently running along your slit, "so wet bby" he murmurs, making you hiss and squeeze your eyes shut "am I?" You whisper, before whimpers start falling outta your mouth like a broken record when you feel his finger slipping inside your desperate hole, you open your eyes to look at him, seeing him too focused, his cock rock hard against his stomach as he fingers you, a second finger was already in, curling and stroking your g-spot with ease, as if he had a perfectly defined map of your body.

His lips kissing and nipping at your inner thigh, before he sniffs deeply, "you smell like love bby.." he murmurs, one hand gripping your thigh, and the other inside your pussy as you moan and squirm on that bed enjoying yourself, all your worries and frustration is aside for the moment when you're feeling this good.

You look down at him, before your other foot moves to his cock, stroking it gently, he buries his face deeper in your soft thigh as he groans "uh...fuck..." His fingers start moving faster before he looks down at you again. The sight makes him smile even in this hot mess, you both giving pleasure to each other, like the real couple that you are.

"you like that bby? Here?" He strokes a specific spot, making your eyes water as he looks down at you, teasing yet genuinely loving you, his fingers started moving even faster overwhelming that spot, before he feels a pressure pushing his fingers out, just as he does, they were followed by a heavy flow of your waters, and this sight made him leak down your toes, "fuck...Fuck you just squirted baby.." his hot seed spilling down your foot and your essences covering his abs.

you pant, covering your face before he straddles you again, kissing your neck, "are you alright baby?" He tried to peek at your beautiful, flushed face, little did he know you were giggling shyly behind those little hands "yea..", his eyebrows furrow in light curiosity and he pulls your hands away with his "look look who just made a mess and is now giggling .." he said, trying so hard not to ravish you, he wanted to be buried deep in you RIGHT THEN AND THERE, but he has to ask, knowing how paranoid you can get afterwards.

"..can you handle intercourse right now?" He asked, gripping a fistful of your hair and dragging your head back to bite on your neck and sniff, making you know that even if you say no, he'll never stop jerking off on that bed all night long because of you, you look down at his hard cock, making you bite your lip, his hand cups your pussy , caressing your sensitive folds, coaxing you to say yes, "is this a yes? You feel that pretty pussy asking for hubby's cock baby?" He coos, You moan, letting him know that it's a damn official yes and he didn't waste any more time, immediately pushing his tip inside your cunt followed by every inch, he groans in sync with your loud moan at the sensation of finally feeling this again.

Minutes pass and you're now a flushed, moaning mess with tears running down your temples and hair tousled in the sheets, the sight only making him go feral, changing angles every two minutes, hitting deeper and scratching every itch of yours, "you're so tight...fuck and you smell like pure debauchery right now baby.." a hot, panting laugh escapes him, as he continues his thrusts, but even in this situation, your insecurities were still there, and you decided to try to make him look at you, even tho you knew he becomes an animal in heat when he's like that, but it was as if your insecurities were challenging you...you mumble weakly "babe look at me .." but all you get back is two hungry, mad eyes "shut up not now...not when your pussy is feeling this nice baby..okay?."

His gaze softens SLIGHTLY as he looks at you and remembers you're his little lovely woman who's always paranoid and insecure, before sliding his middle and ring finger inside your mouth, he loved being surrounded by your soft inner flesh squeezing him everywhere, he loves feeling possessed by your warmth and giving it back to you, your pussy immediately clench around his cock when you feel his possession of you, the fierce love and lust making you spread your legs wider looking for a fourth orgasm when you feel your pussy getting this slippery, and when he sees the sight in front of him, his eyes almost pop out of his head, your legs wide open, your face flushed and tears all over it, hair in the sheets and your breasts bouncing.

the thought that his thrusts can't get stronger already gets forgotten when he starts fucking you senseless, the bed creaking and skin slapping and here is when your screams couldn't be held back anymore, you grip the sheets in your hands and scream his name nonstop "won... please don't stop..." Your voice making him grip your waist tighter, fucking you fast and hard , the strokes making you feel like your walls are about to explode due to the thick pressure pushing them apart , he reaches out, rubbing your clit, his gaze on his bulge beneath the skin of your lower abdomen.

you start gasping for air when the familiar lightness of your hips starts taking over you making you grind against him, your eyes rolling back as you let out a choked moan, your walls yet again squeezing his dick inside you, and this was all he needed to let go, his hips jerking deep inside you as he groans, his head tilted back and eyes squeezed shut, his hot seed planted deep in your precious inside as he gives a few more thrusts riding out your orgasms. You thought he'd stop now, but the thrusts to calm his twitching dick down only seemed to arouse him again, he didn't stop, and there you were overstimulated and still taking his cock like the good wife that you are, more tears spilling down but your worn out expression only makes him go insane.

His hands grip your breasts making you gasp, it was satisfying, even when you thought you can't cum a fifth time, he continues fucking you madly, there was another hole in the back, but he always thought why would he use it when your puffy tight cunt is there?

Sweat forming on his whole body as he fucks you like a psychopath, you look at him with your completely wrecked expression and it melts your heart seeing obsessed he looks right now, you'll never stop him, even when his thumbs spread your folds to look at his length getting sucked inside then harshly pulling back out, he hisses at the sight, eyes fixated in there and as he starts rolling his hips sensually you knew he was in the verge of filling you up again, you start tightening your cervix muscles, making him roar "uhhh just like that...fuck that ..." He smacks your clit making you whimper just when he buries himself to the hilt, throbbing his hot seed yet again deep inside you, he's now with both elbows on each side of your head, giving the last thrusts to feel the best of his orgasm before he finally collapses on top of you, sticky with sweat and his softened member inside you.

after catching his breath, he rolls off of you, pulling out making you both wince at the light stroke of your two overstimulated privates, he looks down watching his cum leaking out of you and falling on the towel beneath you, before he lights a cigarette as you both stare at the ceiling, the smoke coming out of his mouth, giving you that familiar atmosphere after every sex session, and the silence after that sex with so many unspoken things left you two in confusion, he looks over at you before whispering in a hoarse voice "c'mere" pulling you with one arm around your bare waist easily, you automatically rest your head on his chest, you hand on his abs as he continues smoking his cigarette for minutes.

After it's all burnt, he sits up resting your head on the pillow, crashing his cigarette off in the ashtray on the nightstand, he surprises you by kissing your lower tummy "you were such a good girl for me" he whispered making your tired self smile, brushing your legs against one another despite the discomfort in between them, you stay there drowning in your thoughts again when he heads to the bathroom, wetting a towel with warm water before walking back to you, parting your legs with caring hands and cleaning up the mess, without forgetting to take the towel that's soaked in your fluids from beneath you, heading back to the bathroom yet again, you hear him washing things and moving around, when he steps back into the room, he heads towards the wardrobe slipping in one of his boxers and grabbing one light, silk nightie for you, he helps you into it and kisses your neck softly "are you tired baby?" He asked as you nodded, he gets under the blanket seeking warmth when your bodies come down from the high and processes the chill weather, pulling you with him, letting you rest your head on his chest again as he caressed your scalp and shoulders.

meanwhile, you were fighting sleep there, the only thing stopping you was your doubts, and you finally look up at him,after all this vulnerability and connection, you can't keep being so bitchy about it, "jungwon" catching his attention "hm?" He looks down at you, before you blurt out:

"do you look at me sometimes and wish I was more.... sophisticated? More...into serious, important society? Like.. employed and all?" You look away feeling ashamed of your way of thinking and the fact that his hurtful words from that heated argument actually did have an impact on you.

he shakes his head.

"babe, I know I said some hurtful things and used your insecurities against you, I feel like a bastard for doing so I swear..." He looks into your eyes, leaning dangerously close that your noses are touching before he whispers again "you're as serious and as important as any other human being on this earth ..and even more for me" he kisses your lips gently, leaving a faint taste of cinnamon and cigarettes before whispering again with one hand buried in your hair locks and the other pulling the nightie's strap off your shoulder to caress it:

"you keep that house a home for me, you make me laugh and ease my burdens..you even blow your back cleaning and cooking...and if it wasn't you making me feel alive...god..I don't know how I could've survived every obstacle that has ever came my way baby"

You nuzzle his nose sensually, your vulnerability taking over you as your whispers shake

"I'm sorry for doubling your stress Hun.."

He captures your lips in a deep kiss, sucking your lips into his every time the kiss was about to break, but it eventually does as you both pant, he lets out a breathy chuckle.

"god, many women at work say they wish they were housewives and creating families, I'll never understand women" he laughs, making you smack his chest gently "shut up won you know nothing" you whine tiredly, he smiles tenderly looking at you.

"oh babe I know everything, I know what's going on inside that little head of yours, I know what you love, I know the exact same house you dream of spending a few weeks with me in" he winks as realization hits you like a truck, it was it, the place you always wrote about in your notes, the simple old fashioned house with simple decorations and a fireplace, the cozy bedroom and the painting of the girl by the river that was exactly facing the bed.

you gasp softly and look up at him "no you didn't..." You whisper in disbelief, feeling guilty for all the times you hated how he's always busy, before he cuts you off "yes I did, those nights out, those busy days were all for working on this..." He knocks on your head gently "little dream haven of yours, woman" you immediately hug him tightly,

"I love you I love you I love you" he hugs back "pull away you smell like sex.." he teases along while burying his face on your neck and hugging you tightly against him "ugh go away, go away you little beautiful woman.." he laughs and you do as well.

"sometimes I can't believe you're a grown man, doing things such as putting snacks somewhere and disappearing like santa.." you laugh at him.

"oh shut up, we both know we both have high ego, just imagine after that argument i give you a packet of candies and be like here's your favourite , woman, you'd put it up my ass" he looks at you, his smile softening "but I managed to make you sleep deeply with the last bottle of chocolate milk, you were drinking like a child being all grumpy about me packing 'my bags' , not knowing I was actually planning to kidnap you" he makes you both giggle, continuing the lazy banter in the sheets.

joking for minutes before sleep steals both your minds, the comfort in each other's arms even making you oversleep the next day, cuz your mind and his, had finally found the answer to everything, and you finally feel worthy again.

@twiishaa @slut4hee @stvrrylove @nodoubtily @nanahachi3 @enhard @onlygarden @kikidoul

[sylus-doll]

Synopsis: It's normal to feel insecure every once in a while. But what would Sylus think of it? You wonder if he'll think that you're too much but you still ask to look through his phone anyway. And he willingly lets you.

Warnings: Low self-esteem and self-doubt, insecurity, jealousy issues (thinking he has other girls), bad relationships (not with Sylus), mentions of stalking (done by Sylus to you), mentions of threat messages.

Author's note: Is this controversial. Idk. I think I'm overbearing, so this is self-indulgent but I hope that it helps if you can relate to it as well. This is based on one of his Destiny Café and affinity level up lines. Comments and reblogs are appreciated! <3

You had always been a little insecure of yourself. Comparing yourself to others, envying the life they have, wishing to be a different person entirely. All of this had been ingrained into you like heated iron scorching skin, branding itself onto the fragile fabric of your soul. It would be alright, if it didn't consume your being and take the reigns of your mind at the worst of times.

Previous partners always brushed you off when you wanted to speak to them about your troubles. Telling you that it was fine— that they could handle it. Lies. Maybe they would indulge you once or twice, but they would always end up angry at you for being... difficult. Your jealousy is out of control, your clinginess is overbearing, your need for reassurance is exhausting. Always too much, too high maintenance. It all ends sour.

But you can't help it. The need to satiate this overwhelming emotion withers you away. Your desperate want for someone to claim you as their number one— the only one—overrides rationality. Yet you have learned to bite your tongue. Force your words to die in your throat because you never want to be too much. Especially not for someone like Sylus. Sylus who has always been so understanding and patient and you are terrified that this might tip him over the edge.

Sylus, however, notices that you seem rather lost in thought. Although he has been on his phone for quite some time, nothing gets past him. Not your jittery behaviour or the sighs that escape past your lips as if they were the words you wished to convey but held back on. He sees you fiddling with a trinket, some gemstone he left lying around the base that Mephisto probably went for. Switching off his phone, he sets it aside in favour of staring intently at you, two fingers resting on his temple as he leans on his elbow.

“You seem quite fascinated with that pretty gem, sweetie. Has Mephisto influenced you with a crow's instinct?” Sylus teases you, an opening line for conversation.

You jerk, scowling at the man, “Don't compare me to that bird!”

He only chuckles, shaking his head.

“What's on your mind, sweetie?” The tone of his voice shifts, now noticeably softer. So are his eyes.

Sylus is worried about you, it seems. You glance at him, taking in the way he keeps his eyes only on you. Then briefly direct your gaze towards that damn phone of his before looking into his eyes. Vicious scarlet turned lovesick velvet; it engulfs you in safety. Your lip quivers, and you bite down to stop it from doing so. What would Sylus say if you asked to look through his phone? How irritated or annoyed would he be? But his eyes are so warm, and you crave the gentle adoration it drowns you in.

“Can I... look through your phone?” You ask hesitantly, breaking eye contact first.

Well. That was the last thing he expected you'd ask him. He stares at you a little dumbfounded, only briefly, before regaining his composure. He expected a favor, something grand or perhaps requested the impossible from him. Of all things Sylus owns, and you ask for his mobile device. With a quirk of his brow and small tug at his lips, he gestures for you to come closer. When you do, he sits you across his lap, pulling his phone from the coffee table with his evol and drops it off in your hands.

“Go ahead, sweetie. I have nothing to hide from you, only the authorities.”

Sylus is patient when you begin your... search. Throughout all the apps he has; social media, websites, albums, contacts. You find that most of it contains you and N109 business. Pictures of you that you don't recall him taking, candid ones looking away from the camera. Auction sites where he's betting on antique weapons and vintage wine. Messages to Luke and Kieran regarding missions, and sometimes about keeping an eye on you. Ominous ones from others that come in the form of—

“What do the codes mean?” The question tumbles out of you before you fully think it through. Damn you.

His hand envelops yours, scrolling through the messages with his thumb.

“This one, is a location. Some sort of trap, most likely. The one you looked at earlier was a threat. And as for this...” Sylus explains every single one, not even hesitating.

Once you're satisfied, you give him back his phone. There was nothing. No other girl, no secret lover, not a single piece of incriminating evidence. Shame and guilt immediately take root within you. Sylus is not that kind of person, you should have known that. Should have trusted him more and let it be. Why were you like this? Apologize. It's what you need to do now because maybe he thought you were doubting him.

“I'm sorry—” he cuts you off.

“No. You have nothing to apologize for. Didn't I tell you that you have access to all my resources? Including, but not limited to, my phone. You can take a mile if I give you an inch.”

He brings your hand to his lips, kissing each knuckle. Even the tips of your fingers, and a final one on the inside of your palm.

“Next time, you don't need to ask. Just snatch it away from me if you think I'm giving it too much attention. I'll drop anything to show you how much I adore you.” He looks at you, gaze unwavering.

You will never be too much for Sylus. Everything that you have to offer, he will devour like a dog starved. He has been deprived of the intensity of your affections for far too long to be picky. If your love is tender, he will soften himself from metal to clay and be molded by your hands as best he can. And if your love is untamed ferocity he will embrace you with open arms, ready to be ripped apart. It will be alright— Sylus will stitch himself back together if that was what you needed him to do. That is what he will do to love you.

[vunblr]

Discipline (Blue-collar Bucky #2)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Warnings: 18+ only. Smut. Unprotected Sex. Brat-taming (Bucky). Edging/Orgasm Denial. Power Play. Overstimulation. Spanking. A sprinkle of Degradation. Nipple play. Dub-con Elements (induced paralysis).

Summary: Bucky made the rules, but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t break them. And when he does, she’s more than ready to make him pay for it.

Word Count: 5.7k.

note: I just had to do this. Out of all my versions of Bucky, this is the only one who deserved it -so far-.

Also, I know it's unlikely that a simple taser could paralyze him, but come on, play along.

Bucky never planned on coming back after that first time.

It was supposed to be a one-time thing, a simple, unspoken exchange that neither of them would dwell on. He’d walked into the bakery to pick up the crew’s lunch, and by the time he walked out, his hands weren’t the only things covered in flour. He figured that was it. A lapse in judgment. A moment of weakness.

And yet, here he was. Again.

The scent of fresh bread and warm sugar wrapped around him as soon as he stepped inside. The bell above the door chimed, and he saw her glance up from behind the counter. He didn’t miss the way her lips parted slightly when she recognized him, how her breath hitched in that barely perceptible way that made his cock twitch. She recovered quickly, though, offering him a polite, almost indifferent smile, like she wasn’t squeezing her thighs together under that frilly apron, like she hadn’t begged him to fuck her in the back room not even a week ago.

He smirked.

He sauntered toward the counter, tossing his gloves onto the surface with a lazy flick of his wrist. His vibranium fingers tapped against the display case absently as he pretended to glance over the pastries. "You know," he drawled, tilting his head, "I think I'm developing a sweet tooth."

She raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. "Is that so?"

"Mm." He nodded, dragging his tongue across the inside of his cheek. "Keep finding myself coming back here. Weird, huh?"

She snorted, shaking her head as she reached beneath the counter for the already-prepared order for the workers. "Yeah, real weird. Almost like you have a job that sends you here regularly."

He liked this little game they played, this dance where she pretended his presence didn’t affect her, and he pretended he wasn’t counting down the hours until he saw her again.

"Convenient, isn’t it?" He leaned against the counter, letting his gaze flick over her slowly, deliberately. "Guess I’ll just have to keep coming back."

She rolled her eyes, setting the bag of sandwiches in front of him with a little more force than necessary. "Try not to strain yourself."

He chuckled, reaching for the bag but making no immediate move to leave. Instead, he let his fingers graze hers in a way that wasn’t exactly an accident. She tensed, just for a second, but it was enough for him to notice. He could see it in the way her pupils dilated, in the way her chest rose ever so slightly as she inhaled.

Yeah. She wasn’t as unaffected as she wanted him to think.

Good.

He stepped back, slow and measured, still smirking as he adjusted the bag in his grip. "See you around, muffin."

And just like that, he was gone.

----

The visits kept happening.

Sure, the foreman had asked him to handle the lunch pickups a few more times, but even when he didn’t, Bucky found reasons to stop by. Maybe he needed a drink. Maybe he was suddenly interested in croissants. Maybe he was just bored.

The excuse didn’t matter. The outcome was the same.

He’d show up, she’d pretend not to notice him lingering too long, and by the end of the day, he’d have her pressed against a wall somewhere, muffling her breathy moans against his lips.

Not that he was thinking about it too hard.

It was casual. No expectations, no obligations. She got off, he got off, and they both moved on. Just as he told her, the only thing he can offer her at the moment.

So why the fuck was he in front of the community center, squinting at a stupid flyer about free baking classes?

He stood there for a long moment with his arms crossed, his jaw ticking as he stared at the neatly printed words. "Learn to bake! Free classes every Tuesday & Thursday evening! No experience necessary."

Bucky exhaled slowly through his nose, shaking his head at himself. This was stupid. And yet…

The class was across the street from the bakery. It wasn’t that much of a stretch to sign up. He’d learn something, sure. Might be useful. But more importantly, he’d get to spend more time with her. And -if he was being honest- he wasn’t entirely thrilled about the idea of some random asshole getting too comfortable around her in a class full of strangers.

He knew how men were.

And he was the only one allowed to make her squirm.

Bucky smirked, turning toward the entrance with a sense of purpose. This was going to be fun.

----

He had expected her to be even a little flustered when she saw him walk into the class on that first day. Maybe she’d stumble over her words, maybe her eyes would widen in surprise, or -if he was lucky- she’d pull him aside and demand to know what the hell he was doing there.

But she didn’t.

She looked right at him, blinked once, and simply said, “Find a seat, we’re about to start.”

That was it. No reaction. No acknowledgment of their situation. Just... professionalism.

He hated it.

Not that he wanted special treatment. But it irked him that she could turn it off so easily like she didn’t spend countless nights milking his cock, moaning his name like a prayer. It was almost insulting.

So, naturally, he made it his mission to get under her skin.

It started small. Little things.

When she instructed them to knead their dough for ten minutes, he’d lean back against the counter after five and smirk. “Pretty sure my hands are strong enough. You wanna check?” just loud enough for the class to hear, just enough to make a few people chuckle.

If she ignored him, he escalated.

In the second class, when she passed by his station to inspect his work, he pressed the pipping bag in a very suggestive way and smeared some frosting on his hands. Then, he licked a slow, deliberate stripe of buttercream from his knuckle, watching her reaction closely.

She didn’t waver. Didn’t blush. Didn’t react at all.

And that pissed him off.

By the lack of reaction, he knew she was holding back. And if she was holding back, that meant she cared. At least a little.

Which meant he had to push.

By the third class, the students were catching on to his antics. A few laughed along with him, some just shook their heads, but one particular moment set something off in her.

She demonstrated how to pipe pastry cream onto cupcakes and showed them the proper wrist movement. It should have been a simple, uneventful lesson.

Then he had to open his mouth.

“Real delicate touch there, sweetheart,” he drawled, leaning forward on the counter,  flexing his forearms against the surface. His voice was smooth, too smooth, dripping with mock appreciation. “Bet that comes in handy for other things, huh?” A few students gasped. One let out a choked laugh.

And she?

She froze. Just for a split second.

Bucky saw it, the slight tightening of her grip on the piping bag, the way her lashes fluttered, the flicker of heat behind her composed expression.

But when she turned to him, her face was perfectly calm. And that was when he knew he was in trouble. Because instead of snapping at him, instead of rolling her eyes or brushing him off like she had before, she smiled.

“Oh yeah, it’s actually really, really handy. You’ll see, eventually.”

-----

When the class ended, she just looked at him with a neutral stare. "Barnes, a word? Since you are more than capable, be a dear and help me carry the supplies to the storage room, will you?" he nodded, grabbing almost all the stuff that was already clean into a couple of boxes and followed her toward a dimly lit hallway.

When they reached their destination, the door shut behind them with a soft click, sealing them off from the rest of the world in the storage room. The scent of flour and vanilla lingered in the air, mixing with something heavier: the unspoken tension crackling between them like a live wire.

Bucky dropped the boxes onto the floor with a dull thud, dusting his hands off on his jeans before turning to face her. She was already watching him, arms crossed, chin lifted in that quiet, unreadable way that made his hackles rise.

"What do you think you’re doing in my class, Bucky?"

His smirk was instant, practiced. "Learning."

She scoffed. "Don’t give me that crap. You made it very clear what our thing was: fuck buddies, no strings, no extra credit." Her expression remained impassive, but her words hit sharper than he expected. "So why the hell did you sign up?"

Bucky bristled.

Yeah, fine. Maybe he overstepped. Maybe this was a little more than what they agreed to. But something about her tone, about the way she looked at him like he was some inconvenient disruption instead of the man who had her coming undone in his hands, made his jaw clench.

His smirk turned sharper, edged with something almost mean. "Well, let me remind you. I may not be the perfect student, but at least I’m honest about who I am." He took a step forward, and his voice dropped just enough to make the space between them feel too small. "You, on the other hand, acting all high and mighty just because you’re wearing a teacher’s badge..." His voice carried, echoing in the empty room as he loomed over her.

She narrowed her gaze, pressing her lips into a thin line.

"Oh, don’t worry," she said, voice deceptively sweet. "I’ll teach you a lesson, alright."

Bucky exhaled a quiet laugh, slow and deliberate, before tilting his head down to look at her. "A lesson, huh?" he repeated, his voice thick with mockery. "Sounds like you wanna play principal for a day." He shifted, crossing his arms over his broad chest. "Well, go ahead then. Show me what you’ve got."

She didn’t flinch. Didn’t waver. Which, if he was being honest, kind of turned him on. He could feel it, the twisted little thrill beneath his irritation. A part of him craved this, to have her undivided attention, to see what she thought would be enough to discipline him. It was a fucked-up kind of want, born from the way she brushed him off in front of her students, pretending like he was just another guy instead of the one who made her tremble behind closed doors.

But he’d be damned if he admitted it aloud.

Instead, he held her gaze, waiting. Daring her to make the next move.

He barely had time to process the sigh that left her lips before she spoke. "Just be useful and give me that bucket over there. Unlike you, I still have things to do."

His brow quirked, amused by the audacity of it, but he humored her, rolling his eyes as he turned to grab it. "Yeah, yeah, princess. Don’t get your apron in a twist."

And then was when she did it.

Years of perfect training, years of being Hydra’s fist, a ghost on the battlefield, an apex predator in human skin… and yet he didn’t see it coming.

The zap of electricity hit him hard, sharp and unforgiving against the side of his neck. His entire body locked up instantly, and his nerves short-circuited as every muscle seized at once. His breath caught in his throat, his vision blurred at the edges, and before he could do anything, before he could even curse her name, he felt himself falling.

But she didn’t just let him collapse, no. She guided him down. Lowered him carefully. Like he was something fragile, something that mattered.

It was almost insulting.

His chest hit the floor first, then his head followed, resting against the side of his arm, his vibranium fingers twitching as they struggled to respond. He wasn’t unconscious, far from it. For the first time in a long time, Bucky Barnes was vulnerable.

And she? She simply stood up, walked toward the door, and locked it. The click of the deadbolt sent a slow, crawling shiver down his spine.

Well, shit. Maybe he should have taken this class more seriously.

Bucky let out a strained growl, and his breath was uneven as he fought against the lingering paralysis in his limbs. "You backstabbing vixen," he bit out, roughly but undeniably amused beneath the indignation. "Using a fucking taser on me?"

Despite his predicament, despite the absolute betrayal of being taken down so effortlessly, his eyes still flicked to her legs as she moved. He also took in the way her skirt hugged her curves, the sway of her hips as she stalked toward him. Even flat on his stomach, and his nerves still tingling from the electric bite, he was Bucky Barnes. Cocky, stubborn, and utterly incorrigible.

That arrogance barely had time to settle in before she reached for something on the nearby shelf. A ruler.

Not one of those flimsy plastic ones. No, this was an old, thick wooden ruler, the kind meant for use on chalkboards. Or as he will discover, putting cocky super-soldiers in their place. His brow furrowed slightly as she turned back and closed the space between them, ruler in hand, with an unreadable expression.

Then, without hesitation, she hooked her fingers into the waistband of his jeans and yanked them down -underwear included- leaving his pert, pale ass bare to the cool air of the storage room.

Bucky’s spine stiffened.

“What the fuck-?!” His face contorted in a mixture of outrage and mortification as his body betrayed him, heat prickling beneath his skin as the reality of his situation dawned. He tried to move, to push himself up, but the taser’s aftershocks still hummed through his system, leaving his muscles sluggish and uncooperative. The best he could do was shift slightly, but even that only served to expose himself further.

Then she spoke.

"You'll learn today, Sarge,” she mused, tapping the ruler lightly against his bare skin as a warning. “That you might be the fearsome Winter Soldier out there on the streets…” The ruler pressed against the curve of his ass, not hitting, just…resting. Teasing. “But I’m not afraid of the needy man who came in his pants not too long ago after just a little grinding."

Bucky froze.

Heat flared in his chest, creeping up his neck, and across his cheeks. She did not just say that. His mind flashed back to the bakery’s back room one afternoon, to the way she had ridden his clothed cock with desperate little whimpers, to the sticky, shameful mess he had left behind, the evidence of just how easily she had undone him.

His fingers twitched against the floor. His face burned.

“Y-you…” His voice faltered, but before he could string together something -anything- to claw back his dignity, she pressed the flat side of the ruler firmly against his skin. The sensation sent a jolt through his gut, and his stomach coiled tight with something unnameable. Humiliation? Frustration? Anticipation?

He didn’t have time to figure it out. Because then-

Smack!

A sharp, biting pain bloomed across his sensitive flesh.

He gritted his teeth hard enough to make his jaw ache, curling his hands into fists as he swallowed the instinctive whimper threatening to escape his lips.

“You don’t get to talk if I don’t talk to you first.”

Smack!

“I won’t tolerate this bratty attitude inside these walls, won’t have you jeopardizing my job just because you can’t control your mouth.”

Smack!

"You think you’re so rough, huh?" She leaned in slightly, voice dropping to something syrupy sweet, something dangerous. "Newsflash, Sergeant: you're just a bratty, horny little thing who needs to be put in his place."

Smack! Smack! Smack!

Each sharp crack of the ruler on his ass sent a fresh sting through his body, each strike perfectly placed, each one burning a little hotter than the last.

His thighs tensed, his hips shifted, as if his own damn body was reaching for it, arching into it despite himself. His cock twitched against the hard wooden floor, and fuck, that was a problem.

His breath hitched, the telltale prickle of unshed tears burning at the corners of his eyes, not from pain, not really, but from how fucking overwhelmed he felt.

He didn’t know whether to curse her or beg for more.

And judging by the way she was watching him, ruler poised for another strike,

She knew it.

“Muffin, p-please…” Bucky choked out between sharp, stinging smacks, his voice raw with something he couldn’t name, something that tasted too much like desperation.

The floor beneath him was merciless, rough wood pressing into his chest, his hardened, pierced nipples rubbing harshly through the fabric of his shirt. Every jolt of sensation, every sharp crack of the ruler against his skin, fed into the unbearable pressure coiling low in his stomach. Shame and arousal twisted together like an inseparable duo. And fuck, his cock was aching, straining, leaking, trapped between his trembling body and the cold, unyielding ground.

She tutted, watching him squirm beneath her. “Since you used the magic word -please- I’ll humor you,” she cooed.

Her icy fingers, smoothed over his scorched skin, caressing the very spots she had punished. Bucky’s breath hitched. The contrast between the sting of the ruler and the gentle chill of her touch was almost unbearable, a heady mix of pain and comfort that made his thighs twitch. His body, traitorous and weak, leaned into her hand, silently begging for more.

“Are you going to behave around me?” she asked, in a sweet, knowing tone.

His throat worked around the lump forming there, as the humiliation and need kept dancing inside him. His instincts screamed at him to fight back, to reclaim his dominance, to snarl something cocky, hurtful, something that would undo the growing control she had over him.

But instead-

“…Yes, Muffin,” he whispered. It was barely a breath, barely more than a surrender. “I’ll behave. I promise.” The words felt foreign, bitter on his tongue, but they left his mouth without hesitation. And the worst part? He meant them.

Because the desire to please her, to earn her approval, to make her touch him again, was overwhelming. His cock throbbed against the wooden floor, shamefully wetting it with pre-cum.

She must have noticed, because she reached down, wrapping her fingers around his aching length with a grip that was mocking and possessive.

“What’s this?” she mused, giving his hard, neglected cock a deliberate squeeze.

Bucky’s entire body jerked at her touch, a choked, pathetic moan escaping his throat as his hips bucked helplessly into her hand.

“Are you turned on because I put your bratty ass in its place, hmm?”

His cheeks burned at the realization.

Yes. He fucking was.

The evidence was right there, dripping onto the floor for her to see.

She clicked her tongue, shaking her head in mock disapproval. “Look at the mess you’re making.” She stroked him slowly, deliberately, gripping just firm enough to keep him on edge. “I think I’ll have to teach you a lesson about taking care of the establishment’s property, Sarge.”

His still-paralyzed body betrayed him, his head thrashed side to side in a futile attempt to regain control. But she was in charge now. And she was going to prove it.

“You defied my authority in front of the class today,” she murmured, tightening her grip for emphasis. “You can fuck me stupid in whatever situationship bubble we have, but I’m going to make sure that what has been transpiring in my classroom won’t happen again” Before he could process what she meant, she moved, flipping him onto his back with just enough force to remind him of how little power he had at this moment.

He sucked in a sharp breath, as she studied him—watched the way he twitched under her gaze, helpless and humiliated. Then, with calculated ease, she reached up, pulled the elastic band from her perfectly pinned bun, and-

Tied it at the base of his cock.

Bucky’s lungs stalled, a strangled whimper tore from his throat as the tight constriction bit into his swollen flesh, cutting off the blood flow.

Fuck.

His cock pulsed violently in protest, the restriction making his entire body thrash, but she didn’t stop there. No. She lowered herself, grazing her lips through the tip of his deep red, neglected length, and kissed it. A high, desperate sound tore from Bucky’s throat before he could stop it, and his hips jerked upwards as if begging for more.

She licked slowly, teasingly, flicking her tongue along his leaking slit, gathering his shameful arousal before pulling back just enough to watch him fall apart beneath her.

“F-fuck, Muffin-“ His voice cracked, and his muscles coiled tight as the heat surged through his body, building his orgasm. But then-

Nothing.

His release, -so close, so inevitable, so fucking unbearable- never came.

His eyes shot open, and his breath ragged as the realization hit him. She was denying him, trapping him on the edge and refusing to let him fall.

She tilted her head, with mock sympathy. “What is it, Sarge?” she asked, feigning innocence. “Does the bratty little soldier need to cum?”

Bucky’s throat bobbed, his eyes wide as he struggled to form words. But before he could beg, before he could even think of it, she pressed her lips on his throbbing cockhead once more and purred. “Well… you won’t get to.”

His entire body convulsed, and his mouth fell open in a silent scream as the her words penetrated his brain.

She leaned in. “If you had paid attention in class, you’d know that it’s physically impossible until I remove the tourniquet from the piping bag.” She explained with amusement while swirling her tongue around his leaking tip.

Bucky’s eyes rolled back, and his muscles tensed violently as his cock twitched uselessly against the unrelenting knot, pulsing with the orgasm that would never come. His body shook, his skin flushed, and his desperation got humiliatingly obvious.

He whimpered, something raw and desperate spilling from his throat as his cock throbbed violently, aching under the unrelenting pressure of the tight band still restricting him. Every pulse was torture, every slick twitch a reminder of just how thoroughly trapped he was in the pleasure she refused to give him.

“I-I’ll behave, Muffin,” he pleaded, the words tumbling out before he could stop them. “Fuck, I’ll drop the classes if that’s what you want, just, please…”

The admission burned him, but he’d lost any sense of shame earlier, at the moment his cock started dripping all over the floor. He needed her to touch him, to finish this, to let him fall apart, and he didn’t care what it took.

But she?

She simply tilted her head, unmoved, watching him like he was some fascinating little puzzle she was still piecing together.

“I’m not convinced,” she mused, softly. “After all, you’re the fearsome Winter Soldier, and I? Just a simple baker.” She let the words linger, let them sink deep into his buzzing, over-sensitive mind, before shifting her focus -completely ignoring his tortured cock- and zeroing in on his chest.

Bucky barely had time to process before she moved, sliding the fabric of his shirt up, up, up, exposing the broad plane of his scarred torso, the dark ink of his tattoos, and-

The silver bars piercing through his already-hardened nipples.

He twitched violently at the first brush of cool air, and his breath stuttered, clenching his hands into fists against the floor.

She smiled. “I have to make a point, you know.”

Then, with agonizing precision, she dragged her fingers over one of the piercings, then letting her nails scrape just barely against the sensitive flesh.

Bucky’s entire body jerked.

“F-fuck!” The strangled cry tore from his throat, hips buckling helplessly into nothing as his cock twitched pathetically, still bound, still denied. His nipples had always been sensitive, but this, this was too much.

And she knew it.

She leaned in closer, ghosting her warm breath over his exposed chest, watching the way he trembled beneath her.

“Poor thing,” she cooed, toying with the pierced nub, rolling it between her thumb and forefinger before giving it a sharp little tug.

Bucky shouted, the noise wrecked, broken, and fuck, fuck, fuck- his cock ached so badly he could barely think. His hips lifted uselessly, but she kept her focus above, kept him on the razor’s edge of something devastatingly unsatisfying.

Then, without warning, she lowered her head and took one into her mouth. He choked on air, arching his back sharply as her hot tongue laved over the hardened bud before sucking, teasing, biting just enough to make his thighs tremble.

Every little movement sent sharp, electric pleasure bolting straight to his cock, a cock that was still trapped, still denied, still leaking helplessly onto his lower belly.

“F-fuck, Muffin-” he gasped, in a high and wrecked tone, as his chest heaved beneath her mouth when she moved to the other nipple, repeating the same exquisite torture.

His thighs shook again, his muscles locked, and his cock twitched violently… but his orgasm remained agonizingly out of reach.

She stared at his wet, tender nipples, the silver bars glistening under the dim light, and hummed in satisfaction. Then without a word she moved, straddling him, settling her weight over his hips, pressing herself down against his aching, trapped cock.

Bucky’s vision blurred at the sudden slick, teasing friction of her pussy dragging along his length, sending a jolt of pure, blinding ecstasy through his still-paralyzed body. His hips bucked involuntarily, chasing more, chasing anything, seeking relief that he already knew she wouldn’t give him.

“Ahhhn… just, please,” he moaned, voice thick with need, desperation, surrender. Then, through the haze of pleasure, something darker surfaced. His teeth clenched, “If you know what’s good for you-”

She cut him off immediately.

“Poor, defenseless Sergeant,” she mocked, in a tone drenched with sickeningly sweet amusement as she slammed herself down onto his cock, impaling herself fully in one smooth motion.

Bucky’s head snapped back, and a hoarse scream tore from his throat as her slick heat swallowed him whole, gripping him like a vice.

“See,” she continued, settling herself above him, grinding her hips to fully seat herself on his fat cock, “you don’t get to threaten me, Sarge.”

She began to ride him mercilessly, bouncing with wild abandon, taking exactly what she wanted from him.

“This is a valuable lesson,” she panted, rolling her hips as her fingers dug into his tense, flexing abdomen for leverage. “I’m going to discipline you so every time you think about disrespecting me in front of other people…” Her nails scraped down his stomach, and her pussy clenched tighter around him as she rode him harder. “…you’ll start leaking like a fucking faucet.”

Bucky’s back arched violently, his body betraying him completely as each ruthless downward thrust drove him closer, closer, closer-

“F-fuck, Doll!” he howled, his voice raw, wrecked, echoing off the walls. “Y-you’re killing me here!”

Each intense, wet slide of her inner walls around him had him spiraling, hovering right at the edge of relief, his entire body coiled so tightly he thought he might snap apart. The sight before him, her breasts bouncing despite being confined by her bra, her moans and panting filling the room, the sheer fucking confidence in the way she rode him like she owned him…

It was too much.

A pathetic, broken sound left his lips as she used him, took him, denied him.

“Shut it.” Her voice was sharp, cutting through his haze of pleasure. “I gave you tons of opportunities, and you kept pushing further and further.” She leaned forward, pressing her chest against his, and her breath came hot and heavy against his ear. “This is what you get for being horrible to me.”

Bucky whimpered, and his hips trembled beneath her, as his cock twitched violently inside her tight heat.

“I won’t take the hair tie off your cock,” she whispered, brushing her lips  against his sweat-damp skin, “you won’t get to cum.”

His eyes flew open, and his breath stuttered.

“Me, on the other hand?”

Her fingers slipped between them, finding her swollen, needy clit, and she moaned loudly, circling it in quick, precise strokes as she chased her own release. “I’m gonna cream all over your fat, bratty cock.”

Bucky’s whimpers of pleasure morphed into anguished wails as she rode him mercilessly, grinding down harder, clamping around him tighter with every roll of her hips.

“P-please,” he gasped, his voice breaking with desperation. His cock was throbbing, pulsing, aching, each squeeze of her pussy only made the pressure worse, worse, worse-

“I can’t- I’m going to- Ahh, FUCK!”

But nothing happened.

His body wanted to cum, needed to release the unbearable tension, but the hair tie held firm in place, trapping him in a state of endless, excruciating denial.

She, on the other hand…

Her rhythm stuttered, and her movements turned erratic as her moans grew desperate, and her brows knitted together tightly as she neared her climax. “So big, so fat, Sarge,” she mewled, trembling as she rode her orgasm out over him, soaking him with her slick.

Each pulse of her pussy sent pain-pleasure waves radiating through his cock, threatening to tear him apart. Bucky was shaking, thrashing, begging-

“Fuck!” he gasped, his voice wrecked beyond recognition. “Stop, I can’t-”

Despite his pleas, he couldn’t deny the way her praise sent a twisted thrill through him. It fueled his ego, his need to please her, even as his body screamed for release.

And finally, after what felt like an eternity, she lifted herself, sliding off his cock with a wet, slick sound. His chest heaved with ragged breaths, and his entire body trembled as he stared up at her. His eyes were glassy, his nipples red and swollen, and his shaft almost painfully engorged.

She looked him over critically, tapping her finger against her lips as if thinking.

Then, without warning… she spat.

A slow, deliberate string of saliva landed on the tip of his cock, glistening, mixing with his pre-cum, adding more slick to his aching, desperate length.

His gaze snapped down, staring at the wetness on his cock, with his pulse hammering. She smirked.

Then, kneeling beside him, she wrapped her fingers around his twitching, neglected cock and started jerking him off. “Do you wanna cum?” she asked, mockingly sweet.

Bucky’s breath hitched, and his hips bucked wildly into her grasp.

He nodded quickly, so quickly.

“T-thank you, Muffin,” he whispered with gratitude and lingering lust. “I promise, I’ll be good for you.” Even as the words left his mouth, he knew they were hollow. Deep down, he knew he’d push her again. Provoke her again. And oh, when he’ll regain control of his body…

She tightened her grip, stroking him harder, faster.

“Beg for it.”

Bucky snapped.

“Please, Muffin, please let me cum!” he whined, pleaded, and sobbed. “I need it so fucking badly! I can’t take it anymore! I’ll do anything- please, PLEASE let me finish!” his body shuddered violently as he begged.

She hummed, pleased.

“Alright,” she murmured. “Since you begged so pretty.” She pulled the hair tie free. “Cum for me, Sarge.”

And the instant the band snapped free, the dam burst.

Bucky’s cock erupted, thick ropes of hot cum splattered across her hand, his stomach, and pooled messily onto the floor beneath him. His back arched violently, and every nerve in his body was ignited as an earth-shattering orgasm tore through his entire body.

A guttural roar ripped from his throat, his hips jerked wildly, and his cock twitched and pulsed nonstop as if making up for every second of denial.

“Ah, ah, ah- YES!” he howled, as his vision blurred at the edges, the intensity of his orgasm consumed. “FUCK, IT FEELS SO GOOD!”

His body convulsed, the aftershocks hitting hard, every lingering stroke of her fingers making his overstimulated cock twitch helplessly in her grasp. He had never felt so wrecked, so drained, so utterly destroyed, and yet…

He was already thinking about the next time.

She held him just a little longer, letting his final weak spurts dribble down his spent shaft before finally, slowly, releasing him.

And then -without a single word of praise or sympathy- she wiped her cum-coated hand on his shirt.

Bucky barely had the energy to glare, but his jaw clenched, his cheeks burned, and a fresh pang of humiliation mixed with the post-orgasmic bliss.

Her eyes flicked over his wrecked form. “I estimate the taser’s effect will wear off in about half an hour,” she said matter-of-factly, brushing invisible dust off her skirt as if she hadn’t just broken him into pieces. “So,” she continued, leaning down just enough to press a single teasing peck to his damp forehead, “you have plenty of time to reflect on your behavior.”

With that, she straightened, adjusting her skirt back into place, retrieving the wooden ruler from where she had left it, and placing it neatly back on the shelf. Then, without looking back, she turned on her heel and strode toward the door.

She just…left.

Bucky watched her go, helpless, spent, ruined, still lying in a pool of his own cum on the floor.

His breath was uneven, his body still tingled, and for a moment, all he could do was stare at the ceiling, floating in the limbo between debauched satisfaction and simmering frustration. But as the post-orgasmic haze began to clear, as the sting of humiliation faded beneath something darker, sharper, his thoughts slowly began to shift.

Her parting words echoed in his mind.

The taser’s effects will wear off soon.

And when they did?

Payback’s a bitch, Muffin. And she wouldn’t see it coming.

Dividers by: @/strangergraphics

[brainwashedsmogbreathingprincess]

As black history month in America approaches, I really want to see more black batman/batfam content. Give Duke Thomas his flowers, more recognition for the Fox family. Fuck it even fanon versions, bring back John boyega red hood. And on that note if you think race swapping is wrong, question why Selina is allowed to be black in everything apart from comics (yes Eartha kitt but even then why was that fine for you). Black Bruce Wayne and all the interesting questions that brings to his character.

What does blackness look like in gotham. Especially with the state in batman comics today with the fear mongering present currently. What's it like for the average black person living in gotham city, do they actually trust their heroes? did they ever bring an unconscious bias to crime fighting and before we're quick to claim our heroes as perfect symbols of justice, think on their backgrounds and how much they'd have to learn and unlearn to get to that point.

Like more on Duke Thomas because imagine how that would have felt. Being black and in this city where the politicians don't help you, where you most probably had family members that did what the needed to do to survive and provide who came out of those choices with broken bones and scary stories about the creature your city hails as a knight. Imagine one day, in the middle of the day, when you thought you're alone and nobody was coming for you, you're saved. You're saved by a figure in bright yellow and when he speaks, his words are like yours and his skin is only a couple shades off and he most probably smiles and shines a little bit. Imagine the feeling of seeing a streak of yellow dart across the city and feeling like they're there just for you.

[nekrosmos]

Price had to shave. Entirely.

It was for a minor surgery; one of his last op had left him with a small piece of shrapnel stuck under the skin of his jaw, which hadn’t been noticed right away, preventing the wound from healing properly. Sure, he could have only shaved the sides and kept a mustache, but he figured now was the time to do a full shave, even if he really, really hated the idea.

He didn’t tell anyone about the surgery, but Nikolai sure noticed his foul mood the few days before it. A few probing questions here and there, but John absolutely refused to elaborate, so Nik let it go.

And then the day came. They were busy getting ready, Price in the bathroom while Nik was getting dressed in their bedroom, hips moving to a song the speaker on his nightstand was blaring. That was why he didn’t hear the beard clipper buzzing, and that was why he almost fell back in surprise when he was greeted by a face he had not seen in well over 10 years when he turned around.

"Нифига себе John, give me a warning next time. What is this for?"

Price avoided eye contact, focused on getting inside his shirt and grumbling an answer Nikolai almost struggled to understand.

"S'nothing, got a small surgery later today, had to shave. Don't make a big deal out of it Nik."

A glance to the side of John's face and Nikolai noticed the wound, raising an eyebrow at this. He didn't like the fact that John had hidden a surgery from him at all, the captain's stubbornness often a point of contention throughout their relationship, but Nikolai had to admit that the sight of his lover's freshly shaved face was quite the distraction.

The initial shock now gone, a wide smile appeared on Nik’s face as he moved towards John, his arms wrapping themselves around his shape while John grumbled some more, trying to escape his partner’s embrace until Nik firmly locked his chin between his hand and lifted John’s face, finally taking in the full sight of a fully shaved John Price. 

“Aaaah, like when we were boys.” Nik said, smile still as wide, eyes tenderly staring at his lover while a thumb ran across John’s cheek.

“I look fucking twelve, Nik. Do you know how long it took me to shut the sergeants up last time Farah told them about my time without a beard? Three. Fucking. Months. They kept asking for pictures, tried to bribe Laswell a few times, too. I am never going to hear the end of it.” 

A hearty laugh escaped Nikolai’s lips, amused and endeared by John’s reaction. 

“You can always threaten them with hand-to-hand combat training with me if they give you any trouble.” 

Whatever complaints came out of John after this, Nikolai didn’t hear, as he was busy kissing the bare skin of John’s jaw and chin, big hands grabbing the side of his face and keeping him in place as he did so. It was like going back in time, flashbacks of their time together as younger men coming back to him, missions in the desert watching John’s face redden because he was too proud to wear a hat, memories of time spent together in bars, Price getting so drunk that Nik had to carry him back to the barracks, all those times Nik had stared at him with longing in his heart that he thought would never be fulfilled, only to now have him all for himself, all these years later. 

“I think we are going to be late, John.” was all Nik said before gently pushing John against their bed, lips immediately meeting his bare skin once more, kissing and teasing while John slowly relaxed under him, each kiss breaking his guard down, bit by bit. 

It would take John a long time to regrow his beard to what it was, and Nikolai was going to enjoy every single second of it.

[shinig6mis]

“off limits, man. i mean it.”

that’s what eijiro had told him, more than once, and katsuki had scoffed every damn time. like hell he’d be interested in his best friend’s little sister.

except he was. and he hated it.

he wasn't supposed to feel like this.

like when you threw your arms around his neck in greeting, squeezing tight before bouncing away like it was nothing. katsuki barely reacted, just grunted under his breath, but his hands clenched at his sides for a full minute after.

or the way his eyes always found you in a crowd. didn’t matter where you were—across the room, halfway down the block—his gaze snapped to you first like it was wired into his damn brain.

and god, the clothes. you stole his hoodies as a habit growing up, draping yourself in them like they belonged to you. eijiro thought it was funny, called you a little thief. but katsuki just gritted his teeth, tried not to think about how fucking good you looked in his clothes, how warm it made his chest feel when you tugged the sleeves over your hands and smiled up at him.

he hated when you dated. he had no right to, but it didn’t stop his stomach from twisting whenever eijiro brought it up.

“y/n’s got a date tonight,” eijiro would say casually and katsuki would grunt, barely looking up from his phone.

“tch. poor bastard.”

he told himself he didn’t care. but then you’d come home late, and he’d be there waiting.

“the fuck took you so long?”

you’d laugh, shaking your head. “nice to see you too, katsuki.”

he hated how easy you made it look, waltzing in like you hadn’t been on some dumb date with some dumb guy who wasn’t him.

off limits.

but then you’d trip over your own feet and katsuki would be there, catching you before you could hit the ground. his hands tight on your waist, your eyes wide, too close, too warm.

his breath would hitch, his grip would linger, and eijiro’s voice would ring in his head—don’t even think about it, man.

but fuck, it was already too late.

part two

© 2025 shinig6mis | do not plagiarize, repost, or translate any of my work.

[14dayswithyou]

Good day😗

Is Ren a soft Yandere? He doesn't look like a regular Yandere I know, he just looks like a soft Yandere,

And one more question, how did the name [REDACTED] come about, does it have a hidden meaning? Sorry if I repeat the question

⌞♥⌝ Next time, I'd like to kindly ask that you read the pinned post and include the secret phrase. But because I get this question asked a lot, I'll answer it now.

I personally don't think Ren is a soft yandere by any means (barring when it comes to Angel), but I do think the reason why most people view him as such is because I barely receive any yandere-esque questions on Tumblr anymore, which has lead to this somewhat sanitised outlook on Ren ^^;

I typically receive very standard, mundane, and HR-appropriate asks (/pos, /nm) that don't encroach on that territory, so Ren's overall characterisation tends to end up being watered down into "generic, overly supportive boyfriend who's secretly obsessed with you". And while I genuinely have nothing against these family-friendly asks, they also don't really give me much room to talk about Ren in a more... morbid sense jhgjhsg

It's difficult for me to turn "How would Ren react to Angel owning a pet worm?", "Does Ren know how to make spaghetti?", "Can Ren play the saxophone?", etc, into something darker than it needs to be, but I also don't want to discourage folks from sending in these kinds of questions either. I know they're just curious and want to have their headcanons acknowledged, and again, I have nothing against these types of asks.

They're definitely fun to answer (/gen), but they just... don't give me much opportunity to take it a step further ;v;

Also! I'd like folks to be more aware of the fact that Ren is literally trying to come across like a normal person in the game, so I can't exactly showcase how far he's willing to take things without portraying him incorrectly or spoiling something. I know this is somewhat of a double-edged sword, but I've always been open to answering "what if" scenarios that take place in an AU/non-canon setting (such as how Ren would react if Angel wanted to partake in his Red Room activities).

Anyways!! Enough of that >:3 You also asked about how [REDACTED] came about, and it's literally just the placeholder text Ren uses during the library scene in day 1 to hide his real name from the player!

Folks started speculating that it was Ren's real identity slipping through, so they started referring to him as "[REDACTED]". It's also my way of differentiating between Ren and [REDACTED] without having to reveal his real name.

[shomatoriashi]

02/01/25; 09:08pm

sylus x fem.reader

obligatory tags: @voidsylus | @milkandstarlight | @madam8

[ minors don’t interact; by choosing to interact with this content, you have consented to viewing something n-fw despite the warnings. ]

thinking about how achingly soft sylus is with you each time he craves physical intimacy. his garnet gaze would drink in your form, large hands shaking as they travel down the length of your legs.

he whispers your name, tone filled with reverence, trembling slightly when he takes a hold of your hand to press a lingering kiss at the back of it. his slacks would display a noticeable tent in them as he grips at the back of your thighs, never once breaking his gaze away from yours as he slides the silken material of your dress off of you.

the cold air felt kissing at your skin causes goosebumps to erupt all across your form, his name falling from your parted lips in hushed murmurs. he gives you a lazy smile, the expression causing the heat to course through your veins when he cups at the material of your bra. he licks his lips at the sight of your delectable body settled beneath him, hands gripping at the back of your straps before removing the material from your chest.

you were left vulnerable beneath him, hearing your beloved let out a string of curses before hurriedly taking off his own clothes. he tosses the expensive material of his suit aside, with only a dark pair of boxers covering his manhood as the tent between them grows even more prominent. his touch was featherlight against your skin, no heavier than dew as they blazed a trail of heat down your spine.

with a playful expression, sylus spreads your legs apart for him, already seeing the prominent stain against the base of your panties. letting out a hum of content, sylus slowly lowers himself, slotting his form between your legs before removing your panties with one single tear. upon hearing the sounds of ripping fabric, words of protest were heard coming from you-

yet the moment sylus places his hot mouth against your core, words failed you, morphing into desperate moans as you cried out to him. your hands delve into his soft locks of hair, feeling the tip of his tongue tracing at your outer lips before diving in for a taste of you. your wetness coats the entirety of his tongue, causing his groans to vibrate all throughout your body as you trembled at such a hedonistic sensation. gasps and moans echo throughout the room, and your back arches the moment you felt sylus suckling gently against your swollen clit.

you never stood a chance.

seconds later, you spilled yourself into sylus’s awaiting lips. the intensity of your release causes you to see stars, the red hot pleasure coursing through you as you held his hair in a vice grip (an almost instinctual response to your release).

wet sounds of his tongue lapping up all you had to offer echoes throughout the room, making your eyes nearly roll to the back your head as you trapped sylus between your legs. his rich chuckles continues to send pinpricks of pleasure to course through you, and you felt the onychinus leader place one last kiss against your aching sex before moving away from you.

letting out a soft grunt, sylus settles himself back, taking off his boxers before stroking his cock, wanting nothing more than to be hard and ready for you. as your eyes shyly glance downward, you could see the angry pink tip of his cock leaking fluids, making your mouth water at the sight.

unable to hold back your need to finally taste him, you sit up in bed and crawl towards him. you momentarily catch the way sylus lifts a brow at you in question, but quickly return your attention to his cock when you descend upon him. a gasp was ripped from him the moment you placed his cock against your tongue, licking away at the beads of precum each time the droplets came out of his mushroom tip. you continue giving his cock kitten licks, earning a groan from him when he delves his fingers into your hair-

before suddenly removing himself from your mouth, caging you against the bed as he traces his cock around the borders of your needy cunt. he teases you a few times, running his shaft up and down your swollen clit, basking in your needy gasps of his name. when he could feel your arousal practically sticking to him did he finally ease your ache and slide into you.

hiding his face within the curve of your neck, he gently grips at your thighs, wrapping them around his waist as he made love to you in a gentle pace, going so soft and slow that you could feel every inch of him slotting back into you (fitting you so well, like a missing puzzle piece). he was utterly patient when it came to his lovemaking, brushing his length against your hardened clit each time as he made sure to always heighten your pleasure.

and with the squelching sounds of your slick folds taking in sylus each time, you bask in his whispered praises and promises of forever.

end notes: i miss sylus so much… im still your girl, sylus. i’ll always be your girl ♡ 🥹

all stories are written by rei; please do not repost, plagiarize, or translate my works!!

[love44lew]

{day one: if i was a worm☙}

彡drivers lewis hamilton, lando norris, charles leclerc

彡genre oneshots, multiple drivers x reader, scenarios

彡summary you ask your boyfriend an odd but very important question

၊၊||၊ i know im terrible at keeping up with calendars, kinktober for example (im sorry 😫) but its only 14 days this time and im getting a early start so lets hope we’re consistent now🙂‍↕️၊၊||၊

彡warnings none!!

—————-

lewis

you were scrolling on your phone when you came across a reel of a girl asking her boyfriend if she would still love her as a worm, so why not ask your boyfriend? you made your way to the living room where lewis was tiredly sprawled out on the soft cushions of the couch, the sight of him half asleep on his phone making you giggle internally.

“lewis..” you called softly, his eyebrow rising as he moved his phone from his face which he held closely like an old man.

“yes baby” his raspy low voice sent tingles down your spine as you nibbled your lip

“would-“

“theres leftovers in the fridge, i put all the dishes away, yes the wifi is working just reset your phone, i found your lost airpod and i put it in the case, and yes, i’ll still love you if you were a worm” he cut you off abruptly before you can interrogate him. lewis is pretty much immune to confrontation since he’d much rather just get everything done right away then just sit around procrastinating.

“i want take out—“

“its done” you stood there in silence with your mouth agape. how is he SO good??

“anything else?” you watched him as he stood up and reached his arms to the celling, his bones popping and cracking with each stretch. he must’ve been there on the couch for a while.

“can i suck your dick?” you mumbled under your breath as lewis stepped towards you.

“hm?” lewis hummed as he slowly leaned to your side and kissed your jaw as snugly rests his hands on your waist

“uhm- w-what should we get?” youd kind of hoped he heard what you said, because gosh did he deserve it

lewis slowly leans to your ear, “if you wanna do that princess, ima need you to speak up” his breath is warm against your lobe, warmth that travels through your entire body.

lando

you were scrolling through tiktok with one hand and the other entangled in your mans curly hair as he rested peacefully between your thighs. his arms wrapped around your leg as he held his phone and scrolled through his explore page on instagram.

you come across this video of someone asking their significant other the hot question of the month, “would you love me if i was a worm”

you glanced down at your unsuspecting boyfriend with a smirk, brilliant way to get back at him for all those pranks.

“honey,” you called for his attention as you ruffled his hair. his head immediately looked up from his phone and at you “you weren’t sleeping were you?”

“no, i wasn’t. what is it darling?”

“i have a question i want you to answer honestly”

he adjusted himself and rested on his elbow, with you now having his full attention. “yeah? what is it?”

“would you still love me if i was a worm?” you asked the golden question, almost allowing a smirk but immediately catching yourself.

his his eyebrows furrowed in confusion, what the hell are you talking about?

“is this a trick question” lando raised an eyebrow at you.

“well if you think it is—“ you turned your head and response.

he stared at you for a second before answering “yes..? i dunno”

“that wasn’t very honest sounding” you interrogated

“well then, you really want to know my honest answer ?”

“yes!” you abruptly responded, curious on his genuine answer

“well, i wouldn’t know it was you and i hhaaaattteeeee bugs..” he looked you up and down before continuing “it would depend where i would find you as a worm though..” he hesitantly finished his sentence

you smacked his shoulder “what does that mean you dingus?” you barked,

lando held his shoulder from the pain “owww why did you hit me” he pouted, his cute sad face stinging your heart

“because..”

“what did you want me to say? no!?” landos voice cracked as he argued,

“i would’ve preferred that over ‘it depends’” you quoted your fingers and lowered your voice to imitate his.

“dont leave me guessing” you frowned

“darling— i didnt mean it like that” his voice softened, hes so easily weakened by you. one little whine and hes showering you with kisses and love and has already bought you a new game for your wii before you could even tell him whats wrong.

he took your hand and kissed your palm and fingers and down your wrist and forearm.

he adjusted himself again for easy access to your neck brushing his nose on the crook before made his way up to your ear where he gently nibbled on the edge, which earned him a chuckle from you, “heyy that tickles !”

air blew from his nose as a smile cracked through. he moved his lips to your cheek and basically motorboated your face until you were laying on your back dying laughing.

“mmm there it is” he smiled down at you as your cheeks burned partially from smiling and other part from the attack on your face.

“what” you mustered to say through a series of dying down chuckles

“that smile” he caressed your face “pretty girl, i love you as you are, okay?” he confessed quietly, as if he was telling you a secret as he leaned down and finally connected his lips with yours.

charles

you and charles were on one of your routine strolls in the park with leo. charles hand cocooned your smaller one as you were side by side.

leo stopped at a tree to do his business and while the two of you waited for him, you had spotted a butterfly, swallowtail to be specific.

you stood and stared at its wings happily flock around the flowers surrounding the tree, pollinating them. beautiful things like this always put you in a state of pondering.

“mon coeur? what are you thinking about?” charles squeezed your hand, calling for your attention.

“hm? oh! look char, its a butterfly” you pointed at the colorful bug that has now calmly rested on a blade of grass.

“ohh, pretty” charles was now admiring it with you, its small torso and wide wings as well captivating him. leo also noticed, now trying to catch it by jumping up with his mouth agape.

your thoughts continued though as your eyes stayed fixed on your boyfriend. a random, stupid question ate at you though: would he still love you as a bug?

or not a bug, but something or someone who wasn’t you. like what if you were a cute little golden mutt like leo or maybe even a butterfly just flocking around, hide originally meant to fend off predators, now a pinnacle of beauty in nature. what if you werent as fortunate to be born as cute or beautiful, what if you were just a worm? their only survival instinct is to dig in damp mud as a birds preying beak chomped at their tail. a silly concept to think of. how could he love you if you were just a mere bug? the running question of if youd be still deserving of love if you were something as minuscule and overlooked as a worm.

you’re more than greatful to have someone like him in your life, he was your rock—the love of your life. everyday you could be more convinced that this was it, hes the one. even right now, as your gaze stays locked on him simply admiring another external matter, you could feel your heart beating happily at the feeling of being around him. you love his soul, and your soul can follow you anywhere—so if your soul wasn’t in this body, but in one less noticeable than one of a human, would you still be worthy of receiving love?

such a decrepit topic to think of.

your reluctantly averted your gaze from charles, now youre focused back on the butterfly— or now butterflies since there was two now. Leo obviously was going crazy so you’d let him free so he can frolic around in the grass while you’d found a bench to rest on and charles followed.

“okay, now back to you..” charles started

“yes..” you sighed, you’d hoped he had already forgotten catching you in deep thought

“your face, somethings on your mind..” his fingers carefully caressed along your cheek “you can tell me anything” his eyes with softened with worry

your heart fluttered and the butterflies that you’d just seen now occupied your stomach, you could honestly kiss him right now.

“well.. uhm” you averted your eyes, his gaze currently making you nervous and overwhelmed with emotion.

“hm?” he hummed

“its stupid..” your face flushed

“when have i thought anything you have said was stupid”

“i dunno you think it but you could say something different” you shrugged

charles guided your chin to face him

“mon beau cygne, je t’adore. i couldnt think you were anything less than what you are” his voice sang to you like your favorite song, it is your favorite song. you’d kept eye contact for a couple seconds, the words everlasting their meaning the deeper you looked into his eyes.

“okay, okay fine. i’ll tell you for a kiss” without hesitation charles leaned in, his soft lips brushed over yours teasingly before taking yours in his. the kiss was soft and light, quick but not at all rushed. as he pulled away his mouth lingered over yours, his warm breath still shadowing the kiss he’d just left.

“now tell me” he whispered and then pulled away, resting his back on the bench.

“uhm.. do you believe our souls are beyond just our bodies?” you asked shyly

“i mean yeah that could be a possibility, but in what way?” charles questioned

“like even after we die, they still follow us to the next life”

“hmm.. well” he paused, pondering the concept “i dont really like to think about what happens after death, if you know what i mean” he shrugs before continuing

“makes me queasy” he let out a half chuckle.

you dont blame charles for his vague response, hes never been very fond of the topic of death because of personal experience with loved ones. you even feel bad now for bringing it up when he was in such a good mood, but also he insisted.

“whats got you thinking about death on a day like this, mon cœr?” he tapped your side, gaining your focus once again.

“i wasn’t originally thinking about death, i just brought it up so i can get to what i wanna ask you” you shifted your body so you were now facing him. almost instinctively charles hand rests on whatever body part he can touch—in this case your arm as his thumb caresses your soft skin.

“um do you think— would you..” you tried to collect your words since delivery of the question would be critical to charles’s understanding of what you wanted from him.

“do you think you’d still love me if my soul wasn’t in this body, like if i wasn’t me but i was still.. me?” your face scrunched as you questioned your own delivery, now that its leaving your thoughts you also had a hard time understanding what you wanted to say in the first place.

“are you asking if we’re soulmates?” charles tilted his head with his eyebrows furrowed

“���pretty much, yeah” you nodded

“then yes, because soulmates are meant to find each other no matter what, and my soul is always looking for you cara mia” his hand reached up to caress your cheek and you couldnt help but kiss his hand. you’re once again reminded on why you chose him, he couldn’t have given you a more satisfying answer than that.

charles gestured for you to get closer and planted a soft kiss on your nose and next to your mouth before slightly pulling away searching for approval in your eyes, lightly touching your lips with his own once he received it.

every kiss you’d received from him felt like there was an atomic bomb going off in your heart. you felt like you could simply grow wings and fly away just from how high you were off your own love for him.

“je t'aime de tout mon cœur” he whispered to you between kisses

you pulled away to look in his eyes again, greenish-blue eyes that had always captivated you.

“qu'est-ce que c'est mon amour?” charles asked with his voice still in a soft tone, his fingers now brushing your hair away from your face.

“nothing, i love you too charlie” you smiled, charles leaned in for another kiss until a familiar bark was heard close by. you and charles looked down to see a fussy leo demanding for love as well.

“i think he wants some love too” you picked him up and placing him in your lap, which he’d jumped up to kiss your chin. you and charles giggled at his energy filled antics. charles leaned down to give leo some love too, while you smiled at the both of them. they’re the exact same.

The blonde and the brunette always competing for your love, little did they know you loved them both the same. you placed one hand on leo and another on charlies head, petting your two boys, now assured the both of them would love you no matter what.

[nerdygirlramblings]

Hello! Ive been binging poly!141 and I keep coming back to your writing for my fix (because by now its basically an addiction😅)

I had this idea that the 141 are together with a civilian reader. And civilian reader works in retail, part time, and is mostly at home. Normally, they would be home by the time their boys came home, welcoming them with open arms, a hot plate of food, and time to rest and relax. But this time, the 141 get home early and realize where reader works: Walmart (or equivalent). Reader has been keeping this a secret cause they know its not cute like a coffee shop or cool. Its just their job. And now the most important men in their life know. Im thinking the 141 found out because they went grocery shopping and happened to come across reader or something similar to that.

I work at Walmart and it sucks🥲 thought that maybe something like this might help😅

Tysm, nonny! So happy to hear you like the writing. I hope this does your idea justice. (Walmart doesn't have stores in the UK, but they own ASDA.)

Also, thank you for my first request! 🫶🏻🫶🏻

pure fluff, bad accents (per usual)

Your boys find out you work part-time at ASDA on a random rainy Thursday in March.

You don't really need a job. All four of your lovers are officers with the British army. Prior to you, they all lived in base barracks. Prior to you, they lived fairly Spartan existences. Prior to you, most of their income sat in the bank, quietly accumulating.

They have plenty of money saved up that they love using to spoil you, when you let them. You know that if you asked, they'd give you everything, but you draw the line about asking them for an allowance like some tradwife. You want some pocket money of your own. Thus, the part-time job at the ASDA in town.

You're a people person, good at handling big personalities. You need to be to keep up with your boys. Between John's need for control, Simon's stoic dominance, Johnny's aggressive enthusiasm, and Kyle's blinding charisma, you aren't some shrinking violet. Within a week of your hire, your manager watches how you weather a nasty piece of work trying to demand concessions you aren't permitted to give and immediately puts you in customer service.

You're nearly unflappable in the face of frustrated pensioners and harried parents and entitled young professionals. Over and over, you're the one they call when a customer is going spare. Which is how your boys find out about your job.

They've been deployed for over two weeks, and you have no idea when they'll return. John had originally said they'd be gone for at least a month, so you aren't expecting them home any time soon. However, they'd come home much earlier than anyone thought, and they wanted to surprise you.

You're always so good about making the house feel like a home, with your bright smile and warm laughter, your home cooked food and soft touches in decor. You make them feel like people, not weapons, and they want to return the favor. This last deployment had been hard, and all four of your boys were missing your sweet voice and tender care. They wanted to show you that they loved and cared for you the way you always showed your love and care for them.

It was Johnny's suggestion to prep a meal for you as both a surprise and a thank you. After debrief, they pile into the car and decide to stop at ASDA for everything they need before heading home to surprise you. It's John who causes the code call.

You hear Susan's voice over the store-wide address system. "We could use a little Sunshine in the floral department." That's your cue. You finish with the pensioner at your till as Jacob, your manager, comes over to relieve you.

You take a deep breath and square your shoulders. In your experience, a Sunshine call in floral is a man angry the store doesn't have the fancy arrangements listed on the website. You wish the signage on the site would be more clear that the beautiful bouquets are online orders only. It would save you having to explain why the offers in store are so limited.

You hear him before you see him, smokey voice grumbling, "But if they show the bloody thing on the site as available, you should have it hear." You'd recognize the voice anywhere. He's not angry, not really, but Susan doesn't know that. Add in the sheer size of him, and Simon looming over his shoulder, it's no wonder she called for support.

You have never wanted to walk away from a situation as much as you want to right now, but before you can make an escape, Susan notices you over John's shoulder. Her little wave is enough for your men to notice, and they turn as one to see you coming towards them. Immediately their demeanor shifts. Simon's back sags as though his strings were cut, leaving him loose-limbed. John stands a little straighter, chin up as if to impress you. They've both broken out in smiles, though Simon's are only evidenced by the laugh lines you know to look for. It's only as you get close do they zero in on the badge on your shirt.

"I've got this, Susan," you say to your co-worker. "Jacob's on my till. Can you cover?"

Susan wrings her hands. "Are you sure you don't want me to stay and-"

"They're nothing I can't handle," you tell her, cutting off her worried rambles. There's a cheeky glint in your eye as you flick your gaze at your men. You clap your hands together and say, "Right, let's get this settled, then."

Susan takes one quick look between you and the now slightly less intimidating men and heads towards the front of the store.

Once she's out of earshot, John's face breaks into a frown. "What're you doing here, love?" He glances at your name on your chest again. "You work here?" He sounds almost hurt by the revelation. You can tell Simon wants to reach for you, and the only thing stopping him is you working.

You hear heavy footfalls behind you as Johnny's Scottish lilt reaches your ears. "Och, Cap! Ye said ye'd only be a moment. Gaz and I had a hell of a time getting the trolley on its lift ta find ye. How hard is it to buy bon..." His question dies on his lips as you turn around. "Bonnie?" He, too, sounds hurt to find you working here.

You can see Kyle over Johnny's shoulder, confusion written across his features. This is not how you wanted your boys to find out about your job, if you ever wanted them to actually find out. You thought maybe you'd surprise them with tickets to Hereford FC's opening game in a few months. And if they asked how you afforded them, you could handle this conversation then, but it's out of your hands now.

And as much as you don't want to have this conversation, especially not in the middle of the floral department, you can't stop the wide grin at seeing your boys again, home and whole.

"Hi, boys," you say, opening your arms. Disappointed he might be about finding you here, Johnny's no fool. He immediately steps into your embrace, and the others quickly follow suit. You're swallowed up by the smell and feel of them. The hug lasts one minute. Then two. Then they all slowly step back.

You can see the questions and cut them off before they get started. "I have another three hours before I'm off. We can talk at home, and I'll tell you anything you want to know."

John nods first. He recognizes your tone. You won't let them derail you for answers now, and they would be wasting their breath to try. "You heard the lady, lads. Let's get home."

They start to walk away when you tease, "Captain? Was there a reason you were arguing with Susan about the flowers?"

He halts his steps and turns to you, flush creeping up his neck. He brings his hand up to rub it as he says, "Er, I, we, wanted to get ya something nice, but they don't have the same ones as online."

You melt a little, watching the way your men shift nervously behind their captain. You smile softly and reach over, plucking a bouquet of rainbow poms from the rack. "These are what I usually get for myself when you're away."

John takes them gently from your hand and passes them to Gaz to put in the trolley. "We'll see you at home, love," he murmurs, leaning over briefly to kiss your cheek. Simon kisses the top of your head, fabric brushing your hair. Johnny pulls you in for another bruising hug and kisses your other cheek. Gaz puts his hands on your waist, drinking in the sight of you, before taking your hands in his and kissing your palms.

You watch them leave, wondering how you'll make it through the rest of your shift.

Three hours and fifteen minutes later, you cross the threshold of your shared home to the most delicious scents wafting from the kitchen. After slipping your shoes off next to the piles of boots at the door, you follow your nose back to the kitchen and the spread laid out on the large wood-topped island. There's a roast and mushy peas and mashed potatoes and stewed carrots and battered cod and crisps and spinach all surrounding the flowers you'd suggested, nestled in the vase you love most, the Caithness one Johnny'd bought you on your first trip with them to Scotland.

At the table, your men sit, plates made for everyone, waiting on you. They've changed since you saw them. Gone are any traces of fatigues and tactical gear. Instead they're all in casual civvies, truly home for the first time in nearly three weeks. Simon stands as you come in and pulls out your chair, smile on his scarred lips. "Come sit, doll," he tells you, not quite an order.

You look quickly around. "Let me change," you say, tugging at your uniform top. "I won't be but a minute." You back out of the room before they can stop you. You hurry to your bedroom, pulling your top off as you go. Once behind the door, you slip from your trousers into comfortable leggings and a large jumper, one of Kyle's you think.

By the time you make it back to the kitchen, your men are more than a little antsy. Simon's smile is a little strained, Johnny is fidgeting, Kyle keeps glancing between you and John, and John is staring at you. Your chair is still out. He waves a hand at it, and gently says, "Come sit, love." It's couched as request, but you know a command from your lover when you hear it.

You take your seat at the table. "Listen-" you start, but John cuts you off.

"Are we not providing for ya, love?" You see the hurt in his eyes, how much it bothers him to think he, they, aren't doing enough for you.

"Oh, John, dear, no!" you reply, putting your hand over his on the table. "It's not that at all."

"Then what?" Simon asks.

You look at them all, the expectant faces waiting to hear how they failed you. "I get restless sometimes. I love you, and I love our life. I'm happy to take care of the house and make sure you're all fed after a long day. But I wasn't built for sitting around doing nothing. I like people; being home on my own all day can get lonely. Especially when you're deployed. I also like having my own pocket money."

John opens his mouth, and you know what he's about to say, so you continue. "I know you'd give me any money I need or want, but I like having my money. Money I earned myself." You look around at them, willing them to understand. "It's only part time. Helps me keep a little busy and have a little extra to spoil you and me with."

Johnny is frowning, but you see Kyle, head cocked, looking at you as a puzzle. "I think I understand," he says softly. "You were making you way just fine before us, and you gave up everything for us."

At his words, the crease between John's brow deepens, and you're sure he's remembering the job you had, that you'd somewhat enjoyed, when you'd first met them. You'd been working at RAF Lakenheath, living in a cozy flat in Cambridge, near The Backs, when the 141 had been coming through the base after an op. An injury had put Kyle in the med center for a week, and while he could have been transported to Hereford once stable, Laswell had worked it out for the whole team to have some R&R near the base.

You'd quite literally run into John one day, rushing to your office, after which he suggested lunch as an apology. You quickly became close with all four, smitten with them from the start. In turn, they fell hard for you. They wooed you over the course of several weeks, stopping through Lakenheath on deployments to spend some time with you. Six months in and you were completely gone on all four of them, so when they'd asked you to move to Hereford, you did without ever looking back. But it meant giving up the life you'd led.

Somewhere along the way, your happiness overshadowed all you'd left behind. After a few weeks, being home alone while your men worked started to feel isolating. You liked being a little busy, and there weren't enough projects around the house to keep you busy enough. You'd always been independent, but you didn't want to be stuck in a job with long hours anymore. You wanted to be home for your men. So you'd found the job at ASDA.

Kyle reaches over to where you hand is still on John's. "I'm sorry we didn't ask how you were coping us being gone all day," he says. He looks you in the eye as he continues. "I understand wanting to do something, wanting to be a little busy, and if this makes you happy, then I'm all for it, doll." He gives you a small smile and squeezes your and John's hand.

"Gaz is right," Simon rumbles. "We were so happy to have you here we didn't think about what you did all alone all day." He puts a heavy hand on your thigh, the warmth of him seeping through your thin leggings. "'m glad you have something to keep you from getting lonely."

"Sorry, hen," Johnny murmurs, just above a whisper. "We didnae think a' ye enough." You smile widely at him.

"Johnny, you think of me all the time. This isn't about neglect at all!" You try to catch his eye, but he's looking hard at the table in front of him. "You did nothing wrong, love," you tell him gently.

He looks at you, blue eyes bright. "Ye sure?" You've never seen him this nervous before, and you break a little.

"I'm sure love."

He smiles then, a little smile, but it brightens his face and shifts the mood in the room. You look at John who's been surprisingly quiet this whole time.

He's smiling, but it's a little sad. "I know ya said we didn't do anything wrong, but we feel like we did. We didn't notice you were bored, didn't ask if you were lonely." He flips his hand over under yours and threads your fingers with his. "Yer giving us a gift by not blaming us, and we'd be stupid not to take it, even though it feels like yer giving us an out. Thank you." He brings your hand to his lips and kisses it softly.

"Thank you. I was worried you'd be mad," you admit.

"Never could make us mad with something like this, hen," Johnny reassures you. "I'm sorry we had to spoil your day is all."

You turn back to look at the food on the island. "You didn't spoil my day. You made it. You're home early, and you made such a lovely spread. I think we should tuck in, yeah?"

Simon chuckles. "Point made, doll," he says, scooping a heaping helping of mash onto his fork. The rest take it as a sign to start eating too.

The room is silent save for the sounds of food savored until John pipes up, "Why'd ya come to florals, love? We might have missed ya altogether if not for that."

You giggle. "The sunshine call, John."

"Yeah?" He clearly doesn't understand.

"It's the shop call for a difficult customer. When I'm on shift, it's my job to handle those." You look at each of your lovers in turn. "Seems I've got a knack for dealing with muppets," you tell them with a smirk.