#or. not unhappy. but not as excited as i feel about it now!

[thiccpersonality]

To Be With You In The Morning Is My Favorite Tradition

This was the fic I wanted to post on Bruce's Birthday, but due to me being disheartened about losing half of my progress on the story from the phone glitching, I decided I would post this on my Birthday (which is today!)

If you'd like to go support my other two stories in this series liking or reposting, that'd be appreciated! But even if not, that's perfectly okay! Anyhow, here they are: 5 Times Bruce Was Protective of His Pups (+2 Times They Were Protective of Him) and The Difficulties of The Working Class (Just Clark Kent): A Beautiful Omega, His Pups and The Fact He Wants Both

This story is-for some reason-so incredibly mushy at a lot of points that I think it made me sick 😂.

Also, a very Happy Birthday to anyone else who shares March 1st as a B-day too! Eat good food and have fun! You darlings deserve it.

Anywho, without further ado; the story. Enjoy! 💛

Birthdays are like a special holiday in the Wayne-Kent household–mainly for Bruce and Clark's kids–it's as if something takes ahold of the omega whenever one of their babies Birthdays are near and all he can do is plan accordingly. I mean, it's a day to celebrate (with very good reason) the lives of all his children, so sue him for decorating almost every room in the house with the best decorations.

He is just glad for his husband, Clark, and his superspeed coming in handy. The rooms get decorated faster that way.

Anywho, Birthdays are a very special and beloved occasion in the Wayne-Kent household, a day for both the alpha and omega to lavish their children with gifts, kisses and love, while reminiscing on the days when the kids were smaller and more big eyed towards everything.

Birthdays are a treasured thing by Bruce Thomas Wayne, especially as he has a reason to feel excited for them again, the familiar feeling of excited fluttering happening in his stomach as the days leading up to his kids, dad's or husband's Birthday draws closer and closer. All from the joy of imagining their reactions to his carefully thought out decoration plans and the moment they unwrap every perfectly wrapped present.

I know I keep saying it, but Birthdays are like a national treasure in Bruce's home.

However, the issue is how the stubborn omega becomes disinterested whenever his special day draws near, as though his Birthday is somehow less important than anyone else's just because it's him. And the more annoying aspect of that behavior for the family is how Bruce never means it in a negative way...even if once upon a time he did, he's admitted that he doesn't feel as depressed and unhappy whenever the day rolls around like how he used to as a child or teenager.

Clark and the kids have asked Bruce repeatedly what the reasons are for his disinterest, just to make sure that the omega remains as happy as possible as his Birthday nears, because if anyone deserves to feel such joy, it's Bruce.

But, the man just smiles softly whenever they ask, because he knows the reasons as to why they are questioning him, and just explains with the same answer: I'm married and have kids now. An answer that Clark doesn't completely understand, but then again, he acts like a hyperactive toddler whenever the days draw nearer to his special day, bugging his wife about what his theme is that year and what are his gifts and whining loudly whenever he can't find the presents the man hid from him. The alpha just doesn't fully understand Bruce's reasoning. I mean, he's an adult (doubtful), as well as a mature (mhm) alpha and a father as well, and he still feels antsy with anticipation whenever his Birthday rolls around.

No matter though, Clark and the rest of the family always decorate just as much for Bruce as he does for them, the gifts heartfelt and usually handmade by the kids (or else he wouldn't be as excited for the gifts). And yes, they continue to buy things for him even though nine out of ten of most his gifts are immediately on display as decoration for no one else but Bruce's eyes.

But if you were to ask Bruce what his favorite part of his Birthday day was, the answer would be-after listing a billion reasons having to do with the kids-his and Clark's morning ritual of waking up way before anyone else in the house (especially the twins) to just simply bask in one another's presence. Its one of the omega's most favorite moments: to wake up to the gentle nosing at his neck by Clark and the man's incredibly soft, deep voice rumble out a, 'Happy Birthday', to him.

Even if Bruce doesn't show the same enthusiasm for his special holiday like when he was a kid, he still finds his heart fluttering in excitement and love when his family bombard him with lots of hugs and kisses.

Like today: February 19th, Bruce Wayne's Birthday.

The sun has barely begun to peak over the horizon, the sky lightening from a deep, midnight blue to something still dark-yet light toned-at the same time, in preparation for the impending sunrise.

Clark smiles down at Bruce and gently nuzzles the omega's neck, his left arm draped over the curve of the other's waist while he props himself up on his right elbow, his deep blue eyes fondly watching as the shorter male scrunches up his nose cutely at the feeling of the alpha tickling his neck with his lips. "Bruce." Clark's voice rumbles soothingly in the omega's ear, the older placing a soft kiss to the exposed shoulder and hiding his smile in the warmth of his wife's neck. "Baby, s'time to get up. It's your Birthday." Bruce hums low in his throat, his eyes bleary as he cracks them open only to see the darkness of the room, a small yawn escaping him as his body extends into a stretch. "Mm..." He grunts softly from the way his muscles tense momentarily from the force of his sleep rested muscles suddenly extending, before relaxing against the fluff of his pillow with a soft sigh, his icy blue eyes looking up and over to where he knows Clark's face is. "Alpha."

Bruce can practically feel the smile he knows is being directed down his way, his ears tingling at the sound of happy alpha filling the quietness of their bedroom.

"Stupid alpha."

Nevermind, moment ruined.

Clark stops his pleased rumbles in favor of whining pitifully at whatever he did, "What did I do? You always ask me to wake you up every year, even when I feel guilty for doing so."

Bruce huffs a soft, sleepy laugh and pinches at the Kryptonian's cheek, "That's not why you're stupid."

Said stupid alpha responds to the comment by squeezing the omega closely to his body, carefully pinning the shorter underneath his comfortingly heavy weight as he mutters pitifully in the man's ear. "Then why doesn't my omega tell me why I'm stupid so that I can fix it." Bruce can't help his giggle at the ticklish puffs of air against his ear, his hand raising up to gently brush back Clark's curls. "You'll always be a stupid alpha-" he yelps at the teeth playfully digging into his earlobe for the accusation, a sigh of defeat escaping him as he concedes to the reprimand and gently wraps his arms around Clark-"but you're my stupid alpha."

The man hums appreciatively against Bruce's throat before licking apologetically at the now pink lobe. "The actual reason you are stupid is because you didn't turn the lamp on so I could see your face."

Clark stops his licking to prop himself up above Bruce, a beaming smile on his face as he stares down at the omega. "You wanna see my face first thing in the morning, baby?" Being able to make out the omega's blush despite it still being dark in the room is truly a blessing, thank Rao for his superpowers. Bruce huffs again in displeasure at the disgustingly happy smile he can sense Clark is giving him...and from the fact he can't see the alpha, but the stupid alpha can see him. "O-Of course I do...you're beautiful always, so why wouldn't I want to see you?" Clark smiles fondly down at Bruce for the timid remark, momentarily leaving the other's side to flick on their bedside lamp, both squinting against the soft glow of the light.

"Hi." Clark whispers as he settles on top of Bruce once more, his thumb caressing his mates pink cheek tenderly.

Bruce looks up at Clark with a soft look in his eyes, his breath hitching at how handsome his husband is. "Why do you never look like you slept?" He sighs wistfully as he looks at the ever perfect hair, as though he is imagining waking up in the morning looking just as put together as his alpha does.

"Really? No good morning or anything?" 

Bruce looks away from the dark curls and finally makes eye contact with his mate, a small smile gracing his face as he softly greets the taller. "Hi and good morning, Clark." Clark is soft for Bruce, he really and truly is, to the point where it seems overwhelming. The alpha returns the smile and whispers, "I'm going to kiss you now." Waiting for his mate to nod his head before he lowers his head and gently presses his lips to the omega's, smiling into the kiss when hearing the satisfied hum from the other and softly licking at his mate's lips carefully for permission to enter, rumbling in satisfaction when the omega opens up for him. Bruce feels overtaken with warmth as he kisses Clark; that's the way it always goes. The omega purrs contentedly as he kisses his husband, his arms wrapping around the alpha's neck when the man slowly deepens the kiss by licking into his mouth, his chest rising to meet Clark's as his back arches instinctively at the other's long tongue brushing against that one sensitive spot on the roof of his mouth. "C-Clark."

Bruce whines softly against the warm tongue, his heart fluttering at the possessive growl coming from Clark, the others warm, earthy scent turning to something deliciously smokey and heated as he nips at the omega's pink lips. 

"Bruce-" a suck of the tongue-" my omega-" a soft peck to plump lips-"my wife-" a deep, possessive growl as canines bite none to gently at the trembling mouth-"my mate." Clark whispers almost reverently against the sharp lines of Bruce's jaw as he trails a burning path of kisses down the omega's jaw and to his beautiful neck, biting at the mating mark and groaning softly at the pheromones released from the sensitive gland. "Rao, baby, you can't do this to me." Bruce squawks indignantly and weakly slaps at his alpha's shoulder, "W-What are you talking about?! I'm just sitting here and doing nothing–" the way Clark looks at him makes the omega pause, that godforsaken blush returning to his face as he forces down the urge to squirm away from the heated gaze–"What? Why are you looking at me like that?" Clark gives Bruce an appraising look before nipping at his oblivious omega's nose, his voice laced with something heated yet soft as he looks down at the other and says: "You're the oblivious to my stupid, y'know that?"

The alpha only has point five milliseconds to explain/defend himself before Bruce starts trying to kill him, he hates any sort of implications that he doesn't know about something...even when sometimes said implications are true. 

Bruce-once what the alpha said catches up to his kiss melted brain-narrows his eyes warningly at his very stupid husband, his mouth opening to complain and argue about what Clark even means, when suddenly the dumb alpha overtakes his mouth once again with a self-satisfied smile. As though he knew exactly what the omega was thinking and decided to stop him before he could even say it. Bruce tries to fight against the surprise attack, but it's hard to when the alpha growls low in the back of his throat as he struggles around, the taller forcefully pushing his wife back down on the bed and wrapping the omega up in his arms when he arches too far away from him.

And if Clark is soft for a sleep addled Bruce (and just the omega in general) to the point of feeling overwhelmed. Then Bruce with a very forward and demanding Clark (and the alpha and who he is in general) is beyond overwhelmed.

And curse the alpha for knowing that and using it against him.

Clark smiles smug against the kiss bitten lips of his mate, tugging at the pink flesh for a moment before releasing the muscle with a soft hum. "You gon' let me explain?"

Ugh! That Midwestern lilt Clark can have in his voice is so darn charming. The alpha knows that and is once again using it against Bruce.

To reiterate: curse the alpha for knowing that and using it against him.

Bruce narrows his eyes in an attempt to show his displeasure, even though his body betrays said attempt by relaxing into the warmth of Clark's arms circling his body. A soft noise escapes the omega when his alpha just smiles knowingly down at him and kisses the tip of his nose softly. "You are oblivious because you seem to not truly understand the effect that you have on me-" Clark trails the gentle kiss to Bruce's nose down to his mates kiss bitten lips-"All you need to do is sit there for me to want to do anything for you. All you need to do for me to want to move the world is simply look at me and I would do it all."

The alpha's gaze suddenly returns to a heated look while he nips at the omega's chin, trailing a heated path of messy kisses from the delicate chin down to the pale, elegant neck.

"You don't even know how much you turn me on by just simply existing, sweetheart-" Clark's nostrils flare at the burst of pheromones Bruce releases because of the pet name, a low growl escaping him as he licks at his omega's neck-"when you let me do anything and everything for you." The alpha trails his kisses back up to Bruce's ear, his voice deep and seductive as he whispers. "You are always doing so much for the family and the world around you. Always moving, always acting, always doing absolutely anything to make sure people want for nothing, but what about you, sweetheart? What about my omega? What about my wife? What about my mate?"

Bruce squirms underneath Clark's heavy body, a soft whine escaping him at the tongue sucking on his earlobe, his arms wrapping around the alpha to keep him close.

"Y-You take care of me, alpha."

Clark's grin is all pride at Bruce's quiet confession, a low rumble of affection filling the room as he presses the omega into the mattress, as though he's completely trying to cover him from the outside world. "That's exactly right, baby, your alpha takes good care of you in a way I know no other alpha has before–you've told me as much, hm?" Bruce nods his head obediently, not even sure if the alpha meant it as an actual question or not, but answering anyway. "That's right. I take care of you because you chose me, and I can only thank you everyday for that honor, cause you-" a tender kiss is placed on Bruce's lips-"deserve the world and more. I love the way you sit back and allow me to do the heavy lifting when it's needed."

Clark groans and tightens his hands carefully around the omega's hips, "You are always so strong, and yet you sit back and let me protect you and the kids, you allow me to love every single one of you with all my breath."

Bruce doesn't know whether he's extremely turned on right now or falling absolutely in love all over again?

Both could be absolutely possible, but his body is going through this weird push and pull of feeling hot with pleasure and warm with fondness for Clark.

The omega's eyelashes flutter as he watches his mate slowly-gosh, every so slowly-roll his hips into the plush of his backside, a surprised gasp escaping him when the taller leans into his ear to whisper once more. "I love seeing you sit back and take it all from me: my love, my affection, my protection-" midnight blue eyes somehow darken even more as Clark thrusts his hips suddenly against Bruce's-"my pleasure. You always look so pretty when you lie back and take it all." Bruce feels his body trembling, a whine escaping him when Clark gives him that charming smile, his body reacting to the touch of self-satisfaction hidden within the smirk as the alpha deals the final blow. "Like such a good wife." Bruce gasps and feels his eyes water automatically from the words, from the overwhelming heat consuming him inside and out, his hands raising to try and cover his red face when Clark stares at him for too long. 

"W-What-" he stutters and grips at Clark's broad shoulders tightly-"I thought you...you were just complimenting me so innocently."

Clark chuckles and Eskimo kisses his omega, continuing to give his mate emotional whiplash from the two different sides he's showing. "I was-" a loving kiss to the other's forehead-"and I meant every word about how it's an honor and even a privilege to be able to love you in all the ways I've ever wanted to, and in the ways you deserve. But, it's also an honor to see you be good for me when we're alone, just the two of us, and it's also a pleasure to see you exactly like how you are right now: pretty and pink underneath me."

Bruce blushes (again) and slaps weakly at the older man's shoulder, "I married a monster-"

"No. You married an alien."

Bruce furrows his brows at the interruption and swats at the back of his mates head, "Shut it. Depending on who you ask, it's the same difference. The point is, I married an alien who's actually just a monster in disguise and no one would ever believe me if I told them that." Clark snorts playfully, "No. They wouldn't believe you because Bruce Wayne isn't married to an alien, he's married to a kind-hearted, mild mannered reporter from Kansas. Do you really want to be seen as insane? You come from Gotham, I think that's enough evidence to get you booked, so stop adding onto the list."

The alpha laughs at Bruce's displeased grumbling, accepting the slaps the other assaults him with with a toothy smile, crooning softly towards his mate when the other pauses and reddens from the smirk.

"You leave Gotham out of this, Kent. Don't you even get me started on Metropolis. And I don't care if I look insane, I'm used to seeing people say anything and everything about me...whether I'm Bruce Wayne or Batman. Plus, when I was younger I think the mental breakdowns I went through constantly didn't help my reputation either, so I'm pretty sure that some people still remember that and think I'm crazy."

Clark looks at Bruce in concern, "That...sounds horrible. I didn't know there were articles of you that young-" he pauses thoughtfully before asking-"just...just how old were you then?"

Asking questions like this can always go one or two ways: 1. Very good or 2. Not so good, there is hardly ever an in-between with these kinds of things. Especially as Bruce hardly likes recalling his childhood...and Clark doesn't wish to make the omega feel horrible on today of all days, but he can't help his curiosity and can only hope his mate will be comfortable enough to share more of his past with him.

Maybe it's the fact that it's his Birthday or maybe it's the snuggles and pheromones relaxing Bruce? 

But, all he does is frown slightly in thought towards the question. "Hm? I was only thirteen at the time...that was the age I officially tried to insert myself back into the media, but it turned out I actually wasn't quite as ready for it as I had expected-" he smiles awkwardly up at his husband-"As usual, I pushed myself a little too hard and got overwhelmed really quickly, it was really bad the first time and made Alfred really mad. Alfie really put work into making sure those articles released about me over the years were never heard of or talked about ever again. To this day, I still don't know how he managed to achieve that, and it's something he's never willing to tell me."

Clark relaxes at hearing what Alfred did, a happy smile overtaking the worry as he kisses Bruce's cheek, his voice a pleased rumble when he speaks. "I bet he killed them all."

Bruce chokes on his spit in surprise, his hand raising to check Clark's temperature in mock worry. "Who are you and what have you done with my mate? You are a hero, Clark...you shouldn't wish for the death of any innocent people." He can't help the giggle that escapes him when Clark playfully snaps his teeth at him, as though he's going bite him. "You said it yourself that you married a monster. Maybe it's my inner beast coming out? And I am a hero, that's why it sucks sometimes, because I'm not supposed to wish any harm to come to anyone-even the bad guys-even when I really want to. Those 'reporters' who said what they did about you are absolutely not innocent, they are predators who took advantage of someone who was in pain just for a good story, and that someone was my beloved who would grow to become the bestest omega, mother, wife and mate to ever exist."

Bruce doesn't even know how he manages to keep blushing, it should be impossible right now, but leave it to Superman to achieve the possible from the most hopeless of things.

"Stop it, Clark-" Bruce mutters bashfully-"I wouldn't say that I'm the best at it...but I try my hardest to be as great as I can in those roles." Clark nods to show he's listening before biting the omega's shoulder, smiling innocently when his mate protests. "That's for speaking negatively about yourself. And I'm sorry, baby, but we can't accept the wrong opinions at this point and time, so when you are actually right, come try again."

Bruce huffs and tries to hold back his smile, resting back against the pillows as he hugs Clark close to his chest.

The silence in the room is comfortable as Bruce strokes the alpha's curly hair carefully, the taller inhaling the scent of the omega deeply before exhaling in deep satisfaction from the smell alone, a long-suffering sigh escaping Clark as he nuzzles into the shorter man's chest. "I can still smell your arousal from earlier, B, s'clinging to you like a second skin. I don't know whether to be relaxed or turned on." Bruce chuckles softly and playfully tugs at the short hairs on the back of the alpha's neck, "That's your fault. You had to switch from innocent poetry to verbal p-o-r-n." Clark lifts his head up from the omega's endowed chest to raise a curious brow at him, "Why did you spell it out? It's only me and you."

Bruce rolls his eyes and pinches at Clark's nose for the dumb question, "The twins are in the nursery right next to us. We don't know what their cute, sensitive little ears can make out."

The alpha just smiles fondly at his mate, enjoying when the man acts like such a mother. "Honey...they are only eight-months-old, they can't even read and don't know what most words we say mean yet-" the glare his mate gives him causes Clark to backtrack immediately-"Of course, our kids aren't a stupid alpha like I am, so they are definitely way smarter than that and could probably understand what we are saying. I think you are right for being so careful about this, that's what I think."

Bruce purrs in contentment and nods his head, "Yes. Which is exactly why we can't just say everything in front of them, especially as our babies are learning to speak now, they'll be picking up what we say a lot more now than ever before."

Clark nods and hugs his omega close again, sighing wistfully into the other's neck, "Yeah...maybe I should have taken you on a vacation for your Birthday? That way we can say whatever we want and do whatever we want without cute, sensitive little ears hearing us. You aren't known for being the most quiet-ow!" Bruce sticks his tongue out at Clark when the alpha whines pitifully at being slapped, "You're being dramatic! I can't even hurt you like this. And I do know how to be quiet–" his cheeks redden at the way Clark looks at him, the man's dark stare saying 'oh really?'–"What?! I do know how to be quiet. Maybe it's you that makes all the noise."

The alpha just chuckles low in his throat and places a tender kiss to his mates pouty lips, "Defensiveness has never looked prettier-" he croons deeply-"Though that argument doesn't work, sweetheart, not when we got noise complaints at my crappy apartment. A crappy apartment with thin walls with-might I remind you-residents that already knew my name by then. I still remember when Mrs. Greta congratulated me for finally getting a mate–you remember that? She baked us some cookies and demanded I massage you for the rough treatment."

Bruce groans loudly in embarrassment, throwing his head back against the pillow. "That was such a horrible first meeting to all of your neighbors! I never wanted to show my face there again for my lack of decorum."

Clark smirks against the other's chest and places two loving kisses on his sternum, "But I like it when you de-decorum-ize." He smiles, pleased at the laugh he gets from Bruce for the made up word. "And if I'm not able to make you lose a bit of your etiquette with my–" he glances towards the nursery thoughtfully–"you know what buried deep inside of you, then I think I'm failing at my job." Bruce giggles and kisses the corner of his alpha's mouth in thanks, "You do care about the babies! And it's okay, Clark-" his icy blue eyes soften, that familiar pink coloring his cheeks as he looks down at the man through fluttering eyelashes-"I like losing my decorum for you."

Clark feels his breath being taken away at the sight of his lover, the soft glow of their lamp seeming to soften Bruce's face while also calling attention to the piercing glow of his brightly colored eyes.

The omega watches his mate humorously as the man loses control and smothers his face back into his chest with a loud, frustrated groan, a few fake sobs escaping him as he hugs Bruce close. "We should have totally went on a vacation for your Birthday! Then I wouldn't have to wait until night to get my hands on you." Bruce shakes his head fondly at the alpha's attitude while also grunting in disapproval, his fingers stroking across the alpha's head reassuringly. "You wouldn't dare. I love being with all of my family during special days like this and would hate to be separated from any one of them if I can help it. Especially the babies, they need me–need us right now, and I would hate to deprive them of our time together."

Clark sighs softly, "I know...but how much closer could they want to be with you? They incubated for eight to nine months inside of you. It was crowded, dark and I'm sure comfortable, they could learn to give you some free time with me."

Bruce's brows twitch as he tries not to laugh, unable to help the laughter that escapes his upturned lips anyway whenever Clark gets this way. He knows that the alpha isn't genuinely possessive over him, especially when their pups are involved, however, the man can feel a little put off whenever he feels he hasn't been able to spend an appropriate amount of time with his mate.  And as usual. The omega just hugs the man close and pats his back reassuringly, "But you are such a good father, Clark, so patient even when you feel frustrated. And you help me so much too when I need help and feel a bit overwhelmed as well. You know...one of the reasons I love spending my Birthdays and holidays here, is because you are such a good alpha, mate and husband. You make me feel so comfortable in a place I felt so alone in for such a long time, that now, all I want to do is make new memories here."

He smiles at Clark when the alpha looks at him, "Like this one. It's always nice to wake up beside you in our bed, not some random bed halfway across the world or in another state–but here, with you, in the house you turned into a home with me."

Clark's eyes crinkle at the corners from how hard he's smiling, his chest puffing out in pride at the knowledge of how relaxed and happy he's able to make his lover feel around him and around places he once used to not be so fond of. "Well...when you put it that way, I see what you mean. I've always wanted to have a family of my own...and you all are my everything now–this place is my everything. I don't think I'd want to be separated from it either. Even if it's just for a Birthday."

This is why Clark is so amazing to Bruce: he always understands what he means and how he feels.

And the omega knows that it's not just on a surface level, the alpha has gone through very similar losses and feelings of loneliness throughout most his life, in just the exact same way Bruce has felt the majority of his. It's just that they handled their loneliness and hardships very differently, with the omega being a touch more harsh around the edges when it comes to the people around him (except children of course), and Clark being in a weird limbo of wanting that connection with the people and world around him, yet never really feeling he fit in or related with those he interacted with.

They both grew up thinking they were or would be monsters in their own way.

Clark with his constant worrying he'd harm someone with his superpowers, always fearing a lack of self-control.

And Bruce, who always fretted about being a curse to anyone and everyone around him, thinking that all he would ever do was harm those around himself with a curse of death. I mean, it happened to his parents during one bad night, so why wouldn't it happen during another?

But both?

Both have strived for control out of their fears of never being in control. And all the years of patient and grueling training have payed off: they both ended up meeting one another due to a common goal; protect their cities and their world.

Clark often likes to say that fate is what led them to each other, that their similarities in losing their worlds in just one day and never wanting that to happen to anyone else, is what drew them together like moths to a flame.

While Bruce says it was just Clark playing kindergarten and trying to make friends that made them meet.

Or his ass.

He's not too picky about the answer. Just as long as it's not mushy and romantic like Clark's comment is.

Those kinds of responses always cause the omega's heart to flutter, because even if he won't admit it to anyone out loud, he is actually a little bit of a romanticist at heart; little romantic gestures make him swoon.

Too bad he doesn't know how to handle his own deep desires though, cause he always ends up saying something insulting or otherwise about what's going on. But luckily enough, Clark understands his mate well and just laughs it off, calling the shorter cute for the embarrassment (which he likes doesn't like).

Anywho...

Whether it's fate, good timing or an omega's ass that brought the two together, they are here with one another now. And that's all that matters to them both.

Bruce leans his head down to lightly kiss Clark's lips, his eyes squinting against the sunlight peaking through the crack of the closed curtains, a soft hum escaping him as he pulls away from the alpha. "I hadn't even realized it was sunrise already." Clark hums softly and glances at the clock, "Why is it already seven-thirty in the morning? I'm surprised none of the kids have woken us up yet."

It's as if the comment sparks a chain reaction as a soft gurgling sound comes from the babies nursery, another little sound being made right after the first one. "Neeeeever mind. The boys are up."

Bruce smiles up at the alpha and gently pushes at the larger man's chest hurriedly, "Get up. I want to see my babies."

The twins must be developing super hearing already, as one of them lets out a loud coo at hearing Bruce's voice and a small, "Ma...ma", is babbled. The omega just smiles wider at hearing the noises coming from the nursery, a loud purr escaping him as he coos back at the baby, "That's Damian."

Clark raises his brow, curious as to how Bruce can even tell the difference between the babbling baby voices.

"How do you even know that?"

Bruce looks at the alpha as though he's insane, "Because it's Damian. I don't know how to describe it...I just know it is."

Clark watches his mate sit up, a deep, overwhelming feeling of love overtaking him at the sight of the omega's sleep tousled hair, rumpled up night shirt and naturally pink lips upturned into a happy smirk at the sound of their pups.

"Bruce."

Clark whispers softly and smiles wider when the omega finally looks at him, leaning in and capturing the other's lips tenderly with his own, not allowing the shorter to voice his curiosity as to why his husband is staring so intently at him. "You're as radiant as the sun on a hot summer's day." He smiles against Bruce's lips before pulling away until they are touching forehead to forehead, his hand rising to cradle the omega's cheek in his hand. "And as gorgeous as a flowers first bloom in spring."

Bruce exhales shakily at the soft tone, his heart warming with a deep, all consuming affection as he shakily calls his alpha's name, "Clark."

The alpha just kisses the tip of Bruce's nose in response, a soft sigh escaping him as his thumb rubs back and forth on the other's soft skin of his cheek. "And the fact that you're all mine and I your's is as exciting as getting a present on Christmas Day."

Bruce flushes heavily at the words, butterflies wings lightly fluttering against his stomach as he whines in embarrassment and pushes at his husband's face, lifting their blanket up to hide his face and cover his reddening cheeks. "S-Shut up-" he stutters out, his ears twitching at the fussy garble coming from their babies, waving away Clark to the nursery while being thankful for the distraction-"Go get the twins. They are getting impatient waiting on us."

The taller just hums in pleasure at seeing his beloved mate so shy, floating over to the nursery door and cracking it open with a soft call to Damian and Jon.

Bruce exhales in relief when Clark finally disappears, lowering the blanket from his disheveled appearance and smoothing back his hair as he fixes the bed so the pups will be comfortable, taking his and the alpha's pillows and placing them at his sides in preparation to feed Damian and Jon. The omega finds himself pausing in his careful ministrations in favor of listening to his mate croon to the two boys, a fond sigh escaping him as the man talks to the boys as though they understand him, asking them how they slept and if it was a good one. A chuckle escapes Bruce when the soft moment is interrupted by the alpha fake scolding Damian for hitting at him suddenly, his eyes crinkling at the corners as Clark appears in the doorway with the two pups cradled in his arms, a coo escaping him at the sight of the gurgling babies and a despondent alpha.

"What happened, poor baby."

"Damian attacked me suddenly." Clark answers at the same time Damian and Jon babble, the former twin shouting at his daddy's interruption and glaring at him.

Bruce giggles again, smile growing wider when Jon copies him with a cute laugh of his own, his chubby hands clapping together as his excitement overtakes him, "Mama." The omega purrs happily and extends his arms to the babies, happy and content pheromones escaping his neck glands at being called by his name. "Yes, honey, mama. Good boy, Jon. You're so smart already, yes you are." Clark sighs dramatically as his assault is brushed aside, walking forward and carefully handing off the boys to their mother, his own own pheromones betraying his pretend dramatics as he croons at seeing the pups snuggle up to Bruce. "Ma...ma."

Damian gurgles happily too, his big eyes staring expectantly up at Bruce, as though he's waiting for the same praise.

Bruce smiles down at both pups and kisses their fat faces, scenting the babies and tucking them in close as he praises them. "I didn't forget about you, Dami, you're a very smart boy too. So good at saying mama already, do you know how happy that makes me?"

It's as if they truly understand every word coming from the omega as they giggle and clap their small, fat hands (their favorite thing to do), cooing up at their mom as if they are holding a conversation with him. The bed dips suddenly and Clark is quickly scooting closer to the trio, a happy smile on his face as he croons softly for his pups attention and smiling when they look his way, a large finger pointing to himself in barely concealed excitement. "Very good, boys. Can you say, dada?"

Jon innocently eats his fist while glancing over at his twin while said twin just stares at their father surprisingly disinterested for a baby.

Clark doesn't give up though and keeps pointing at himself, "Say dada. You got it boys."

Damian smacks at Bruce's arm, looking up at his mom and back to his dad before keeping his stare on the omega, a wide smile gracing the round face as he coos. "Mama."

Bruce squeals at how much more smoothly his baby said his name this time around, hugging the babies close and kissing them again. "Good boy, Damian! You said it even better than before. Isn't that great, alpha?" Clark just stares dejectedly at the pups, feeling betrayed by his own seed and flopping onto his back with a groan. "Yeah, omega, it's great. But, I think Damian is out to get me...he doesn't appreciate me that much." The omega frowns at his mate and grumbles in disagreement, "You're his daddy, Clark, why wouldn't he appreciate you? He's just a little baby-" Bruce smiles down at the pups, inhaling their milky scent and kissing at their fat necks-"our little baby. And sometimes they just smack things a lot, hm? Maybe they sense that out of the two of us, you are the near indestructible one, so they feel better smacking you."

Bruce snickers at his theory, gently nudging the alpha with his foot and pausing when his ankle is carefully grabbed in a large hand.

"It all makes sense now-" Clark kisses at the bone-"They are just copying you. You slap at me all the time."

Bruce opens his mouth to protest but immediately flashes back to all the times he swatted at Clark this morning, a soft pink coloring his cheeks yet again at being called out. "T-That's because you always say the dumbest things...and the next thing I know, my hands are slapping at your arms or shoulders." Clark hums and releases the other's ankle, "Well...you are quite the charmin' little thing whenever you're flustered. You look like a cherry blossom and are just as pretty as one whenever you blush." 

Bruce has no words right now. Why does his alpha insist on trying to kill him this morning?

Even worse is how Clark just smiles self-satisfied and croons to Damian and Jon for their attention, his voice soft and sincere as he asks, "Ain't that right, boys? Your mommy is the most beautiful person to ever walk the earth?" Damian stops his pulling at Bruce's night shirt in favor of cooing in answer, the way he stares up at the other with shining green eyes making both alpha and omega think their kids understand a lot more words than regular babies do. "Mama." He gives a toothy smile up at his mom, the apple of his cheeks rounding out as he gurgles happily, chewing on his fist while continuing to give Bruce an amazed look.

Jon coos too, his little feet kicking into Bruce's breasts as he wiggles and squirms around, his smile wide and joyful just like Damian's and the way his eyes squint while smiling similar to Clark's as he claps his hands in a random burst of excitement. "Mama."

The amount of adoration Bruce feels for his children is overpowering, tears wetting his eyes as he looks down at his pups and quickly hugs them close to his chest, an overjoyed scent permeating the room as he sniffles against the softness of their baby hairs. "Clark...thank you for making them with me." The alpha's deep blue eyes soften at the omega's wobbly smile and his sincere thanks, his large hand reaching out to squeeze comfortingly at Bruce's ankle. "I wouldn't have done it with anyone else but you. You cooked up some beautiful babies for us, thank you for your hard work."

Bruce smiles at his mate, startling slightly at the small mouths drooling over his shirt and trying to suck at his nipples through the cloth, a soft laugh escaping him as he purrs at the pups. "I know, I know. Mommy's sorry for not getting your breakfast ready yet."

Clark watches warmly as his mate fluffs up the pillows he prepared on his sides before setting the pups down on each side of himself, unbuttoning his shirt so that the twins finally have access to his breasts and helping them latch on. A content sigh escapes both omega and alpha; Bruce's due to the feeling of his pups gentle suckling and feeling of achievement and accomplishment at feeding the boys, while Clark's is from seeing his beloved relaxed and happy, and pups well fed.

The alpha shares a proud look with Bruce before he slightly tilts his head towards the bedroom door, his super hearing extending beyond their room and to the noises he finally realizes is going on beyond it, a tenderness shining in his eyes as he smiles.

"It seems like the rest of our pups are up and working on breakfast."

Bruce just hums softly and lies back against the headboard with a relaxed look on his face, the only sounds being made are the soft suckling of his babies, his own content purrs and the sound of the birds singing good morning outside. 

He's never felt so at peace before.

Clark places a soft kiss on top of Bruce's foot before rising from the bed, quietly walking over to the curtains and drawing them open and exhaling loudly at the comforting feeling of the sun against his skin, closing his eyes at his body quickly soaks up the energy. "It's a beautiful morning today, Bruce. It's shocking cause Gotham is usually so smoggy." Bruce keeps his eyes trained on the alpha as he turns around, his breath catching and heart stuttering in his chest at the sunlight outlining the other's strong body, his already sun kissed skin seeming to glow from the solar energy the sun provides and his black hair seeming almost as dark as ebony in comparison to the bright light shining down on him. "Gorgeous."

Clark blinks in surprise before smiling big, his chest poking out at the attention from his omega. 

Bruce smiles fondly at his mate when seeing the others reaction, "Maybe the sky cleared up because it knew you'd be here. The sun seems to be attracted to you no matter where you go, like you're a flower." He looks at Clark from head to toe, taking in the broad shoulders and strong lines of his body, glad that the alpha forewent putting on his shirt first thing in the morning so he can have this view. "A very pretty flower."

The look Clark gives Bruce causes the omega to snap out of his soft rambling and distracted staring.

"Now who's the one waxing poetic?" The alpha's voice is breathless as he asks, a small flush rising on his cheeks as he beams at the omega, though his eyes betray just how much he enjoys the compliments.

Bruce blushes himself at the other's tone, using Jon as a shield to hide his face behind as the babies are done feeding, his voice timid and slightly annoyed by being embarrassed. "J-Just put on your shirt before the rest of the pups come up, they've probably finished the food already." He gasps as Clark is suddenly in front of him with his shirt on, his eyes drifting down to his wife's exposed breasts and eyeing the small beeds of milk that escape his nipples, clearing his throat and looking the other in the eyes as he buttons up his nightshirt for him. "We can't forget about mama either."

Jon smiles at hearing his mama's name, small arms extending to Clark so he can be held. 

Bruce hands over Jon to Clark while he picks up Damian and scents the boy some more, doing his best to get over the alpha's heated look from before. "Stupid alpha."

The Kryptonian just chuckles at his omega and the fact his words don't have the same heat as they usually do when he says that, the alpha scooting over to sit next to Bruce so he can scent the shorter and Damian, said pup flailing his pudgy hand at his papa for interrupting his cuddles with his mama. "No hitting, Dami, I just wanted to scent you." Bruce giggles at the pout on Clark's lips, his ears twitching at the loud sound of his children scurrying through the hallway, their 'whispering' not so quiet as they debate who will enter first. The omega smiles softly and kisses Damian's cheek before handing him off to Clark, having to gently shush the older twin when the boy whines at being separated from his mother, "Hold onto them for me. Once Richard sees we're snuggling together, he'll immediately want in."

Clark nods in understanding and kisses at Damian's disgruntled face repeatedly, crooning happily when the pup (despite being unhappy about the sudden switch up) allows him to gently nibble at his chubby face and neck.

The doorknob slowly starts to turn, both Bruce and Clark remaining silent as the door opens slowly to reveal Alfred, the older alpha smiling kindly at seeing his son and son-in-law already up with the pups. "Good morning, Bruce, Clark and pups. I told these loud lot that you two would already be awake-" he gives a slight side eye towards the loudly protesting pups-"just as you are every year."

Richard pushes through his siblings, clutching a small vase of flowers in his hands and pouting Alfred's way for entering the room first.

"Alfie! You were supposed to let one of us go first-hey!"

Jason elbows Richard in his side, his brows furrowed in displeasure at the eldest. "You're the one to talk! I was supposed to enter first because I have the food...kind of."

The nineteen-year-old attempts to (gently) shake off the siblings that insist on clenching tightly to the food tray, their bodies dangling in the air and a squawk of protest coming from Stephanie at the rough treatment. "Stop moving us around so much, stupid! Both of you are in the wrong! You-" she narrows her eyes at Jason-"were supposed to let me and Cass carry in breakfast because ma would obviously want to see our beautiful faces first and not the horror story that's yours. And second: Richard was supposed to let Tim carry the flowers in since he's the one that picked them!"

The eldest gasps dramatically, a hand raising to grab at his heart as he stumbles backwards towards their parents bed and falls dramatically on top (making sure to keep the vase steady as he does), a whimper escaping him as he makes sad eyes at Bruce.

"Do...do you hear of this slander, mama? What I'm being accused of? Does no one recognize what I've done for this family?"

Jason rolls his eyes and continues with his attempts at shaking Tim and Stephanie off of his food tray, "Pfft! What? How you give us all a headache. Trust me...it's hard to forget what you've done for us when we are reminded everyday of it." Richard wails pitifully at the slander, sniffling loudly as he inches his way over like a worm towards a humored Bruce, hiding his head in his mom's chest. "I'm being bullied." Bruce's eyes crinkle in happiness, a soft coo escaping him as he indulges his eldest son's theatrics. "My poor Dicky bird." He purrs happily at the sight of the pretty roses expertly arranged inside of the vase, "The roses are gorgeous, puppy. Thank you for helping Tim with the flower arrangements."

Richard immediately perks up at the praise and looks up at his mom with a bright smile, setting the flowers carefully down on the side table after letting the omega smell them, sticking out his tongue at the rest of his siblings and smiling cockily when being praised.

Immediately causing a chain reaction from the rest of the group as they loudly clamber forward to receive compliments too.

"Mom! I helped grandpa cook breakfast!"

Jason extends the food tray towards the omega, scowling down at Stephanie and Tim when they start gnawing at his arm and even try to take credit. "Don't listen to him ma! Alfred did most of it."

Cass watches on the sidelines, an amused smile gracing her round face while watching the banter, her smile growing soft when she looks towards her mom and dad. Her hands tugging a confused and timid Kon behind her as she pushes through the battlefield and to the bed, "Good morning, mommy, and Happy Birthday! Sorry about the noise today...we didn't have much time to organize how we'd come in-" she gives an apologetic smile while nuzzling into Bruce in greeting and doing the same with Clark-"but we did our best on the presentation of everything-oh! And don't listen to Stephanie, Jason and Alfred did all the cooking while she burned everything."

Stephanie suddenly shouts in protest and releases the tray in favor of tackling Cass into the bed with a playful growl escaping her lips.

"You traitor! I thought we were friends?!"

Cass smiles and nips at the older girl's chin playfully as they wrestle on the bed, careful to avoid hitting the babies in Clark's arms. "The best of friends." Steph stops her assault at the admission, a happy croon escaping her as she lets the younger go. "Fine...you win cause you are just so cute." She huffs and turns to Bruce with a wide smile on her face, "Hi mama! I know that your day was ruined by seeing Jason first thing in the morning, but I hope that I can make it a little better?" 

The female alpha kisses the omega's cheek loudly, shouting when she's grabbed by the nape of her neck and pulled away from Bruce, only to have her face shoved into the mattress. "Shut the f–udge up-" Jason glances at the babies briefly before looking down at his sister-"you're just mad because you suck ass–tronomically at cooking." He ignores the girl's protests in favor of settling some of his weight on her while leaning forward to greet Bruce, his eyes shining in adoration towards the omega. "Happy Birthday, mama. I put my foot into the food...so I hope you like it?" Steph slumps in defeat underneath the younger boy's weight, rolling her eyes at Jason's words. "Why would B wanna eat food that tastes like sweat, testosterone and fungus?" Jason quickly hands over the food tray to Bruce so he can put Steph in a headlock, the pack smiling at the giggles coming from Damian and Jon.

Barbara shakes her head at everyone's antics like a tired aunt left to watch her rowdy nieces and nephews, rather than an older sister.

She gives their mom a knowing smile and kisses the man's cheek, scenting the other in her neutral scent before pulling away. "Happy Birthday, mom. Can't escape the noise even today of all days, huh?"

Bruce purrs happily at all the love, smiling softly when Tim crawls towards him and kisses him, the teen scenting Bruce in his cinnamon, nutmeg and orange scent.

"Good morning, mama. Happy Birthday!"

Bruce smiles at his seventh youngest and scents the younger back, his eyes sparkling with an uncontrolled affection as he looks at the beta. "I wouldn't want to escape the noise—this is the best kind any how." The omega looks at Conner afterwards as he's the only one who hasn't said his good morning yet, a soft chirp escaping him as he calls to the pup, opening up his arms wide when that's all the teen needs to launch himself into the omega with a soft call of his own. "G'morning mother."

Bruce smiles kindly and nuzzles the boy's head with his own, looking at the rest of his children tenderly. "Thank you my babies."

Conner smiles shyly at his mom before turning to Clark, his gaze turning to something more guarded as he looks at the older alpha wearily, feeling a bit more comfortable getting close as the man is holding babies. "G-Good morning, father." The boy fidgets and stiffens up, his heterochromatic eyes closely watching the elder as he shifts Jon to be held in the arm Damian is in and raises his free hand to slowly pat at the boy's head, crooning towards the half-Kryptonian reassuringly. "Good morning, pup. It was nice of you to help your siblings with B's breakfast."

The teen slowly but surely relaxes into the gentle head pats, a proud smile on his face at receiving praise from his alpha. 

"T-Thank you, father...I have never tried cooking before. I wanted to try making this thing called toast."

Clark raises a brow and nods his head to show he's listen, "Oh yeah? Did it work out for ya?"

Conner suddenly looks chagrined, bowing his head as he twists his shirt in his hands. "I think so? I ate it all." At his father's loud burst of laughter, Kon quickly looks up at the older alpha in confusion...he thought he would be punished for taking food away from mother. "W-Why are you laughing at me?!" Clark clears his throat to stop his laughter, though his lips betray how he still finds the situation funny, a soft look in his eyes as he ruffles Kon's hair. "I'm not making fun of you, Kon. I just thought the situation was a bit funny and endearing...I don't think your mother minds that you ate the toast."

Bruce purrs when Kon looks his way, "It's okay, pup. I'm glad that you enjoyed the food."

Conner's shoulders slump in relief at the reassurance, the boy blushing at how he freaked out over nothing and yelping when he's tackled by his siblings into the bed for pack snuggles.

The omega shares a small smile with his alpha before glancing at Alfred, who is standing at the foot of the bed watching his grandchildren lovingly, the elder turning to look at his son when the younger squeaks like a puppy. "Dad " The old alpha softens at Bruce extending his neck to be scented by the pack alpha, a soft croon escaping the Brit as he lowers himself down on the omega's side of the bed to scent him. "Happy Birthday, my dear boy."

The younger relaxes against the headboard with a content sigh, a feeling of completeness settling within himself as he's officially been scented by all of the family.

Apparently though, all the scenting has gotten to Damian-which also means it's gotten to Jon-as the pup(s) start cooing and whining for Bruce again, the eldest twin slapping at Clark when the alpha hasn't given him over to his mom yet. "Mama." The baby stretches opens and closes his hands towards the omega, slapping away at Richard when the man tries to comfort him. "Ow! I'm just trying to hand you to mom, Dami." The boy responds with a grumpy scowl on his face, a grunt escaping the baby as he is cradled in Richard's arms, his head swiveling automatically towards Bruce and keeping his eyes trained on the man. "Mama."

Richard playfully rolls his eyes at the pup's behavior, "Is that all that is ever on your mind is mama and milk? What about me? Aren't I your favorite"

It's as if Damian knows what Richard is saying as he stares the alpha down, a serious look in his eyes as he gurgles happily. "Mama."

Bruce laughs at the forlorn look on his eldest child's face, the omega clicking his tongue to get Damian's attention again and grabbing the twins from both alphas. "That's right! Mama is your favorite, right? Damian and Jon are my favorite too–" he trills happily at the joyful smiles both boys give him–"Yeah, that's right. You are my little babies, yes you are and I love you so much." Clark rubs at Richard's back comfortingly, chuckling to himself at the young man's dramatics, but know that he's not actually jealous (at least he hopes not). His deep blue eyes take in the sight before him: Conner being attacked with snuggles by the girls and Tim, Jason leaning against Bruce's side (though he keeps having to fight off his siblings who eye the spot jealously) and Alfred who has taken to feeding the pups fruits from Bruce's fruit bowl, his sons munching happily on the food while the old alpha croons at the twins happily.

Bruce notices Clark's staring and smile at the older, pushing his plate over towards the alpha and opening his mouth up when the other looks at him curiously.

"Feed me."

The Kryptonian chuckles and picks up a grape first, watching adoringly at how his omega closes his eyes and hums happily around the fruit, glad their kids are too distracted playing with each other to notice him leaning forward to capture his mate's lips in a sweet kiss. "Thank you, darlin' for allowing me to be a part of this family." His voice is nothing but a whisper, as though if he were to speak any louder, the moment would end and he'd realize it was all just a dream. "I'm glad I didn't take you in that vacation."

Bruce smiles against the other's lips, pulling away with a light laugh as he allows the chaos of his family to wrap him in a warm embrace. His forehead rests against Clark's as he thinks of only three words to say to the alpha, a special kind of gentleness in his gaze as he whispers.

"I was right."

(I bet y'all thought the three words were I love you, huh? I was going to end it all mushy...but I have had enough of that and made Bruce be smug about it instead XD. The man can't handle romance properly to save his life lol.

I had plans to make three more posts on my Birthday...but I obviously cannot and did not. So, sadly this all you all get of me today :3, I hope the story was just as enjoyable as all my other one's?

You all taking time to simply glance at this story is enough to make my heart full with love! So I truly thank every for the constant love and support ☺️, seeing you all actually enjoy the stuff I put out is exciting to me.

Also, this story is related to the 5+2 story as it has Kon in this along with Damian and Jon as twins (like the majority of readers requested in said 5+2 *on ao3*). While the Difficulties of The Working Class fic goes along the lines of if I stuck with introducing a 10 year old Damian like how it is in canon (I'm still working on that story btw...and I am truly sorry for the horribly long wait 💀💀💀).

I don't know what else to say except that I truly appreciate all of you! Everyone of you are very special and muchly appreciated, thank you!

I hope everyone has a great first day of March (it's my Birthday wish). So, please remember to stay safe, happy, healthy and of course lovely as always. 💛)

[revserrayyu]

3.1 Amphoreus thoughts [part 2]

***Spoilers ahead*** for everything up until the rematch with the Flame Reaver, so turn away now if you don’t wanna get upset. At the time of writing this I’ve completed the full story quest so be wary if I mention any details that may happen later.

Starting off nice and calm with the ladies heading to the hot baths for some fun and sweet lord how did Aglaea become even prettier?? I’m in awe.

This whole splitting of the souls chatter reminds me of Harry Potter horcruxes. Becoming a demigod doesn’t seem like the most fantastical job in the world if it comes with such a big drawback, such as this or having your emotions slowly fade (as seen with Aglaea). I can only wonder what Mydei will have to deal with now.

The teasing just never ends between these two and it’s giving me life. Every interaction they have is such a joy to listen to.

Dang, no wonder our boy couldn’t overcome the trail. He was faced with the most tragic day of his life and all the trauma that came with it.

Okay thank heavens someone said it! Every time Mydei would mention how fear/fleeing/romance or any other word that shows weakness isn’t in the Kremnoan language I wanted to ask him like, okay, so what words are there then??

Mydei speaks so fondly of his fallen comrades. Being immortal really is cruel, and it hurts even more that we walk past all of his buddies again in a memory where they’re so excited to see him return.

At some point, Mydei’s teacher infiltrates the vortex by sorta kinda kidnapping Trinnon to do so and after going through this long spiel about the future of Mydei and the Kremnoans that I truthfully wasn’t paying that close attention to, Aglaea decides enough is enough and doesn’t hesitate to most likely execute him.. until Trinnon speaks up. I can’t lie, I genuinely find it a bit comical how quick this woman is to just end anyone who dares break any rules in this city.

So.. this image. First things first, I love that he uses such language at his father. Secondly, can I trade places with him? I’d love to open my eyes and see this marvelous man looking down on me. Step on me, king~

Poor guy has every one of his people wishing to return home to Kremnos someday with him as their king and yet he’s terrified on letting the miserable traditions continue if he decides to take the crown. It really is a difficult decision. Do you keep everyone safe and unhappy, or allow them to thrive in a world of danger?

Oohhh buddy, why must everyone on this planet be gorgeous?? Her mom is looking like a long lost cousin of Argenti and Himeko.

Not gonna lie but this whole scene with the dolls felt so Sparkle coded that it scared me. I honestly jumped the first time everything glitched out.

Well that’s a bright, red death flag if I ever saw one. Some trailers already gave me bad feelings regarding Tribbie, but this worsens it.

Pfftt, Aglaea has no chill and I’m here for it. Protect your people, queen!

I mean, sure, choosing how you pass on individually on your own terms may be better than losing every part of yourself all at once, but Aglaea has a point too, that seeing the many Tribios clones perish over and over again is a lot harder than having it happen just once and being done with. It’s not an easy situation to be in for either side.

It really is incredible how powerful these century gates are and it kinda reminds me of Finral’s spacial magic (Black Clover) the way it’s able to teleport others and redirect incoming attacks or enemies.

If I wasn’t already panicking then I sure am now! Look how upset and scared these cuties are! They know Trianne’s pushing herself too far for their sake and there’s truly nothing that they could do to stop what happens next, especially after seeing how much weaker she’s been getting recently.

Aaahhh, I knew it.. seeing this scene from the Song of Divine Silence trailer gave me such bad vibes from the moment I saw it! And after learning the whole meaning behind “see you tomorrow” just makes everything hurt twice as much!! Trianne was definitely my favorite out of the trio too.. this is such a bummer!

We interrupt the sudden heartbreak to bring you an adorably surprised Trailblazer.

I do love that Mydei trusts Phainon with his one and only weakness. I dunno how thrilled I’d be if such a literal backstabbing does take place in a future patch though.

Anaxa, the renowned scholar, using his gun as a shield against the Flame Reaver.. he’s doing his best. Forgive me but I do not remember much of this cutscene to know if he ever used the weapon the proper way. I was in a mix of tears and hype at this point.

Bro look at how relieved Phainon is when he noticed that Mydei has arrived to help them with the fight! That’s such a wonderful smile.

Sir, your confidence! It’s extraordinary! And I’m also very pleased with your sudden assistance!

Just two bros, ready to go knock some sense into a common enemy. What could possibly be better than that?

Okay, so I dunno about everyone else, but how did we feel about this fight? I personally had no trouble at all, even when we first fought him at the grove. The way they showcased him during the 3.1 livestream, I figured he was gonna be serious trouble, but I think the Nikador boss offered a tougher challenge. I didn’t even get the chance to see this dude’s big, fancy attack animation.

Look at him, protecting his man. What a good lad. We still dunno anything about what Phainon’s path or element would be, but for some reason he gives Preservation vibes? like I know he wields a giant sword and is quite capable of using for offense, but seeing him defend Mydei like this makes me think he can use it as a sort of counter I guess? Maybe give me a taunt too? Who knows. We definitely need more Preservation units though.

All hail the new king successfully securing another win for all.

I feel like a whole lot just happened in such a short amount of time. Next post should cover the rest of this patch.

[britneyshakespeare]

My toxic trait is that I like how my incomplete drawings look better than the finished things

[bartletslesbians]

One of the things I've been toying around with is the concept of, instead of Leo advising CJ to hire Cliff Calley, Leo advising CJ to hire Angela Blake as her DCOS after Josh leaves. Cause they say she was Leo's second in command at the labor department (when Leo was still using drugs and went to rehab), Angela's been the one he called twice before when the White House was in trouble, and we know she's willing to give up a pretty cushy job to come work for the President.

I know she was written into the show at a point most people hate (for fair reasons), and in a role directly opposing Josh in a way, so she bothers people. But honestly she has both that excitement to the job and be at the White House, and that no-bullshit attitude where she both knows what's possible and knows when to stop fighting lest you lose more. She's less impulsive/hot-headed and unpredictable than Josh or Cliff, and I think that's something that could mesh with CJ very well in that new position when everything and everyone else starts becoming less and less reliable.

(I also just love that one of Angela's first actions is to bring Donna to the table and genuinely ask for her opinions and insights, making her feel like a valuable member in the discussion with something to contribute. And I would love to somehow see her in the DCOS position interacting with Bonnie and Carol and Ginger?)

[saltpepperbeard]

no because i'm over here trying to maintain a steady course and trying to not jump to conclusions and trying not to panic over out of context articles/questions/pieces of texts where i can't properly read the tone

and then rhys rolls up with-

[spaghetticat3899]

Family members questioning why I constantly worry about saving/spending money, like I haven’t been constantly reminded of how much money it costs for me to exist

[senselessalchemist]

wrote 30k words and decided I didn't like them or the order i put them in and so started over. alright cool great thank you brain 👍👍

[jimmyandthegiraffes]

Absolutely weeping over a 60s tv show nobody else cares about

[geffenrecords]

it's not that i hate my bf it's that sometimes he's just so insufferable. sorry. xoxo.

[hyuneflix]

THE CURE 0.2 • Bang Chan

sex therapist!chan x client!reader after years of unhappy endings, your friend suggests a trip to sydney's most up and coming sex therapist. you hadn't expected much, least of all to discover the cure you'd been looking for all this time was your therapist himself.

word count: 13k << back to dash // next episode >>

CONTENT WARNINGS

𐙚 - female masturbation, mutual masturbation, vibrator use, guided masturbation, dirty talk, use of "slut" and similar terms, chan is called sir, light degradation, light spanking, slapping, more orgasm denial, fingering, oral both female and male receiving, sub!reader, soft dom!chan but some hard dom too, slightly possessive chan, praise, very tiny breeding kink in the form of chan pushing his cum inside her.

! - inappropriate relationship dynamic (chan is her sex therapist), reader is written to be neurodivergent though it isn't explicitly stated, therapy talk/setting, descriptions of self help and healing, brief mention of toxic positivity and dissociation, very brief description of reader having a difficult childhood, talk about hopelessness and feelings of defeat. like last time, everything is intentionally vague but approach with caution all the same.

episode two - a cure for self-dissatisfaction

You couldn’t believe it. You couldn’t believe that you were actually here, again. Making another appointment had sounded so promising in the after-glow of your first ever orgasm–or, at least, the first that felt like that–but now that you were actually here you questioned your sanity. How could you possibly face him after that phone call? Sure, it had been an entire month since then, plenty of time to get over it or just cancel the one-hour slot. You never did, though, and you still couldn’t quite decide why. Was it him that you wanted to see again? So entirely unable to close this chapter of your life now that he’d suddenly made its contents more interesting; turning the pages of your life from dull shades of black and white into hues of technicolour.

Or, maybe it was just that. He made things interesting and you needed interesting.

You weren’t sure when it had happened, the manner with which your fairytale life had twisted and morphed into something so mundane. You had the fancy beachside apartment, the dream job with the fun co-workers. You had the nice clothes and the sparkling jewels to go with them; large wardrobe full to the brim with rare pieces and garaments alike. Even your dating life had been exciting, meeting famous faces and well-off suitors in the upscale establishments you frequented with your friends. But it wasn’t enough. You feared nothing would ever be enough. Nothing exciting enough, glamorous enough, expensive enough to fill the growing feeling of indifference that threatened to paint your entire world grey. 

A part of you liked familiarity, needed it, even. Clung to it in the same way you gripped the straps of your favourite tote bag. It was comforting to ease the unknowns of life with something habitual and constant. But when you did settle, when the anxiety did dissipate, it was like you almost missed it in its absence. It was the adrenaline you craved rather than the anxious wracking of your brain; the adrenaline that followed every redundant fear your mind conjured up; the push of chemicals through your veins as you murmurred ‘oh fuck, am i going to miss my train?’, ‘shit did i leave the stove on?’, ‘did i have a meeting today or was that tomorrow?.’ The bubbling of nervous adrenaline, it was like a shot of espresso, or the abrupt sound of your morning alarm clock. It forced you back to reality, tore you from the prison your restless thoughts built around your consciousness.

Chan had been that too in a lot of ways, a rude awakening of sorts. He had astounded you in more ways than one, tearing you from normalcy and forcing you from your comfort zone in the process. No longer just floating through life while your mind hummed with restless noise. Perhaps that was why, despite every anxious part of you that wanted to run away from him, a deeper, unheard part refused. You’d regret it, wouldn’t you? Walking away from him, vowing to never see him again. You’d regret it almost instantly no doubt, the tick of your apartment’s clock taunting you as it reminded you where you should’ve been on the day of your cancelled appointment. Your mind would trap you again, filling your head with thoughts of what could’ve been, should’ve been, if you’d just pulled yourself together. 

That was of course without mentioning that you indeed remained uncured. You were still very much afflicted with the same inability to get yourself off no matter how hard you tried. You’d done it once, you so foolishly believed from that moment onwards it would be easy. It was not. Even with the vivid memory of that night playing over and over in your mind like a song caught in a loop, you were back to square one. You needed the dark to find the light. How true that had turned out to be, how unfortunate that your infatuation for your therapist was turning out to be more practical than whimsical. You really did need him. 

The timing of your appointment meant that within moments of your arrival, the doe-eyed receptionist was already hurrying off for her lunch break, insisting that you wait for Dr Bang in his office instead. Dr Bang, hearing her say it almost pulled a laugh from your parted lips; what a suitable name for someone in his profession. She didn’t join in with your amused half-chuckle as she gathered her purse and coat. You didn’t blame her, you were sure she’d heard the stifled laughter a million times before. Thanking her one last time as she motioned you toward his office, you pushed open the door expectantly. 

Immediately your eyes fixed on the black oak desk situated in the foreground of the furthest wall. The room was empty, no muscular figure tucked behind the neat workstation, nor situated in the same leather chair he had been a month prior. You breathed out a sigh, your throat finally releasing a breath you hadn’t even realised you’d been holding until you accounted for his absence. You made your way inside, letting the door close behind you with a clack. It felt eerie being in the infinite silence of his abandoned office. Not even the sound of the AC lulled in the background as you wandered throughout the space, taking in the details as if it were your first time being here, and in a way, it was. 

During your last visit you’d been so distracted by Chan you’d been unable to focus on much else, let alone the intricacies of his office. The much too large windows were the first thing you’d noticed, both today and the last. Unlike a month ago they were covered by enormous blinds, the afternoon heat so unbearable today that having the sun exposed would be as sweltering as standing on a shadeless street corner. The lack of AC left the office tepid, and the vacancy of natural light shadowed the once bright room. You felt as if you had stepped into the embrace of a warm hug; one that sucked all the sound from the atmosphere until all that remained was the thumping of your heart.

You could hear it now; your heart. It beat with uncertainty as your eyes trailed across the shelves upon shelves of awards and personal photos behind his desk. You felt like you’d snuck into a secret place you weren’t supposed to be, taking in every detail of someone’s life without an inkling of what any of it meant. One frame held a picture of a smiling boy, a younger girl tucked under his arm in a near chokehold. Judging by the look of disdain on her features, and the mischievous expression on his own, you figured they were siblings. Another picture captured an older version of that boy, one that now more closely resembled Chan. He knelt on the grass, a dog, who’s white fur was blotched with copper-tones, smiled up at him, pink tongue spilling from its mouth. You knew Chan’s life hadn’t started when he met you, but it still felt strange to see it all play out in front of you now. 

The office door opened with a clatter, your body spinning round at the intrusion; trusty tote bag slipping from your arm in the process. You caught hold of the strap before it could fall from your rigid limb completely, eyes settling on Dr Bang himself. He seemed frozen in place, palm clutching the door handle with bleached knuckles. His nervous disposition suggested he’d been preparing himself for this moment, to no avail, and if that were true, you were thankful. At least then you’d be in the same boat. In a second, a mere tick of a clock’s hand, he was back to his usual self, pushing a large smile atop his pillowy lips. 

“Hello, y/n. How have you been?” His voice was soft as he closed the door behind him, the hand that wasn’t clutching a stack of papers flicking on a second set of lights. In an instant the room was engulfed in pale yellow hues, your eyes blinking to adjust. He walked the distance from the door to his desk, letting the pile of papers fall down with a dull thud.

“Could be better, could be worse.” You murmured, still feeling like a deer in headlights. He nodded at this, almost as if he silently understood, agreed even. You didn’t know whether you should stay rooted beside his desk or take a seat, body itching for another of his commands. You hated how badly you wanted him to tell you what to do and how to do it, no matter if it were a simple seating arrangement or one of his filthy, guided masturbations.

“That’s a start, hopefully by the end of the session we can turn it around?” He spoke, tone as level as it had always been, though you noticed how quickly his eyes seemed to wander. It had been impossible last time to look anywhere but him, that intentional and scrutinising stare holding yours for what felt like eternities. His gaze was scattered now, moving from your face to his desk and back again, fingers re-arranging his already neat desk as if attempting to regain control. 

But, regain control of what? His thoughts, his racing heart, his body? You wanted to know. You wanted to crack him open, let the secrets spill from him like yolk. You wanted to study his mind the way he studied you. It was intoxicating, the mystery that still surrounded him. So intoxicating that you were starting to find you didn’t need to get lost in the shadows of his stare, only needed to be close enough to feel the palpable energy, the magnetic charge, that radiated from him like the sun’s unbearable warmth. 

“Should we get started?” He asked, brown eyes leaving the surface of his immaculate desk to search your expression. You nodded, pushing a smile atop your lips as you moved toward the leather chairs, slouching into yours right away. 

You noticed he wasn’t wearing that same dark suit this time, instead he wore a crisp white dress shirt with a few too many buttons undone at the top. The bottom part of it was tucked half-hazardly into a pair of tight ebony trousers. It didn’t remain that way for long. With a raise of his hand–fingers combing through dark curls–one side fell from its confines, a slither of pale skin meeting your hungry gaze. You swallowed, drawing your eyes from his figure as it drew nearer to you, stopping only when he reached the chair opposite you.

“Shall we start with an update?” He questioned, taking a seat while his hand tightened around that same large ipad. “How have you been doing, did you manage to climax again?” 

“No.” You admitted right away, head shaking in disappointment. It was hard to hide how frustrating it was, even more now than before. At least prior to your first happy ending you were none the wiser to how much greener the grass truly was on the other side. Now you’d grazed in it, tasted it, felt it between your fingers and toes. How could you ever return to astro turf after you’d experienced the real thing? 

“No?” Chan looked surprised at this, chin tilting to the side as he drank in your expression. You were sure you looked anything but pleased, brows furrowed as you shook your head no once more. “Okay, did you follow the routine?”

“I did, yeah.” You mumbled, digits playing with the pleats in your skirt.

“What do you think was different?” He asked, looking genuinely curious by your dilemma. 

“Do I even have to say it?” You released a huff of air, heart jumping nervously behind its skeletal confines.

“It would help if you did. Guessing games can lead to miscommunications.” HIs smile was back, dimples pressed prettily against his plush cheeks. How badly you wanted to cup them, how badly you wanted to let the pads of your thumbs brush against the indents that dotted them. How badly you wanted him. 

“I just… I feel like I need your help, you helped so much that time… ever since I haven’t managed it, I mean, what does that tell you?” You asked, heart racing a little faster now, hands growing clammy; thoughts scrambling as you felt your frustration grow. Your situation felt so hopeless, so entirely unfixable. It shouldn’t hurt, but it did. It always would.

So many past relationships flashed across your mind, so many times when you’d watched the partners in your life walk away. Their promises that you’d never be too much, that there was no storm you couldn’t weather together, ground to dust beneath their retreating steps. There had been other issues that ended the relationship of course, not this one, never this one. Yet it still seemed so unbelievably ironic how, try as they might, they never could fix this little problem. How laughable it was that Chan had managed within hours of meeting him. 

“You- you need my help with climaxing?” He seemed taken aback, his innocence almost sending your eyes rolling. How could he be so surprised? Had he not been on that phone call with you after all, had that all been a vivid dream? 

“I think so, yeah.” You opted to speak instead, fingers still playing lazily with your clothing in search of some relief from the awkwardness of the conversation. 

“I’m sure you just need a little direction and practice.” He shook his head, ever the dismissive party out of the two of you. But you knew better now. You’d heard the way he fell apart, heard the things he’d said when all resolve had vanished. He was just as depraved, just as desperate and needy but he hid it well. He cowered behind fabricated boundaries, crossing one and then inventing another. He pushed, and he pushed, but he always found a new way to hold back. You wanted to test that, wanted to make him snap. Was that bad? 

“I’m twenty-five Chan, I think if practice was going to do it I’d have done it by now.” You shook your head, tone uncharacteristically sarcastic as you let your frustrations slip. He winced at this, taken aback by the change in your tone. Easily your annoyance dampened, sigh falling from your lips as quickly as your apology “I’m sorry, that was– I’m just– I feel defeated.” 

“It’s understandable, you don’t need to apologise.” Chan offered you a comforting smile, eyes glimmering with a patient understanding that had you thawing instantly. 

“Can’t you just, I don’t know, tell me what to do. Like give me some direction or something.” You asked, trying to pry more solutions from his all-knowing brain. 

“Like on the phone?” He questioned, palm gliding across his thick thigh as he spoke. You couldn’t help the way your gaze followed its movement, long fingers instantly taking you back to that night. You pictured them wrapped around his length, the wet sound of his desperate, thrusting grip, too much to think about right now. You squirmed in your seat, thighs pushing together in momentary distress. 

“Yeah like then, is there more I can do?” You asked, trying to hide your growing weariness behind another frustrated huff. 

“Perhaps you need to focus on finding ways to relax, maybe you have a problem switching off, moving from one task to the other. If you’re still tense when you’re masturbating then it can be hard to let yourself go.” He was so composed, seemingly so unaware of the way you were breaking down internally. How did he do it? How did he look at you with such easy indifference after that night. Maybe he was just that; indifferent. Maybe you’d been looking at this all wrong. 

“Okay.” You shrugged, barely listening by now.

“You don’t look happy with that.” Chan pushed for an answer, clasping his apple pen a little tighter in anticipation of your response. 

“I’m not patient enough. I guess I just hoped that it was fixed. But, now I have to get used to the idea of this being some long healing journey as if I haven’t had enough of those. As if I haven’t–fucking–read enough–fucking–self-help books or listened to enough ‘all you need is recharged rose quartz and you’ll be fine’--fucking–influencers.” You felt your hands grip at your forehead in defeat, palms attempting to erase the tension that settled there through half-hazard motions. You wanted to laugh at the way you got so easily wound up, but the idea of starting yet another ‘healing era’, felt suffocating, impossible even. 

How much more growing was there to do? Some people say it never stops, but you’ve had a lifetime of it. A lifetime of people pointing out your flaws, telling you what was wrong or what needed fixing. You’ve had a lifetime of changing everything about you until something felt right, like a puzzle piece clicking into place. A lifetime of trying to do everything right just to be told you were doing it wrong, anyway. You weren’t emotional enough, then you were too emotional. You were loud, then too quiet. You were rude, then you were compliant. It took reaching your twenties to realise you didn’t really care who you were, or how you acted, as long as you were happy with yourself. 

It felt freeing, so entirely exhilarating to feel as if you were done changing, morphing and growing into someone else’s idea of a normal human woman. It matched you well, but it was also tiring. You’d grown to be independent far younger than you probably should’ve, your therapist said it built character, you thought that was stupid even at ten years old. Having a childhood built character, having healthy relationships and good role models; that was what you needed. People’s incessant criticisms had felt like the only freedom from your independence for so long; the only time you weren’t thinking for yourself. Bittersweet was the lingering feeling that remained for a few years after your new found self-assurance. 

It was stupid, to crave something that had been so toxic, but that was just so unequivocally you. Hate something with every fibre of your being when you had it just to miss it when it was gone. Didn’t matter how much it hurt you, didn’t matter that it damn nearly killed you, only the good parts of it remained in its absence. The ghosts of memories even your unrelenting, self-sabotaging brain forgot. Were those the causes of your dissociation? The fragmented memories of times gone by, the missing pieces still stashed away in some untravelled corner of your mind?

“These things do take time, yeah.” Chan pulled you from your thoughts, tugging a sigh from your lips as you shook your head in defeat.

“Fuck that, there’s gotta just be something in me that doesn’t work, right? Like there’s just a part of me that can’t do it and I’m gonna have to just live with that.” Your arms raised in exasperation, frustrated rambles not phasing him in the slightest. You figured that shouldn’t surprise you, despite everything that had transpired between you, despite how unlikely it sometimes seemed, he was a therapist. A person you were paying to listen to you speak. A person you had essentially paid to make you cum. Jesus. 

“But you did.” He countered.

“No, you did.” You reminded him, his brows rising at the implication. 

“That was all you, I just helped.” He shook his head, dismissive once more. 

“Can’t you help me again, then? Just tell me what to do, show me. Make that part of me wake the fuck up and realise it has a job to do. Fix me again.” You murmured helplessly, searching his mind for something, anything that could ease your anguish. 

“You want that? You want me to teach you? You want me to fix you?” He spoke after a beat of silence, plump mouth emphasising your latter sentiment. A switch had seemingly been flipped in him, reminding you of his faltering resolve from a month ago. You were sure it was your imagination–after all he was so quick to collect himself–but that was expected, you didn’t know him well enough. You didn’t know how badly he yearned to ‘fix you’. 

There was a saying that went along the lines of this; therapists need therapy the most The first part of their adult lives were dedicated to learning the secrets of the mind, just to spend the rest of it fixing other people’s. The perfect distraction; fix others so you don’t have to fix yourself. Yeah, that was him. Finding distraction after distraction to avoid the complicated mess in his own brain. But that wasn’t just it. No, Chan was a people pleaser, a man so desperate to be needed that he put his heart in danger every single fucking time. 

He’d lost count by now, the amount of times he’d run in blindly; falling for a pretty girl with pretty problems. A pretty girl with a pretty smile and a pretty big hole in her pretty heart. He did it every single time. He’d never mixed work with self-sabotage though, this was unchartered territory. But that was then, one slip up, one mistake made in the heat of the moment. How could he not? You were so pretty, sounded so pretty pleading for him to help you. Not even he had the patience for that. 

“Yes.” You breathed out, eyes turning wide and expectant beneath his weighted retort. There you were again, looking hopeful, as if he really did have the power to cure you. But he didn’t, Chan had learned that again and again; he couldn’t change the last girl, or the girl before, or the girl before that and he couldn’t change you. Not like this anyway, not through lust or–heaven forbid–love. Growing attached, letting them be dependent, it was bad in the end; always bad, never good like he’d intended.

“I can’t, you’re not broken.” He assured you, not a drop of insincerity mixing with the honey sweet tone of his soft voice.

“Then pretend I am and fix me anyway– break me just to put me back together again– I don’t care, just please do something to make it stop.” You felt a little frantic now: he wasn’t giving you the answers, wasn’t providing solutions. Was it really that hopeless? Were you really this cursed? Knowing that the cure was right in front of you, within arms reach, but too far to hold. Too distant and closed off, too unwilling to give you what you know you needed. 

Were you crazy for thinking he wanted it to, were you delusional for thinking you could see the fire in his eyes every time you reached for him with words? The air around you didn’t lie though, did it? Or were you the only one feeling that constant chemical reaction that surrounded you both. That fizzle and burn, that electric fever that drove you crazy; depriving you of clean, pure air with every breath. It was filling your lungs with hot embers, you could feel it, could feel the way it choked you of all sense and left only desire in its place. Could he really not feel it too? 

“Make what stop, love?” The nickname wasn’t lost on you, its presence sent a ripple of hope across your skin, igniting goosebumps in its path.

“I don’t know, everything I guess. The boredom, the anxiety, the noise, the frustration, the emptiness; all of it went away that night and I’ve been trying to get back there ever since.” You admitted, teeth gnawing at your lip, brows scrunched together in frustration. Chan thought you looked utterly pitiful in the hottest way. Was that possible? To look pathetic and undeniably attractive all at once. Yeah, it was; you were. 

“I can’t cure you, you know that right? You have to do that on your own.” He insisted. It was true, wasn’t it? Historically speaking, practically speaking. People can’t change other people, that was how it worked right? They had to change on their own, grow alone, love themselves before they could learn to love someone else. If they didn’t, they’d be forever codependent, clinging to the sun that helped them grow into a fully flourished person. But the sun went down, it didn’t stick around forever; he couldn’t stick around forever. 

“But what if…” 

“I can’t.” He was quick to cut you off, not wanting to fill your head with pointless sentiments of hope. Whether he wanted to or not, whether you wanted to or not, you had to stand on your own two feet. He knew this to be true more than ever when it came to your own pleasure. You couldn’t depend on him for that; he couldn’t fill the void. He’d fall in love too easily, catch feelings in an instant. How could he ever make it out of that alive? It wasn’t right, you deserved better. Deserved to know your own body, how it felt, what made you feel good.

“Try?” You spoke, voice barely above a whisper, eyes wide and pleading. 

“I can’t.” He huffed through gritted teeth, jaw stiff with useless restraint.

“Please?” You looked at him as if he held the world and all its mysteries in his grasp, ready to hand them over if only you could wear him down enough. It wasn’t not working, he hated to admit. 

“Don’t… don’t do that.” He shook his head, eyes dipping to the ipad in his grip as he drew mindless patterns across its slick screen. It was enough to distract him for a moment, but not long enough.

“So, I just, I just go home and try the same shit again then is that it? Another month of nothing? Or can I call again, would you pick up if I did?” Your words had his cock twitching, palms growing clammy. That night haunted him. It felt so wrong, so completely fucked up. He lay awake for nights after that wondering if he should resign, turning his dream of owning a successful therapeutic clinic into a distant memory with the same stroke. But more than that, he wondered if you’d call again. Would you need him some more? Would you lean on him a little longer? Was it really true that he was the missing piece? That only he could make you cum.

“You know I would.” He responded in an instant, too quick in fact. “I’m surprised you didn’t call, to be honest.” He chuckled, attempting to seem unaffected. As if he hadn’t been waiting by the phone every evening, as if he hadn’t checked and re-checked for missed calls when sleep didn’t come to him easily. 

“I wanted to try on my own; I’m really trying.” You half-whined and that sound alone was enough to have every noise from a month ago flooding his mind at once. His hips shifted, tongue darting out to wet his bottom lip. 

“I know, baby, you’re so good.” He sighed, resolve slipping; gaze darkening along with it. You saw it happen right in front of you, pupils dilating, mask slipping from his handsome face. “How about this… You show me how you do it at home and I’ll see if there are areas for improvement?” Chan suggested, against what he knew to be his better judgement. Fuck it, though, right? He could cross another line, just one more, find a new one to draw between you to keep you at arms length. You’d seen right through him in that regard, knew exactly how he justified each gradual crawl toward your eagerly awaiting form. 

“You want me to… now?” You blinked, fireworks erupting in the pit of your stomach signaling an internal celebration of what you were almost sure was a triumphant victory. 

“Isn’t that what you want? To make a mess of my chair? To cum again?” His words sent a jolt of something electric and sweet straight to your core. Your teeth felt like blades, threatening to draw blood from the plump flesh of your bottom lip as you nodded wordlessly, too turned on at the prospect of getting to climax again to formulate a coherent sentence. 

“Why don’t you lift that little skirt of yours and show me how you pleasure yourself.” His voice was low, impossibly dark gaze studying you with an almost predatory stare. Your nerves stood alert like the hairs of your arm, hands moving at their own accord. You moved the hem of your skirt up the meat of your bare thighs, his eyes following your motions closely before fixing on the sheer fabric of your damp panties. 

You felt like an imposter in your own skin as you spread your legs, circling the pads of your fingers across your clothed clit in compliance. You tried to stop the heat from rising in your cheeks, from pulsing through your blood like lava, the molton toxicity wetting your panties even more. You were helpless to it; the growing intensity of your lust. It was strange, the combination of embarrassment mixed with desire. It felt like a dangerous cocktail, one destined to leave you with a hangover unlike any other you’d felt; a banging headache, a sick feeling, a desperation for a wellness you could never reach without it. 

Was that what this was? A growing addiction?  An inability to feel better without him, or an unwillingness to find an alternative cure? You pushed the thoughts from your mind, easily too with the help of his sultry voice, though all the same the bubbling of nervousness remained. 

“This is how you do it? What’s rule number one? What did we do last time?” He asked, too put together considering the pornographic movie that was playing out in front of him. His eyes told a different story though, hungry and feverish as you moved your fingers clumsily. 

“Umm, take my clothes off?” You managed between huffs of impatient air, wanting nothing more than to skip to the part where your toes were curling, head tipped back in reticent ecstacy. You moved your hands away from your clothed cunt, starting to remove the tight fitting crop top a strap at a time. You watched his jaw grow slack at this, your confidence growing in place of the initial uncertainty. 

You put on a show for him, suddenly abandoning the idea of being taught the ways of your pussy in favour of winding him up. Both straps fell past your shoulders, the rough material of your tiny top grazing your perky nipples as you dragged it down your chest, letting your plump breasts spill out from beyond its fabric confines. His brow twitched, lips faltering along with it as he watched the bounce of your tits.

“Mhm and start with your nipples, make them feel good, work yourself up.” Pulling your top off completely, you followed his demands, fingers tugging at your hardening buds. You remembered his advice from the last time, making sure to wet your digits with your tongue in a slow sinful motion. This earned a half moan from the man, his body shifting as he hid his faltering confidence behind a closed fist. With his chin resting against it, he gazed at you through his lashes, watching every pinch and tug with a hawk-like intensity. 

“I’m already so worked up.” You groaned, unable to hold his heated glare any longer. You lulled your eyes toward the wet patch growing in your panties, pussy clenching around nothing at the sight of it. 

“I make you worked up?” He mused, leaning forward in interest. Leveled as his voice remained, his restless form gave him away; dilated pupils darting between your hard nipples and your soaked underwear. His bottom lip caught between his teeth, moan designed behind a cough at your response. 

“Yeah, so bad.” You mewled, one hand traversing the expanse of your smooth skin until your fingers met with the pool of sticky wetness between your thighs. You pulled at the band of your panties, sighing at the feeling of the tight fabric squeezing against your sensitive clit. You watched his expression as you drank in every movement, the obvious stiffness mounting in his crotch area not going unnoticed by you. 

You wondered what it would take to have him desperate for his own release again, enough to disregard every one of his frivolous boundaries until his head was too clouded with intoxicating lust to draw a new line between you. 

“Don’t focus on me, focus on yourself and your body.” It was almost like he knew, as if he could read your mind; could sense the way it reeled with thoughts of him and him alone. You tugged at your panties again, focusing on the movement of your fingers as they swirled around your excited nipple. “That’s good, don’t be shy now, you weren’t shy last time.” 

“You couldn’t see me last time.” You murmured, the tips of your ears and apples of your cheeks the same shade of crimson. 

“You’re beautiful, don’t be embarrassed.“ Chan shook his head, shifting in his seat once again. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t get comfortable, not when the growing ache in his pants became harder and harder to ignore. “Now do what we did last time, feel what works best for you, take your time.” 

“This?” You questioned, fingers pulling your panties aside as strings of sticky cum followed suit. You touched your bare clit with care, jolting and wincing with each caress. You were so sensitive, so turned on by the intent stare he fixed on your soaked cunt. You traced a finger down the seam of your pussy, rubbing the thick, juicy substance across your bundle of nerves in a clockwork motion. 

“Yeah, that’s right, feel yourself.” He drew a breath, tongue darting across his lips, hands not sure what to do with one another as he watched the sight play out in front of him. “That’s good, does that feel good?” Chan questioned, slouching back in his chair as if the increased distance would afford him some alleviation from your mesmerising performance. 

“Yeah, I think so.” You retorted, repeating the back and forth between your clit and dampening folds. You teased your entrance with the gentle prod of your fingers, tight clenching accompanying each experimental push. 

“Do what makes you feel good, learn what you like.” It was unbearable how calm he was, a whine leaving your lips as his professional tone. 

“How.” You murmured, the strumming of your clit increasing in speed as you felt a pleasurable sensation begin to wash over you. 

“Try new things, keep touching yourself–why don’t you take those panties off and give your pussy a slap.” You nodded, eagerly complying with his wishes as you pulled your panties down your legs letting the sheer fabric pool at the base of your chair. You placed your skirt there too, completely bare save the pair of kitten heels snug around your feet. 

“What?” The second part of his statement had you puzzled though, or perhaps it was just the intense feeling of being exposed in front of a person who was not only fully clothed but seemingly unbothered. Yeah, maybe that was it; that would be enough to have anyone confused and uncertain.

“You like it rough don’t you? Smack your pussy, give your clit a spanking for me.” His words had your hips shifting, a moan tumbling from your lips. Everything sounded better coming from his full mouth, the gravel tone interlaced with his thick accent–it was unbearable. 

“Like this?” You questioned, landing a smack against your sensitive clit. Both of you moved in sync, hips shifting at the shrill noise your palm made abusing your sensitive nub. Your face screwed up at the feeling, the delightful sting accompanied by another wave of self-satisfaction. 

“Harder.” He growled, moan mingling with his next words. “Yeah, you like that? I can see how wet you are, keep spanking your pretty little cunt.” You complied, strings of whines and groans following each harsh slap. 

“You’re making me this wet.” You mewled, expression still contorted in pleasure. Chan wasn’t sure how he’d expected to make it through this entire ordeal, that had been foolish thinking on his part. He hadn’t expected you to be so brazen though, both nervous in your disposition but shameless in your filthy words and actions. His cock was impossibly hard in his pants now, hand itching to relieve the tension.

“Fuck don’t say that, gonna have to learn how to make yourself cum when I’m not around.” He insisted, though in truth you were saying all the right things to morph him into malleable putty, substance perfect for the palms of your hands; mass supple enough to wrap around your finger. “That’s good, yeah that’s good fuck you’re clenching around nothing.” 

“Wanna be full.” You whined, pinching and rubbing at your clit with a rise and fall of your hips. You could tell the chair beneath you was drenched by now, the surface becoming slippery beneath your clammy thighs.

“Fuck yourself with your fingers, start with one and keep adding as many as your greedy little cunt needs to feel full.” His resolve was slipping, you could tell, could connect the dots from that night a month ago. It filled you with confidence, had your heart racing and limbs squirming as you rubbed your clit more furiously. 

“Not gonna be enough.” You shook your head, hoping, so intensely, that he would just give up and finish you himself. You could practically sense it, the way his fingers would make you feel, the sharp rush of intense white light that bubbled up with every thrust of his skilled digits. How perfectly they’d fill your tight hole, stretching you open as if preparing you for his fat cock. You slid a finger inside, feeling empty despite the new intrusion. 

“You just need to learn how to make yourself feel good baby, curl your fingers, do a scissor motion, whatever makes you feel the best.” He was still instructional in his method, but he looked anything but the calm teacher he’d been previously. Chan was leant forward now, tongue poking out his mouth, elbows propped on his knees as he watched you intensely. 

“How?” You questioned, brows scrunched.

“How, what baby? Use your words.” He asked, his palms rubbing together in a useless attempt to distract his mind from the ache in his pants.

“How do I make it feel good, sir.” You elaborated, pushing another finger inside your convulsing pussy. 

“Fuck, god, gonna make me crazy if you keep that up.” He run a hand through his hair, hips rising from the chair. His dark hair looked a mess by the time his fingers were done combing and tugging with restraint. You didn’t think it was possible for him to look any sexier, but his disheveled appearance proved otherwise. 

“Please.” You implored, the steady back and forth of your fingers slowing to a standstill at his next words. 

“You want me to show you, yeah?” He licked his lips shamelessly at you, hungry eyes awaiting your response with uninhabited lust. 

“Yes, please, so bad.” You mused, squirming in your chair at the prospect of his fingers tucked snugly inside your needy pussy. You hoped this wasn’t a dream, that you weren’t about to jolt awake to the shrill sound of your alarm clock. 

“Beg, show sir how badly you want his fingers inside you.” He murmured, jaw clenching at the sight of your pussy as it squeezed around nothing. “Keep circling your clit, yeah, keep going.” He commanded you, and without hesitation you followed. 

“Please, please, want you to fill me so bad, please sir- please.” You keened, fingers toying frantically with your bundle of nerves. 

“That’s it baby, keep getting yourself off, you're doing such a good job on your own.” He licked his lips again, chest heaving with every circular motion. You pushed your fingers back between the snug walls of your cunt, moving your hips to accompany the thrust of your digits. 

“I need more, please.” You wailed, the edge you’d wanted to revisit so badly gradually inching into view. 

“You really want my help, baby?” He asked, almost as if he were undecided. That couldn’t be it, though. There was no conceivable way Chan could doubt your desire to have him, in whichever way he was willing to give. He wanted to hear you beg some more, didn’t he? Wanted to hear just how badly you needed him, as if seeing it wasn’t enough. 

“Please.” You gave him what he wanted, putting on your best forlorn expression to better your chances. It worked, a little too well judging by the haphazard way he fell to his knees in front of you. Whatever glimmer of self-discipline he’d been clinging to, it was gone now, and in its place: a man starved. 

“You’ll tell me if you wanna stop, can you do that for me?” He looked up at you with hopeful eyes, his final attempt at giving you an out. An insincere part of him hoped you would, that you’d be the one to grasp ahold of your better sensibilities and put an end to your affair. But you didn’t, of course not, you never would, would you? He doubted it, not when your gaze exuded a level of desperation he was sure he’d only seen in wild animals. Instead, you nodded, teeth claiming your bottom lip as you did so. “Good girl.” 

Chan wasted no time sliding a finger inside your warm walls, a drawn out groan falling from his lips at the spongy grip that took a hold of his digit. His hips shifted compulsively as you tightened around him, a second finger inching its way in as he studied every rise and fall of your expression. Another moan from your lips–another half-grunt, half-groan from his own. He pushed his digits deeper, thrusting them in and out at a steady pace, letting his knuckles brush against your velvety clit.

“Ugh, that’s good.” You practically screamed out, head tipping back with a wide open-mouthed grimace; face contorted in unimaginable pleasure. How was it possible to feel this good? You thought you’d reached the maximum capacity for bliss that night, but Chan was showing you an entirely new palette of gratifying hues. 

“Barely touching you, darling. So desperate, hmm? Not been able to get off without me? Need me that badly?” He mewled, lips pressing wet, desultory kisses to your shoulder and collarbone. Your body twitched and seized beneath him, eyes rolling back at the sensation of his plump mouth against your hypersensitive skin. Every nerve felt as if it were going haywire, every brush of his bony flesh against your clit feeling like a rush of adrenaline. It was then that he did something truly toe-curling, the sudden feeling of something prodding at just the right angle inside of your tight walls; it had your spasming wildly beneath him. 

“Yeah I need you, need you to make me cum–need your cock in me, want you to stretch me out.” You sang in between moans, hands clinging to his clothed shoulders, nails latching onto him harshly. 

“Fuck, baby, slow down. Gonna take my time; you gotta take your time.” He panted, dark eyes finding yours in among the thick haze of lust that consumed you both. It had you moaning even louder, the combination of his intoxicating stare and that unidentifiable sensation threatening to push you over the edge prematurely. 

“Oh god, so much better.” You whined, tears filling your eyes, forehead shifting to press against his own as you clung to him for dear life. The warmth that radiated from his body was like a balmy embrace, the rousing scent of his cologne only adding to the numbing of your senses. He smelled incredible; expensive and masculine but with an undertone of something musky and thrilling. You wanted more of it, more of him. Wanted to taste him, to feel his cock pushed so far past your walls you could feel him rearranging your guts; the head of his member visibly prodding at the pit of your stomach. You wanted his mouth on yours, tongue exploring the inside of your mouth until he’d discerned every inch of you, top to bottom. 

You felt safe beneath his strong body, the hand that wasn’t busy splitting your open prying at your thigh until he managed to hook a leg over his shoulder. You felt your head fall back again, eyes squeezing shut as he sped up his pace, the room filling with the sound of your drenched pussy. The squelching was so lewd, so loud that you were sure you’d cum from that alone. Could feel it in the way your cunt clenched again and again, sucking his digits in and refusing to let them free.

“That’s ‘cause I’m curling them. Feel the difference?” He murmured, tone the only thing calm about him now. Looking down at him, you saw the frazzled expression painted across his handsome face, the frantic look in his eyes underpinning that same predatory stare. “Mmm fuck– gonna find your g-spot; gonna make you scream.” 

“Chan, fuck, please.” You wailed, hips bucking upwards in motion with his thrusts. He pushed you down with his free hand, cheek pressing against the meat of your leg as he watched you intently. His attentive stare didn’t last long, though, not when your pussy was putting on such a pretty show for him. His arm was soaked, the chair beneath you was drenched, juices pooling on the floor by your clothes. 

“So hot–stay still for me baby, did I hit the spot?” You could only nod now, moans coming out in pitchy screams as you bucked against his firm palm, desperately trying to fuck yourself with his fingers. You couldn’t describe it, the pleasure that was building inside of you, the edge that was careening so close to your helpless, frantic body that you could taste your orgasm on the tip of your tongue. 

“Yeah, think so, oh god, oh my god.” You found your words at last, whining disapprovingly when his fingers left your needy pussy empty in favour of pushing past his plump mouth. Your gaze drank him in as he did so, watching with narrowed eyes as he sucked on them. It was slow and erotic and downright torturous, a string of desperate moans tumbling from his glistening pink lips. 

“Fuck you taste so good, let me taste you properly, please can I?” Apparently it was his turn to beg, his nose nuzzling against the inside of your thigh as he adjusted the leg propped atop his shoulder. 

“Please, please, do whatever you want, own me.” You nodded frantically, wanting nothing more than to return to that blissed out state you’d been so caught up in. 

“You want me to make this pussy mine, for real? Want me to fuck you rough like the slut you are?” You wanted him to mean what he was saying, but something told you he wasn’t. That was as a line you were certain he wouldn’t cross, not for now anyway, but you could live with that. A sentiment that rang even truer when you felt the rough texture of his tongue against your puffy, sopping cunt.

The reverberation of his moans only added to the intense wave of pleasure that overcame you, his frenzied ministrations causing your hips to buck, thighs closing around his head. He took it all, licking up and down your pussy as if lapping up your juices. Whatever lesson this was supposed to teach you about masturbation, you didn’t know, and you weren’t about to question him about it, not when you switched to burying his face in your leaking pussy, tongue fucking you with purpose as his nose prodded your swollen clit. 

“Yes, please, sir–ruin me.” You grabbed ahold of his hair, earning another moan from the man as he continued devouring your drenched cunt. Every time he lapped at your sweet juices, more poured from your clenching hole, his tongue drinking up every last drop as he shifted between your entrance and your sensitive nub. 

“Fuck this isn’t good.” He groaned, breathing out words in the short amount of time he spent away from your pussy; allowing him mere moments to suck in oxygen before he dove back in. “We shouldn’t be doing this, baby, you’re driving me crazy.”

“Ugh, that feels so fucking good.” This time he focused his mouth on your clit, lips wrapping around your bud as he pushed his fingers inside of you, thrusting in knuckles deep with a pace that bordered on animalistic. Your fingers gripped his hair just as aggressively, hips moving at their own accord as you felt the edge of your orgasm hurtle towards you. 

“Good keep going, use my fingers fuck yes.” He moaned, breaths coming out in desperate pants against your sensitive clit. The gentle push of air paired with his relentless thrust of his fingers against your g-spot was enough to have you screaming, head falling backward, cunt convulsing as you felt that white light begin to encase you.“Shit you’re cumming so soon? Oh fuck, yeah, fuck, so messy.” 

“Fuck, please, keep going– no why did you stop?” That feeling you’d been so frantic to chase, the bright, welcoming light that you’d been so ready to rush toward was ripped from you the moment his fingers exited your clamping walls. You looked at him in disbelief, body spent, skin aglow with sweat.

“It's your turn, do what I did.” He rejoindered. 

“No, no please” You shook your head, tears welling over as you pleaded with him to give you release. This was bordering on mean, knowing how frustrated and desperate you were to feel that warm white release only to pry it from your begging hands. 

“Come on pretty girl, you got this. Let me help you.” His palms ran comforting patterns across your skin, face still level with your pussy as his breath fanned across your sensitive core. You twitched beneath him, stare holding his own in hopes your beseeching eyes could reason with him. 

“Not the same.” You murmured, shaking your head once more. 

“Don’t be greedy now, come on.” He spoke, landing a slap against your clit in warning. Your hips jumped, sensitive pussy clenching around air as you greedily accepted your punishment. Despite your momentary disobedience, you followed his request, pathetic fingers moving down between you both to begin thrusting in and out of your weeping hole. “Good girl, keep going.” 

“Need yours.” You sobbed, the feeling of your digits nowhere close to the pleasurable strokes of his thick, veiny hand. 

“Hmm, why don’t we try a new toy? See if you can make yourself cum like that?” He suggested, and how he’d managed to maintain any semblance of his role as your sex therapist after annihilating your pussy with his pretty lips, you had no idea. Truly the man was a saint, he hadn’t even touched his hard cock once, too busy pleasuring you to even notice the impossibly tight feeling in his pants.

“Okay…” You agreed, body beginning to ache with fatigue. 

“Keep playing with yourself, slap that pretty little clit around while I find a toy for baby girl to play with.” Chan commanded, and you obeyed. 

You watched him walk the short distance to his desk, opening one of the cupboards to look over a collection of unboxed sex toys. The consistent branding told you it was probably a sponsorship deal, a collaboration of sorts. But you didn’t pay the toys enough attention to confirm this, no, instead you watched the way his back flexed, vein hands tugging at a box before returning it to its home. It was utterly unfair how even the back of him could drive you crazy; everything about him was thick, masculine and oozing sex appeal. Yet despite the plumpness of his arms, thighs and ass, his waist remained tiny beneath the crisp fabric of his shirt. You wanted to see what lay beneath his tight-fitting clothing so badly, the thought enough to have your fingers speeding up in a newfound wave of ecstasy. 

“What about this? Long like my fingers, that’s what you like right?” He returned with a different vibrator. Unlike the other one, this had some sort of vibrating node for your clit; making sure to stimulate every inch of you it could touch. 

“Lemme show you how this works, okay? Gonna use it just like the vibrator, push it up as far as your little cunt can bear.” Chan grumbled, tongue licking his lips as he lowered himself to his knees again. Removing it from its packaging with ease, he pressed the velvety device against your desperate cunt, quizzical gaze searching for any signs of hesitation. 

“I can take it all, please make me take it.” You were quick to retort, squirming in anticipation of what was to come. You hoped, no you prayed, that this time he’d make you cum, not stopping till your body was limp and spent, eyes rolled back in your head and screams so pitchy not a sound came out. You wanted that, you wanted that so bad. 

“Fuck, you’re so hot when you’re all wound up baby, you sure you want that?” His voice was low, free hand coaxing your leg back over his shoulder as he peppered kisses to your inner thigh.

“Please, pretend it's your cock. How would you fuck me?” You whined, hands shifting to pinch at your nipples desperate for any form of release.

“No, no you can’t think like that baby.” He shook his head dismissively, using the toy to push up and down your gushing pussy, chuckling wickedly every time your body twitched. 

“You want it too, don’t you? Wanna know what it’s like to fuck me? So do–” You couldn’t even finish getting the words out before he was shoving the toy into your needy hole with force, a dark expression atop his faltering features. “Yeah fuck, like that.” You screamed out, your pussy barely able to sheath the toy with how puffy and swollen your walls were.

“That feel good, baby?” He growled, teeth gritted as he pushed the device in and out of you with fever.

“So good.” You whimpered, bucking your hips in time with his thrusts.

“Gonna have to take over, you need to learn for yourself.” He reminded you, your head shaking in an instant. 

“Not yet, keep going please.” You sobbed tearlessly, moans coming out in broken, melodic strings of half-cries and curse words. 

“Haven’t even turned the vibrate on and you’re already clenching like a whore.” He tutted, tongue spilling from his lips as he got lost in your pleasure. It looked like he enjoyed this almost as much as you did, his brows furrowed in concentration as he took in every change in your expression. 

“Can I touch you?” You whined out, hips bouncing in time with his expertly timed thrusts. Your hands reached out, starting to undo the buttons of his dress shirt with a growing desire to see him naked and exposed like you were. He didn’t show any resistance, even shuddering beneath the graze of your nails against his bare chest as you opened the unbuttoned top. He looked delectable; toned muscles flexing with every thrust of his arm. 

“No, then I really will wanna fuck you.” He murmured, setting another boundary you had every intention of crossing; his forehead leaning down to press against yours, bodies as close as they could possibly be given the current position. His lust-filled gaze sparkled in the shadowed confines of your close faces, the soft whimpers and laboured breaths that left his parted lips sending your body into overdrive. You leaned forward to connect your lips, mouth ghosting over his for a nanosecond before he moved his face away from yours. You whined, aching to chase after him but opting to pry a little more instead. 

“Will you touch yourself when it’s my turn then?” You questioned, hungry eyes searching his for any signs of defiance.

“You want that?” He whimpered, free palm pushing you down against the soaked leather chair once more, trying to keep your quivering body still beneath him. 

“Yeah wanna hear you moan again.” You yelped, clenching again and again around the silicon toy, wanting more than anything to replace it with his meaty cock.

“Does that turn you on?” Chan asked, proud grin on his lips.

“So bad.” You murmured, head rolling back as you felt him graze against your g-spot with the tip of your new device. “Wanna watch your cock make a mess– oh my god I’m so close Channie~” He didn’t let you finish, turning the vibrator on mid sentence. The sudden change in sensation caused you to shake and convulse beneath him, creaming the toy with every pointed thrust he offered your greedy cunt. 

“Yeah? Take over for me baby, fuck yourself like the depraved slut you are.” You could barely think straight, eyes glazed over with unadulterated, carnal desire. 

“Fuck you’d break me open so good, want your cock so bad.” You mumbled, taking the toy from his grip to try and match his relentless pace. You weren’t even close, too tired, too rigid to compare. 

“God, bet you do, never enough for your greedy little pussy is it? Just want more and more.” Chan mused, the sound of his belt clattering drawing your attention to his lower half. You watched eagerly, excitement growing with every push of his hands. He pulled his cock out hurriedly, leg still propped over his shoulder as he fisted the base of his cock. 

You whined at the sight, free hand clawing at his half-clothed chest before gripping the meat of his upper arm. You hoped, pointlessly so, that the feeling of his toned muscle beneath your hold would ground you, keeping you steady as you worked yourself with the toy. The sight of him jerking desperately at his leaking cock, though, was far too compelling. Moans fell from his mouth, curse words interjecting every sinful noise. 

You’d thought his pointed gaze was enough to hypnotise you, but the image of his stiff member as it oozed pre cum transfixed you in an entirely new way. You couldn’t look away, couldn’t tear your eyes from his thrusting hips and eager fist as it worked its way up and down his length. You were sure you’d not seen a cock quite as pretty as his, either. It wasn’t overly large but it was thick and veiny with an angry red tip that you knew would prod your cunt in all the right ways. You wanted it, you wanted him so bad. You were salivating at the thought, mouth gaping wide open at the prospect of it.

“Bet you’d fuck me dry, so desperate you’d milk my cock of every drop.” He groaned loudly, hips bucking into his first with an air of impatience. 

“Yeah, want that so bad sir.” You could feel your high approaching once more, the edge coming into view in new and improved shades of technicolour bliss. 

“That’s it, good girl, you’re doing so well.” He praised you, head lulling back as he hissed, teeth clenching, face scrunching; the hottest fucking thing you’ve ever seen. His adams apple bobbed, thick neck glistening with sweat as he squirmed, face falling to rest against your leg. 

“Cum on me, in my mouth.” You pleaded, trying to match the rhythm of his thrusts, imagination fixing on the idea of it being him fucking you like this.

“Fuck that’s so hot, you’re so fucking hot.” He instantly complied with your wishes, hand abandoning his cock momentarily in favour of getting to his feet. He gently lowered the leg once propped atop his shoulder as he did so, discarding his trousers and underwear properly when he was stood. He was frantic in his motions, wanting nothing more than to dump his load on your pretty face. 

Hovering over you, he watched as you eagerly opened your mouth, head angled to allow him to aim the tip of his length toward your lips. He hummed at the sight, face scrunching again as he began to fist at his cock. The wet sound of his cum streaking the length of his member had you keening, tongue darting out to lick at his tip desperately. He bucked his hips at the new sensation, shoving his cock closer to your mouth in the process. You kept lapping at his head, enjoying the salty taste of his cum as it hit your tongue–the bitter flavour pulling pornographic moans from your throat.

“Oh god that feels amazing. Yeah, keep doing that baby.” He too moaned, pumping his cock relentlessly while you leaned closer to him, sucking the head of his twitching member feverishly. “Such a good girl, yeah, your lips look so pretty around my cock baby.” 

“More.” You begged, the initial taste of his salty cum enough to have you craving more. You wanted all of it, wanted to feel his mushroom tip abuse the back of your throat, wanted to choke on his fat cock until breath became a necessity. You were positive you’d see the white, orgasmic light then, when you were deprived of all air, forced to take in every inch of him until he was done using you for his own pleasure. 

“No, don’t be greedy. Take what I give you and say thank you like a good slut.” He landed a slap against your cheek, not hard enough to hurt, just enough to sting and fuck it felt incredible.

“Mmm, thank you sir.” You whined, complying instantly, pussy clenching around the toy still thrusting in and out of your numb cunt. Your arms were in a similar position, movements growing sloppy and slow as you tried to chase your high through till the end. 

“Good, now you gonna cum for me?” He asked, fucking his fist with the same fierce pace he’d gifted you. “Yeah, fuck you’re so hot.” He moaned, watching you struggle to pleasure yourself, movements ragged and desperate as you became unable to control your limbs. 

“So close, so so so– please.” You cried out, riding the toy with one final push of determined energy.

“That’s it, keep fucking yourself. You’re so close, baby don’t give up now.” He moaned out, his own high building with every snap of your hips, the noises your mouth and pussy were making so sinful it had his eyes rolling back. He resisted though, keeping his well-trained eyes on your abused cunt. You were struggling, he could tell, something in you not quite snapping the way you clearly wanted it to. It wasn’t your fault, he’d tired you out by now; he blamed himself for that. 

“Come on, you can do better than that. Like this baby.” He abandoned his own pleasure again, hand leaving his cock to replace yours. His pace was exactly what you needed, your body convulsing the moment he replaced your sloppy grip. 

“Oh god, yes, please keep going.” You cried, almost scared he’d deny you again. 

“Yeah? You gonna cum? Look at the mess you’re making pretty girl, fuck, I bet it tastes delicious.” He growled, pushing the toy as deep as your puffy cunt would allow, angle directed toward the extra-sensitive spot you seemed to love so much. “You’re taking it so well, such a good little slut.” 

“I’m gonna cum.” You wailed, hand gripping his, half-reacting to the sudden feeling of overstimulation that washed over you, the part of the vibrator pressed against your clit sending you into spasms with every hard thrust.

“That’s right, come on baby, good girls cum– you’re my good girl aren’t you? Gonna cum like sir told you to?” He growled, the possessive tone that had overtaken him sending shockwaves across your limbs. 

“Yeah, yeah fuck! I’m-” You didn’t have time to respond to his pleas before you were thrown from the edge, same white light blinding you in the process. You lost all feeling, all consciousness as you came, the explosions errupting throughout your spent body going unnoticed by your fucked out mind. Your chest heaved as you started to come to, hand still clamped around his now motionless wrist as his voice broke through your heavy breathing. 

“Shit, you squirted everywhere baby. Fuck that’s so hot.” You whimpered, scrambling to sit up in embarrassment. You looked at the chair first, the leather slick with your release, but it wasn’t until you gazed at Chan that you saw the extent of it. His white shirt was dotted with wet spots, looking almost like the splatter of something colourless. His hand and arm were soaked, chest glistening too. 

“Sorry.” You frowned, suddenly embarrassed by the mess you’d made.

“Shh, don’t be sorry, you did so well baby; look at you, so messy, so pretty.” He was quick to assure you, abandoning the vibrator in favour of cupping both your cheeks. You took each other in for a moment, no words spoken between you as your eyes lowered to his lips. One of his hands moved toward your chin, tugging our gaze upward again; not letting you linger with the thought of kissing him. 

“Lemme make you cum.” You spoke after a beat in time. 

“No, no lovely girl, you need to rest a second.” He smiled, pad of thumb caressing your plump bottom lip before he shifted, seemingly ready to clean you up and send you on your way. You weren’t ready for the moment to end, though. Couldn’t bear the thought of not getting to see him like this again for another month, or, god forbid, longer. 

“Then use me to finish.” You reached for him, grabbing ahold of his wrist before his back could straighten, reaching his full height. 

“Baby, fuck.” He moaned, clearly battling with the idea of you crossing yet another of his lines. He couldn’t blame you, not wholly anyway, he let you do it easily every time. Deep down he knew they were nothing but silly justifications; a safety net to fall back on when he broke every rule in the book.

“I want you to.” You assured him.

“This is supposed to be about you.” He shook his head.

“Then do it for me, use my mouth.” Your persistence seemed to be enough for him, still-hard cock twitching excitedly at the prospect. 

“Get on your knees.” His eyes darkened, turning to face you properly as he watched you position yourself on the floor, obedient as ever. “That’s it, good girl.” He swallowed thickly, guiding you toward his painfully hard length. He tapped your outstretched tongue with the tip, wordlessly ordering you to open wide.

“Tastes so good sir.” You mewled as he slid the base of his cock along your tongue, moaning at the texture of your muscle against his veiny member. His patience, or whatever was left of it, was slipping away with every messy lick of your tongue, his hand shifting to grip your hair.

“Squeeze my thigh if it's too much, okay?” Your nod was enough to have him pushing his length past your parted lips, cock giving you no time to adjust as he pushed his hips forward. “Such an obedient little slut, aren’t you? Touch your clit for me, want you cumming with my cock shoved down your throat.” He growled, pushing his length as far down your throat as your tight mouth would allow.

“Oh fuck yeah, yeah, yeah that’s so– ohmygod you feel amazing.” You moaned the moment he afforded you a few seconds to breathe. Your fingers toyed with your clit just as he’d requested, but you were far too focused on swallowing his member to focus on the tingling feeling between your thighs. 

“Bet your pussy feels better though, doesn’t it baby? Filled all the way up with my fat cock.” He grunted, grip in your hair tightening as he thrust his length past your lips harshly. You squealed at this, sound muffled by the back and forth of his cock as he used your throat to chase his own release. It was hard to focus his gaze as he pushed his cock all the way to the base, your nose pressing against his toned flesh as you gagged, tears spilling down your cheeks.

“Are you crying? Yeah? Sir giving it to you too rough? This is what greedy girls get–a throat full of cock.” He growled, any hints of his prior softness dissipated with the tightening of your throat around his sensitive length. He started setting a pace, no longer mindlessly pushing you down his cock. Rather he pulled out of your swollen mouth, giving you a few seconds to breathe before he thrust in, repeating that motion again and again with a frenzied persistence. If he had any doubts about your feelings on the matter, your soaked cunt gave it all away. 

“God your pussy is drenched, sounds so good. Does it feel good, baby? Getting mouth fucked while you play with your little cunt for me?” He moaned, fucking your face with a new found fever, his approaching high numbing his senses until all that remained was the sound of your wet pussy clenching around nothing and the feeling of your tight throat seathing his desperate cock. In all of the blissful chaos though, the man couldn’t help but take pity on you; the tears streaming down your cheeks, drool coating your chin, was enough to have him pulling out. You instantly gasped for air, forehead falling against his thigh as you caught your breath.

“Sit up baby, spread your legs. Gonna paint your pussy with my cum–gonna make it mine.” He instructed, helping you back atop the chair when you looked at him with pleading eyes. Your chest still rose and fell, gaze glossy with fresh tears as you whimpered, barely able to register the possessive way he wanted to claim you beneath your heavy fatigue. 

“You gonna cum for me too, yeah? gonna fuck my cum inside you with my fingers while you play with your clit.” He was back to those sinful rambles, an apparent sign of his impending orgasm as he worked his cock, hovering above your spread legs while he watched you circle your clit violently. “Good girl, good girl, fuck.” 

“Yeah fuck, mine, my good girl, looking so pretty for me.” His pace picked up, abs tensing with every twitch of his cock. His tip leaked with presumptive release, small bouts of thick cum running down the head, aided in its journey by the drying slick of your spit. “So useless without me aren’t you baby? Can’t do anything without me, need me so badly.” 

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, oh god.” His words had you quickly barreling toward the edge again, consciousness slipping as you fell in and out of subspace. 

“Say you’re mine.” He growled, face contorted in the hottest expression you’d ever seen. He looked determined, the first that fucked his cock thrusting at such a frenzied pace you wondered if it was painful.  “Mmm” Was all you could manage, before a harsh slap to your cunt was enough to jolt you away from the fucked-out state you found yourself in. 

‘Say it, slut.” He insisted.

“I’m yours, all yours; only yours. No one else can make me feel like this, not even me, this pussy belongs to you.” Your words were all it took, his entire body shifting, twitching and shaking at the sudden onset of his climax. His knees almost buckled, the half-awkward position causing his muscles to burn and tense as he milked his cock of its stringy cum. Moan after moan fell from his lips as he watched it splatter against your lower half, your hungry cunt clenching as the warm liquid painted your clit and abdomen. 

Lowering to his knees again, he kept his promise, pulling your hand away from your puffy clit in favour of collecting up all the cum that settled on your skin, sticky substance coating two of his digits as he shoved it inside your overworked pussy. “Cum for me, come on. Don’t make me spank you again.” 

You moaned out, shrill noise almost awakening his cock once again as he drilled your cunt with his fingers, pushing his cum as far into you as your swollen walls would allow. “Good girl, that’s a good girl; such a good little cum slut.” He cooed as you lost all control, body seizing beneath the weight of another orgasm; the wave of ecstasy so sudden and unexpected it stole the air from your lungs, the noise from your voice.

Chan rode you through your high, pressing kisses to every inch of your inner thigh, fingers slowing to a halt inside you. Sweet praises filled the air as he pulled his digits from your defeated cunt, palms rubbing soothing patterns against your skin. He kept this up until the ability to move seemed to finally return to your aching limbs, your body shifting to sit upright. Your breathing was laboured as his eyes leveled with yours, searching for any signs of pain or discomfort.

“Are you okay?” He asked, fingers back to tracing your skin affectionately; an action that felt just a little too sweet considering the events that had just transpired. You nodded, still not quite able to form words as you moved forward, pulling him into your embrace, desperate to lean on him for support. He let you, of course he did, arms wrapping around your fatigued body as he pulled you against him. Your head fell to the crook of his neck when you lowered from the chair, awkwardly positioned atop his kneeling form until he shifted to accommodate you.

For a moment you stayed like this, the sounds of your breathing the only thing breaking through the heavy silence. It gave you both time to think, to come down from your post-orgasm bliss and retrace the events of your appointment. 

“Fuck, what are we doing.” Chan was the first one to speak, a heavy sigh pulled from his downturned lips. 

“I don’t know but I don’t want it to stop.” You whispered, neither of you making any attempt to put distance between you. 

“We have to.” His response was instant but insincere, there was no denying that now. Not even your anxiety could trick you into believing that Chan didn't want this.

“But do you want to?” You asked, making the first move as you pulled back to look him in the eyes. Maybe his mouth lied, but his gaze never could. 

“...No. do you?” He said after a beat in time, large gaze studying you just as you did him. His palms moved to grip at your bare waist, a single hand shifting to run up and down your right side, tracing the curve of your hips as he waited expectantly. 

You smiled, the fireworks that erupted behind every one of his caresses giving you the answer you'd been looking for: “Never.” 

“Never?” Chan stared at you dubiously, hand stilling at this. 

“Never.” You didn’t hesitate, head shaking. A small smile tugged at the corners of his lips, eyes flicking from feature to feature in search of any insincerity. He found none, only a flourishing of adoration that threatened to grow tucked behind your gaze. 

He decided to believe you. You decided to believe it too–hoped so badly for it to be true–wanted so badly to have finally found the cure. Needed so badly for him to be the cure.

<< back to dash // next episode >>

taglist @mangojellyyy • @diekleinesuesse • @bahablastplz • @jeonginnieswifey • @skzittomebabyuhhuhx3 • @yaorzu-blog • @skzreader25 • @sseungmongi • @swaggylili • @geni-627 • @fun-fanfics • @channiesluvrclub • @iambangchanswife • @bluesungology

A/N: jfc i nearly didn't finish this in time oopsies! semi-unedited again so apologies for any sloppy writing in places. thank you all for 200 followers!! next chapter is due for release at the 350 milestone <3

[dollfacefantasy]

PRETTY AS A PRINCESS ♡

pairing: logan howlett x fem!reader

summary: you and logan have to work on halloween, but on the bright side, that means you get to dress up. and even better, you get to give him a little preview of the costume you've chosen.

cw: nsfw (18+), smut, p in v, oral sex (f receiving), fingering, ddlg, slight dumbification

wc: 3.2k

a/n: reblogs, comments, and asks are appreciated <33

kinktober slot: day 29 - ddlg

"You sure you don't need my help in there?" Logan calls to you.

"I got it. Just gimme a second," your voice responds, slightly muffled from the walk-in closet door separating the two of you, "So impatient."

He rolls his eyes and shakes his head, a smile rising to his lips. Normally, that comment would get you a small swat on the ass, but he decides to let it go for now.  You were in a particularly good mood today. The two of you had been assigned a mission next week that fell on Halloween. At first, you'd been unhappy about that, but then the professor informed you that it meant you were going undercover at a Halloween party - which meant you got to dress up.

For the past couple weeks, you'd been thinking about this costume choice as if it was the most important decision you'll ever make in your life. There were just so many options as you'd put it. So many colors and cuts. 

He knew you, so he knew it'd be something cute. But thus far, you hadn't actually shown him what you picked. Today it arrived in the mail, which is why tonight, you made a big deal of revealing it to him.

"Are you ready?" you finally ask.

"I've been ready. Let's see it."

The closet door creaks open. Before you exit, you peak your head out, flashing him a quick smile. Your excitement oozes from every pore on your body, flooding the room as you finally step out from behind the mahogany.

His prediction had been right - you look very cute. You strut out to him in what seems to be a princess costume. A tight corset wraps around your waist while frills and lace compliments your bust. The skirt goes down to your mid thigh, flowy and sweet while teasing enough flesh to be seductive. A sparkling tiara rests atop your head, and long, smooth gloves cover you fingertip to elbow. 

Skipping over, you stop in front of him. "So... what do you think?" you ask with a coy cock of your head.

His eyes scan you up and down, but of course, his mind has been made.

"Do you really have to ask?" he teases, "You look beautiful."

A bright smile spreads over your face when the inevitable answer hits your ears.

He chuckles at the reaction and reaches out to grab your waist. He really does adore this little get-up. It suits you just right, and on top of that, he can already tell how it makes you feel.

From the beginning of your relationship, Logan had a suspicion you'd be into this kind of thing. The whole princess thing. And along with that, the whole daddy thing. 

While you could be fierce in the field, sharp and quick, there was another side to you. A side that liked things soft and gentle, that yearned to be taken care of. It was the same part of you that came out when he sat you on his lap, running the pad of his thumb over your bottom lip. The part that made your head go fuzzy and your eyes glossy when he'd speak in a lower tone or call you a sweet name.

Over the course of knowing you, he'd found there were more triggers than delicate touches and tender words though. It was easier for you to slip into this dreamier headspace when you were tired or sad. You also liked when he took over simple tasks for you. But another one was definitely when you felt pretty. That always seemed to bring the d-word out from between those plush lips.

He found it a little odd at first, but he loved you. He could roll with you calling him daddy if that's what you wanted. And after a while, it didn't seem so strange anymore. He found himself craving your voice ringing out those two syllables, calling for only him when you felt your most vulnerable.

He spins you around between his thighs and kisses the warm back of your neck. The zipper on your dress hadn't been pulled all the way up. His fingers find the small metal piece to tug, pulling on it a little to tease before fixing the garment.

"Were you gonna wear it like this to the party, babydoll?" he asks, voice slipping into that lovingly condescending tone, "Give everybody there a nice show?"

A giggle bursts from you. Vibrates up your sternum through your throat and from your mouth. With how close he is to you, he can feel each bit.

"No," you say as if it's obvious. From your cadence alone, he can tell his set of suspicions was correct. You're starting to slip.

"So you need daddy's help then?" he mocks, dropping his voice. His teeth nip at the shell of your ear, tugging a little and beckoning more laughter from you.

"I guess..."

"You could've just said that then. I know my little girl can't be expected to do everything on her own."

You hum with petulant agreement. Your head tilts back to rest on his shoulder at the same time the back of your dress closes up. He kisses up your spine, the metal teeth chasing his lips.

"There we go," he says with a small pat to your hip.

You turn around to face him again. The fabric of your skirt flies up a little with the mini twirl. He smooths it back down for you before gazing at those eyes glimmering with admiration.

"Could you help me with my socks and shoes too? I accidentally forgot them out here."

"Did you now?" he smirks. He knows your games. If he doesn't offer to do things for you, then you make sure to create a situation in which the chances of that happening increase.

"Mhm," you say, nodding up and down in big bobs.

"Well go get them, and bring 'em here."

Obeying the command like it's a second nature, you pad over to the chair by the closet and dig inside the package to get the matching pieces to this outfit. He watches you pull out ivory thigh highs with little bows at the meshy hems and a pair of dainty heels. 

The items swing back and forth at your sides as you waltz to him. He takes them from you and sets them on the mattress. Standing up, his form rises above your own. He guides you so that your positions are reversed. Your thighs press against the blankets before he guides you down to sit.

"Be a good girl and sit still for me now. We'll get you all dolled up," he directs.

In a move no one else besides you ever sees, he crouches down before you. He gets on his knee and grabs one of the socks off the bed. The material stretches under his careful fingers as he prepares it for you. One of his hands takes your ankle, boosting your leg up.

The thin, white fabric slides over your foot first. Just as he did with the zipper, he kisses your ankle, then your calve, your knee and then your thigh. He feels your pupils lock on him. He doesn't even have to look up. His mind knows the way they’re dilating while set upon him.

He shimmies the sleeve around your leg, making sure the little bow sits at the front. "That look right?" Now his eyes look up at your own.

The two small spheres look as he'd imagined, blown-out and ultra-focused on him. Your bottom lip is between your teeth too. "Mhm. Thank you, daddy," you answer softly.

"No problem, baby."

Now, he moves to your other limb. He repeats the process. Smooches land on your skin, flowing along the path the sock follows. That one gets put in the proper place too. He pushes your legs together, looking at the pair next to each other. The bows sit there staring back at him. He didn't know how he was supposed to focus on whatever you were actually going to this halloween party for when you looked like this.

"Cute, huh?" he asks.

You nod and smile.

After seeing your legs closed, the only natural next move would be to spread them apart. His thumbs hook against your inner thighs, the rest of his digits curling over the rest of the doughy flesh. He pushes them away from each other. The growing distance causes the silky skirt to ride up and allows him to see what you wear beneath your pretty dress.

Matching panties. The same kind of lace that framed your collar fans across your pelvis. It's fashioned in the same style and color as the rest of what you're wearing. He can feel heat pooling between his legs just from a quick glance.

"Are these new too?" he asks, tugging you to the edge of the mattress and pushing your skirt away.

"Yeah... Do you like them?" you check.

"You're smarter than that, baby," he says. He leans in and presses a kiss to your cunt over the fabric. The gesture's so chaste, but you feel your tummy flutter with the first beat of arousal.

"I just wanna make sure since I got them for you," you tell him.

"All for me? Never knew you could be so thoughtful, sweetheart."

You scoff and pout at him from above. "Yes you did."

He laughs softly at that and pecks your inner thigh a few times as penance. "Maybe. I guess you can be sweet when you wanna."

His tongue flicks out to lick back up to the new panties. The scent of your desire grows more prevalent. He knows you're getting wet for him. Bringing one finger up, he traces over the cloth, from where your slit is to your cute little clit. He does that a few times before hooking around the entire section and pulling it aside. Like he expected, your folds glisten for him.

"Poor baby. Is daddy getting you all messy?" he coos with a smug look.

"Yeah," you whimper. The shudder you'd been repressing washes over your body.

"It's only right I clean my pretty princess up then, hm?" he asks, still mocking you with his eyes.

You nod again, your confirmation wordless this time.

He brings his face to your center and lays a more passionate kiss upon the slick skin. His lips engulf your sex, his tongue dancing against your clit teasingly. Instantly, you whine and dig your gloved fingers into the sheets. Your legs find their places on his shoulders, convincing him to lean deeper into the junction of your thighs.

His tongue flattens, lapping your pussy with a nearly feral lust. It's no secret that Logan loves your taste. Not a drop of you goes to waste if he can spare it. He feels your thighs quivering against each side of his head and brings his free hand to rest on top of one. The security of him holding you there settles you slightly. But the position also gives him leverage to keep you close.

He sucks on your clit and then fucks his tongue into you. You try to writhe. Your hips buck at the onslaught of pleasure flaring up at your core, but he has an inhumane grip on you. You haven't cum yet, but you're gushing onto his face all the same.

"Daddy," you mewl, barely able to get the word out, "You're gonna ruin the underwear."

He's rock hard now at the whiny sound of your voice. You always get that way when you're near the edge. Your lip starts to wobble. Your voice gets pitchy as your demands grow needy. The look in your eyes just makes everything you say sound like begging.

Not one to normally be interrupted, he twirls the tip of his tongue around your bundle of nerves. But the words you spoke begin to register in his brain, and he reluctantly pulls back. His eyelids droop down with lust. Your fluids coat his chin and make some of his facial hair shimmer from the wetness.

"That's true, baby. Can't get these all soaked and destroyed before the party."

He rises to his feet again, pulling your panties all the way off simultaneously. Then his hands drop to his pants. He rids himself of his belt and undoes his fly.

"Plus, I think I have another way I can show you how much I like this new dress."

Taking his cock out, he tugs on it a few times. A few pearls of precum bead at the tip. His favorite part about getting his dick out is watching your reaction to it. No matter how many times you've seen it, you still seem so in awe. You marvel at the size and the way it flushes. Your eyes track the veins sprawling over it and sneak a glance at the heavy set of balls hanging below his shaft. He doesn't think you could look any more longing if you tried.

You're already soaked, so all he has to do is line up and slide in. Whining as he pounds himself into the hilt, your eyes start to go starry. He gets a firm grip on the swell of your hips in order to drag himself back and then pump himself forward again.

"Daddy... slow down," you pout, "s'too big."

He chuckles at your performance and slams in again just as hard. "No, no. C'mon, baby. Daddy needs this. He's gotta show you what you do to him in this little dress. And I know you can take it."

His hips continue to bump your ass as he thrusts back and forth. It's easy for him to find the rhythm you like. He settles into it and rocks in and out of your tight cunt. It feels like pure, concentrated bliss for him; always does. Your velvety walls, spasming and sucking on his cock. Silently crying 'more more more.'

"Pretty girl... we're gonna be doing this at the party too if you're not careful," he grunts.

You babble and squirm on the bed, lazily nodding at the sound of his voice. It's so cute, he thinks. The way you go dumb so quick and easy.

"Mhm. You're gonna drive me crazy. Might have to pull you into one of the bathrooms and bend you over the counter. See how cute this outfit looks from the back," he continues.

Your back arches off the plush surface. A physical stamp of approval on his plan.

"Gonna have you screaming so loud everyone there hears and knows what a good girl you are for your daddy," he breathes.

Leaning down, he removes a hand from your hip and brings it to cup your jaw. The pads of his fingers dig into your fleshy cheeks. Your lips puff out a little, begging for a kiss. He gives you a quick peck but never stops the ricocheting of his pelvis.

"You're so precious," he murmurs against your skin.

Meanwhile, his hips seem like their mission is to obliterate you down below. They ram forward and back, jostling your body on the bed. You can barely find the will to choke out "Daddy, daddy, daddy. Can I cum? Please."

Your voice is wrecked, even pitchier than before. He bobbles your head into a little nod with his hand. Your glassy eyes stay on him the whole time though. 

"Yeah, you can," he agrees.

"Thank you, thank you, thank you," you babble and fling your arms around him to keep him close. Not that he was going anywhere. He stays balls deep in you through the sensation of you tightening up and gushing all over him. Your walls flutter and squeeze. You writhe like you're possessed, and your eyes give that same impression as they roll back. Half-words spill from your lips begging, "Da- Plea- oh fuck-"

"Language, baby," he chides mockingly, his own tone growing strained.

You respond with total sincerity though. "'m sorry, daddy. Just- hnnngh- just feels so good."

"I know it does. Too much for you to handle, hm?"

You shake your head but the motion is so wild, it barely comes across as a declaration of disagreement.

"Use your big girl words, sweetheart," he coos. His desire tightens between his hips. He feels the familiar pressure and the way his balls draw up with the need to spill inside you.

"I can do it- ah!" you squeal, "I can take it. Just want daddy to finish inside."

His face falls down to rest in the crook of your neck. "If that's what you want, princess."

They're the last words he gets out before a groan rumbles in his chest. His release fires out with fervor. Spills into you in strong ropes. You sigh, eyes rolling back as warm satisfaction fizzles in your belly. The sensation melts you down from the whiny mess you had been into a boneless, whimpering puddle.

He pants against your skin. Hot puffs of air hit your neck as he starts coming down. Slowly, his cock slides out of you, popping out with a squelch. Two thick fingers find your hole and fuck the cum that was leaking out of you back in. You whimper at the intrusion to your sensitive cunt, but he smirks at you.

"Shh, shh, shh. It's ok, baby. We don't want any of this getting on your pretty dress, do we? Can't make a mess of it yet."

Your head bobbles in lazy agreement. He continues pumping his fingers into your soaked entrance while placing gentle kisses all over your face. 

When he finishes, he pulls your panties and his pants back up and then recedes to his knees again. He takes the heels from the bed and slides your feet into them. Taking care to make sure the strap is in place, he fastens the buckle on each and then lets them fall to the floor.

"Think you can walk in those still? Or did daddy get you too dizzy?" he asks.

"I can," you huff.

Pushing yourself off the bed, your legs wobble like those of a baby deer. You move across the bedroom, swaying a little but not enough to topple over and crash to the ground. He can tell you're waddling slightly, probably from the cum slowly seeping out of you again.

The costume looks gorgeous as ever with all the pieces put together. You readjust the tiara on your head and do a little spin for him before heading back over to the chair you initially pulled this dress from. You fish out what seems to be a basic wolf mask and show it to him.

"I got this for you," you beam.

His eyebrows raise incredulously. "I'm not wearing that."

You give him a look of your own, seconds away from stamping your foot. "Yes you are."

"No, I'm not."

"Yes you are."

"Am not."

"Are too! You have to dress up, Charles already said!" you insist and bring the mask to him, "Plus don't you wanna match? It's like beauty and the beast."

He barks out a laugh. "Is that what I am to you? A beast?" he teases, pulling you close again.

"Well yeah, but in a good way," you grin.

"Hm. We'll see. I'll think about it," he says.

You're about to whine out a please, but he stops you with a kiss. He knows he'll be hearing tons of that for the next few weeks.

[sparklyskies0]

𝙙𝙚𝙡𝙞𝙘𝙖𝙩𝙚 𝙛𝙡𝙤𝙬𝙚𝙧 ౨ৎ m.s

pairings: badboy!bf!matt x goodgirl!virgin!reader

( 𝙞𝙣 𝙬𝙝𝙞𝙘𝙝 ) you and matt have been seeing each other for some time now. your parents don’t approve of him but you couldn’t care less─that’s the whole point, to prove that you’re no longer the little girl that follows the rules despite how it makes her feel. When your parents are away for the weekend, you invite matt over. Finally deciding to take the next step and give yourself to him completely.

warnings/disclaimers: smut, unprotected sex, virginity loss, mentions pain, fingering, oral sex (fem receiving), nsfw..

As you awaited matt’s arrival, you paced around your dimly lit room. The smell of your vanilla scented candle filling the air. You fiddled with your fingers; you were nervous. Matt has came over countless of times, behind your parents back of course. And you were never as anxious as you are now. Because you knew, how this night was going to end. Both of you, tangled in your satin bedsheets, your naked form against his. You knew you were going to finally lose your virginity. Give him all of you.

Your relationship with matt has been going on for a couple months now. Behind your parents back and even sometimes in their face. They don't like matt at all, he's exactly the kind of guy they had warned you to stay away from. They have expectations for you, they want you to become a lawyer to follow in your mothers footsteps, marry a man they think is perfect for you and basically be unhappy. Being with a guy like matt, would simply wound that perfect life your parents want you to have. Your whole childhood was dedicated to making them happy; skipping your dance classes, which you desperately wanted to go to for those stupid dinners with their rich friends who did nothing but brag about how smart and capable their kids were, getting straight A's instead of playing outside at the park with the other kids. You were always afraid of getting dirty because your parents made you. You weren't allowed thrill or excitement. Because clean, perfect good girls who are going to law school don't get dirty, ever.

Matt was the bad boy. the whole school knew about his record and the amount of girls he slept with. He had tattoos and a motorcycle and never went to class or followed any rules whatsoever. Girls want to be with him and guys are afraid to cross him. You never wanted to speak to him ever, he was far too intimidating. But that's exactly why you wanted him so bad. He's the complete opposite of you, his world doesn't, shouldn't align with yours. Your parents freaked when you brought him home and you loved it.

After a couple minutes you were snapped out of your worried thoughts by a knock at your window. you turned around, meeting him. He crouched down outside of the dormer window. A sly smirk on his face. A wide grin plasters on your face as you walk towards the window, pulling it up and open. As soon as he fully sets inside he didn't hesitate to wrap his arms around your waist pulling you closer towards him.

You squeal at his action. Your arms wrapping around his neck. "why'd you come through the window? i unlocked the front door for you, y'know" you look at him.

"where's the fun in that?" he responds, causing a soft giggle to leave your lips. Your eyes glued to his, occasionally roaming over his features, which is something you do a lot.

His blue eyes that are sparkling in the dim room mixed with the soft moonlight blaring through the window. His soft pale skin, pinkish lips, long perfect nose. You were honestly obsessed. You could stare at him all day.

When people look at him, they see a boy with a bad reputation. drugs, motorcycles, tattoos and fighting, someone who's going nowhere in life. But you don't, you see an actually sweet (when he wants to be) guy, who's trying but also can't help but rebel against everyone's wishes. They believe he's bad news, so he's giving them bad news.

You're almost starting to believe that you're in love with him. you know you are. But you won't tell him that, at least not yet. But you trust him so much, with everything. You know you're ready, ready to take all of him in every way.

Youve seen him naked before, and you know how big he is. Which is why your hearts beating so fast out of your chest right now. "what're we doin tonight, doll? a movie?, please don't say baking cus i don't think I'm mentally prepared for that this time" he says.. The last time you forced him to bake with you ending up with him burning his hand and a mediocre cake. You don't show it but your heart kind of flutters at the fact he didn't mention anything sexual despite the countless times he fingered you and ate you out, he doesn't expect it to happen all the time. But he didn't know that none of the things he listed were on your agenda for tonight.

you tilt your head slightly, "actually, i was thinking..." you trail off, hoping he can answer for you. his face changes, the smirk on his face growing wider. You feel him tug you closer. "oh.. i see" he brings his head down to your neck, placing a soft kiss to the flesh. His lips continue to pepper kisses all over your neck, and collarbone. your head falls back slightly, biting your lip.

a soft hum escapes your lips as you bring your hands to cup his face, bringing him to look at you. his eyes already filled with desire. "i think I'm ready" you state

you watch his face contort in confusion, instead of elaborating further you press his lips against yours. His breath hitches into the kiss, a deep sigh escaping both of you.

you back him up, towards your bed. When the back of his legs hit the furniture, he falls down onto it. The kiss yet to be broken. You climb on top of him. You're not quite sure where this confidence is coming from, but you like it. It's perfect to have, especially for tonight. Your thighs straddle his sides, you break the kiss, your lips leaving trails over his jaw and neck. His hands grip your waist, loving whatever has gotten into you. He didn't know yet that it was going to be him.

You grind yourself onto him, moaning softly. He lets out a few low groans himself. "i want you inside of me.." you whisper moaned by his ear, your hot breath sending shivers down his spine. Once he registered your words, his grip on your hips got tighter. you continued to kiss his jaw, about to make your way to his lips when he stops you. "wait-what?" he speaks. You lift your head, looking at him.

you bite your lip. "ive been thinking..and i, i want you to fuck me. Like for real this time" you say. "im ready"

Matt's face softens. he lets out a soft sigh. "You think you're ready or are you actually ready?" he asks, with genuine concern

You nod "i am ready. i swear... i want you. i...i trust you" you say softly, you mean every word. He lets out another soft sigh. "i don't wanna force you to do anything, you don't have to do this..we can keep doin what we always do" he says. He's deep-down terrified right now, he doesn't want to say or do the wrong thing, he doesn't want to scare you or make you regret it. You two always just stuck to oral. he knew you were inexperienced, and you were pretty open about being a virgin and wanting to trust someone enough. He's never pressured you, he wants you to be as comfortable as possible, no matter what.

"matt i promise, i want to" you cup his face. your eyes glued to his. he was finally convinced. licking his lips he speaks, "well in that case.." he sits up, flipping you over so now he's hovered over you.

he looks down at you, the way your eyes glisten, the way your chest rises and falls. By the look on your face, he can tell how ready you were, and that only egged him on.

His head dropped down to your exposed neck, trailing hot wet kisses down to your collarbone, then to the top of your chest. You let out soft moans at the way his mouth worships your body, the way his kisses are gentle yet hungry. He kisses down to the middle of your stomach. When he stops, he looks up at you. "take this off for me, doll" his voice hoarse. He tugs at the bottom of your tank top, you bite your lip as you look down at him.

You arch your back to assist him in removing the tiny top. He lifts it up, revealing your breasts, perky and perfect.. for him. The sight made him moan "so beautiful" he doesn't hesitate to bring his head back up to latch onto the flesh. A sharp moan escapes your mouth. His tongue circling around your hard nipple. he trails a couple kisses in between your breasts licking along your skin. It doesn't take long for him to give your other breast some attention as well. He trailed his mouth down to your lower stomach, stopping at the top of your pajama shorts. he looks up at you, a grin growing on his face. "this is about you doll, all you" his voice low in a mumble. His fingers hook your bottoms. bringing them down slowly, your white lace panties revealed to him. You squirm slightly, your teeth tugging on your bottom lip as he works.

Once your shorts were brought down to your ankles you kick them off. Matt places kisses up your thighs, his hands spreading your legs apart. after your legs are as open as he wants them to be he stands up. "take those off." he says his head nodding to the clothing that's blocking what he considers heaven. You obey, removing them from your body. While you do that, matt pulls his shirt over his head, discarding it somewhere in the room. He's now shirtless in front of you. "get yourself nice and wet for me, doll" he says, his hands coming down to unbuckle and tug his pants along with his underwear down.

You take your fingers into your mouth, getting your index and middle finger wet, bringing them down to your already dripping core.. wetting the flesh more. You run your fingers along your folds, moaning at how his cock springs out when his pants fall down to his ankles.

He strokes himself, the precum visible on his pink aroused tip. he makes his way back to you. "im gonna stretch you out with my fingers first okay?" he says softly. You nod, your eyes on him. He's fingered you before, but this time it feels far more different.

He settles himself between your legs again. wetting his fingers with his mouth before bringing them across your slimy folds. You moan at his fingers, your hips rolling against them naturally. He eases his fingers into you, causing you to hiss slightly.

He continues to push his fingers inside you, stretching you out. You moan at the feeling. As soon as you adjusted his fingers curled and he began to finger fuck your tight cunt.

"mm fuck" you moan, your body arching up. "yea baby, y'like that?" he murmurs, his fingers keeping up his torturous pace. Your moaning becomes more louder, and struggled as you feel the pit in your stomach grow. "mm shit just imagine how you'll sound with my cock inside you"

His fingers pick up. Your orgasm crashes over you, you let out a loud strong moan as you release over his fingers. "mm..thats my girl" he hums, his fingers still pumping inside you slowly, riding out your high. Once his fingers leave your core he brings them to his mouth, soaking up your juices and licking his fingers clean. He brings his head back down to your center, his tongue comes out to taste you. Dragging in between your folds, sucking up the rest of your juices and wetness. After he licks you clean he leaves a kiss to your pretty pussy.

He comes up, hovering over you once again. "you ready doll?" he asks, his eyes scanning for any doubt, wanting this to be just as real and perfect for you than him. When you nod, your eyes looking up at him, almost pleading for him; he knew.

"okay, its gonna hurt, but only for a second...tell me if its too much and we'll stop" he speaks. letting out a nervous sigh. "hold onto me baby"

You bring your arms up to wrap around his neck, pulling him down closer to you. He kisses you gently, yet passionately. He was waiting for this moment, and so were you.

As he kisses you, his hand grips your leg, lifting it up more, he does the same to your other one. He's settled deeply in between you now.

His hand latches onto his member, lining it with your entrance. His tip rubbing teasingly against your wet glistening folds. He places multiple kisses along your cheek and jaw before attaching your lips back together. Wanting to be able to swallow the sounds of your pain for you as he slips in.

He slowly pushes himself inside of you, his thick member barely in yet you still broke the kiss with your hiss of pain. "shh shh i know doll i know" he comforts against your lips. continuing to kiss you

"just relax.. i got you, m' right here"

he continues to push himself inside you, your moans of pain honestly breaking his heart. But this is what you wanted, and he knew it will subside eventually.

Once he was fully in. he stayed still, wanting to give you time to adjust to him. "its okay, you okay?" he lifts his head up to look at you. His thumb coming to wipe away the tears at the corner of your beautiful eyes. "i-it just hurts..im okay though" you admit.

Matt nods understandably, "we can stop if you want" He gently caresses your face

You shake your head, "no...no i want this" you say

you suddenly feel the pain that was once invading you slip away. You had adjusted to him, to his size, to the feeling of his cock buried deep inside you. "you can move.." you speak

And with that, he thrusts into you slowly. You let out a soft sigh, the pleasure slowly creeping back into you.

"you feel so good babydoll" he hums, the feeling of you clenching around him. So innocent, and so his.

"mm matt" you moan, as he thrusts his cock into you at a slow sensual pace. "it feel good, doll? my cock deep inside you...is this what you wanted?" his voice low

You nails dig into the back of his neck as you hold onto him. The pleasure, the feeling of his thick cock stretching you out too good to bare.

Your moans were like music to his ears, giving him the permission and encouragement he needed to increase his movements and move into you faster. "o-oh fuck" your mouth opens wide. His hand reaches for your thigh, lifting it up more for him to fuck you deeper.

He continously hits a certain spot inside you that has you squirming underneath him. "mm just like that doll, your s'good" he moans

"tell me how it feels baby...how does my cock feel inside you"

"fuck matt, it feels s'good.." you moan. you pull his face closer, nipping on his shoulder to silence yourself. "mm fuck dont do that baby," his hand cups the side of your face "i wanna hear you..hear how good im making you feel" he looks you in your eye.

His pace quickens, wanting to bring you to the edge. He can feel it, with the way you clench around him, the squelching sounds being the tell of how wet and close you are.

"i want you to cum doll, cum on my cock please" he pleads

your eyes squeeze closed as you feel a pit in your stomach, you've felt them before.. but this one feels stronger. his cock so deep inside you making you feel things that were far more foreign to you before.

"no no no, open your eyes f'me doll. let me see you" he groans. you open your eyes, meeting his lusty half lidded bedroom eyes. "look at me while you cum on my cock"

He continued to thrust into you deeply, your legs trembling from the sensations. His hands let go of your sides, coming to find yours from around his neck. He intertwined your fingers, holding both your hands. He brought them to both sides of you. Holding them tightly, not wanting to let go. Pinning your hands down he smashes his lips against yours. His hips moving at rapid speed, slamming into you.

You squeeze his hands, your moans muffled and uncontrolled as he swallows them.

You break the kiss moaning loudly, your breath shaking and uncontrolled "ah.. ah fuck im cumming!" you announce. that only made matt let out a gutteral groan and fuck into you faster.

"shh.. yeah thats it baby..come on doll" He encourages, kissing your neck, leaving bites and marks. You moan loudly, your body shuddering as you cum.

Matt immediately takes you into a kiss, swallowing up your beautiful sounds. He was right behind you, one single thrust and he stilled inside you. The feeling of his thick warm load shooting inside you. You could barely keep your eyes open. Trembling from your release, and still feeling matt fuck his cum into you. Riding out both of your highs.

His face buried into your neck, his own body shuddering against you. "you did so good doll...my good girl" He places wet kisses to your flesh.

He waits a moment for you to calm down, before slipping out of you. You gasp at his action. your body jolting up. Matt winces for you, "i know, m'sorry" he apologizes knowing how sensitive you must be

He collapses next to you. you turn on your side facing him, your head resting on your hands. He leans over, placing a soft kiss to your bare shoulder. "you okay?" He asks. His voice filled with genuine concern.

You nod "yeah, I'm okay..im happy" you answer, the corners of your mouth curing slightly

"good." he says, relief taking over him. "was it..how you imagined?" he asks, needing to know if there's a chance of regret.

"Better." you smile.

He returns a smile back, his hands trailing the curves of your side. "c'mon, lets get you cleaned up"

ᥫ᭡ Authors Note

this is so long lmfaoa

obsessed with matt as a bad boy

[adispit]

‘Sweet thing’

Hare! original character x bunny! male reader

warnings: predator prey dynamic,humping, overstim, mind break (kinda), breeding, slight dubcon, naive innocent reader, size kink, scent kink, creampie

notes: this idea has been stuck in my head for too long lmfao I rly went down the rabbit hole writing this 💀

You were a sweet thing, a bunny bred to be docile and kept at home like the naive creature you were! Your owner was extremely protective, never allowing you to go out and always pampering you with treats and pets!! You were the perfect house pet. However, always being at home was so boring and dull. Sure, being fawned over by your owner was always enjoyable but you wanted to be like other bunnies! Why shouldn’t a grown-up bunny like you also be able to go out and explore the huge world? All you had was a small town where you and your owner lived in, nearby meadows. There were so many delicacies you hadn’t tried yet, like wild carrots or apples! All the food you had at home were just leafy greens and pellets…so you had to formulate a plan immediately!! Sure, your owner might be a tad bit worried or maybe even disappointed but you would just go for a quick trip into the meadows nearby, only a few hours you swore!

Hence, your plan began. No better time to slip out when your owner was busy at work. Full of excitement and anticipation, you quickly jumped out of the window onto the pavement. The fields were so close! You quickly hopped your way to the meadows where the other bunnies promised there would be the precious apples and food you had dreamed about. Hungry and ecstatic, you finally arrived but the delicious food that was spoken about was nowhere in sight… you were starving! Maybe this was a bad idea, you shouldn’t have gone out, your owner was going to be so angry… Not only was the pristine and white fur they loved so much now dirtied, you were a disobedient bunny who ran away because you were too greedy…

Tears began to form in your eyes as you thought about the disappointment in their eyes and how they probably wouldn’t love such a naughty bunny anymore… You were such a silly thing, knowing nothing of the world and yet you still wanted to explore! Hours went by, and you grew tired of wallowing in your misery, it was night now anyways, it was time to finally go home even if your owner would be unhappy. At least you had a roof and a warm bed to sleep in! Trudging through the tall grass, you tried to retrace the steps you took but it was too dark. The inky darkness filled your vision as panic began to fill your heart. How were you supposed to go home now?! Oh no…you could feel the waterworks starting again. However before you could even burst into tears, your ears picked up rustling in the grass behind you.

Without a single thought left in your brain, you immediately darted in the opposite direction of whatever monster was stalking you in the night. Fear clouded your senses as you felt a shiver go down your spine. What horrors were hidden in the night? You didn’t want to know! You really should have stayed home but now there whatever was hunting you! Unfortunately you began to tire, your hunger and outbursts having sapped your energy, but you could still hear the loud thumps of whatever chasing you get closer and closer, their hot breath on your nape. Your pace slowed and the creature tackled you. Clenching your eyes shut, you willed yourself still and accepted your fate.

You could feel something caress your cheek. “Open your eyes bunny.” A domineering voice commanded you and you meekly peeked one eye out to see a massive hare over your form. He was huge! Both in muscle and size, he overwhelmed your tiny body. You didn’t stand a single chance against him. “What d-do you want, Mister Hare… I-I just want to go home..” you trembled, the stutters in your voice unable to hide your fear. A low chuckle reverberated from him, “Oh you naive thing, I just want to eat you up. You’ve been in my territory since afternoon and emitting that sweet scent. A tiny creature like you should be protected but you just happened to chance upon me, what a pity.” Hearing his words, your suspicions were further confirmed. You were never getting home and a big bad hare now wanted to eat you. You went slack, what could you even do now… “O-okay, Mr Hare, just make it quick… I don’t want to be eaten painfully and slowly…” you were ready, this would be how you went…

“You misunderstood me bunny. I’m not eating you up literally, I’m going to breed you so you reek of me all over like my property.” Confusion filled your face but not long before you felt him grind against your pelvis. Oh. He meant that… Forgetting your initial terror, you immediately flushed red. You had never done this before..and your owner forbid it, saying something along the lines of “I’m not ready to be a father”. Wait, but you were both males, how could you both mate?! Your obvious inexperience and bewilderment must have been evident because Mr Hare laughed again. “It doesn’t matter if you’re male, there’s still a hole, you silly thing.” He grunted. Not waiting for your reply, he hoisted you onto his lap, the curve of your ass now rubbing against his huge bulge.

You could feel the copious amounts of precum wet the thin shorts your owner had insisted on giving you for the sake of “propriety” and yep there they went, as Mr Hare ripped them off. A whimper escaped you as the friction of his cock rubbing against your perineum sent sensations you had never felt before running through your body. “Uagh-?!” A surprised moan ripped from your throat as you could feel something thick fill your hole. His fingers were in you! You felt his fingers graze something in you that made you clutch at his shoulders in a fit of pleasure. A knowing smirk appeared on his face and he repeatedly jabbed at the spot, “I found your prostrate.” He snickered.

“N-nng- ah! T-too much!!” You keened as you buried your face in his shoulders, your body spasming at his relentless teasing of your prostrate. Shortly after, a loud sob left you as your cock squirted all over your stomach, leaving you limp. “Can’t have you weak before I breed you bunny.” Mr Hare clamoured as he left a chaste kiss on your lips, a sharp contrast to his rough man handling. Pushing you into a mating press, the head of his throbbing dick pushed at your weakly twitching rim. Glancing down at his cock, terror filled you at the size of his dick, that was monstrous!! “N-no, wait it won’t f- AGH” Before you could protest, he sharply thrusted into you as you wailed out in shock at the sudden intrusion.

Growling, the hare left no chance for you to complain as he snapped his hips against yours repeatedly like he was a man possessed. “You really are so tiny, look at your small excuse of a cock bunny…you deserve a good breeding..” he teased as his cock plunged into you. Endless whines left you as the onslaught of pleasure left you orgasming over and over again. You could only weep as Mr Hare painted your insides white without an end in sight. “P-please sir, it’s too m-mu-much!” You pleaded but your pleas for him to stop fell on deaf ears. “Gh- just gotta give you one more load one more bunny, gotta make you full of my cum.” He murmured as he grasped at your waist tightly. Oh that was sure to bruise tomorrow. Teetering on the edge of unconsciousness, you could only mindlessly mewl in response as another dry orgasm wracked your body.

The sun was rising and you were a sight to be seen. Eyes rolled in a dry orgasm as you unconsciously grinded back on the hare pistoning away at you, a mess in your own bodily fluids and the semen dripping from your abused hole. Unable to take anymore abuse, you blacked out and before you slipped into the welcome embrace of the darkness, you could feel yourself getting cradled and picked up and a kiss pressed to your dry lips.

You were definitely never gonna go out again.

note: why does no one ever talk about how hard it is to write smut OMG 😭😭 I legit spent an hour stressing over what to write so it sounded stimulating enough and legit 😞 anyways take this pathetic piece pls have mercy lol its like my first time writing smut (despite the fact I read smut 😭🙏)

Reblogs are appreciated :) if you want a part 2 lmk!

Pt 2 is here : Mates (Sweet Thing Pt.2)

[luckylzclerc]

A Thousand Miles 𓍢ִ໋🏁՞ᰔᩚ (cl16)

sypnosis : Due to your different careers, You both have been in a long distance relationship for quite some time. Charles has been nothing but supportive of you and got himself into a habit of mentioning you nonstop in interviews which sparks the attention from the media.

request : yes! from this request ₊˚.༄

AU : Mixed AU (smau + written au)

genre : fluff

an : first post since 2023 ! I changed my layout and tried to be more aesthetic (kinda..) lmk your thoughts on that! anyway, i hope u guys enjoy reading this as much as i enjoyed making it hehe :3 pls don't be shy to request, I'll definitely try to answer them all 💌 anyways, have fun reading this and don't forget to like, comment and reblog!

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charles_leclerc mon cœur, i miss you

⤷ yourusername ahh Charles, tu me manques aussi bebe

(i miss you too bebe)

lando we miss you here, y/n! 😔

⤷ yourusername landooo!! missing you guys too💘💘

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

The paddock is buzzing with excitement as fans from all over the world arrive to watch the 2025 Imola gp. Meanwhile, in the Ferrari garage, Charles is on the phone with his lovely girl, y/n.

"Charles, isn't qualifying starting soon?" asked the girl, interrupting her boyfriends ramble about an inchident that happened the night before. "Huh? shit! it's starting in 20 minutes!" replied the monegasque frantically while quickly gathering all his stuff.

Confused, she raised an eyebrow, "Are you going to end the call, or do you want me to do it?". Charles' panicked face contorts into a pout "Do we really have to end the call?" he asked with a soft tone. On the other end of the line, y/n chuckled "yes, yes have to mon amor. I'll talk to you later yeah? Promise me you'll do your best okay?, good luck". He smiles softly at her "Promise, je t'aime" while clicking the 'end call' button. All he could do now is just hope for the best as he wants to get pole to make her proud.

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

"POLE POSITION BABYYY" echoes through the entire paddock as Charles crossed the finishing line with the fastest time amongst all 19 drivers. As the crowd errupt with cheers from the tifosi(s), Charles makes his way to the post qualifying interviews.

interview .ᐟ

still feeling giddy, Charles decides to call y/n to tell her about the qualifying even though she was probably watching the entire time. *ring ring ring* -voicemail "huh?" confused as he can be, he started worrying about the sudden voicemail so, he called her again. twice. thrice. no answer. 'What is she up to?' Charles thought to himself.

Without any warning, Carlos barged into his room to congratulate his teammate. Noticing the monegasque's unhappy face "Carino, you okay ?" asked Carlos with a careful tone. "Yeah, im alright, its just y/n. She's not picking up my calls!". Understanding the situation, the spaniard comforted his teammate "Ah, maybe her device died or, I don't know? She took a nap or something.. theres endless possibilities, don't worry about it too much."

Nodding, "Maybe you're right.. thanks mate" "No problem!Now time to celebrate!!" Still full of adrenaline from the pole position but not feeling like celebrating, he decided to just head back to the hotel to rest "You celebrate, I'm going back to the hotel" said the monegasque. Walking to his car, he thought to himself 'Maybe she's asleep, I'll just call her again when i get back to the hotel' while trying to ignore the constant feeling of worry.

twitter .ᐟ

As upon his arrival at the hotel, Charles still couldn't shake the feeling of a pit forming in his stomach so, after reaching to his assigned room, he quickly calls y/n again.*ring ring ring*

"Y/n are you there?" furrowing his brows while trying to make sense the black screen on his phone. "Charles! Congratulations on the pole, I'm so proud of you, knew you could do it!" said y/n with excitement filling her tone. Charles commented "Thank you! amor, I don't know if its my phone but I cannot see your face". A few moment of silence passed and Charles keep hearing commotion on the other end of the line.. "bebe? are you there? are you out right now..?". Finally, the girl answered short and sweetly "Sorry, got to go, talk to you tomorrow amor! bisous" and the call went dead.

Now he's even more confused. While trying to decide wether to investigate or not, tiredness washes over him. Finally deciding to ignore the paranoid feeling, Charles decides to get ready for bed and bother the girl with more questions the following day.

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

As Charles wakes up at the crack of dawn, all his worries about y/n seems to disappear and he decides to just focus on his race today. While getting ready, he receives a notification on imessage from her wishing him luck on todays race, and that alone is enough to make him smile from the words of encouragement.

As soon as he arrives at the circuit, Charles was quickly rushed to the Ferrari garage to get prepped for the race at Imola. Todays goal was to win, make y/n proud and oh! win again. Meanwhile, unbeknownst to him, Y/n is on the plane flying a thousand miles away to get to the Imola grand prix in time.

Y/n arrives just in time as there were 2 more laps to go. As she quickly rushes to the Ferrari garage, Charles zoomed by the checkered flag in first place. The entire garage was filled with screams and cheers of joy celebrating another win for Ferrari. Outside, y/n could hear the grandstand booming with celebrations as the tifosi(s) celebrate Charles' victory. She couldn't believe it, it was her first time witnessing his win in real life and was feeling overjoyed. Her heart was full of love and admiration.

Charles parked his f1 car behind the '#1' sign and jumped out of the vehicle while doing a celebratory pose. He was feeling so pleased with his results and all he could think about was telling y/n.

As the post race interviews were held, y/n was hiding in the McLaren garage to avoid spoiling the surprise and bumping into her partner.

interviews .ᐟ

"Charles Leclercc!!" echoes through the entire circuit as they announced the winner of the race. Charles walked to the first place of the podium, full of pride and a huge smile across his face. Y/n was standing amongst the crowds watching him stand on the top of the podium filled with excitement and proudness. 'I knew you could do it' she thought to herself, smiling like an idiot.

As the national anthem of Monaco ended, the top 3 winners sprayed each other with champagne and that marks the end of the ceremony.

As Charles makes his way to his motorhome, y/n was hiding in his drivers room with a bouquet in her hand. Other than Charles, his teammate, Carlos was walking alongside him to the motorhome secretly recording the surprise that was about to happen. "Mate, why are u following me to my drivers room?" asked Charles and he twisted the door knob. While still looking at Carlos with a puzzled look, he decides to ask the spaniard again. "Mate???" All Carlos could do was point his head towards the drivers room and there she was. Standing with a huge smile spread on her lips while holding a huge bouquet of red roses.

"Surprise?" said the girl. Charles mouth dropped agape while he stared at her in disbelief "y/n??" as he snaps back into reality, he quickly ran towards his lover and hugged her tightly. "Woah woah! I can't breath Charles" she chuckled. "I can't believe you're here! When did you arrive? How come do I not know? Why didn't you tell me??" Bombarding her with questions. "Mate, calm down" Carlos interjects , which was replied with a glare from his teammate. "Oh you can't believe how much I miss you."

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charles_leclerc Can't believe you're actually here❤️❤️

⤷ yourusername im literally right next to u rn🤨💘

lando not u hiding in the McLaren garage haha!!!

⤷ yourusername CHARLES IS SO BLIND HAHA

⤷ charles_leclerc ??????

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‍‍‍‍‍‍‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎fin.

an : tysm for reading!! I hope you guys liked this!! lmk your thoughts on it as this is my very first time writing. I love to read your comments and dont be shy to ask away in my inbox💌 dont forget to like, comment and reblog ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁!

taglist ⤷ @xf4iryx

[revelboo]

it probably didn't happen, but imagine the shrinking somehow reached the decepticons. I need the humans to react to the tiny cons because they of all the transformers act like they're scary and tough, but need a good hug.

You guys keep me amused 😂 Let’s just go with suspension of disbelief and say somehow Wheeljack also FUBARed the Cons

I have requests for TFA Shockwave, Sunstorm, Rung, TFA Ratchet, Hound, and Cyberverse Soundwave. I’m actually busy at work this week, though, researching and compiling data, so updates may be wonky unless I start typing up the next day’s posts the previous night

Mass Displacement Mayhem Scenarios Pt 3

Megatron

• Staggering and off balance as he’s forced to mass displace without warning and then realizes he went past his limits somehow. That he’s only about knee high on you. The shock of it freezing him in place, so he flinches when you grab him and drag him into you. And it’s wholly undignified the way you’re going on about his “widdle” cannon. Why are you talking like that? He’s wracking his processor trying to figure out how this happened, because he’s stuck and can’t mass shift back. Left tiny and vulnerable, though it’s hard to focus on defense when you’re cupping his face in your warm palms, apparently delighted. Venting because he’s much too old for this, he keeps an optic and his cannon aimed at the door as you pull him into your lap to fuss over him. Secretly enjoying the feel of you hugging him as undignified as it is, but please stop talking to him like he’s a sparkling.

Thundercracker

• Has absolutely no idea what just happened, but before he can even try to figure it out, you attack. Had known you were still unhappy about being stolen, but didn’t expect you to lash out- oh, never mind. You just want to pick him up. Little wings flicking fitfully when you press a kiss to his helm and play with his wings with gentle fingers. All while cooing at him. Knows he should be mortified, but he’s enjoying the attention. Fuss over him all you want.

Starscream

• Flies to perch out of reach the instant you made that awful noise and tried to grab him. Glowering as you try to coax him to you. Why are you crooning at him like that? It’s undignified and he’s more worried about how vulnerable you both are right now. No, he’s not coming down. He is absolutely not cute. Trying his best to ignore you and keep an optic on the door ready to attack, because he’s completely stressed out, wings flared and paranoia out of control.

Constructicons

• Scattered when you ran toward them. They have no idea what happened, but to avoid being caught, they have to transform to speed away and you’re laughing hysterically as you chase after them. Bonecrusher gives up first and transforms back. Unresisting as you grab him and sit, grinning over how cute he is. Eventually they all wander over once they realize you’re not attacking. Patiently letting you fuss over all of them, grumbling but secretly eating up the attention. Scavenger just outright climbing into your lap for a hug.

Soundwave

• Hoisting Soundwave up into your arms to save him from his overly excited cassettes, you’re as giddy as they are. Because somehow Soundwave mass displaced smaller than you’ve ever seen. And because you’re holding him, you’re now also being mobbed by cassettes wanting to hold tiny Soundwave. Feeling guilty about it as you cave to their pleas and sit crosslegged with him in your lap, hearing his tired venting as you and his cassettes fuss over how cute he is. Tipping his head back to stare at you. “Traitor,” he grumbles, that serious voice coming from such a tiny frame shattering your own composure as you hug him laughing.

Shockwave

• Antenna back as he gets carried around like a helpless sparkling. Asks you to put him down and you ignore him, and since he’s unwilling to hurt you to get free, he’s just tolerating it. Please stop kissing him on the head, you’re making his processor chaotic. Cute? Him? Illogical. Venting tiredly at you the whole time, but a part of him almost enjoying the attention and how gentle your hands are. That you’re not intimidated by him at this size.

Previous

[arting-block]

𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐨𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 | vi x f!reader

❝maybe it was a good thing that she was angry at caitlyn. then she wouldn’t feel so bad, thinking about fucking you.❞

summary: you've seen vi around as a kid. always at arms length, observing from afar. now she's back, angry and bitter after her stunt with the kiramman heir. you see each other once more. this time as an opponent in the pit. or rather vi and reader fuck each other's lights out.

pairing: pitfighter!vi x pitfighter!reader

warnings: ARCANE S2 ACT 2 SPOILERS, SMUT, angst (unhappy ending whoops), porn with too much plot, depictions of violence, reader has tattoos and scars, afab!reader, mentions of alcohol consumption, unhealthy coping mechanisms, boxing being used as foreplay, switch!vi, switch!reader, slight brat taming, oral (vi receiving), biting kink, spit kink, knife kink (if you squint), light bondage, finger fucking, vi is obsessed with your tongue, you're obsessed with her fingers

words: 10.2K

a/n: i've crawled out of the trenches and spat out a smutty fic for my glorious muscle queen. there's some plot in there, but it's mostly just filler to bring out the tension teehee. if there's demand, i'll make a part two, maybe more ;). post divider credit: @cafekitsune

Your body felt cold as the nerves settled in. 

The crowd’s uproar can be heard above you, wild cheers and screaming that blends into nonsense. The thumping of shoes on the ceiling above you syncs with your wild heart. The announcer is amplifying their excitement, spewing out the bets in place. Two thousand golden hexes and five hundred silver cogs for you—Arachnid. You instinctively reached for your shoulder, where the design of your tattoo was exposed. The skin along your back rises as the cheers for you overwhelm the arena. Investors from Zaun come together for their favorite fighter. Yours keeps you on a tight leash, pushing you into each fight to get more, more, more.  

You adjust the bandages around your knuckles. You twist your body, stretching the aching muscles until you’re loosened up. Occupying your time before the gates to the tunnels lift. Your heart races, pounding against your ribs. You’ve been a pit fighter for a little over two years. Before that you were tumbling through the undercity engaging in street brawls for food. Fighting wasn’t new to you, yet you were bouncing off the walls with anxiety. 

You were in relatively good shape to fight. A few days of rest and some shimmer got you back on your feet from your last fight. Black Hog was a beast up close but you managed to put up a good show. Normally you wouldn’t be put up against someone of a different weight class, but you were desperate for money. You won the fight with a broken rib and bruised face. Your investor, Parvata, had a gleam in her eyes that soured your victory. 

“Seems as though the spider likes big game,” she drawled, taking a long drag of her cigar. “We’ll see how well you fare against Gord’s fighters. I hear he’s got a prodigy in his ranks. A girl, ex-enforcer, I hear.”

Gord was talking up a storm about his fighters, but you had a feeling the feud between Parvata and him went deeper. Your stunt with Black Hog proved to her that you had skill. A chance for her to settle the score. 

Parvata didn’t know much about Gord’s prodigy. You, on the other hand, had an inkling of who she was. 

You can’t exactly say you were friends with Vi growing up. Your parents knew Benzo and in turn knew Vander as well. Vi and her friends were often away, either in Piltover or across Zaun to gods know where. Interactions with her were rare and short-lived; cordial and surface-level. You exchanged names, glances, laughs, but you weren’t friends. You’ve heard whispers over the years. Vi getting arrested and going to Stillwater. A few years later she is barreling down Zaun with the Kiramman heir. Now the whispers are saying she’s back in Zaun permanently. Fighting in pits for low wages and shit beer. 

You crack your neck, feeling the bones pop and shift. Was she still the spitfire kid you’d see running through the slums? Does she still have her choppy hair brushed to one side? You roll your shoulders back, flexing the muscles, feeling them tighten under your damp skin. 

Will she even remember you?

More cheers erupt as the announcer lists off your opponent’s bets. One thousand golden hexes and eight hundred silver cogs. You have a feeling that more money would be added at the split second before the fight begins. You force yourself to take a few breaths. Focus. Focus. 

You hear the familiar blare of an alarm. A sharp, loud sound that cuts all noise. Your heart spikes—the start of the show. The walls start to vibrate with the noise of the crowd. 

The announcer taps his mic, bringing the attention of the people eagerly awaiting 

Metal gears whirr and the bright lights of the area spill into the tunnel. 

“Spinning webs of tangled limbs is her name!” the announcer says. “Speed and lethality is her game! Give it up for Piltover’s all-around champion—Arachnid!”

You step into the area with all the masked confidence you can muster. The sounds of the crowd are deafening. Hundreds of people crammed into their seats, pushing against one another to get a clear view of you. In their hands they wave black tickets with a red spider in the middle. The air is thick with sweat and alcohol. You pull on your bandage again, tightening the wrappings around your hand. Light patches of blood are dotted along your knuckles. 

“And now for the whirlwind that took this pit by surprise…” The crowd is at the edge of their seats, the noise is bordering on ear-splitting. “The Iron Fist of Zaun!” the announcer yells. 

The gates across from you start to lift and you see a shadow approaching the pit. Your breath catches in your throat. 

Haunting. Everything about Vi is so unlike what you imagined that your brows rise. Dark hair dye is messily applied to her usually vibrant pink hair. Smudges of black were smeared across her face like she applied it with her eyes closed. Your eyes can’t help but drift along her exposed neck, collarbone, and arms. Tattoos and bandages scattered across her skin. 

Vi’s step falters. A wave of shock passes her face before a narrow look settles into her features. 

The wide-eyed, toothy grinned girl was gone. Her dark lips curled down, her nose scrunches slightly as she takes apart the view of you. Wherever bandages don’t cover, you see an array of purple bruises and silvery scars along the canvas of her skin. The harsh lighting of the pit cuts her muscles in such a way that makes her look carved from marble. 

Your breath catches in your throat at her heavy, predatory gaze. Bright blue eyes never leave your face. 

DING!

The starting bell shocks you out of your nerves. In an instant your anxiety evaporates and an odd thrill overtakes you. Instinctively you raise your hands near your face, letting your arms and legs feel loose as you get into a fighting stance. Vi’s expression is unreadable as she leisurely walks the perimeter of the arena. Her eyes dip towards your body. She lingers on the spot near your exposed stomach, a jagged scar that disappears under your pants. 

You take the opportunity to attack. Vi mirrors your raised hands, expecting you to hit her head on. Instead, you duck at the last minute, colliding your shin to her knee. 

— — —

The bag of coins is hefty, more so than you’re used to. 

Your finger digs through the gold and silver; one thousand and fifty golden hexes; four hundred and fifty-five silver cogs. More than enough to cover rent and food for the next three months. 

You don’t bother with a jacket to shield yourself from the heavy downpour, opting to skip the festivities and head straight back home. Your usual thirty minute commute is delayed by the aches in your hip and abdomen. If you weren’t so well versed in getting hit, Vi’s punches would’ve been lethal. 

Gord had every right to brag about his fighter's prowess. Vi was by far the deadliest opponent you’d ever faced. The aim of the game is the knockout, not to kill, but you know the refs aren’t going to get between two skilled fighters with a lust for blood in their eyes. You were all teeth and nails, more animal than human in that pit. It was hard to get into Vi’s blind spots and even harder to accurately land any good punches. You were backed into defense for most of the fight. Vi probably hoped to tire you out before delivering the finishing blow. 

You can tell if someone fights because they enjoy it. There’s a crazed look in their eyes as they try to trap you into continually dodging or blocking their assault. You fight for survival, even if you have some love for the game. Fighting is what kept you alive all these years. It pays the bills, keeps a roof over your head, clothes on your back, food on the table... 

Vi is clearly using fighting as an outlet. You were just unfortunate enough to be her punching bag. 

In a maneuver that damn near pulled a muscle in your back, you used the wall for momentum to jump on top of Vi. Your legs wrapped securely over her hardened biceps and your arms locked her head. Your chest pressed against the hard planes of her traps.  You could feel the heavy thud of Vi’s heart. Choking someone out wasn’t as near of a spectacle as Parvata would’ve liked, but you won the fight without a concussion. 

The rain poured harder as your shaky hands fumble for your keys. The fight ended an hour ago. You let out a string of curses as you try to find the correct key you needed. Cold air stiffens your fingers and your exhaustion is starting to take over. Or so you tell yourself. 

Sweat, blood, and alcohol. That was what the pit smelled like. Thick and hanging on your tongue like smog. 

Your fingers finally latched onto the right key, jamming it into the lock and forcing your way inside. 

Vi was a furnace. Her back radiates warmth as if to scorch you alive. The imprint of her arms still aches between your thighs. Like the pit, she too smelled of sweat, blood, and alcohol. Bernie’s Brew, the cheap shit from the bar above the arena. But there was a sweet musk to her skin. More intoxicating than any liquor. 

The speed at which you rip your clothes off makes your already overused muscles burn more. There’s an inexplicable urge to scrub your skin raw, erasing the phantom smells of Vi off of your skin. You let the cold water fall onto your heated skin. 

You wondered if Vi could feel the burn of your core on her lower back. 

— — —

It takes one week for Parvata to start hounding your ass about returning to work. 

Pit fighting wasn’t all that you did, though it made you the most money. In between brutal takedowns you would run errands around Zaun for her. Debt collecting. In the sweaty arena, at least there was glory to be had when fighting. In the damp houses of the undercity where everyone is barely scraping enough money to even live, it sours your mood for the entire day. There’s no glory to forcing a single father to cough up his last few golden hexes. Which wouldn’t even make a dent in his debt to Parvata. The sight used to make you feel guilty. After a few years of it though, you’ve gotten used to the angry yelling, the sob stories, the begging for one more week to get more money. 

When you find yourself back into the pit, it wasn’t Vi you were up against. 

You ignore the pang of disappointment and let yourself run loose. All the tension and frustration from your day was unleashed. One of your better performances. A right hook slammed into your jaw and a knee found its way into your ribs. But you delivered a well-placed kick to the side of their neck. The lanky man with snake tattoos fell to the ground with a satisfying thud. 

DING DING DING

The ring of the bell announces you as the winner. You hear the chant of your name, the howls of laughter as Rondo is dragged off the floor still unconscious. 

Tonight’s crowd is exceptionally packed. Friday nights usually are. The harsh lights above you make the masses of people blur into a single entity. Various warbles of words blending together. You don’t know why you scanned the crowd. You don’t know why your eyes immediately drifted to your right, pulled by an unknown magnetic force. But it does. 

First you see a burly man with his arms crossed. His face is hard and his physique is like a brick; rectangular and sturdy. He’s looking at you in curiosity. 

Then you see the dark outline of Vi. Your skin burns when you realize she’s already staring at you. It’s hard to tell what she’s thinking. She doesn’t seem to be particularly impressed by you. Her hands are in her pockets as she holds your intense gaze. The man next to her leans over and whispers in her ear. Her eyes never leave yours as she replies. Their conversation is muddled by the cramped people around them. 

For a second, the smell of the pit mingles with the memory of you pressed against her. Her strong back flexing beneath you as she tries to buck you off. The wild look in her eyes when she realizes what you were doing. Your heart beats faster, and not because of the adrenaline. 

You break the spell between you, stomping into the tunnel and weaving towards the exit. 

— — —

It carries on for a few weeks. 

You can never tell if Gord is pushing Vi to fight more or if Vi willingly puts herself through hell every other day. The Iron Fist of Zaun is always in rotation, more so than any other fighter. It’s gotten to the point where people are betting how long Vi could remain undefeated. You’d assume that Parvata would try to push you to fight her again, just to win the bets against her. She doesn’t. With it, no good pay. 

You find yourself settled in the crowds instead of in the pit itself. You don’t join in on the cheers or booing. Guy after guy, match after match. A few missed punches, a nice fist to the face, and the sharp ding of Gord’s bell. Just when you think that there will be no more matches for the night, Vi comes slaughtering in view. 

You hate how you immediately perk up, watching how she goes for a punch that knocks a metal jaw off of someone. A single punch. In less than a minute the fight is over and the crowd goes crazy. Vi’s sweaty back faces you. Her entire upper back is exposed and you now have a clearer view of the beautiful tattoo that adorns her skin. Your tongue darts out to wet your lips. A cruel, taunting voice whispers that you wish to trace the wet muscle along the inked skin. Smelling her, tasting her—

You were unprepared for Vi to turn around and hone in on your spot in the crowd. As if she knew you were there, watching her from the shadows. You can’t help but observe the steady rise and fall of her sweaty chest. A bead of sweat making a tantalizing trail down her cheek and dropping between the swell of her breasts. Your mouth dries, suddenly parched. 

Something hot and wanting stirs inside of you. Vi must’ve seen it on your face because her usual scorned face shifts to a teasing smirk. 

A referee motions her towards the tunnels and Vi’s gaze momentarily leaves you. The spotlight is stripped away from you and you feel like you can finally breathe. Your clothes feel too warm—too tight along your body. Her gaze alone is a fire and you want to feel its burn. 

You part the crowd, trying to find the familiar door that leads down to the gate tunnels. 

A rough hand shoots out from behind, yanking you towards the exit. 

— — —

In a strange twist of events, Parvata ends up finding use for you outside of the ring. J’kepie’s bloodied body is dragged into the stale office and Parvata drips off the badge on his jacket. She drags you by the collar and jabs the pin into your leather jacket. Her insignia; a mountain range with a star above it. Head debt collector. 

“Consider this your promotion,” she growls, blowing smoke into your face. “Do well and you’ll get double the pay. Triple if you don’t ask questions” 

You know better than to fight her on this. So you nod. 

— — —

An entire month passes before you find yourself back in the pit. 

Debt collecting—you soon realized—was a misleading title. A glorified mercenary. If that bastard were still alive you would use your mechanical webbing to string him out on the lamppost by his neck. A client paid good money for J’kepie’s services, only to fail miserably. You weren’t allowed a day of rest,  swept up in Parvata’s circle. Caught in the webs of political alliances, drug wars, and hush money payments. After weeks of slaving away, you had finally stomped out the last of the client’s enemies. 

Your reward? Thirty-thousand golden hexes and a weekend off. 

You were at your wits end. The money you earned paled in comparison to the headache of cleaning up J’Kepie’s mess. You were constantly relying on yourself to do the work of over twenty people. You didn’t know how Parvata made it this long with such incompetent drones. At least she always kept true to her word. With the money you have saved up, you were able to buy a bigger home with a working shower. Food isn’t a scarcity anymore and your clothes were brand new.

You don’t know why your mind constantly drifts to the smelly arena tucked in the slums of Zaun. It’s not like you particularly loved fighting. It’s something to keep you occupied. Zaun was a vicious cycle of violence; of dirty tricks and guerilla warfare. In the pit, the only rules were to use your fist, your brain, and nothing else. Your only chance to take control of that cycle and make something out of it. 

Between the long days with blood caking your face, your mind wanders. Not to the thrill of the fight or the satisfaction, but to the angry phantom with piercing blue eyes and a warmth that rivaled the sun. She appears in your dreams with rough hands, calloused from years of fighting. Her fingers dance along any exposed skin; tracing your tattoos with the heavy weight of her tongue. Your back would arch, chasing her touch that she would so readily give you. Hoping that she catches your skin with her teeth, marking, biting—

Morning slips into night and your worn shoes carry you from your (somewhat) cushy apartment to the graffitied building that vibrates with music. Parvata doesn’t accompany you or even mentions for you to continue fighting. Too many loose ends to burn off. With her gone, no substantial money will be placed in your favor.  

You didn’t want the money. You were angry; itching to let off steam. To gather up your frustration and let it boil over the surface until there’s nothing left of you. 

At least that’s what you’re hoping for. 

“Sorry kid, all available fights are booked up.” 

You force an inhale, keeping your voice as even as you can. “C’mon, you know I’m one of Parvata’s. One fight that’s all I ask.” 

The old lady doesn’t lift her eyes from her book. Her eyes drift from one side to the next at a snail’s pace. “I know who you are, kid. Seems like you’re without your owner too. Doesn’t budge the fact that all fights are booked. Can’t you read?” She jerks a thumb to the sign next to her. 

NO SLOTS AVAILABLE

Below the sign was a list of the available matches. Your heart spikes at the words, “Iron Fist” being scribbled in for the first match. Her opponent is none other than Rondo. 

Gears start to turn in your head. 

With a final huff, the old lady tugs a metal string, pulling a sheet of metal over her kiosk. Your nails dig into your wrapped palm, trying to keep yourself from punching the glass. If your fist doesn’t connect to someone’s face soon, you are going to end up in Stillwater by midnight. Not even Pavarta would come save your sorry ass. 

“Fifteen minutes before it’s showtime!” the speakers blare out. 

People have already started to make their way inside through the front entrance. Red tickets in their hands, waving them around excitedly. A recurring color you’d see as you pass by. The sounds of music and cheering can be heard inside, enticing you in. 

You were going to fight whether that old bitch likes it or not.

— — —

Going through the crowd of people was going to shave down the limited time you had. There were multiple entries into the building reserved for staff and VIP members. Fighters typically use the main entrance or go through one of the VIP doors if they’re accompanied by their sponsor. Parvata was away doing gods know what and you didn’t want to fumble through sweaty bodies. The shortest route would be sneaking into the kitchen. 

The lock to the kitchen easily clicked open after a few twists of your hooked pin. Fridays means more people to feed so most of the staff were preoccupied enough to not care about you sliding between them. You breeze past chefs and waiters as you make your way through. A bit far removed from the main event, but you still have ten minutes before it starts. On the other side of the kitchen was a discreet door with small red trim on the bottom. No one looked your way as you opened it. 

The air is considerably colder here. You let muscle memory carry you through the damp corridors until the familiar waiting room comes into view. The door to the room opens and a tall man with snakes coiling his neck steps out. You quickly press against the wall, out of sight. 

A gruff voice calls out to the man: “Will you be back in time? Ten minutes is gonna go by real quick.”

“Just gon’ take a piss,” Rondo grunts, flicking the end of his cigarette to the floor. The door slams shut and he retreats further down the hallway.  

You use the shadows to your advantage, following him like a ghost.

— — —

Vi downs the last half of her beer. The third one today.

Her fifth fight this week. By anyone's standards, that’s too little time to recover. A restless night between each match and shit beer won’t do her any good, but she can’t find it within herself to care. Loris does at least. That’s good enough for both of them. The burn the beer leaves behind gives her the buzz she needs to carry on. Not enough to get her shit-face (not yet at least), but just enough for her body to feel loosened up.

To ease the pain Cait had left behind. Even if it’s only temporary. In the early days, all she could see was the dark blue hair and sharp face of Cait hiding between people. Her face lingered, festering the hurt in her chest until all she could do was sob into her pillows at night. She stopped, only because something else was distracting her. Keeping her afloat in the sea of her grief. 

Another ghost of her past. A hazy memory from bygone days. Where Powder was still her sister; Claggor and Mylo were still pains in her ass; Vander would pour her favorite juice after a successful trip. Sometimes Vi would come home to see you perched up on the bar. Your legs would swing on the stool as you talked to one of her friends. She would mostly see you with Ekko, letting him rattle off your ear until he couldn’t breathe. Rarely would she interact with you, let alone talk to you. She never would’ve admitted to it then, but she was intimidated by you. A pretty, shy girl with a bright smile is enough to make anyone fumble over their words. You were her first crush, for years she was haunted by you. She realized that far too late when your parents had died. You drifted from them. From Ekko, Powder, and her (even if you didn’t know it). You kept in touch with Benzo for a while before he too died. 

Vi wasn’t close enough to know where you’d gone. 

Her fondness for you lingered. During her years in Stillwater she thought of your animated conversations. Short-lived as they were, Vi replayed those talks in her head. Your laugh would tease her in dreams. Your soft hands tracing the scars along her body with love and care. Your kisses would be as sweet as your laugh. By the time Cait had busted her out of that dingy cell, the dreams fizzled out until you were just another memory in her mind. 

Cait was different. While you were just a daydream, Cait was something real to Vi. It wasn’t just a simple crush between the two of them. Not love either, but something different. A trust in each other. Someone to count on when the world turns against them. When the end of her gun slammed into Vi’s abdomen, it felt worse than any punch to her face. Cait took the trust between them, ripped it with her teeth, and spat it out without a second thought. When Cait left Zaun, a piece of Vi went along with her. 

Pit fighting seemed like the only natural outlet for Vi. Why not take the only thing she’s good at and use it to distract herself? It seemed like a good plan at the time. Loris didn’t say much about it, but he knew that she was stubborn enough to follow through with or without him. It worked well enough. Loud music and cheers drowning out the pounding of her heart and the whispers of Cait’s voice. 

But then you appeared across from her. A ghost turned real and tangible. The shy girl who would scream at the sight of any bug had grown up to be a fighter. Outwitting her strength in a way that stole her breath—literally. You were deadly, even as Vi had you cornered with whip-fast punches. When you jumped on her back, compressing her body between your legs, her head at the mercy of your arms, Vi’s anger evaporated. In a mere five minutes you did what no other substance could: make her forget about her heartbreak completely. 

Maybe it was a good thing that she was angry at Caitlyn. Then she wouldn’t feel so bad, thinking about fucking you. 

— — —

Vi enters the pit in sync with the announcer. 

Per routine she automatically starts to rake through the crowd. A mesh of excited faces with their mouths open, screaming her name until their throat grows hoarse. Vi would see your face at every match, watching like a hawk. Your visits grew shorter and shorter. A month ago you stopped coming. Still, Vi grazed over the seats, hoping to see you lingering in the shadows. 

When her eyes fail to see you, her shoulders sag imperceptibly. 

“Get ready for the Piltover Boxing Leagues’ middleweight fighter—Rondo!”. 

Her brain short-circuits when you walk to the arena. The crowd goes wild at your appearance, shouting your name in hopes you would look their way. Instead you held Vi’s shocked gaze. Something is different about you. A look of hunger flashes in your eyes, a determination that was absent when you first fought. Vi forgets about Caitlyn’s betrayal; the feeling of her lips pressed against hers; her toned, lithe body molding against Vi’s torso. 

Vi forgets it all when you stand in front of her. It was forever ago when she had that childhood crush on you. All pure, sweet, and innocent. Something else blooms in her body. Not love, trust, or the fleeting whispers of her old crush on you. A different feeling. A steady heat that slowly overtakes her body. A curiosity that nips at her mind. The urge to pick you apart, analyzing everything that makes you tick. To back you against the wall with nowhere to run. 

Vi’s attention was solely on you. Only you. There’s a spackle of blood across your face and a fading bruise near your temple. She raises her hands near face and you do the same. A charged energy ignites between you two and with it comes a newfound passion. A desire to win. 

DING

Your muscles snap into place as you bolt forward. Vi meets you halfway, sending a hard punch straight to your face. 

— — —

The lights above you strain your eyes. A dull ringing is present in your ears and you feel your body involuntarily swaying to the bass of the music. Vi is not much better. She’s breathing considerably harder now with a fresh bruise on her chest. There’s a noticeable strain in her hip from where you’ve kicked. For the better part of five minutes the two of you were locked into a series of punches, kicks, and scratches. Vi’s body was more rock than flesh. You jabbed every sharp corner of your body into her, slowing her down enough to send your elbow to the side of her head. Vi retreats, putting distance between you two. One of Vi’s hand wrappings came undone thanks to your teeth, leaving her bruised knuckles exposed. 

You circle each other, trying to catch your breath. Vi is terrible at guarding vital parts of her body, but she makes up for it in explosive punches and a speed that rivals your own. Your body is tense, threatening to lock up from exhaustion. You keep your fighting stance, watching Vi’s every move in case she tries to pull another fast combo on you. 

You’re starting to understand why people have a passion for this—the fight. Not just showing off cool moves or delighting in beating someone up just for the sake of it. Not for survival or just as a way to let out all the pent up energy in your body. 

For the first time in your life, you’ve met an opponent who is skilled. In most circumstances you are engaged with people who utilize strength or weapons with little regard to finesse. You stood out to Parvata for your ability to out maneuver, outwit, and overcome opponents who otherwise have the bigger advantage. The thrill that came from a fight would wear off and slowly that high became less and less potent. Each fight felt the same as the last. 

Fighting became a chore, a job to do in order to get money. Pavarta signs and you show up. Dull. Repetitive. Redundant. 

Vi was your perfect antithesis. A break in a mind-numbing routine. Where you attack, she finds a way to block. When you falter she’s hot on your heels. You know she remembers you. You can feel it in the way her gaze keeps falling down your body and back up to your face. Even as you’re trying to knock her teeth in. She doesn’t let her familiarity with you cloud her judgement and you find yourself appreciating it. You’re glad to know that with each punch, she truly means it. 

A blink is all it took for Vi to come swinging once more. You twist out of the way and ram your fist into her side. Vi grunts out, elbowing you in the back. The sharp angle of her joint sends a wave of pain. You fall to the ground, barely catching yourself with weak arms. Vi doesn’t give you time to recover. Her steel-toe boot kicks your side, hard enough to make all the air leave your lungs at once. Pain shoots everywhere. 

With a huff you bring your leg out, swiping her ankle until she’s on the ground with you. It’s a struggle to try to get on top of her. Her mouth in a snarl as she tries to fight you off. 

Much of her intimidation comes with her being on two feet. On the ground, however, she’s flailing. 

You force yourself past her arms and settle your weight on her chest. Vi tries to punch your abdomen but you redirect her punch. Your nails dig into the wrapping and undo it. When her other hand tries to land a hit, you take the loose end of her wrapping and bind her wrists together; caught in a web of your doing. You slam her bound arms above her head onto the concrete. The sound is so crisp that the ringing in your ears cease. 

Vi is full-on thrashing beneath you. She jerks and writhes, desperately trying to buck you off of her. It doesn’t work, of course. You lean closer, taking in the messy makeup, the silver nose ring, the small scars across her face. She’s surprised, her mouth parts to let out frustrated huffs. Her once soft blue eyes are overtaken by her dilated pupils.

She stops shifting beneath you and it’s then that you realize that you’re fully seated on top of her breasts. Your core is settled on top of her sternum, the wild pulse no doubt could be felt by her. The heat is all consuming. A sickening shock goes down your spine and with it comes the familiar ache of arousal. Vi’s gaze is no longer surprised or panicked. Hunger is written as clear as day in her darkened eyes. 

The referee runs beside you, slamming his hand on the ground. Once. Twice. 

The final slam declares you the victor. 

DING DING DING

— — —

Vi is no stranger to being roughly handled. Seven years in prison didn’t exactly go by smoothly. Hell, these past few weeks were filled with nothing but split knuckles and a mind-numbing headache. You were all coiled muscle and snapping teeth in the ring. Vi was wholeheartedly expecting to be dragged off to an empty room and be devoured by you.

But you continue to give her more surprises. 

“Let's get you cleaned up,” you say, leading her out of the building. A soft invitation that was so unlike your behavior when fighting. It’s the first time in years since she’s heard you speak. Directly at her, no less. Vi’s brows draw into a furrow and your lips tilt to a smile. “It’s a bit of a walk, but I know your place doesn’t have good heating.” 

The adrenaline from the fight starts to dissipate, and so does the innate want in her body. She can think clearly now.

Vi stops in her tracks, glaring. “Stalkin’ me much?”

“I’ve been fighting in that pit longer than you, Vi.” Her heart flutters with the mention of her name. You continue walking, kicking rocks out of your way. “It doesn’t exactly pay you much. I had two jobs and could barely keep the water running. Plus, you don’t seem to wash out that makeup.”

“I do.” She doesn’t. You give her a smirk to let her know that you see through her bullshit. You tug on her naked wrist. Warm and tender, like she’s a piece of glass. She lets you. 

You greatly understated how much walking there was to your place. Vi doesn’t complain in the slightest, especially if it means talking to you for longer. Occasionally you would point out a new restaurant that opened or a brothel that many Piltover elites would favor. You’re easy to talk to, she concludes. Sometime during the walk, your hands joined together. Wound tightly, swaying in tandem with your steps. She doesn’t deny that you’re an entirely different person, but there’s part of the old you that remains. You’re still talkative. A trait that Vi often finds annoying, but with you it falls under the category of endearing. Your smiles light up your face, as small as they are. 

Your apartment is better than Vi had pictured in her head. Spacious with high windows and modest furniture. It’s cozy, intimate. More so than when Vi entered Caitlyn’s home. In Piltover, Vi is painfully aware that she doesn’t belong. Everything bad in her life traces back to the gilded city with gleaming white buildings and blue skies. No matter how much money you seem to make (which Vi guesses is a lot more than you make it out to be), you’re a Zaunite through and through. 

Maybe the three mile hike through the Lanes was worth it, Vi thinks wryly.  

The lock to your door clicks shut and Vi is fully aware that she’s alone with you. 

You lean against the wall, kicking off your shoes. The perpetual twilight of Zaun makes your body glow. You peel off the jacket with that shiny gold badge, revealing your bruised body. Your tank top is tight along your chest, emphasizing your body in a way that makes Vi’s face darken. Her fingers curl inside of the pockets of her jacket, itching to touch you. 

“Something the matter?” you ask. A genuine question seeing as how Vi’s face is pinched, focused on you. The darkness of the room makes her look angry. 

Before you can open your mouth again, Vi crosses the room until she’s all that you see. Her hands, rough and calloused like you imagined, find the hem of your top. Your breath is caught in your throat, your body jolting at the contact. Her thumb gently follows the skin along your hip bone—the jagged scar that caught her attention all those weeks ago. You feel her trace imprint of your scar, her thumb teasing the edge of your pants where it continues. 

“Been wonderin’ how far this goes,” she murmurs. She flickers up at your face, hesitating just a bit. Waiting for your permission. 

Your face is warm and your smile is full of teeth. “Why don’t you fuck me to find out?” you challenge. 

Vi wastes no time in slotting your bodies together. Your response is immediate. Your hands slide up her abs, trailing upwards until they knot in her dark hair. Vi groans into you, and you take the opportunity to slide your tongue into her mouth. The sound she emits makes your spine tingle. Vi’s warmth is all consuming. Her hands are everywhere—your hips, the small of your back, your ass—mapping out your body’s topography with her eyes closed. She’s eager to have you close, to feel you, claim you. 

A bit too eager with the way she’s pressing against your lips so hard that you think they’ll bruise. But with the way she’s groping your ass you don’t even have the will to care. 

The leather jacket around Vi’s shoulders is pushed away by your hands. Using Vi’s hair as a leash, you tug her head back, forcing her to reveal her neck to you. You latch onto the soft patch of skin just below her jaw. Vi keens, gripping onto your hips like a vice. 

Her skin is still tacky with sweat. The salt dissolves with your open mouth kisses. Your teeth gently nip the hollow of her throat until the vessels beneath her skin breath. A mark; ownership. Vi jolts when she feels your tongue, hot and needy, drag along the column of her neck. If it wasn’t for your tight grip onto her, Vi is certain that her knees would’ve given out right then and there. 

You jerk her back, harder this time. Vi releases her hold on you. Her eyes are glazed over, her eyes dilated once again. You hook a finger onto a loop in her pants and drag her deeper into your apartment. Vi stumbles, trying her best to get her shaky legs to move faster. You barely felt her up and already she’s been reduced to a horny mess. 

Vi is far from inexperienced. She had a rotation of girls in her prison block vying for her attention, begging for a quick fuck in a supply closet or in the showers. She’s no stranger to being touched, to have a tongue slide into her mouth, or being groped. She doesn’t understand why it feels different when it comes to you. Why is she buzzing with excitement when the door to your room squeaks open? Why does her heart skip a beat when you shove her onto your bed? Why the fuck does she let out a pathetic whine when you lift up your tank top, revealing your bare chest to her? 

You crawl on top of her to kiss her again. It’s slower, precise, but equally as firm. Vi knows she’s strong enough to tug you closer, but the way your tongue keeps sliding against her own makes her head foggy. When you pull away, an obvious trail of spit connects you two. With a single hand you pop open the button on her jeans. Cold anticipation fills her. 

“Wanna take my time with you,” you say against her swollen lips. There’s a raw edge to your voice that lets Vi know that you’re desperate for her too. 

A glint of metal catches Vi’s eyes as you pull out a small knife from your pants. With the precision of a surgeon, you slice open the bandages that cover her chest. The muscles of her abdomen flex when your knife cuts a touch too close to her skin. The layers of wrappings fall open like a flower in bloom, revealing her bare torso to you. 

You kiss along her neck once more. Your lips carve a path down to the middle of her sternum. Wet, sloppy, occasionally accompanied by the glide of your tongue. Vi’s hips involuntarily jerk upwards, trying to alleviate the ache of her core. 

“You’re such a—ah—fucking tease,” she huffs. 

You hum against the underside of her breast. “So impatient,” you chide with a gentle nip of her skin. “Not unlike your fighting style.” 

All words of protest die in Vi’s throat when you take a nipple into your mouth. You swirl your tongue around the sensitive bud, watching Vi arch into you. You can’t help but grin at her disheveled state. You palm her other breast, twisting the hardening nipple with your fingers. One of Vi’s hands flies to her mouth, trying to silence the higher pitched gasps and moans. 

You pinch her nipple a little harder. “Cover your mouth again and I’ll stop.”

“It’s embarrassing,” she whines. 

You cup her clothed pussy, digging your hand harshly against the crest of her slit. The moan that escapes Vi is music to your ears. “I’m trying to be nice Vi. I want to hear every noise you make.” You punctuate your words with another roll of your hand. “Can you do that for me baby?”

A few more slides of your hand and Vi gives a weak nod of affirmation. Satisfied, you continue your trail down her torso. You’re a drug. You must be. Your lips alone are undoing her, fanning the flames of her desire in a way that no one else could. With every tender bruise, your tongue gently prods it with a cruel grin. Vi keeps her hands fisted in your sheets, trying to please your demands of hearing her. She’s not used to receiving; being at the mercy of someone during sex. It’s as foreign of a concept to her as living her life in Piltover with an ivory tower and silk clothes. She’s not used to being beaten in a game she’s good at, especially not to the same person. Not with fighting and certainly not through sex. But you managed to do it anyway. 

You’re an enigma to her. Opposite to her in such a way that leaves her aching. Oil and water, yet you find a way to compliment her. Separated by time, but equal when together. Her match in a ring, and her match in bed it seems. 

Vi lifts herself on her forearms, watching you with rapt attention when your mouth leaves her body. You move to her feet, undoing the tight laces of her boots and tossing them onto the floor. Once her other shoe hits the ground with a loud thud, you’ve finally reached the faint trail of hair under her belly button with a soft kiss. Your teeth catch the fly of her zipper and pull it down. The sharp sound made her heart pound faster. You tug onto her pants and underwear, Vi lifting her hips to help you slide them off her body. 

Cold air hits her cunt and she sucks in a breath. Your lips part in awe, seeing the proof of her desire leaking out of her entrance. You settle between her legs, placing your hand on the corded muscle of her thighs to keep her spread for you. You watch her opening clench around nothing, practically begging you to put your mouth on it. Apparently, you were staring a second too long. 

“You gonna watch or are you gonna fuck me?” Vi snaps, already fed up with your prolonged teasing. Her cheeks are flushed as her eyes challenge yours. “Don’t tell me you forgot how to eat pussy.”

Vi grins at your displeased face, happy to see your assured confidence crack just a little. 

You give her a sharp glare, but that only seems to stir a spark of rebellion against your cruel tyranny. You certainly can’t have that. 

So you press your thumb against her puffy clit and watch as her jaw goes slack. 

“Could you repeat that?” you ask with mock innocence. You let your thumb gather some of her slick and gently rub her crest. A wordless gasp leaves Vi as you continue your slow ministrations. “Something the matter, Vi? Spider got your tongue?” Your thumb is pressing against her harder, almost to the point of pain. You shake your head with faux sympathy, clicking your tongue. “Poor thing’s been neglected. I barely touched you and you’re already ruining my sheets. Maybe I should leave you here so I can prevent a mess.” 

A strained noise of protest escapes from Vi. Too caught up in pleasure to see past your obvious bluff.  “Don’t you dare…f-fuck! Don’t you dare stop—shit.”  

“You’re not in the position to be making demands,” you state, emphasized with a light pinch of her clit. Vi bucks her hips into your hand, trying to get as much friction out of you. 

“‘M sorry…won’t do it again—ah—promise!” 

As much as you want to prolong her suffering, you’re too selfish to deprive yourself of good pussy just to prove a point. Next time, you think to yourself. If there will be a next time. You push down that thought, focusing on the growing slick accumulating in your palm. Vi whines when your hand leaves, but quickly swallows any scathing words when she feels your tongue drag along her slit. Kitten licks and kisses along her pussy makes Vi more desperate. But it’s not enough to release the pressure in her core. You continue to tease her even as she’s starting to grow frustrated. You would prod her tight entrance with your tongue, only to retreat a few seconds later. You watch with a grin at Vi’s mounting frustrations, wanting to test her patience with you. 

When you latch onto her clit, sucking it gently, Vi damn near sobs in relief. 

You’re a god. That’s the only explanation. Your saliva holds a magical elixir that sends her nerves ablaze and makes her mind go blank. If this was a ploy to get her to join your cult, she’ll be attending mass every day of the damn week just to experience your mouth on her cunt, no questions asked. Your firm hold on her thighs keeps her from crushing your skull between them. In a few minutes she’s already starting to shake. 

When you add a finger to the mix, Vi is making sounds she never thought capable of. It takes a few tries to find the right spot, but when you do, you’re merciless. Your finger and mouth working in sync to bring her to the height of her pleasure. The pressure between Vi’s legs threatens to snap. Her body winding tighter, tighter, tighter—

Vi chants your name like a prayer. Broken wails that plead for your grace; to give her sweet relief to the pain you had also caused her. “Please, please, please! I can’t…fuck, I need to cum! Please—”

Who are you to deny a beautiful woman’s cries? You add in a second finger, never faltering in your brutal assault. Vi’s pussy clamps down on your fingers—the only warning of her impending descent. 

The pressure explodes outwards. Energy ripples through her body in powerful waves until she’s left shivering. Vi’s back arches off the bed as she cries out your name, her eyes rolling to the back of her skull. Her strong legs wrapping around your head, suffocating you with her body and essence. Cum gushes onto your face and fingers as you continue to fuck her through her orgasm. Only when she parts her legs and starts to jerk her hips away do you stop.

Vi is left shaky, her chest struggling to inhale deeply. Still, she hauls you from her legs and pulls you in for a kiss. She lets out a groan at the taste of her sex on your lips. 

You give her one more peck before pulling away slightly. “Forgotten how to eat pussy, huh?”

The look in Vi’s eyes tells you that she doesn’t regret it one bit. “Worth it to have you prove it to me.” 

“You’re a brat, you know that?” you say, exasperated. 

Vi grabs hold of your waist and rolls you on your back. She doesn’t bother teasing you with nips and open mouth kisses along your body. You were right to call her impatient as she fumbles with your belt. There’s a fire behind those blue eyes of hers, a look of ambition and cunning.  

Before you could question her motives, Vi grabs both of your wrists and mounts on top of you. You feel the clink of your belt as Vi wraps them around your wrists, tying them to your metal headboard. In the span of a few seconds, she manages to secure you to your bed, completely at her mercy. Her slick core rubs against your stomach as you helplessly pull against your restraints. 

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” you ask. 

Vi’s hand travels appreciatively down your chest, stopping you giving your breasts a squeeze. “Repaying the favor.” She wears the same look as she does in the ring. Halfway between a glare and a look of curiosity. 

Vi shifts off of you, relieving your body of her weight. Instead she settles between your legs, much like how you did before. 

You tilt your chin out, glaring up at her. “You think that you’re in charge now just because you restrained me?” 

“I do, actually.”

You’d be lying if you said you don’t find it incredibly hot to be at the complete mercy of someone like Vi. Still, you hoped to have your streak of conquering Vi to be undefeated, at least for the night. Vi is too busy tracing her fingers along your body, mentally counting all the scars she could see on your body. You try to not let it show that her seeking fingers have an effect on you, however your traitorous skin erupts in goosebumps wherever her finger travels. Vi takes her time visually appreciating her body. She enjoys the feeling of warm flesh beneath her fingers, the subtle shivers whenever she finds a particularly sore spot. 

“So beautiful,” she whispers, almost to herself. “Been wanting this for so long.”

A shallow chuckle escapes you. “Since you saw me in the pit?”

You whimper softly when she kneads the soft mounds of your breasts.  Her brows furrow and her movements falter for a moment. 

“Before that,” she corrects, in a serious tone that shocks you. 

It takes a moment for the implication of her admission to hit you. You almost laughed at the ridiculous notion. You wanted nothing more than to be friends with Vi as kids. But any advance was met with hesitation. She would constantly avoid any prolonged interaction with you. You tried not to take it to heart; she always had a lot on her plate. You assumed she didn’t think you were cool and you’ve learned to make peace with that. Even if Powder constantly assured you that Vi didn't actually hate you…

Oh.

“I just…I thought that…y'know.” 

“Y’know what?” Vi asks. 

You force a steady inhale. “I thought that you didn’t want to be friends with me. I grew up thinking you secretly hated me.” Suddenly the immediate chemistry between you two in the ring starts to make sense. “Why didn’t you say anything sooner? When I saw you again I thought that you wouldn’t remember—”

Vi shuts up your rambling with a kiss. A dizzying, passionate kiss that steals what little air you have left in your lungs. You wrap your legs around Vi’s hips, bringing her closer. She lets you press your pelvises together, groaning in your mouth when you start to move. Her hips move in sync with yours, grinding against your heated core with fervor. 

Vi breaks the kiss but doesn’t stop the movement of her hips. “I thought about you every night since our first fight.” You let out sharp gasps when her hands return to your chest. “When I saw you in the stands, I wanted to drag you to the bathrooms and fuck you against the sink” Her hands finds your hips and presses you down to her pubic bone, hard enough to make you arch into her with a whine. “Let me have you. Even if it’s just for tonight.”

“Do it,” you say, your voice growing hoarse, “take me. I’ll be yours.”

There’s the unspoken meaning behind that declaration. A line that separates you two, once crossed it can have the power to destroy you from the inside out. You don’t seem to realize the weight of what you’re saying. Vi knows her mind is still conflicted on Caitlyn. She can’t bring herself to commit to hating her, but she can’t deny the toll it’s taken on her mind. Poisoning her. With you, the pain recedes, forgotten and pushed away. A distraction. A damn good one. 

When Vi kisses you again, she remembers all of the reasons why she was so drawn to you. You were more than just a pretty girl that she admired from afar. Her antithesis. Should she accept your invitation, wholeheartedly, you will have the power to be a weapon of her undoing. Vi should be scared of that. Not too long ago she poured her heart and bled for someone who ultimately discarded her. 

But then you moan out Vi’s name—breathy and desperate. A longing to rewrite your shared past between each kiss. A call to action. To finally answer one of Vi’s biggest what if? 

Vi runs past that separation between you two. Just for tonight, she promises weakly. 

In her haste to get your pants off your body, she snaps the button of your jeans and yanks the garment off along with your soaked panties. Her fingers run along your slit, teasing your entrance with the pad of her finger. 

“Please!”

Vi slides her middle finger down to the knuckle, curving ever so slightly. You jerk into her hand and Vi knows she’s found your weakest point. It’s like her fingers were made your pussy. She gives an experimental press of her finger, slowly building up a steady pace. Your tough demeanor chipping away bit by bit with each drag of her finger. 

You’re panting heavily. The squelching sound of your wet cunt fills the space between your bodies. Vi sets a moderate pace, enough to elicit moans, but not enough to satisfy. Vi must’ve seen the look on your face. 

“Let me take care of you, baby.” Her hand moves a touch faster, but you’re so wound up that any difference makes you cry out. “That’s it—that’s my girl.”

 A steady ache builds in your core at the name. You pull needlessly against the tight restraints, hoping that one more tug would be enough to free your hands. You want to touch her, to bring her closer to you bodies and fuck you properly. 

Vi laughs at your struggle. “Too much for you? Should I slow down?”

You shake your head vehemently. “More…give—fuck, give me more Vi. Need you…need more of you!”

The moment you feel her lips on yours, you also feel the addition of another finger deep in your cunt. The effect is immediate. Vi could barely kiss you with how loudly you’re moaning; jaw hung open, head thrown back, and your hips furiously meeting her fingers. She grabs your open jaw and forces you to look at her. Vi’s spit hits the back of your throat. When she sees you swallow—mouth closing and throat squeezing—she lets out a string of curses. 

A third finger makes your eyes roll to the back of your skull. Your thighs seize up and your chest tightens. You’re so, so close. You need something more. Just one more push and you’ll fall off the edge. 

As if Vi could read your mind, her hand leaves your face, pressing below your belly button, right where her fingers meet the spot inside of you that makes you see stars. The pressure from her other hand combined with her feverish fucking was enough make you cum—hard. Your body twists in on itself, trying to ride out the pulses of pure feeling. Blinding pleasure rips through your body like lightning, hitting you fast and leaving behind a burn. Your cum rushes out of you like a dam, coating Vi’s fingers. 

“That’s it baby. You’re taking me so well. My good girl,” Vi coos, slowing down in her assault against your cunt. 

It takes a minute to come down from your euphoria. Your body slowly relaxes as Vi eases her fingers out of you. You can’t help but whine at the loss. 

In an executive act of mercy, Vi tugs at the belt restraint, freeing your sore wrists. 

You feel warm. A hot, pulsating nerve that’s been rubbed raw. Never in your life had sex ever been that good. You don’t even think you’re even capable of making yourself cum that hard. Vi collapses beside you, pulling you to her chest. You breathe in the scent of her; sweat, musk, and faint traces of leather. 

“We’ll shower tomorrow,” she mumbles into the side of your head. Exhausted. 

You feel the lull of sleep start to take you too. You bury your face into her neck, letting yourself trace patterns along the muscles of her back. Her strong arms wrap around your body, caging you with her warmth. Her soft, bruised, scarred skin enveloping you. You lay like this for a while, listening to the slow staccato of her heartbeat. Vi’s breath evens out and soon she’s asleep in your arms. It doesn’t take long for you to fall asleep as well. 

— — —

At some point during the night, Vi twists away from you. You only notice when her voice starts to pull you awake. 

“Didn’t…didn’t mean to,” she whispers. Her face is scrunched up, pained. 

You’re unsure what the protocol is for someone having a bad dream. You want to smooth your thumb over her pinched brows, kissing her frown until her imaginary worries go away. But if Vi wakes up, would she talk about it? You’re paralyzed by the decision, you opt to simply stay on your side of the bed. If it gets too much then you’ll wake her. In the meantime, you’ll try to ignore her sleep talking. You only have the weekend off after all. Soon, Parvata will be knocking on your door, demanding for your services. The thought alone makes you exhausted. 

The bed shifts again and this time Vi’s arms find you. This time, your back is pressed against her chest, her lips ghosting over the top of your shoulder. 

“Sorry…” she murmurs into your skin. A longing spelled with each syllable. “Love…I love you.”

You’re frozen. Her arms around your waist feel like dead weight. A sour feeling is felt in your gut; the feeling that whatever comes out of her mouth will haunt you. 

Vi’s mouth moves again. Sounds pressed against your skin, trying to be let out. Then, you hear it. As clear as Piltover’s skies.

“Caitlyn.”

You felt your heart stop in its tracks. It’s the clearest word that came out of her ramblings. With it comes a shock of clarity that makes the room feel ten degrees colder. Caitlyn…why does that name seem familiar?

Kiramman. Caitlyn Kiramman. Vi’s supposed enforcer buddy before she would up in the pits. Responsible for the removal of one of the chem-barons and their followers. Not much is known about what exactly went wrong to have Vi end up back in Zaun. But one thing was clear. 

Vi was using you. To distract herself from the Kiramman heir. It wasn’t a desire to reconnect with you that led her to follow you. Seems as though sex was a better option than shitty liquor. You feel Vi nuzzle against your skin and you fight the urge to recoil from her touch. It’s not like you’ve staked your claim to her. She wasn’t your girlfriend. You didn’t establish any boundaries or attach any labels to what you were. She never accepted your invitation after all—”I’ll be yours”. 

You slowly maneuver your body until you’re facing Vi. She’s still sound asleep. The hard crease in the middle of her brows is gone, looking  more relaxed than you’ve seen her. You shouldn’t feel jealous. Vi isn’t your partner. And now you have confirmation that she most likely never will be. 

So you cling onto her. Pretending that just for tonight, she’s actually yours.