#really enjoying it but man what a mess so far

[aliceinborderlandsquidgame]

We meet again | In-ho x Fem!Reader | PT1

Summary: It was only one night for fun, you never thought you would see him again. Even less in a place like this one.

PT2

Warnings: S2 Spoilers - Canon violence - Pregnant!Reader - Non canon background for In-ho -

Na-eun -> Coworker - Use of (Y/N) - Angst - Suggestive -

Gif by: @el-cheung

The ocassions where In-ho could leave the island and get himself a drink with normal peopel in a normal bar were slim.

He liked to think of these as vacations of some sort. Even if it was in a lost town in the cost. He still avoided big cities.

The place was nice nothing fancy like he is used to. And that gave him a nostalgic feeling, made him feel like he was not that man, the one making sure the games went on. But another normal man enjoying a drink.

"Can I buy you a drink" A female voice broke his thoughts.

He took a look at his left side and felt his heart flutter, god did you look gorgeous, your hair kind of a mess but in a good way, not too revealing clothes, eyes to die for, that made him think you were piercing his soul, and your smile, it was like the sun.

He gave you a polite smile but refused, knowing it was better for both to not get involved.

Such a coward he was.

"Oh cmon handsome, just one drink and I will let you in peace" You insisted getting a funny look from the barman

"Dont scare my clients off (Y/N)" He called over his shoulder.

In-ho saw you pout at the barman, you were most likely from this town, a local. Someone with a boring life, maybe you worked with lifestock or had a small store. He could picture you having a flower shop.

"Sorry if I bothered you" You finally said feeling his lost of interest and going to take your own drink and get back to your friends who most likely would taunt you for getting rejected.

"Wait" In-ho said making you stop. He knew it was a bad idea but he could not help himself.

"What type of Man would let a girl pay? Let me buy you a drink" He finally said giving you a small smirk. "Im In-ho" He introduced himself when you took the seat besides him again.

"In-ho" You repeated, teasting his name in your tongue. It sent a shiver down his spine that he tried to ignore. "Well, im (Y/N) as you probably hear, pleasure to meet you, visting the town?"

In-ho signal for the barman bring two more drinks while he nodded at you. "You can say that..."

"And? Are you liking it so far?" You asked taking a sip from your drink keeping eye contact.

"The views are...quiet splendid" He responded not taking his eyes off from you.

~○~○~○~○~○~○

One drink made him feel more relaxed, he could talk without having to take his words under much consideration, the next one made his body feel hotter, specially when you would touch his arm or shoulder and laught at something he commented.

Most likely it was not that funny.

And drink after drink, it got you two closer, talking quietly like you two were exchanging deep secrets. Faces red, eyes open looking for something more.

"Do you wanna leave with me In-ho?" You asked in a whisper one hand on his chest.

Oh, he really wanted to. He wanted to end this night with you screaming his name over and over again. Maybe he would fuck you so good you would not even be able to forget about him.

"Aren't you too drunk?" He asked, always the gentlemen.

You just scoffed at him but did smile, feeling warm because of his worry, most men would jump at the offer.

But he was not like most men.

"Im fine, im sure about this. I want to leave this place with you"

In-ho payed for the drinks and left with you that night.

And just as he had planned he got you screaming his name till no end. Till you cried that it was too much but kept pulling him closer.

It was messy, it was long, sweat fell from your tangled bodies. It was as it you two were made for each other.

The next morning In-ho woke up first, he could not help but let out a soft smile, seeing your sleepy face, hair a mess, and the marks from last night.

He was temped for another round...

But his phone buzzed.

He groaned taking it already expecting problems.

"Sir..."

And just like that the dream ended. He had to leave you like that. Not a goodbye or a phone to call. You weren't his first night stand but you were the only one he felt bad leaving behind.

If he had time...he would have loved to take you to a proper date.

~○~○~○~○~○~○~

Part of you had hoped he would stay, at least to have breakfast with you. You had said you made the best in town.

But no, the bed was empy only his marks stood behind and the cum between your legs.

You tried to move on from it. Telling yourself it was good sex at the end. And that he would not even stay at the small town for much time.

Did it hurt ?

Like a knife passing your arm.

And things were going to get much, much worse.

~○~○~○~○~○~○~○

"Hey (Y/N) are you alright in there?" The voice of your worried coworker called from outside the bathroom stall.

You went to respond but feel another gag coming making you unable to.

"Im fine, just morning sickness" You finally said, breathing hard and sweating while getting out from the stall.

"Oh be honest, I have a sister you know? Who was pregnant recently" You coworker insisted getting close and gently giving your shoulder a squish. "You are not alone in this" She smiled gently.

You wanted to believe her, but the reality was not on your side.

Yes, everything is fine, you just have a baby whos father left after one night stand. The man never tried to contact you again or leave a fucking note. And you were so wasted you forgot the after day pill.

Fuck it all.

On top of that, you had to leave the small town after load sharks came looking for your brother who being an amazing brother left a debt, and since your parents were long dead and you were the only family left, the debt fell on you.

Which made you have to move from the small and calm town to Seoul, under the threats of the fuckers on making the town suffer if you did not pay.

Part of you believed they were too lazy to travel between the town and Seoul. But you did not want to put the place at risk so you left.

And now here you were, in a shit job in a hole that dared to call itself "bar", alone, with debt and barely doing any money for you. All went to pay the debt, part for the rent and other part to get the healthiest food you could get for you and your baby.

"Why dont you move in with me?" Your coworker suddendly asked, "We can divide the rent, you would get more money for you and the baby"

"Are you sure? I dont want to be a burden"

"Its fine, I would not offer it to you if I was not sure"

And you found yourself crying, over happines for the first time.

~○~○~○~○~○~○~○~○~

In-ho had to get back to the Island for the next games. Things were moving in their place, getting players and new games. The classic "red light green light" needed to stay since it did clean off most players, the most weak ones in his opinion.

His mind would wonder to you. He had no idea why, after all you two did not know each other on a deep level. And yet he found himself repeating that night. Not only the sex, it was amazing, maybe the best he had in a long time. But also your confidence, how you had approach him first, then respectfully you tried to get away once he gave you a negative response at first.

He had a fair amount of insisting women and it made his skin crawl in disgust, but no. You were not like that.

And your eyes, and smile. In-ho thought he could let lost in these, he could stare at your eyes all day and night, watch you in the dark and just feel happy because he was with you.

Him, a respected and feared man, who had everything when it came to power. He found himself wanting you, by his side. Maybe he could get back to that town and look for you. Date you like a proper Man and maybe, just maybe you would return with him.

He knew he was being selfish, being with him would mean saying goodbye to a normal life. A quiet life you most likely had.

It was a inner battle, the wish to keep tabs on you, so he could properly approach you next time and have the upper hand. Also, there was a need to keep you safe. He was not sure why, he just felt it.

However, things were never that easy.

The phone from his office rang, he picked up with his mask on, his voice muffled by it.

"Sir, player 456 its causing problems outside"

In-ho let out a very long breath trying to collect his thoguhts.

"I will deal with him myself"

And like that, the ideas of going after you were pushed aside, he needed to fulfill his task as The Front Man first.

~○~○~○~○~○~○~○~

You held the picture in your hands while you waited for the next train. Your baby, or well it was suppos to be your baby, you could not make much of the shapes but the Doctor had said it was healthy and that was enough for you.

"Hey little one" You whisper passing one finger over the photo not caring about the rest of the world right now.

But life seemed to like taunting you.

"Excusme Miss" A well dress Salesman talked to you his smile gentle yet kind ot intimidating. "Would you like to play a game with me?"

~○~○~○~○~○~○~

"What happened to you!!" The suprise scream from your coworker and now roomate filled your ears as you entered the small aparment.

"Nothing, dont worry about it" You tried to go pass her but she held you in place.

"Nothing? Your left cheeck its all red! Did someone attack you?"

"No, nothing like that. Please I dont really want to talk about it..."

Honestly you could not understand what had happen. You two played ddakji and you lost. In order to make up for it you got slapped. Lots of times you were about to leave but the Man would say something about money and motion to the photo you had. You were furious but kept playing till you won.

You got a card and a few wones, he said how he felt pity over you and to call the number on the card if you wanted to win more money.

The exchange was strange, bizarre, the only thing telling you it was real was the money you had in your pocket and the card.

"Put some ice on it" Na-eun told you going to get it herself. "Did you get the picture?" She screamed even if she was not that far away

"I did"

"Oh let me see!! I want to see my nephew!"

"Na-eun, i dont know the sex of the baby yet" You responded taking the ice and passing her the picture.

"Its a feeling, I can tell its going to be a boy"

~○~○~○~○~○~○~○~

Life was good for a few more weeks, as good as it could be in your current situation.

But saddly it did not last.

"What..."

"Im sorry (Y/N), my sister called me. She needs me at her home. I cant stay any longer in Seoul" She said between cries knowing you would have no one if she went away.

"Hey, dont cry. Its your sister, I understand" You said trying to reassure her that you would be alright but still...it was a hard pain to take.

"I will pay my part of the rent till next month but after that...she trailed off"

"Dont worry, I will find a way" You smiled at her trying not to worry.

~○~○~○~○~○~○~○

That same night you called the number on the card, knowing your life would just get harder and harder now that you were alone once more.

After saying your name and birth date you were told of a place to be on a specific day and time.

"Stay calm little one, we will be ok" You said caressing your growing belly. "Mom will take care of everything"

~○~○~○~○~○~○~○~

The next thing you knew you woke up in what seemed to be a big room with multiple beds. It was cold, your old clothes were replaced by what resembled a sports suit. The number "344" adorned your chest.

The peopel around you seemed as confused and lost as you were. Fear started to creep inside you, maybe you screw up? Maybe this was human traffic? What would happen to you? And your baby?

You saw another female player who seemed just as lost as you and...wait it could not be.

Was she also pregnant?

Thinking you had nothing to lose you went near her. Not too sure what to say at first.

"Hello, you dont happen to know whats going on?" You asked knowing the answer but looking to make small chat.

She looked back at you then at your lower belly, the confliction in her eyes was clear as day.

"No I dont, how..how long are you due?" She asked nervously but also feeling better that there was someone else in the same situation as her.

You smiled, "A few more months, you?" She responded making your smile bigger. "Looks like we are in the same boat, player 222" You said seeing her number "Want to, stick together till we know whats happening?"

And like that, you made your first friend inside the games.

~○~○~○~○~○~○~○~○

After the long introduction the pink guards gave to all of you, they guided the group around a maze of colorfull stairs, you looked over player 222 making sure she was alright, you had to make small stops yourself. Behind you stood a player, 456 who seemed to notice your state and did not mention a thing, if nothing his face seemed to pale at it.

The guards finally left all of you in a big area, up front was a doll and a white line. Your mind went to think on the words from the guards, this was a kids game, it should be easy right?

"Hey 222, stick with me" You called a bit worried over her and you. If this game included running then it would be a challenge for you and her.

But you could do it, you had to do it.

~○~○~○~○~○~○~○

The splash of blood on your face made you want to vomit, move and run away. But the screams from player 456 stopped you. Reminding you that if the doll dectected movement then you would be shot.

"It cant see on your blind stops" He screamed moving his hand behind his back to show all of you. "Make a line, short ones behind tall ones, we will move together"

You gulped but did as he said getting behind a player with the number 390, who also noticed your state and looked worried.

"Im fine" You assured him stopping when the doll also stopped singing.

~○~○~○~○~○~○~○

Like any other year In-ho stood in his room seeing the first game, a glass of whisky being his only company.

He could not see the faces of all players, too focus in Gi-hun and his attempt to save everybody. However, years of being a detective and watching this game made him have a critical eye, he saw two, two pregnant woman in the game, struggling but not giving up. He felt a tug in his heart, he knew this was to make games more interesting, to have players of all ages and circumstances, but even him, someone who was once part of them could not shake the uncomfortable feeling.

"It cant be" He whispered seeing you move, something from you called him, like he knew you. But that could not be right? You were in that town, safe, living your life.

How wrong he was.

~○~○~○~○~○~○~

Once the game was over the need to vomit returned stronger, you held it back not wanting to bring attention over you.

Both player 456 (who he presented as Seong Gi-hun, and player 390 (who said his name was Jung-Bae) went to you. Asking if you were alright or needed anything, even if Gi-hun knew he could not get you a single thing.

"Im ok, I will survive, Thanks for your directions during the game Seong" You thanked the Man who nodded

"You can call me Gi-hun"

"344!!, 344!!" The screams of 222 filled your ears, you turned to see her and hugged her.

"Oh I was so worried over you, over both of you" You added quietly

"I lost you in the crowd...You are fine?"

You made a face, honestly the situation was far from fine but you needed to be strong.

"I will make it, will you tell me your name now?"

"Its Jun-hee" she responded in a low tone.

"(Y/N)" You pointed at yourself then at your belly "Little one"

~○~○~○~○~○~○~○~

Voting. You could vote to be out and walk with some money. In all honestly it did not cover your debt at all. But you prefer walking out alive, able to raise your baby than getting both dead.

"I will help all of you" The voice of Gi-hun cut off your thoughts, a small circle with him, his friend and Jun-hee was formed "Just help me to stop these games, peopel will keep dying if not"

"Im in" You said to him who nodded back.

The voting was thight, you had to held onto Jun-hee arm to not fall because of how nervous you were. Jung-Bae tried to calm both of you, saying most likely the Xs would win.

But it was a tie, a tie and only one player. Player 001 was going to break off. You did not see his face only his back, he took a moment to decide.

He pressed circle, the games will continue. And when he turned around you felt your soul leave your body.

It was him, In-ho the man who you had one night stand and left you pregnant with no way of contacting him.

The same man who's final vote would force you to continue playing.

~○~○~○~○~○~○~○~○

The dinner was....bad. That was the only word for it. You forced yourself to eat thinking in your baby, Jung-Bae was kind enough to give you his milk, you decided to divide it with Jun-hee who was also gratefull.

When circle players came, asking Gi-hun about next game you wanted to pull their eyes out. They were using him, like a secret card to win. But Gi-hun seemed unbothered, he said what the next game was and even told them that he would share it with everybody.

Some walked away angry, and giving Jun-hee and you some nasty looks, guess no one wanted two pregnant woman around.

"Ignore them" Dae-ho another player who had voted X and kind of formed a small friendship with Jung-Bae said to Jun-hee and You.

"Can we talk?" The voice of player 001 came as a suprise to all of you, but the suprise was bigger when they noticed he was talking directly to you.

~○~○~○~○~○~○~○~

Both of you walked away from the group needing privacy from them.

"What are you doing here?" In-ho asked taking your arms. The last person he would bet being here was you. You looked fine when he last saw you, not like a person who would be in debt. Besides you were from a small town, the organization moved between big cities.

Just...what had happen?

"Hello (Y/N) How are you doing? Or did you also forget my name too?" You responded too angry, confused and stressed.

He pressed his lips in a thin line to calm himself down. No, he could never forget your name. You filled his dreams every night, he did promise to himself he would go back to you once this games were over.

He never expected or wished that you would came to him, to this place.

"You cant be here" It was more like to negate himslef the fact that you were indeed here. "Its too dangerous for you and your baby" The last was said so softly it almost made you feel bad.

Almost.

"Well, thank you for making all of us play another round" You responded going to get away from him but he held you in place.

"I was not the only one who voted to stay"

"No, you were not" you did give him the reason "But your vote was the one that broke the tie. Sorry if I feel inclined to be angry at you.

In-ho gulped, no you were right to be angry, specially since you were not only fighting for your life but the baby in your belly.

"The baby..." He trailed off, the question clear but he found himself scared to say it out loud.

You took a long deep breath, you had imagined finding him and telling him about the baby, you never pictured it would be like this. But luck was never on your side.

"Yes, its yours. I wanted to tell you, but you ran away and left me no way of contacting you" A small pause to get your words together "Listen, I wont ask anything from you, we had a good time and thats it"

No. No he could not ignore it. First, you plagued his nights and days, making him feel like he was young again and having his first crush. Then you appear here, pregnant with his baby no less.

How could he ignore it? When a family with you was one of the many dreams he had. Even if it was like he was going too quick, thinking too fast when you two only shared a night.

"No, listen. Im sorry for leaving like that, I dont expect you to forgive me or understand me" He could not tell you why he had left, why he never contacted you. "But I promise I will take care of both of you. No harm will be done to you or to our baby"

Hearing him say "our baby" made you want to cry but you did not know he was able to protect you, to you he was just another player.

"Dont make promises you cant keep. And dont worry I have managed fine this last months" You said leaving him behind and returning to the group that were not so casually looking at the exchange.

Once you made it back you went directly to your bed, needing to rest just for a bit.

"Who was he?" Jun-hee asked softly

"No one, he is no one"

Jun-hee had a feeling about who he was but decided to be silent out of respect.

~○~○~○~○~○~○~○

In-ho saw you go, his hand moving to fists by his side. He wanted nothing but to have you moved out from the games. Maybe you could stay in his room till all ended. You would be well taken care of, would make sure the most trusted Doctor of the island checked on you and his baby.

A baby, a life. Something he had made on accident but did not mean he did not want it. No, he did. He could see you, him and the baby, the three of you living together, he would teach his kid so much and love you till death.

Was he becoming obsess? Maybe.

Did he care? No.

He would do whateve he could to keep you and his kid safe.

[theyhavetakenovermylife]

Hiii :D would u be willing to make a 2012 leo x fem reader where reader is very dense to leo's obvious crush on her? And everyone else knows it and tries to be his wingman but reader just doesn't get it until he spells it out for her? Ofc if u don't want to you can ignore! I love your work xoxo 💕

We Just Have To Set The Mood (Fluff)

2012!Leonardo x reader

A/N: Finally got around to do this one! I decided to have a little fun and write it from the other’s perspective, just to try something a little different. I had a hard time doing it so Leo actually spelled it out to the reader, so I decided to focus on the wingman aspect of your request. I started to get a little bit of a writer's block towards the end, but I really wanted to get this finished for you💙 Hope you’ll enjoy anyway💙

Warnings: None💙

“Is she blind or something?”, Raph whispered in utter disbelief, watching you and Leo on the couch from his and Donnie’s hiding spot behind a pillar, their eyes following the movements of the two of you as you casually talked. Well, you at least seemed casual. Leo on the other hand looked like a love lost puppy, with practically bright pink hearts for eyes and a dreamy smile smeared over his face, as he listened to you talk. “I mean, look at him. He follows her around like a lost puppy! How has she not noticed?!”

“It’s (Y/N) we’re talking about, Raph”, Donnie reminded his brother. “This is the same girl that literally has been oblivious to Leo’s crush for years now. Have you forgotten the time Leo thought he had asked her out on a date, but then she brought April along, thinking it was a casual get together?”

“Don’t remind me”, Raph mumbled. “He was a sighing mess for two weeks, and he really wanted me to ask about it”.

“Did you ask him about it?”, Donnie questioned, raising a brow muscle.

“Of course not”, Raph said, neither he nor Donnie noticing the orange clad bundle of joy, silently making his way to his brothers from behind. “If I ask about it once, he will expect me to ask about it again another day”.

“What are we talking about?”, Mikey’s voice suddenly sounded behind the two brothers, causing them to do a little jump in surprise. So much for being a ninja, and you can’t even hear your little brother casually walking up behind you.

“Leo and (Y/N)”, Donnie said, sparing Raph from the madness. “They are talking, but (Y/N) is still as oblivious as always”.

“You’re joking”, Mikey said in disbelief, peeking out from his brothers’ hiding spot, to see the scene unfolding on the couch. He could practically hear Leo’s heart beat in his chest as you spoke, his hands fiddling with themselves in an effort to keep himself calm. Damn, he was struck hard.

“How long have they been sitting there?”, Mikey asked.

“An hour or two”, Raph answered. “And nothing has happened, other than Leo looking like an absolute fool”.

“We have to do something”, Mikey said, suddenly sounding like a man on a mission, making Raph’s eyes widen in fear for what his little brother may have had in mind. Donnie on the other hand just seemed sceptical.

“There’s not much we can do”, Donnie said, placing his hands on his hips. “Leo has specifically asked us not to let (Y/N) know, and so far he doesn’t seem like he’s ready to tell her”.

“Nobody has to tell anybody anything”, Mikey smiled, already having an idea in mind. “We just have to set the mood”.

“And how are we supposed to do that?”, Raph asked, crossing his arms, seeming not the least bit convinced by Mikey’s words. “We live in a sewer, for crying out loud”.

With a smile Mikey turned to his brother in red, before wiggling his brow muscles. “Where there’s a will, there’s a way”, was all he said, before slipping out of his brothers’ hiding spot, making his way across the room, heading straight for the kitchen.

Watching in confusion and curiosity, Donnie and Raph’s eyes followed Mikey as he made his way through the living area, past you and Leo. You, only seeming lightly aware of Mikey’s presence in the room, and Leo focused on nothing else but you.

It didn’t take long before Mikey came back from the kitchen, with a pack of chocolate in his hand. With a small skip in his step, Mikey made his way towards the couch, before taking a seat next to Leo on the opposite side of you, causing the older turtle to shoot him an annoyed look. The last thing Leo wanted right now, was for his brothers to ruin what small moments he got to spend alone with you.

“So”, Mikey said, opening the pack of chocolate in his hands. “How are you two doing today?” Out of the corner of his eye, Mikey could see both Raph and Donnie facepalm. But they did not know what Mikey had planned, and therefore Mikey was comfortable in his actions.

“We’re good, Mikey”, you smiled, not noticing the daggers Leo was staring at his youngest brother. “What about you?”

“Oh, I’m good”, Mikey smiled, holding up the chocolate. “Just about to enjoy myself a treat”.

“Mikey”, Leo suddenly said, almost in a warning tone, trying to find a reason to get Mikey away from the main living area, so he could be alone with you again. “Didn’t you have that thing to do in your room?”

“What thing?”, Mikey asked, acting like he had no clue what Leo was talking about. But he knew exactly what Leo was trying to do.

“That thing you talked about earlier today”, Leo said, giving his brother a warning look.

“Oh!”, Mikey suddenly exclaimed, acting like Leo had reminded him of something. “You’re right! That thing!”

Mikey quickly got up from the couch, before springing towards his room, and the pillar Raph and Donnie still stood hiding behind. You and Leo giggled at each other, when you saw that Mikey had left his chocolate behind, however neither of you seemed to notice how the orange clad turtle still had the TV remote in his hand as he left.

“How is that going to set the mood?”, Raph whispered in a harsh voice, wondering if Mikey had lost his mind.

“Have faith in me brotha”, Mikey said, dingling the TV remote in front of his face. “I know what I’m doing”.

Frowning with confusion, Donnie and Raph watched as Mikey made his way over to the light switch, before turning it off. That caused a small startled sound from you, followed by small laughs from both you and Leo, saying something along the lines of it probably just behind his brothers pulling a prank of sorts. Much to both Raph and Donnie’s surprise, Leo suddenly seemed much less nervous, his laugh actually sounding somewhat confident.

With a big smile plastered over his face, Mikey made his way back to the pillar, giving his brothers a wink. “Now watch this”. With the TV remote in hand, Mikey pressed the on button, then sudden light from the TV filled you and Leo’s field of view, causing the two of you to jump in surprise, followed by the two of you laughing once more from your sudden shock.

“Now”, Mikey said, crossing his arms. “We just let the magic play out”.

“What magic?”, Raph asked, still not convinced.

“I think he’s talking about that magic”, Donnie said, pointing to you and Leo who had scooted closer to each other, so you had an easier time sharing the chocolate.

“I don’t believe it”, Raph mumbled, mouth open in disbelief, as you suddenly, for once looked at Leo with a hint of what he had been looking at you with.

“What is playing anyway?”, Donnie asked, honestly impressed with what he saw.

“Just that romantic series everyone is talking about”, Mikey said. “There’s a marathon tonight, so those two will have plenty of time to figure things out”.

“B- but”, Raph stammered, still not truly able to believe what was going on. “How did you know it would work? How did you know that was playing tonight?”

Mikey shrugged his shoulders with a small smile. “I got my secrets”.

“Secrets my shell”, Raph snarred. “How did you know?”

“Guys…”, Donnie said, trying to get his brothers’ attention so they could see how the scene on the couch was evolving.

“I can’t tell you all of my secrets”, Mikey said with a shrug, enjoying how it seemed to annoy Raph.

“You little-”.

“Guys!”, Donnie whispered more harshly, finally gaining the arguing turtles attention. “Look!”, he said, pointing towards you and Leo, who now sat on the couch with your arms loosely draped around each other, and your lips connected in a soft and sweet kiss.

Raph blinked at the sight, before turning to look at Mikey, who stood with a big smile. “I told you we just had to set the mood”. 

[bluebellowl]

Hello Bluebell! I LOVE your art style! It’s mesmerizing! As an autistic person, I enjoy submas thoroughly, and your content brings a smile to my face! So if you don’t mind, here’s a mindless rant about your fnaf au(I’m not even that big of a fnaf fan, your art is just that good)

None of the other animatronics are really allowed to interact with the twins, and they only us the transport when needed to move through the pizzaplex without being spotted. The twins are used to aid with the transport of of items(which is why they are so tall and bulky. Why hire staff to move work items around the place when you can use scrap to build animatronics for cheap that you don’t have to pay) they are beloved by the behind the scenes workers, and especially the engineers/mechanics. The twins are active 24/7, and can receive minor charge through their feet via the floor. When not moving people or work items, they patrol the warehouse area to ensure no intruders. Despite appearances, they love children and carry various candy/merch to give to them. When controlled by the virus, ingo acts as a lure due to his voice box, and he uses his booming voice to stun victims. Emmett is the one who catches the intruders due to his better movement. The victims are often taken to vanny, and in this state they believe they are helping a lost child find their way home. They are unaware they are dooming them to a worse fate. Both twins are semi fixable using parts you find scattered randomly around the plex and hidden details in the repair area. If both are recruited as allies they will defend you against music man and guide you through the subway tunnels to avoid detection. They get really messed up in the music man altercation, and when elesa and company come across them, the damage is too extensive to repair them both separately, so they are temporarily combined into an amalgam of both twins. They maintain their individual personalities and return to help the player in the burntrap fight. They lead the group out of the burning pizza plex. This is only unlocked if both are saved and allied. If only one is allied the other will become hyper aggressive and will become incredibly dangerous; Afton has complete control over them. If neither are rescued they wander the area under the pizza plex in search of their counterpart. They later return as enemies as you make your way down to the cellar in this version. They will ambush the player if they leave Freddy for too long. Their state is greatly deteriorated and they at this point are mindless murder drones. Anyways that’s all for now! Have a marvelous day!

First of all, thank you so much. I'm so happy you enjoy my fnaf submas AU so much >w<

And sorry for taking so long. I tend to gather asks until one day I actually answer them.

I am reading your idea with great interest, oh my~!

It's very different from what I'm imagining them as, but that's not a bad thing at all!

Using them more as working bots, instead of entertainment, is a great idea! I was wondering how they'd get in contact with visiting kids, but maybe they show up whenever stock needs to be refilled, carrying large crates and such, and you know kids! Big heavy machinery that moves stuff around productively??? Like tractors and trucks and trains??? Crazy cool to a lot of kids!! And then maybe there's an appeal of the odd ones out, the only animatronics that aren't in the stage light. Despite their tall statue, just feeling more down to earth, unlike the always locked away Glamrock colleagues.

(The actual upkeep of labor animatronics would probably be FAR more than any human worker driving forklifts, but nonono slave animatronics it is!)

I love how you think in gameplay! Imagine as the player the only media you see of them are children's drawings, fanart, stuff like that, cus since they're only labor bots they don't get official ads.

Both submas being completely out of it when under the virus works so well too! They want to serve and make people happy. They couldn't possibly comprehend that following orders could mean harming them!

I also love the idea of FazEnt not caring enough about them to invest enough money to fix them both. Why would they? Their software is one animatronic already; why not make them so in hardware too?

Enter: Jürgen!

Or it's like a robotic DID situation, one taking the backseat as the other is in control, being able to switch back and forth as needed. Another game mechanic?

If only one is befriended, I could see the other getting aggressive cus he thinks you're stealing his brother! I like to think they're super protective of each other.

[milchig-de]

Pounding him

Pairing: Lighter x reader

Warnings: 18+ etc etc, like a bunch of groping him, you sort of get into heat, reader has a dick and they/them pronouns, also has fox ears and tail bc i felt like it

Summary: You and Lighter have sex.

Notes: okay i feel like its not that good but like i felt emotions while writing so enjoy i guess

loosely inspired by this post

"Ah, really? Are you sure you'll let me fuck you?"

Your tail starts swishing wildly and your ears perk up. Your gaze is focused on him, your eyes open wide and a grim forming on your face. Lighter chuckles at your excitement.

"Sure."

"Then uh, uhm"

You turn around to look at your home; you wanted to just take Lighter on your sofa but it was still a mess from your last bout of tinkering fever, not to mention it'd be a pain to clean up. Pacing around, you consider your options before you remember the most obvious solution.

Turning back to Lighter, you grab his hand and start to pull him towards the bedroom, trying not to rush him.

However you barely even make it into the room, unable to stop yourself from already turning around at the doorframe and smashing your lips into his. It's a messy kiss, lips and tongues sliding against each other, teeth clashing, but it fuels both of your desires.

Your hands sneak up his body, groping wherever they can. You walk backwards, all the while pulling Lighter along until you hit the edge of the bed.

"Take off your clothes."

Lighter swallows thickly at the hunger in your voice. It sends the blood in his body rushing straight to his dick. He moves to discard his clothing, but suddenly, he hesitates. Uncertain, he glances over at you. In his haste, he hadn't noticed that you had already undressed. Considering you had significantly less clothing than him, it's no surprise that you're already naked. He watches as your dick throbs, your stare practically devouring his body.

"Come on, keep going!", you tell him, your tail still wagging. But when your encouragement falls on deaf ears, your tail stops wagging slowly and you lean in closer, putting a hand on his.

For a moment, neither of you say a word. Only the sound of breathing fills the room. Your expression softens and you press a gentle kiss against his temple.

"You don't have to force yourself to continue you know. I'll be fine even if we don't have sex. I'd rather fuck you if you're really into it as well."

"N-no, that's no why I, uhm.."

Lighter trails off. Why didn't he just keep going? He knew he wanted, and still wants, this as much as you, his rock hard dick a clear testament. Yet somehow, at one of the most crucial moments, it's like a wave of uncertainties hit his body. Will they really enjoy what they see? Don't they find him disgusting? Does he even deserve this after all he has done so far? What if-

"Hey. Lighter."

He redirects his gaze towards them. A hand captures his cheek, their thumb gently petting him. Their face sneaks closer to his, meeting his in an incredibly soft kiss. Their other hand comes up to pat his back, rubbing circles into it. Both of you remain like this for just a moment.

Then Lighter pulls back, his expression significantly more relaxed.

"Sorry for... hesitating like this. It's hard sometimes to move on from the past and to look forward."

"Hehe... I know. That's why I remind you."

He glances at your mischievous smile and chuckles. He returns your kiss before taking off his sunglasses, along with the rest of his clothes. Your tail thumps loudly against the edge of your bed as you watch him strip.

As soon as he's done, you pull him into another kiss. Moaning into him, you slip your tongue into the kiss. Occasionally, you come up for air, managing to gasp out some words.

"Let's use... the safe word... Nitro-Fuel... mph~"

He simply nods into the kiss. Having cleared up the most pressing matters, you let yourself fall onto your bed, pulling him along with you.

Like a man starved for days, you slide your hands across his body, grabbing and groping as you please. You squeal in pleasure as you bite his neck, sucking in his skin to leave beautiful red marks on his skin. Your actions make him moan, his hands desperately trying to find purchase on something, helplessly grabbing at the sheets, but it's impossible to escape your hungry grasp. Not that he's really trying.

Finally, you flip the both of you around so Lighter is on his back instead of you. This gives you the perfect opportunity to properly grope his tits. Gliding your hands up to his perfectly proportioned pecs, you cup them, squeezing them slightly. Then you start prodding and poking them, jiggling them, treating them like your personal stressballs.

A bit of drool slips out of your mouth, along with the occasional high pitched noise you let out. Lighter can't help but blush at the sight of you being so utterly entranced by him, moving an arm to cover his reddening face.

His movement snaps you out of your trance. Before he can fully cover his face, you pull his arm away, giving you a full view of his expression. His face is completely flushed with his head turned to the side and his eyes avoiding looking at you. But you wouldn't want him to be distracted while you're trying to fuck him would you? So you grasp his chin and turn his head to you. Your eyes have an almost evil glint in them as you grin at him.

"Keep your eyes on me, sweetheart~"

You make a satisfied noise at his nodding, his expression still as flustered as before.

One of your hands slips down to grope his ass, squeezing and occasionally teasing the rim of his hole, while your other hand reaches up to your nightstand to get out the lube you left there. Interrupting your groping, you slather your fingers with lube. Aligning your fingers with his hole, you glance up at Lighter. At this point, he himself was already more than horny from your groping, heavily panting with his tongue sticking out, his hands gripping the sheets. When you don't push in, he manages to compose himself enough to speak.

"Please... put them in-ah!"

As he was still speaking, you had already started pushing one finger in. He moaned as you pushed it in until you reached your knuckle. You gave him only a moment to adjust before you started pulling out and pushing it in again, his moans timed with you bottoming out.

After a few thrusts, you line up a second finger and slowly push it in as well. Lighter's moans only grow louder as you start scissoring his hole open, stretching him properly so he can take your dick well.

"Hngh... please put your dick in... I, hng, I want more..."

At this point, tears have formed in Lighter's eyes. His face is just as flushed as before, his teeth clenched together to prevent too many noises escaping, but it does nothing to stop his saliva from slipping out.

You squeal at his cute expression, lunging forward to lick his drool of his face and plunge your tongue into his mouth, tracing his teeth with it and muffling his groaning as you take your cock and push it against his hole. Because of your preparations, it slides in fairly easily and you manage to completely bottom out.

His hole is so warm and slick, enveloping your dick like the tightest fleshlight, you can't help but buck into him, ripping a yelp out of him. The feeling of his walls sliding against your dick overwhelms you and some sort of deeply buried instinct whirls up in you. A heat fills your body with it, urging you to plunge into him deeper, tensing your body in anticipation.

He lets out a yelp as you rouhgly pull out. You turn him around so his back is towards you. Pushing your dick back into his hole, the both of you moan in unison. Leaning down, you press yourself against him, tightly wrapping your arms around his torso and immediately start thrusting into him as hard and fast as you can. Your tail presses against his leg, keeping out of the way so you can snap your hips against his again and again.

Lighter can barely catch his breath after you maneuvered yourself and him in this position, each thrust stealing the breath out of his lungs with how hard you're going. He's not even sure what made you so animalistically desperate, but he can't say he isn't enjoying himself, with whimpers and groans escaping him and his eyes rolling back.

You're not faring much better than him, whimpering and panting like a dog, your fangs openly on display. Your eyes almost roll back as well, the grip you have on him barely keeping you grounded.

"Lighter.... hmmmm Lighter please.... Lighter...uhnghf"

You keep moaning his name while pounding him into the bed. Lighter can't help but push his ass into you at this, though he doesn't have much room to move in the first place. His eyes are filled with tears, the pleasure much too stimulating; your utter obsession with him certainly doesn't help with it. He can feel his orgasm building up, making him moan louder and louder.

With every thrust, something builds up in your stomach, only encouraging you to pummel into him even harder and faster. He gasps at this, tears openly streaking down his face. The bedsheets rubbing against his dick only add even more to his overstimulation and he cums violently, squirting his cum into a puddle beneath him. His hole clenches with the waves of his orgasm, beckoning you to cum with him. After one last thrust you can't help but release hot ropes of cum into him, filling him to the brim.

Neither of you say anything after this, only remaining in this position and breathing. Then, very softly, you press a kiss to the side of his head.

"Sorry... I didn't mean to go so hard."

He chuckles breathily.

"It's okay, I enjoyed it."

"Hmmmm, then I'm glad. I'll pull out then."

Releasing him from your grip, you move to pull out as gently as you can. Despite your gentleness, Lighter groans a bit since he's still sensitive from your pounding.

After pulling out, he turns on his side so he can face you. Your arms tremble a bit holding you up, not being used to such intense exercise. Despite his own exhaustion and soreness, concern laces his face at seeing this.

"Do you want me to carry you to the bath to clean up? Or I can get a cloth and some water if it's too much-" A hand on his mouth interrupts him.

A smile as bright as the sun outside graces your face, your eyes crinkling with the love that's deeply woven into your smile. It's a smile that almost takes his breath away, in a completely different way from your previous activities; It reminds him that all of this, you, is something he can only experience now.

"It's okay, Lighter.", you say, ripping him out of his thoughts.

You open your arms towards him, your ear twitching as if to shake off any dirt.

"Cuddle?"

An equally as bright smile appears on his face, though he'd never admit to it, and he shuffles closer to you, accepting your embrace.

"It'll be a mess to clean up tomorrow, you know."

"Hmmm, I know."

His arms sneak around your waist, pulling you closer to him.

"I've still got cum on and in me."

"It's a snack for later."

His chuckles tickle your neck as he buries his face in it. The both of you doze off, cherishing the warmth of the other for these precious moments they get to spend together.

[skylarkspinner]

first attempts at nalbinding. it's.... fine

[moonknightproductions]

never trust how you feel after 9 pm.

[aeragan]

ᴅɪʀᴛʏ ꜰᴀɴᴛᴀꜱɪᴇꜱ ⨟ ʜꜱʀ ᴍᴇɴ

✭ pairing(s): aventurine, dr ratio, boothill, gallagher, sunday, sampo, jing yuan, blade, luocha, jiaoqiu, moze, dan heng, gepard, caelus, welt (seperate) x reader

✩ inspo: Satellite by Smash Mouth (i'm serious)

★ in which: his mind drifts off to when he's thinking about you.

✧ a/n: grinded too hard on this feeling like a degenerate. healthy body healthy mind tho :P

🗒 cw: SMUT, gn reader, window fucking, manhandling, oral, overstimulation, dacryphilia, shibari, frotting, edging, outdoor sex, semi-public sex, blowjobs, vague a/b/o if you squint, biting, clawing, cockwarming, pegging, getting caught, fliming, biting, clawing, predator/prey, slight corruption kink? (virgin reader in welt's), voyuerism, toys, stacking donuts on it, whipped cream, etc etc, blowjobs, not proofread

✎ wc: 4.3k

MINORS DNI, 18+ ONLY

⎯ Aventurine

Rest assured, AVENTURINE has all sorts of dirty thoughts running around in his mind. Some are jokes, he’ll bring up fucking you on the poker tables, but he never really means it. That one is far too outrageous for even him, he doesn’t want to damage his and your reputations. As much of a celebrity he is, there are certain things he likes to keep away from the media, and that includes you. Unfortunately, that doesn’t stop the press from spreading rumors that he does, in fact, have a partner.

However, one of his fantasies isn’t far off from that idea. There’s something so scandalous about having you pressed up against the window, stripped completely, as he fucks into you. What are the odds someone were to look all the way up at his apartment, at that specific window? Will they see you? Will they see him? It sends a thrill down his spine, just to think about it. 

It’s not as if anyone would recognize you from that far up, and the same goes for Aventurine, but it’d be something to fan the flames of the rumors, no? It’s not like his apartment is public knowledge, thank Qilpoth. But being able to show you off like that, at your most vulnerable, in the most intimate way possible… and all his.

⎯ Dr. Ratio

VERITAS does not allow himself to think of such lewd thoughts throughout the day. It is inappropriate for someone of his position, and as much as he loves you, he doesn’t wish to distract himself. When he’s off work however, and especially when he has time with you, he doesn’t mind indulging in your fantasies. Your fantasies are his, he believes, and he’d do all he could to keep you happy, no matter how lewd it is.

However, you’ve noticed one thing he particularly enjoys is throwing you over his shoulder, carrying you to the bedroom, before keeping you on edge all night. It’s an artform that he’s perfected. Every lingering touch, every disapproving stare when you beg for more, as if you’re just so impatient. And yet, he praises you. Every single word goes straight to your core, causing you to whimper and shiver under his touch. And he rewards you with more praise, all while you feel as if your sanity is holding on by a thread.

If he finally has a day off that night? Good luck. His job isn’t exactly easy, you know, and a lot of times he feels particularly stressed… and what could make him feel better? That’s right. Indulgence. He wants you to be a trembling mess, perhaps even a crying mess, to be so reliant on him for your orgasm while he enjoys whatever he can. He buries his head between your thighs most often, feasting like a famished man, yet always pulling back when your moans become too loud.

⎯ Boothill

BOOTHILL doesn’t have many fantasies, not now, anyways. Especially sexual fantasies. He’s got all he wants when it comes to you, to taste you whenever he wishes, play with you how he likes. He likes to focus on your pleasure above his, even if he got his cock installed, sometimes he forgets he has it.

However, one thought has plagued his mind ever since he first saw you bare. He curses himself for always coming back to what he knows is destroyed and gone, and yet, he can’t help but see it so clearly. To make love to you; yes, proper lovemaking, as much as he’s grown fond of the feverish way he devours you, he wants to take his time.

He pictures you riding him under the stars of his home planet, out in the plains. To feel the warmth of your skin against him, how the moon bathes you in its ethereal glow. He wants to enjoy the night of Aeragan-Epharshel, and he can only wish that he was human again. To feel you around him, the way your thighs would press against his sides, your hands on his chest. This thought has been the only one to make him wish he had still been human, still been alive, or had simply met you earlier.

⎯ Gallagher

GALLAGHER is a simple man. Any fantasy he’s had is already fulfilled, he likes to think. Someone to come home to, someone to jack off to (as crude as it is), someone to simply hold. Yet, tonight, he finds himself dreaming of you.

Oh, what a torturous week it’s been. Every shift has been excruciatingly slow, from dealing with petty theft (how is that possible within a dream?) to chatting with regulars in the Dreamjolt Holstery. Both of his workloads have doubled in size, it seems, and he was finally starting to feel the effects of stress, something he swore he never dealt with. Yet, in those stray moments in the storage room, his mind finds its way to you.

To have you naked, spread on the bed, waiting for him, it makes him bite his lip. Sure, when he gets home, he can always ask… but there’s something intimate about you knowing he had a bad day, that he needs to destress. He imagines all the ways he would take you, doggy, prone, have you ride him til you see stars… Perhaps he could text you and get the conversation going, but that would lead him to be distracted at work.

⎯ Sunday

As virtuous as SUNDAY is, he cannot help but let his dirty thoughts get the best of him. For so long he had been neglecting his sexual needs, deeming such impure thoughts a sin and an obstacle to his pursuit for true order. And yet, of course he couldn’t push such thoughts away. As your relationship progressed, his thoughts only became more wild and unrestricted– or at least, as ‘wild’ as a man so vanilla could get.

It’s only natural for a man so tied to order to like the idea of relinquishing control. Not that he’d voice it, of course. He was head of the Oak Family, and was expected to keep up his appearances as such. No one needed to know that in his head, he was submitting to you so easily. He enjoys being underneath you, able to relax while you handle everything else. Even if you were simply riding him, it’s something that feels freeing. He doesn’t have to be in control all the time, especially with you. This is his way of saying he feels safe, even in such an intimate manner.

He finds it hard to tell you, of course. He trusts you, but admitting that he likes something like that? He’s never talked so lewd before. To come up to you, bring up the conversation, and say he wants to try being pegged? He blushes at the mere thought. It’s not that you would say no, he isn’t afraid of rejection. He simply can’t fathom the words coming from his mouth. He doesn’t enjoy feeling pathetic, either… knowing that he’d be putty in your hands as soon as the tip pressed in.

⎯ Argenti

ARGENTI, who submits to your every whim and desire, does his best to not act on his own. Because of his vow, he does his best to curb all indulgences, sinful or not. However, with you, he believes there is room for leeway. He can’t deny you, especially when the mere thought of you stirs up such delicious ideals, especially when you tell him all you’d like to do with him, and to him.

And that's when his mind wanders. When he’s alone, his mind occupied with thoughts of you and only you, he finds it hard not to touch himself. And so, he does, palming himself through his trousers as his breath becomes ragged. You’ll be back soon, he thinks, and it sends a shiver down his spine, making his cock twitch. What would you do if you were to catch him? Praise him? His cock twitches again, precum leaking through his trousers, as he continues to rub himself. Or perhaps you would scold him, how dare he do something so lewd. Without you. He can’t help the moan that falls from his lips.

He wants you to catch him, every single time. He leaves the door unlocked, sometimes leaving it open a crack, keeping his legs spread, angling his body towards the door. He does not mean to, but he tends to flaunt himself. It’s all he feels he can do as he waits, and waits, and waits. He needs you to see him before he makes a mess of himself, so proudly, all for you. You have caught him a few times, and you don’t disappoint when you do. Sometimes you do scold him, punishing him by deciding to finish the job yourself, only to leave him on the cusp, over and over and over, making him plead and beg you for more with such a beautiful face. Glossy eyed, flushed cheeks, raw lips, it’s wonderful to have such a pious knight at your mercy.

⎯Sampo Koski

You can never evade SAMPO, nor can you evade what dirty thoughts linger in his mind. He loves to tell you all he wishes he could do, either over the phone, over video, or in person. and he never ceases to get you hot and bothered. It’s simply the way of such a coy man, always eager to please and be pleased. Your satisfaction is guaranteed.

Of course he isn’t tame. When he’s horny, he has too much energy to spend, and it causes him to get antsy. He can’t focus until he gets off. So why don’t you help him with that, as much as you can? He’d like a little something he can keep with him forever, that’ll keep him going when you’re unavailable. So why not film your own porn with him? He introduces the idea with such fervor, beaming as he asks.

That becomes a habit. After a couple thousand watches, he decides he needs more. You can’t tell if he’s doing this to perfect his filming technique, or if he actually does just want more, or even both. The first one you two filmed wasn’t exactly the best, with his phone set up on the bedside table with the lamp as a stand. The shot wasn’t exactly perfect, but he could still see you riding him, and your moans were as clear as day. The second one is clearer, capturing your entire body as you rode his face, also with pristine audio of your moans. Do you see a pattern? It’s unclear if he likes to listen to it more than he likes to see it, as most of the time he is on the run. It doesn’t stop him from trying to film different positions, though.

⎯ Jing Yuan

Of course JING YUAN has all sorts of fantasies running around his head about you. When he’s just so bored with his duties, how can he not think of you? A little excitement keeps him wide awake in hopes he’ll be able to act on some of them when the day is over. Or, perhaps he could call you in to keep him company? So many options, he thinks, so little time. For now, he’ll have to keep himself occupied.

He’s not necessarily the most perverted man, but some of the things he conjures up makes him feel that way. Such a prestigious figure answering to his base desires, something about that is so lewd to him. From the outside, he seems calm as can be. But inside his mind, he sees you on your knees underneath his desk, his cock in your mouth, cheek pressed against his thigh as he pets through your hair. That’s not the only thought in his mind, however. To have you sit in his lap, or grind against his thigh as you do your best to quiet your moans, pausing when someone dares to enter his space.

One of his favorites, however, is dismissing everyone from the Seat of Divine Foresight, calling you in, having his way with you on the desk. Perhaps it is tame compared to the others, but there’s a certain thrill of it. The Cloud Knights that stand guard, would they know? Or perhaps they would assume it’s official business. Most people know of your relationship with the General, but sometimes a good reminder is needed. He’s not a jealous man at all, but sometimes the way people’s eyes linger on you irks him ever so slightly. To have you laid back on his desk, legs hooked over his shoulders as he sinks as deep as he can into you, not making an effort to hide your pleasure at all.

⎯ Blade

As stubborn as he is, BLADE doesn’t necessarily have fantasies. Unless you can count dying. What do you expect from a man like him? When he wants something done, he gets it done, and that includes sex. If he’s out on a mission where you can’t accompany him, then he does his absolute best to not think about his urges until he can get his hands on you again. Sure, he’s had his fair share of fantasies when he was Yingxing, but as Blade? Does a man like that deserve to have fantasies?

He only starts thinking about it when you ‘criticize’ him for it. When you share your fantasies with him, the most you get back is an ‘mh’ and a contemplative look. Is it wildly unfair that he doesn’t have such lewd fantasies? No. But you kicked up enough of a fuss about it and it made him start thinking. It was a blessing and a curse. Suddenly, he couldn’t stop thinking about your body, how you feel against him, your smell, every single part of you was suddenly put under such an alluring light. Senses within him that had been dormant for so many years suddenly reawaken.

Blade finds himself balling his fists every time he is away from you. He is suddenly more irritable and aloof, even anxious. For about a week every other month, a certain vision can’t leave his mind. You, naked and pressed against him, clinging to him as if he was your only lifeline. He has you seated on his cock, his fingers digging into the skin of your hips to keep you there, as he takes all he can from your lips, swallowing every little moan as if he truly owned them. Something about having you simply seated on his lap, begging for more, doing your best to try and move yourself while he pushes you back down with a grunt, it makes his cock ache. At the same time, he can’t see himself being that patient, he’s always been so eager to ravage you.

⎯ Luocha

LUOCHA is quite forward with his fantasies and you. He sees no reason to keep them to himself, the worst that could happen was that you weren’t into it, right? He doesn’t find himself fantasizing too much, however, his mind normally on his travels and his coffin. When he’s with you, however, his mind is alight with all sorts of scenarios, some as innocent and sweet as candy, and others scandalous and lewd.

One of his favorite things to indulge in is shibari, tie you up in such pretty patterns, and have his way with you. He quite enjoys the control he has over you, for a man so complacent to your whims. His favorite way to tie you up is the butterfly harness, the way it frames your build so perfectly, emphasizing all his favorite parts of you. Not only that, but it’s versatile, giving him the choice to tie your arms back, or leave them be. Sometimes he chooses not to, enjoying the way you feel him up so desperately, doing your best to coax him to let you cum. Other times, he enjoys tying your arms back, simply helpless underneath his touch, like the teasing asshole he was.

With you tied up, something he does quite often is drag you along his cock, laying beneath you almost leisurely while you moan and beg for more. He looks damn near angelic underneath you almost every single time, unbothered, his hair only slightly messed up, and a soft blush dusting his features. You can beg all you want for him to be inside you, and all he’d do is tut and say you were doing just as good like this, why would he need to do more? You hate his cocky demeanor when you're just so close to orgasm, and he’s so adamant on dragging this out.

⎯ Jiaoqiu

Needless to say, JIAOQIU likes to turn up the heat in bed. Sex with him can be as gentle and leisurely as you want, or as rough and fast as you’d like. All you need to do is ask. That sly smile has never done you wrong, aside from perhaps a couple of love bites and claw marks down your back. He has always been fond of such things, finding that it felt as if it was in his nature.

He does his best to leave your skin untouched, especially the areas where people could see. But a curiosity always lingered in him, on those days where he had been yearning for your body the most. When he has no time to pamper you in all the ways he wants, when he can only admire your beauty from afar. His eyes drop from your face to your neck, and wonders just how beautiful that soft skin would be if it brandished his mark. Could he stain such beauty?

Of course he can. And if he were to, he’d expect full well the same treatment. He’d love to mark you up, allow others to know you are his. But he wants the same, as well. He feels insatiable, while your relationship is known, he wants people to know that you are his one and only. And that he is all yours. He strays from such visible places because of your professions, knowing that it isn’t exactly… in the dress code. Such a shame, he thinks. You’d look even more stunning with such a mark.

⎯ Moze

MOZE enjoys cleanliness above all. The less mess, the better. Condom on during sex, with a washcloth ready at any moment, he tends to come prepared. Needless to say, he’s an aftercare king. He has a shower ready after you two come down from the afterglow, and pampers you in his own special way each and every time. He’s not necessarily the most gentle during sex, but that doesn’t mean he’s too rough, either. Just enough to make your legs shake.

And… he’d quite like to bathe you after he’s caught you, as well. What a thrilling thing, chasing after a mark that just so happens to be his partner. Because you know, wherever you go, you can’t hide from him, on any of the Xianzhou Alliance’s ships. Even if he doesn’t know the layout of some, he will find you. It’s a chase that could last all night, for all he cares. The thought of it makes him shiver, and he can only hope you feel the same.

When he’d finally catch you, he’d haul you back to your place and make you wonder what he’d do to you, such a successful hunt should be rewarded, no? It’d be hard to keep calm in his arms, knowing that you’re in for a long night, one where you’ll inevitably end up sore. If you were to indulge, he’d make sure to do something different, every single time. He wouldn’t want this to get stale, after all. He likes the thought of you squirming in his arms, trying to get off somehow, with no idea what he’d bestow upon you that night. With consent, of course.

⎯ Dan Heng

As DAN HENG is a Vidyadhara, there’s not necessarily a lot that gets him off (yet). After all, they reproduced asexually, and for a while, he really had no sexual urges, or anything of the sort. That doesn’t mean you couldn’t set an example, however. He’s grown fond of watching you pleasure yourself in any way, shape, or form.

It started when he caught you masturbating one night, too shy to ask him for help, yet the urge was too strong to simply ignore it. It was stress relief, in a way. Needless to say, it ended up in a long talk about your own needs and his, and yet… he encouraged it. It sent heat straight to his belly and made him feel things he didn’t know he could feel. Just because of the night, his mind tends to wander when he has too much freetime on his hands, or when the express is quiet. It’s excruciating for him…

And so, he starts gifting you all sorts of toys. To experiment with, of course. He likes to watch you use them most of the time, from vibrators, to dildos, sleeves, anything he thinks you’d like. He prefers to watch most of the time, from right behind you, or from the edge of the bed, as if he were any closer, he’d be interrupting something. On the rare occasion you’d invite him to help, he does everything with such hesitance, everything still new to him. It is wonderful to watch his cheeks flush when you moan a little too loud.

⎯ Gepard

If you were to ask GEPARD if he had any fantasies, he'd blush and fluster and stutter over his words, before vehemently denying that he had any, no matter if you two were just dating, or married. It’s hard for the captain of the Silvermane Guards to admit what he’s into, aside from taking care of you.

What he doesn’t tell you is that secretly, he quite enjoys being at your mercy. For everything he’s done for you, he’d like it returned in equal amounts. He wants to be spoiled, in bed, outside of bed, whatever you can do for him. Who knew that the captain you’ve come to know and cherish would just love giving up his control? It is the ultimate trust to him.

There’s nothing he won’t do for you (except tell you his ‘darkest desire’), so go ahead, pamper him! Pull out the strap and watch his cheeks flush, he would find himself unable to deny it. Spoil him the way he spoils you, do all the ‘hard work’, and he’s putty in your hands. He moans low and quiet at first, too embarrassed to hear such a lewd noise come from himself. When he really gets into it, however, you can see his body relax, and he opens his eyes, watching your face as he allows all sorts of moans to spill from his lips.

⎯ Caelus

CAELUS is kind of awkward at sex. He’s not necessarily the best, but he’s not the worst, either. He likes to make things fun, who said fun can’t be sensual? Of course, he has all sorts of silly and stupid ideas floating around his head, and he’s not afraid to share them, either. Half the time you can’t tell if he’s joking or being serious.

Three stupid little sayings have stuck, however. His most favorite one to blurt out? Stack donuts on it! And as time goes on, he becomes more serious every single time he says it. To the point where he’s begging you to. It’ll be funny, he assures you, and hey, you’ll get a good treat out of it! So, are you surprised when you walk into his room and he’s sitting there, with a box of donuts, after he had talked about it all day? No. You shouldn’t be, anyways.

It’s more like game night than anything, really. You’re astonished at how he’s actually able to stay hard with all your snickering and giggling. He seems to be proud that he’s convinced you, and you’re really only at two donuts. And when you can’t stack anymore, he’s whipped out a can of whipped cream. For what, you ask? All he does is point at his tip, and you get the idea. What had been a joke (you thought), turned into perhaps the best head he had ever gotten.

⎯ Welt

Gentle and experienced, WELT doesn’t let his mind stray too far when he thinks about you. He sees it as intrusive, as much as he loves you. He does his best to be careful, to be as gentle as he can with you. Especially with the knowledge that you were a virgin. You two had talked in depth about what would happen if you were to have sex, and he had assured you he’d take good care of you.

After all, who else would be better? He does his best not to think about it, as you do, because you yourself had been feeling some type of way recently, and suddenly talking to him about it after you just had a conversation like that was nerve wracking. What would you do? What would he do? You tell yourself there really is no need to be shy, that you can just… ask. That’s all it would take.

He takes pride in it, of course. He allows himself that much. When you find yourself underneath him with his cock fully seated inside of you. The way he shudders and moans is almost pitiful, perhaps he is sensitive because he never quite imagined you’d be this warm and tight, and it has him near whimpering. Was he this old already? Or perhaps he has been out of practice. He does his best not to dwell on it, and when you're ready, every thrust has him whining. He grips at the sheets so hard, his knuckles turn white. It’s magnificent, really. To have a man with so many accomplishments under his belt moan so loud because he gets to take your virginity.

© sentoooo, 2024 | masterlist | kofi | discord server | star header by roseschoices | sfw blog DO NOT REPOST AS YOUR OWN, REPOST ON ANY OTHER PLATFORM, OR USE FOR AI/AI CHATBOTS.

[xazse]

I don’t know if you’re into it but liiikkkeee cow!hybrid reader x bull!hybrid jjk men or just any one of them! she’s a heifer ready for milking and breeding and the bulls have been reaaaally itching to get their hands on the only cow in the farm. like what if she tried going through the gaps in the fences chasing a butterfly or something and got stuck, left vulnerable to the bulls…. HQHSJWJNE I’m so mentally unwell I NEED FARM SEX

INTRESTED?

Synopsis: Being ignored isn’t something you like so why not disobey your owner altogether?

Notes: Oh wow this… this is true peak I love this. I took a different route with this! I still hope you enjoy it. If you still want me to do a version exactly like yours send me an inbox! No harm done

Pairings: BullHybrid!Toji x BullHybrid!Suguru x CowHybrid!Reader

Warnings: Hybrids + smut + bigboobed!Reader + milking + lactation + fem!reader + shy!VirginReader + implied chubby!reader + squirting + blowjobs + lots of typos sorry! + surprise at the end<34

PT2: HERE

I can imagine farmer!Gojo allowing you free roam of the farm as long as you stay away from the bulls that’s the only thing he takes seriously. He expects such a ditzy thing like you to listen and obey this one simple rule.

Farmer!Gojo has been extremely busy tending to the other animals on the farm that he completely neglects to milk you, even when you come to him whining that your boobs hurt he really can’t offer the time, even if you emphasize how heavy they feel, that you can’t milk them yourself.

In retaliation or at least to get some of the attention off the other animals you start wandering near where the bull!hybrids reside. You can see them but they can’t see you and damn are they big, they look ruff with messy faces that look like Gojo has been putting them to work.

BullHybrid!Toji is the first to spot you peering at them, he alerts BullHybrid!Suguru to check out the little cow seemingly lost.

Toji clicks his tongue to get your attention, you perk up, oh he’s got you now. He quietly ushers you to come closer. Suguru watches on as you do start taking little steps towards them, you look on alert: so Satoru has been spreading lies about them. That just won’t do, you need to come closer so they can clear their name!

You’re only a few big steps away from them, you won’t get any closer than this.

Suguru takes a minute to admire you, he hated Satoru for constantly keeping you locked up in your area, only he himself was allowed to see you. Even when he and Toji practically begged to meet you all answers were instantly met with a no. So getting to see you up close makes him excited.

Toji thinks you’re cute but far too innocent looking, you need to ruined and rebuilt what better man to do that than himself.

“Tits are a little full don’t you think?” Tojis the one who bluntly says that out loud. Suguru hadn’t looked but when he does they really do look full and heavy, it looks almost painful: poor poor thing.

“Want some help with em? I know you do.”

“Cmere, Satoru clearly hasn’t been doing his job too busy messing with the other female hybrids”

You feel a twinge of jealously at that statement but wanting to get back at Satoru outweighs that by a ton, so you step closer and take Suguru’s open hand whilst Toji puts his hand on the small of your back and lead you to their cabin.

You’re not sure who slips off your tank-top all you can feel and think about is big hands running all over your body, much larger and thicker than Satoru’s delicate hands. You do know that Toji is prying your thighs apart and filting himself in between them, those little shorts that leave too much of your pudgy ass and thighs leaking out immediately come off. Suguru takes your hand and has you feel up his cock, you’re damn near frightened at the size of the bull. His eyes look so lusty as they bore into yours, he knows he won’t get to have your cunt today so he’ll settle for your mouth.

Toji takes off your too tight shorts that show off the pudge of your ass and the thickness of your thighs, he takes the panties off as well, a moment of solace passes through as he stares at your glistening cunt, he’s waited far too long for this, too many attempts with Satoru at getting the chance to meet you and way too many no’s.

Toji is the reason you aren’t allowed near them, the day you got here he couldn’t stop staring, the next week he couldn’t stop staring it got to a point where ever cautious Satoru started only allowing you to roam the front, never the back. He prods at your sticky cunt with his tip, nudging your clit that elicits a soft moan out of you.

Everytime he touches your hole it’s already trying to suck him in, you’re a greedy one he can already tell. And he isn’t one to not let you have it, he can acknowledge that you won’t be able to fully take him without hours of prep so he’ll only give you a little past the tip. When he begins pushing inside he already feels how hot and warm you are.

You gasp when you feel him, your needy little body trying to explore that bit of pleasure from the stretch. He spreads your legs further holding them down on either side of you. Suguru taps the tip of his cock on your pretty lips, signaling for you to open them, you obediently listen and begin sucking the pre off.

“Fuck.. just like that..” he groans, his pretty black hair cascades around his body so beautifully, why was Satoru keeping such men away from you?

Suguru grabs a your boob and squeezes it rather hardly, a spurt of milk leaks out enticing him to do it again, a sigh of relief can be heard slipping calmly from you.

In a whiny tone you urge Suguru to keep doing that, it feels really good.

Toji is using all his restraint not to filt himself to be balls deep in your pussy, the creamy feeling of him only being able to push in a certain amount and pull away is driving him crazy, but he isn’t going to stop in fear that this will be over too soon, no they’re going to savor this and savor you.

Toji leans down and takes the other boob not occupied in his mouth, sliding the honeyed taste all over his tastebuds.

“Ah-mnnhh..” you push his head deeper, coaxing him to drink you till your dry. The other bull is making sure you’re paying extra attention to his sensitive slit, making sure you’re lapping up every drop that comes out.

Toji leaning down has his chest sometimes bumping against your little sloppy clit, it pushes you over, a loud yelp rippling through the air as you squirt just a little, that clearly won’t do! They’re sure they can pull even more from you, it seems you’ll be here for a while :(.

BOUNS:

When you come back to the main house with a shirt that isn’t yours, smelling like sweat and sex Satoru is fucking livid. He gave you simple orders to not mess with those bulls and you choose to disobey? He’s also baffled that his sweet girl would do something like that, he thought you were better than that.

“Toru, I had been asking you for over a week to help me!”

Attitude? Raising your voice at him? Who the hell are you and what have you done with his girl?

You move past Satoru and go to your shared bedroom, his breath hitches in his throat when you come out dragging the cover and a pillow and head towards the spare room.

“I-“ he attempts to get a word out before the door is slammed right in his face.

[elizzsush]

Merfolk Courting Rituals | TWST

Octavinelle Dorm X Reader

Azul X Reader, Jade X Reader, Floyd X Reader,

---- Merfolk typically have instinctual ways they begin 'courting' or a relationship, in the deep sea you need to be sure of your partner after all. (Non-Human courting rituals part 2/3)

Savanaclaw Ver. | Diasomnia Ver.

Floyd:

It was spring when it happened. Almost summer. The days we’re warming up and everyone was suffering a bit for it.

Usually, you would be able to go about your business alone, or perhaps with the company of Grim if he felt like it. Today however, a certain eel was towering over your shoulder. “Shrimpy~” he’d giggle, a shiver was sent down your spin at his voice.

You slowly turned around. “A-ah? Hey Floyd…” you smiled warily. You usually, like most people in school, avoided the eel like the plague. He flashed his sharp teeth at you and extended his hand, the other one in his pocket in a more relaxed manner then your posture.

“A tooth…?” You squinted at the item, it was pointy: like his own teeth.

Realistically, you didn’t really wanna hold this. Not that you’d tell him that. You glanced up at him again and saw those same teeth, not a single one out of place. “Do ya like it?~”

He leaned closer to your face, his eyes widened ever so slightly in a more intimidating manner. Clearly his lack of personal space had never changed. “Um… yes! I do…?!” You were quick to awnser back.

Pleased with himself, he giggled loudly and walked away.

What was that about?

After that he’d keep approaching you with odd gifts… at one point he presented you with the largest pearl you’ve ever laid your eyes on and then the next day he gifted you with a handful of beautiful scales.

You dreaded to think about the poor mer behind that gift…

Either way, this was suspicious, right? When Floyd leech approached you, you either run away or get squeezed, why were you getting gifts? It also didn’t help your relationship with the Housewarden of Heartslabyul, who now avoids you like the plague.

Seriously, when you walk into a room Riddle happened to be in, he jumps up and leaves immediate- sometimes even running away like you were his tormentor instead of Floyd!

You’d also noticed that Floyd would yawn more around you… You didn’t think you were boring either because he wouldn’t be around you if you were boring to begin with! “Are you getting enough sleep?”

“Eh? Shrimpy doesn’t like me?” Floyd pouted, You noticed him glance at your mouth breifly. “Shrimpy~ that’s rude.” He’d whine louder, a darker look in his eyes than usual. You had no clue if you had offended him or not that time…

Another time was this happened. It actually happened far more often than you would think or enjoy.

“Shrimpy~” he’d say repeatedly to annoy you while you walked around school. Like when a sibling kept poking at you and claiming they weren’t touching you, but he had his hands behind his head as he followed behind you a bored expression on his face. He had been hanging around you more.

Sadly that meant your friends were less likely to approach you. And if they did it was because they neglected to see the towering eel boy.

“My, My, Floyd had taken quite a liking to you.” Jade stated offhandedly one day. You were at the Mostro Lounge (Azul was tired of Floyd skipping work and offered you free meals to hang out so Floyd would get back to work.)

You glanced at the Eel with a confused look. “What do you mean?” He simply looked down at the small necklace you had made with Floyd’s… gifts of a tooth and scales. I’m your defense they made very nice jewelry. Was it a bit messed up to be wearing some students scale and possibly their tooth? Perhaps… but you were poor and wanted something nice to wear.

With the same odd mysterious smile, Jade was off to serve the next costumer.

So you took it upon yourself to figure out what that meant!

First you went asking around Octavinelle. This was a bad idea because most students avoid you like you were Floyd.

Thankfully you managed to corner one, A trembling student you was glancing behind and around you the whole while you talked to him. "So?" You finally asked, a hand on your hip.

"Uh... What? C-could you repeat the question...?" He finally looked to you.

"Whats up with Floyd!" You finally snapped a bit, with a groan and a small eyeroll you glared at the smallfry.

"A-aren't you his...?"

"What on earth does that mean..." You groaned in annoyance too yourself. You were still, very, extremely lost.

Jade:

Whatever do you mean? You started courting him first if he wasn’t mistaken.

It was a Monday afternoon during autumn you believed, when he was serving you in the Mostro Lounge while you were studying. (They had a exclusive deal that lasted only that day) It was pretty late and so, you, like a very normal human, yawned. “My, If I’m not mistaken this is hardly that time of year.” He replied slyly as he gave you your half off drink.

You just glanced at him in confusion as he bowed and excused himself, ever the polite waiter.

That was… odd.

What was stranger was, now Jade has this habit of gifting you things he found on his hikes. It started with a flower to then a mushroom and for some reason he had gifted you a rock? He said he found it “fascinating” So he gifted it to you.

You didn’t really know either…

This whole issue began to intimidate you. I mean, Jade leech, gifting you things? There had to be some kind of motive behind it! There is always a motive behind the Octa-trios advances.

So, not wanting to owe him anything, you began gifting him things in return. “I found this at the store and thought you might like it.” You’d smile warily and a bit nervously as you extended a hand, in it a Dorsel Fin candy.

He’d smile and accept your gift, you’d breath a sigh of relief and go about your day as usual. At least now you didn’t owe him anything!

Now it became a habit, or a fun little game! Whenever Jade would gift you something, you’d look for something of equal value or better! Something he’d like. You’d attempt to one up him, but it was as if he knew about your game somehow and wasn’t letting you win.

Eventually it started to become something else, he was just... always there now? You'd turn around and almost scream! Because: was he there the whole time?

The worst part? He helped you so much more than half the time you turned around, and he wasn't there, you wished he was. He was making your life harder by not being there!

Here is the thing, you can't just get someone use to having a nice, helpful helping hand who is also attractive and then just take that away! Its inhumane.

You gifted him a terrarium you made yourself.

You didn't know why you did it. Maybe you liked his company and wanted to show your appreciation, maybe it was just because you were fond of him.

It was pretty out of the blue as well. You had been working on it for a week now, it wasn't anything remotely at Jade's own level but it was nice. (It better have been because that hike to gather everything almost killed you.)

Was it worth it? Yes. Seeing his eyes widen slightly before he regained his composure was absolutely worth it. He almost had to cough into his hand in Suprise.

Jade wasn't the most expressive, but you had a few ideas of what his Suprise would be look like. "Do you like it?"

"I do perfect. Thank you."

Note: Jade will never confess. It'll be one of those relationships where you don't know how it started but now your married so... Have fun!

Azul:

He was hopeless. Everybody knew this simple fact, except of course: you.

He was a businessman, not a... romance man!

From the way he'd tug at his tie like it was choking him when you were around, to how flushed he'd get when you even glanced in his direction. This guy was absolutely hopeless.

He actually turned... A very bright red was he turning purple as well? and immediately fixes his posture when you're in the room.

Thankfully, it takes two to tango and you were interested in him as well.

So, yeah, it was up to you to pursue the shady businessman who isn't very shady around you and instead acts like, in his own words, "an idiot."

So, no... he doesn't exactly court you. You court him.

You bring him cool things you find, blabber on about what you like and what you think he would like. He was... very confused and flustered, but happy you were there.

It was only after you took an active role in the relationship that he relaxed slightly and began to play along. Giving gifts back and ranting about the business and some poor unfortunate soul he scammed helped.

As everything began to relax in your guy's relationship. It got too comfortable, well, comfortable wasn't the right word. He was comfortable, you were suffering.

Why wasn't he making a move?! Didn't he like you?

Meanwhile, he was feeling pretty good. Jade and Floyd had gotten to a place where they don't tease him as much about not being able to make a move with you. (He didn't you made all the moves.) And his crush was showering him with attention!

You'd glance at him nervously while you sat at Mostro Lounge. He was counting his contracts. His new ones he had started to reaccumulate.

You physically couldn't hold it back anymore. It had been a week. A whole week of nothing new happening between the two of you. The words fell from your lips fast, like rushing water you tried to hold back but couldn't. It would have always slipped through the cracks in your fingers anyway... So you asked him, the burning question. "I like you. Do you like me...?" You finally blurted out.

"What?" He froze up. His head whipping in your direction he didn't know what to do or say and- he was ruining this wasn't he?

Azul had always been an anxious boy, it helped him- Because despite those anxieties he'd show them. he'd overcome them! He always had. But what do you do exactly when the person your heart has been beating oddly for asked that?

"I- um..." was all you needed before you stood up and left. Trying to fight back the small burn that began in your eyes before you cried. "Wait!" He called out but you had been out the door far too soon to even remotely hear him.

It was... a whole thing. He hated it, you hated it, and despite him refusing to admit it, you both cried over it. You always did love the classic miscommunication trope. But it happened. And frankly, you' prefer it this way in the long run. Because when everything was cleared up...

You got to kiss the octopus boy!

A smile on your face when you pulled away, he stared at you slightly shocked but very happy.

In a side note, after you kissed him, he wondered around aimlessly for a good while before he broke out of whatever spell you put him under. (You're still the magicless perfect of ramshackle...)

___________

Note: Floyd is my favorite. I hope you could tell lol Do I adore Azul? Yes! Was he the last one I wrote so it was kind of rushed and not very long? Also yes... I tried to make it a bit special-er?

[poisonf0rest]

Overc*mming Writer's Block 3

𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐈, 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐈𝐈, 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐈𝐈𝐈, 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐈𝐕

♱⋅── zayne x reader

♱⋅── about: Between being in the midst of your medical residency and being an up-and-coming author, it’s safe to say your personal life has been placed on stand-still. That is, until your editor decided that your next novel needed explicit smut scenes. That is, until your mentor and boss ends up striking a deal for you to help with “inspiration” for said novel. That is, until you fuck Zayne four times and your life changes forever. Partially inspired by manga of the same name by Nae Awaji

♱⋅── word count: 10.8k holy

♱⋅── warnings: mdni, smut, bondage, oral, pussydrunk zayne, PRAISE kink, breeding kink, actual sex this time, no more blue balling, nightly rendezvous card

art credit to @/chimmyming on X

“So, you and Dr. Zayne?”

You damn near choke on your salad. Coughing, you place your fork down before turning to glare at Anvi. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

She smiles, as if that was confirmation enough. “I’ve heard a thing or two from hospital gossips—“

“Vi, you are the hospital gossip.”

“—that the cold, yet steaming hot doctor was finally seen accepting the company of someone else. Not to mention at the gala last weekend he was by your side all night long. Or so I was told.” 

Anvi leans in, smiling wide enough to burst her pretty face as you scowl down at your lunch, unable to meet her eyes. Fighting to keep your voice even, you nudge her off, stabbing a carrot. “You’re ridiculous. I’m not involved with Dr. Zayne, he’s too—“ Attentive? Intelligent? God don’t think of him eating you out right now. “He’s not my type.”

You feel your ears burn, but by the grace of some god Anvi doesn’t seem to notice. Pouting she sighs and sinks back into the cafeteria booth. “Aww man, I was really rooting for you, too.”

“Rooting for a nonexistent relationship?” 

Anvi’s about to say something, big doe eyes almost frantically darting between yours before she huffs and shakes her head, something akin to pity tightening her smile.

You raise a brow but she only shrugs, going back to picking at her lunch. “Just as well, a relationship between a resident and her boss would be quite the juicy scandal. Something straight out of a romcom, no?” 

Laughter rips from your chest, the sheer irony of both her words and your reality too much to bear. Anvi’s windshield wiper giggles join your own, and soon the two of you are wheezing under your breath as you get side-eyed by the other surgeons trying to enjoy their lunch. 

Really, whoever your author was had a fucked up sense of humor. 

But the moment is ruined by the buzz of your pager, and you barely say bye to Anvi before you’re rushed to the operating bay. 

As of today, you have two days to finish your manuscript. 

Today's shift was exhausting, but you’ve learned early into your career that writing is a discipline, and as fickle of a muse as inspiration is, a writer cannot simply wait for her to grace you with her presence. Whether you feel like it or not, this book has to get done. 

Besides, what better mindset was there to churn out unhinged shenanigans than when you’re delirious and half-asleep, tucked away in the on-call room? 

Okay, so perhaps not the best place to be, but logically if your shift finished only minutes ago and you had to page in at five AM yet again, you’re better off just staying here rather than driving back to your apartment and all the way back to the hospital again.

Opening your personal laptop, you tab onto your novel's draft, the flashing cursor taunting you as your editor’s comments blur into an overwhelming mess of red. While you’ve worked your way through just about half of her six-thousand comments, that still leaves far too many, especially on your novel’s villain slash love interest as the trope always goes. 

You’re halfway through cutting cringey dialogue on a specific scene, but your thoughts keep drifting. Your conversation with Anvi keeps playing in your mind— romcom, dating, scandal, boss. You suppress the heat rising in your chest, trying to ignore the reality you really don't want to face. 

Zayne is… too much. Too intelligent, too caring, too perfect at catching you off guard.

Shaking your head, you try re-focusing, but between sleep deprivation and the realization that you haven’t actually done anything physical with Zayne for nearly a week, you get far too distracted. 

It’s not that you haven’t seen him since the gala. Far from it, really. Nearly every night if your shifts happen to end around the same time, he offers to drive you home. And when your shifts don’t align, you always make the effort to cook something together, breakfast or dinner, at ungodly hours of the morning or evening. And if neither of those happened, you would watch a movie, at least for a few minutes till one or both of you fell asleep on your ratty couch. 

God, you’re a fool. You can’t help but want him by your side even now, loving the way he reacts to your inappropriate comments, loving the way he scoffs at your jokes, loving the way he notices even the most minute things about you. And yet there’s a distance you can’t explain, a growing space you’re both too afraid to fill.

You close your laptop with a soft sigh, rubbing your eyes as you lay back on the small cot, trying to block out the nagging ache in your chest.

Your phone buzzes from under the cot, and you glance at it absently. You nearly jump at Zayne’s icon flashing on your screen.

grumpy snowman: Under recent developments I’d like to inform you of two things. One, you are banned from the hospital all of tomorrow under strict orders by me. Two, I currently have Mr. Whiskers held hostage, and should you fail to return home by 02:59 I will be forced to perform pulmonary bypass puncture and stop his heart. 

Dumbfounded, you stare at Zayne’s text, blinking in confusion. Did your sleep deprivation just hallucinate a text? Violently shaking your head, you look back at your phone with slightly spinning vision just to confirm that no, this was very much real and Zayne has very much lost it. 

ms. author: Is this a threat?

Another text follows immediately after.

grumpy snowman: Consider it your last chance. Come back and save him, or else... this may as well be his final night. 

An image sends then, your favorite calico cat plushy all tied up with what appears to be Zayne’s tie, dangling the poor thing as though being held hostage. Your gaze lingers for longer than it should on how Zayne’s hands look in the dim lighting of the photo, so busy trailing up the veins on his lithe fingers that you nearly miss his next text. 

grumpy snowman: I’ve already called an Uber. It’s waiting outside. 

You snort into the empty room, rolling to sit up straight.He’s the last person you’d expect to pull this sort of thing. It’s nothing short of ridiculous, but truly you don’t know the last time you’ve smiled this wide, and it’s precisely the distraction you need right now, especially if he’s already gone through the trouble of organizing it all himself. But like you’d go down without a fight. 

ms. author: You’re being ridiculous, you’d never hurt Mr. Whiskers you devil. You don’t have the guts.

His reply is swift, almost immediate.

grumpy snowman: Do I now? Care to test that theory?

You can practically hear the smugness in his text, the playful challenge laced with a quiet but unmistakable sincerity. Your heart gives an unexpected flutter, the weight in your chest easing, if only slightly. Quite a villain, indeed.

You know what Zayne’s doing. He’s not just playing around; he’s pulling you out of your head, out of the self-imposed spiral you’ve yet again been retreating into. You’ve spent the better half of the week in it. 

You bite your lip, considering your options. On one hand, you could brush him off—continue working, ignore the text, but something inside of you craves this attention. Craves his uncharacteristic ridiculousness. Craves the break from your mind that he’s offering.

ms. author: If you harm a single fur on my son’s head I’ll put an end to your tyranny myself.

Zayne doesn’t waste a second, sending only a single warning: Hurry. 

You stand, grabbing your jacket and keys, and only then do you second guess this. The easy, safe choice would be to stay buried in your work, it would be to politely decline and place must-needed distance and formality back. 

But for the first time in a while there’s something you want more than work, and as you slip out of the on-call room, the image of Mr. Whiskers hanging helplessly from Zayne’s tie is enough to pull you out of the hospital.

You push your front door open, the silence of your apartment making the hairs on the back of your neck stand up. The lights are off— odd, considering you could have sworn you left a lamp on. You always do, a force of habit since you live in a slightly less safe area of Linkon. Oh, the things you do for cheaper rent. 

Pausing, your eyes scan the deceptively empty hallway and kitchen. Everything feels still, almost eerie, and your pulse quickens as you take your shoes off, right beside Zayne’s much larger dress shoes, to venture further into your apartment. 

The faintest creak of floorboards makes you freeze. Your heart stutters slightly, the scare making you grip your chest as you whirl around, cursing out your cowardice. You’ve seen worse things wheeled into the ER. Please, get a grip. 

You shake off the nerves just as your phone buzzes in your pocket, breaking the silence once more.

grumpy snowman: You’re cutting it close. Five minutes before Mr. Whiskers meets an untimely demise.

You can't help the amused snort that escapes you, the tension in your body breaking.

ms. author: You really went this far? What now, villain?

The response is almost immediate.

grumpy snowman: It’s a matter of life or death. I hope you're prepared.

Another photo attachment follows—your favorite Christmas blanket thrown over the couch cushions in disarray, the faintest corner of Mr. Whiskers peeking out beneath it. The living room. You shake your head, muttering under your breath about the audacity of smug geniuses with far too much time on their hands.

You make your way to the living room in the dark, you flick on a lamp as you approach the couch. Lifting the blanket to find… nothing but a sticky note.

It reads, in painfully pretty cursive: Nice try, but you’ll have to be quicker.

Another buzz.

grumpy snowman: You fell for that as well? I expected better. Already 02:56, time’s running out.

You scoff, unable to stop yourself from laughing despite the absurdity.

ms. author: Do you even have anything better to do?

grumpy snowman: Not lately. Someone’s been too busy to properly entertain me.

You read it once, twice, and still something in your chest squeezes painfully at that.

Folding up the note, you stare at the text a moment longer before you hear the echoing click of a door. It’s coming from upstairs. 

Another buzz.

grumpy snowman: While you’re lost in thought again, care to explain why you’ve been running yourself into the ground? 

You pause, stalling as you make your way to your stairs.

ms. author: I am writing.

grumpy snowman: Poorly, if you’re overworking. Can’t imagine the tension’s working out if it’s still stuck in your head.

ms. author: Gasp. Excuse you—

Another buzz interrupts, just as you make it to your bedroom door, old wood announcing your arrival with a groan. The culprit has to be just behind it. 

grumpy snowman: 3 minutes remaining. Mr. Whiskers won’t be around much longer.

You can practically feel Zayne’s grin through the phone, and for a brief moment, you’re glad he’s here, even if it’s all in jest. He’s right although you might never admit it; this whole absurd situation—your plushie, the stupid texts, the teasing—has done what no amount of coffee or sleepless daydreaming could.

ms. author: If you harm a single fur on my son’s head, I swear I’ll come for you.

Your hand latches onto your bedroom handle, biting your lip as you pause to type one last jab. 

ms. author: I don’t know why I’m indulging you.

grumpy snowman: Because you love it when I win.

A laugh bursts from your lips before you can stop it. Shaking your head, you push the door open.

Your bedroom is dim, the curtains drawn, but moonlight spills through the dusky purple veils, illuminating the bed.

Perched atop lies Mr. Whiskers, your darling calico plushie sitting in the center, fully unharmed even though his crystalline eyes speak of unimaginable horrors at the hands of his captor. 

Before you can grab him, movement from the corner of the room nearly startles you into jumping halfway across the room. Zayne, leaning against the wall, arms crossed, watches you with a slight upturned grin that makes your stomach twist.

“You’re a horrible villain.” You huff, all but lunging on your bed to hug Mr. Whiskers to your chest like a shield.

His lips twitch into a smile, the bastard, and you can't help but notice how handsome he looks with his hair a little mussed and his glasses slipping down his nose. He doesn’t have his coat or suit jacket on, the sleeves of his shirt rolled up, a sight you haven’t grown tired of.

God, you really have a thing for forearms. Or maybe it’s just a thing for Zayne.

“Since we’re critiquing each other, you’re not much of a hero. Hiding behind a plushie doesn’t exactly inspire confidence.” 

“Confidence isn’t my priority right now.” You clutch Mr. Whiskers tighter, narrowing your eyes. He’s not here to talk about morals and heroism, though. “I’ve been fine. Nothing more than proofreading left… that and a few problem-children scenes.”

“Then consider this me fulfilling my half of the contract,” Zayne says, effortlessly seeing past your usual bullshit. “For someone who claims they’re adequately inspired, you’ve been more distant than usual.”

“I don’t need a lecture.”

“No lecture.” He steps closer, “I just missed you.”

Again, Zayne's words catch you off guard, so blunt they make your chest ache. No empty flattery, no pretty words, simply stated as though they were facts. 

He takes another step forward, and you have to lean back on your elbows— nearly lying back on the bed— to maintain eye contact as he looms above you. 

And then, Zayne drops to his knees before you.

It’s a far more graceful movement than it has any right to be, all six foot something of him kneeling against the foot of your bed as you instinctively make room for him there. Slowly, his hands come up to your thighs, the two of you slotting together with ease.

“Admit it,” Zayne whispers, the sweet, minty heat of his breath caressing your lips as you shiver, leaning closer despite yourself. “This helped.” A wry smile, “and that I make a convincing villain.”

“What’s this, is the doctor Zayne fishing for compliments?”

“I don’t need compliments. I just want you to stop pretending in front of me– no more performances.” 

Heat rises to your face, and your stomach twists. He's too close, he's always too close, but god, why has this domesticity become so natural around him? 

Despite yourself, you look down at his hands again, taking in how easily his scarred palms cup your thighs, the pale contrast of his skin against yours. Lithe, long fingers, and the memory of how well they’ve treated you. You swear he must feel your heart pound where his thumbs brush circles against your inner thighs, your body nothing but responsive for him. 

But if he does, he spares you the embarrassment. Zayne only continues to look up into your face, and just as you begin thinking of equally inappropriate jokes or fun facts to break the silence, Zayne moves closer, his knee pressing between your thighs as the mattress dips to accommodate his weight. 

“Perhaps there is a performance you could help me with, since you’re clearly the expert here.”

You blink, one step behind Zayne’s master plan yet again. “What- help you?”

“Yes. See, I’ve been thinking about my next move as a villain, and…” Before you can even follow Zayne’s words, Mr. Whiskers is yanked from your grasp once more. One hand raises him into the air and the other lunges for your outstretched arms, pinning them to the bed as it creaks and groans under the sudden assault. “I think I’ll take Mr. Whiskers as my captive once again.”

A soft gasp leaves your lips as Zayne shifts above you, his knee grinding up just enough to have you aching between your legs. Everything spins, torn between the desire to rescue Mr. Whiskers and the overwhelming urge to give in, to pull Zayne closer, to finally, finally fuck him yourself.

But before you can decide, the hand pinning your wrists tightens, his thumb rubbing circles as he effortlessly restrains you.

“You’re ridiculous,” you curse, though the tremor in your voice betrays your excitement.

“Ridiculous?” Zayne repeats, arching a brow. “Perhaps you should start taking this seriously, my dear protagonist.” He drops his voice into something rich, dark, and deliciously villainous. The hand that pins you down holds firm, the other dangles your plushie overhead with mocking menace. 

You scoff, though it comes out shakier than intended. “I could write circles around your attempts at being evil.”

“Could you?” Unbuttoning his shirt, Zayne gets only halfway before abandoning it entirely, letting the buttons skew across his chest. He watches with a growing smile as your eyes flutter downward against your better judgment. “Then why don’t you show me.”

Zayne nods to your phone, eyes narrowed from behind his glasses. “Open the doc, show me the scene. Any attempts to rescue the captive will be met with appropriate punishment.” 

The way Zayne looks down at you, waiting—daring— to see if you would make him stop, sends a sinful flutter through your core, ricocheting up your spine. No longer trusting your voice, you nod and feel the pressure loosen ever so slightly on your wrists. 

You only have time to pull your phone out from your scrub’s back pocket before Zayne captures your wrists again, the tie once used on Mr. Whiskers now knotted efficiently right above your wrists. It should be frightening, how easy it is for him to manhandle you, but you feel nothing but painful arousal at that fact.

You’re still growling out faux protests when Zayne plucks the phone from your hands, his knee keeping your hips firmly pinned against the mattress.

“Ah,” Zayne murmurs, scrolling casually through your doc. “A scene involving betrayal, a chase, and…” He raises a brow. “Passionate accusations of treachery.”

You thrash beneath him, trying to buck off his weight as your face burns in embarrassment. “Enough! You’re supposed to help, not—”

“Not what?” He glances at you briefly, lips pursed in a halfhearted attempt to mask his amusement. “Not put your villain to the test? I’ll admit I might have ulterior motives, but you’ll have to try harder than that.”

Zayne then waves the plushie just out of reach before dangling him on the windowsill for dramatic emphasis.

“I swear to god, if you harm Mr. Whiskers!”

He cuts you off with a chuckle. “Hush. You’ll want to hear this.” 

Zayne clears his throat, the smirk on his lips unmistakable as he picks up where you left off in editing your manuscript. His voice drops into a faux-sinister drawl as he begins to narrate. “‘You can hate me all you want,’ the villain growled, his voice a low, dangerous rumble. ‘But that fire in your eyes only makes me want to break you more.’”

It's horrible, the way he reads the words, the tone and cadence he gives the prose, and worst of all, the way his unblinking gaze remains completely, utterly, fixed on you as he speaks.

“Zayne, please, don’t- this is embarrassing,” you beg to appeal to reason, still writhing against his tie, when you realize his grip against your hips has loosened.

Zayne’s attention is momentarily diverted as he scrolls through the doc, looking for another section to read, and you kick your knee up with a shout, jabbing it into his side as the two of you tumble across the bed. 

Lunging, you manage to grab Mr. Whiskers for all of two seconds before Zayne hauls you up by your bound wrists, forcing you arms above your head as you are pulled back against him. He’s rough, forcing your spine to arch against his chest as you hiss on impact, head thrown back against Zayne’s shoulder. “Ah-ah. What did I say about attempts to rescue the captive?” 

His tone is all mockery, grip iron against your waist even though you can tell he’s still holding himself back. Feeling each hot, ragged breath against the back of your neck, the smell of ambroxan and sandalwood surrounding you. You breathe in deeper, shaking despite yourself.

“Let go of me!”

‘’Close. I believe the actual line was ‘unhand me.’”

Zayne hauls you further up the mattress, hooking your bound wrists onto the post of your bedframe as this new position forces you to face the wall, all while his free hand adjusts his glasses, scanning the next few lines. “‘I’d rather die than let you win!’ she spat, her chest heaving with defiance—” He glances at you with deadpan incredulity. “Why is everyone always heaving in these scenes? Do they all have asthma?”

“You’re the worst,” you hiss, breathless from the struggle. See? Heaving, no asthma involved, just foreplay. 

“And yet…” Zayne’s voice comes closer, and you feel his bare chest once again at your back, “you’re the one who wrote it. I’m simply giving you an immersive experience.”

“Can’t be fully immersive if I have yet to believe you, villain.” Scoffing, you turn around, craning your neck just to glare him in the eyes. “You don’t have what it takes.”

Zayne chuckles, then silence. Forcing your head towards the wall again, you feel him lean down, still out of sight despite the heat radiating off his body, his nose brushing down your bare throat as he spits out the next line.

“Brat.”

You hate how immediately your body responds to that. How you shiver and lean back despite the restraints, how a part of you wants to fight, to keep the act going, because god, the idea of letting Zayne do anything he wants to you is enough to make your head spin.

Zayne’s teeth press against your neck, just below your ear, and you whine, the sound so small and deprived that you instantly bite your tongue and curse yourself for reacting like this.

So then he does it again.

A pitched gasp.

A broken moan.

Each noise he elicits from you is another cruel victory, and when you grind your ass back against Zayne’s increasingly obvious erection, he all but tears your scrubs down your thighs, the cotton of your panties not standing a chance against his desperation. 

In truth, Zayne had never been harder in his life. Did he intentionally pick the most on-the-nose dialogue just to watch you squirm? Perhaps. But he’d be lying if he said seeing you battle against primal desire beneath him, feeling your half-hearted attempts to fight him, accidentally grinding your ass against him with every squirm didn’t make him want to push you even further. 

Every breath came out heavy, chest heaving as he continued his performative reading, large palms alternating between slapping and gently squeezing your ass. 

“You’re greedy,” a kiss against your shoulder, shucking your scrubs down your knees. “Impatient,” another kiss, this time down your spine, throwing your pants across the bedroom. “And utterly disobedient.” 

You’re already stripped bare from the chest down. 

He can't deny the sight of you in such a compromising position is a sight to behold, and the urge to keep reading just to see how far he can push you is intoxicating. Panting, he pauses only to readjust his glasses, foggy and slipping down his nose. 

You, however, are too impatient.

"Zayne, please, you got your point across. You win. Just— ah, just fuck me already."

It's the first time in nearly a week that Zayne gets to hear you ask for him, beg for him, and it's all the reminder he needs for his body to fail him, shuttering against you with a moan of his own. How did he survive so long without this? Without you? 

Your voice rings against his skull, and it’s all he ever wants to hear. Moan his name, beg for him, scream it, call it out, anything. He needs you, irreversibly.

And not just for this.

So instead, Zayne looks back at your doc one last time, reading, “To think this is the city’s great hero. How I’ll enjoy breaking you.”

With a click, your phone turns off, tossed carelessly to the floor with a heavy thud that would have sent you into a panic had Zayne not chosen that exact moment to bite into the soft flesh behind your neck, thumb instantly finding your clit. 

The sensation alone is enough to make you cry, arching further up against the bindings. His hand snakes back around your hip, grounding, just barely brushing against the heat of your cunt, and the way he breathes out a low, half-delirious chuckle at the sound of you panting his name has your core fluttering for more.

"Please, Zayne, please," you whine, and the second the pleas leave your mouth, his thumb presses delicious circles into your neglected bundle of nerves. You whine, loud and needy, the second his fingers sink inside, held up only by Zayne’s arm wrapped around your waist and the tie pinning you against the bed frame. 

“Already begging? I wonder how much more obedient you’ll be after I fuck it all out of you.” And god, Zayne wanted to mock such an obscenely written line just to watch you blush all over, because what sort of villain would actually say such a thing? 

But when he sees you whimper at his words, when you arch so willingly into his punishment, when he feels your heartbeat quicken under his fingertips, he suddenly can’t say he faults any of these romance writers, for he now knows he’d do far worse than any of their cardboard villains. 

Zayne doesn’t even need to read the next line in the doc to know exactly what he’d do next. 

All but falling to the mattress, Zayne pulls your hips up, up until you’re atop his face, sinking his tongue between your folds before dragging all the way up to your clit, sucking with enough tension to make you scream. 

Your hands burn from where they chafe and fight against the tie, bucking violently against Zayne’s face, the cold kiss of his glasses frames making you jolt as he pulls your hips toward him like it’s the last thing keeping him sane.

“No,” Zayne groans between breaths, unable to part with you as he messily kisses your inner thigh before coaxing two fingers inside you with a thrust. “Don’t run. Do not run from me.”

Every scissor of his fingers forces obscene sounds from your cunt, silenced only by Zayne’s mouth and his own muffled praises. Granted, it didn’t matter how loud he was being, not with all of your delirious moans, completely unsuppressed as Zayne’s calculated ministrations took you apart thrust by thrust. 

At least you can remember being thankful that your apartment walls were sound-proofed. Breath ragged, mind spinning, only mindlessly fighting back as you babble, “Wait, you’re so- ah- fuck. Zayne!”

Quite canonically to your villain, Zayne’s hips buck into empty air in time to every thrust of his fingers, imagining it was his cock fucking deep into you instead. It’s a line he’s fantasized about crossing time and time again. 

But that’s where it stops. Fantasy. Because just the thought of it has Zayne groaning into your cunt, the taste and feel of you alone driving him insane, a point of obsession where he cannot allow himself to go any further. He can’t. He can’t, he really shouldn’t. 

He’d never recover, he’d never stop wanting— needing you. He’s addicted enough as is.

Zayne’s shirt had almost fully unbuttoned but his trousers remained, bulging as his cock wept from its prison against his thigh, fabric dark and painfully restraining. The mere friction was too little and overstimulating all at once. Even so, he can’t help but chase the phantom feeling, grinding against nothing as you fall apart above him.

When your shaking thighs finally begin to lock around his jaw, he welcomes the cage, burrowing his face deeper as the strong arch of his nose presses against your throbbing clit. Zayne’s slick fingers are delegated to merely keeping your hips still, his tongue fucking you through your orgasm as his hips follow your same rhythm.

One touch, one touch is all he needs to cum with you, but Zayne refuses to do anything but work you through your high. He swallows the taste of you, open-mouthed and needy, a moan rumbling deep in his chest as you feel it hum through you. 

Gasping, you look down, and immediately you feel your core flutter— the sight enough to have you wishing he was back in between your thighs already.

Zayne’s entire body shakes beneath you, dark hair mused and hands digging into your hips in ways you know will leave half-moon marks. But what has you trembling is the sight of his hazel eyes eclipsed to near black, completely blown out and teary as they try and fail to focus on anything other than your pussy still fluttering above him. Something you can barely see at all, not with the amount of cum that squirted across his glasses, foggy and skewed across his nose as it too glistens with your release. 

It’s an obscene picture you only get for a moment before Zayne chucks his glasses off just to place a closer, deeper set of kisses on your cunt. Practically chasing every buck of your hips, he happily lets you ride his face until your room begins to blur yet again, weightless and utterly fucked. 

You’re panting, vision still coming back in waves as you register Zayne untying your hands, all the while kissing the light bruises that remain. 

And yet you can hardly think of anything other than the fact that he still hasn’t properly fucked you.

“Zayne,” you call, and god, something in your chest squeezes at just how fast he whips his head around, already ducking to meet your eyes as he scans down your face. There’s worry etched into his features, his eyes scanning yours like he’s already bracing for whatever you’ll say next.

“I’m sorry, I knew I should have taken better precautions. If your hands hurt I can get a salve from—”

“Fuck me.”

Silence. 

Zayne blinks, his mouth parting and eyes squinting as though he misheard– or somehow misread–  you.

“What?” he manages, his voice barely above a whisper. 

You sit up on your knees, pulling off your shirt one swift movement so you’re completely naked, then lean forward until your noses nearly touch, his eyes dropping to your breasts. The boldness only shakes him further. “I’m sorry, I can’t let you run away this time. I want—” Reaching your hand out, your fingers trail down Zayne’s bare chest, hardly even pushing for him to fall backward. And for you to follow on top. “I want to do this for you. I want you.”

Zayne’s breath is deceptively steady, and if you couldn't feel the ragged rhythm of his chest, rising and falling as it burns against your palm, you wouldn’t have believed he was affected at all. 

“You don’t-wait- have to—” he starts, but his voice breaks when your fingers trace the curve of his ribs, lips following suit as you place gentle kisses down his sternum, his slender abs, dangerously close to the v-line dipping into his pants that you can’t help but lick, smiling in delight as his words finally fail him. 

“Neither did you. You’re rather stubborn, doctor,” you insist, soft but unwavering. Resting your head against his thigh, you coax his jaw down to look at you, the palm still resting against his chest finding the erratic thrum of his heartbeat beneath your touch. “Let me take care of you for once. Don’t you know good patients listen?”

Zayne huffs a quiet laugh, the sound strained as he looks down at you, right side of his lips curving into a faint smirk despite the way his body seems to ignite at your touch. “Bringing in our professional titles seems a little underhanded, don’t you think?” 

 “Ah, but it got your attention, didn’t it?” You don’t let him stall anyone— already he’s managed to keep this from you for weeks, really it’s a shame you haven’t stripped him earlier— letting your tongue trace the dip of his hip once more, humming as his muscles tense under the sudden attention. 

Greedy, your lips continue to worship every sharp edge and curve of Zayne’s abdomen, hands busy with his buckle until you manage to find a particularly sensitive spot just above his right hip bone. 

All his composure, all his calculated confidence, you want to break it apart until there’s nothing left but Zayne. Just Zayne. 

Zayne inhales sharply, eyes screwing shut as his mouth falls open in a picture of perfect debauchery you want etched into your mind forever. One hand fists into the sheets beside him, the other flying to your hair as your kisses turn to a dizzying mix of licks and nips. Hard enough to mark, you bite into skin, tongue flicking between your teeth, echoing across the room alongside the wet sounds of your mouth at work. 

“Ah, fuck.”

Cursing already? Perhaps this would be easier than you thought, but where’s the fun in that?

You pull back, watching Zayne blink in confusion as his hips twitch up toward your mouth, and you have to force back a laugh as he stares, bewildered, like he can hardly believe the sight in front of him.

His voice comes out huskier than before, low and coated with desire. "Why did you stop?"

You pull back just enough to look up at him, cheek resting on his thigh as you play with his zipper, never looking away from Zayne’s eyes even as they flutter closed in frustration, desperate for more. Tension practically radiates off of him, but you only smile, taking your time as you trail your fingers away from his zipper and bulge, teasing the sensitive edges of his hip and the skin peaking just over the edge of his trousers. 

“Don’t worry, doctor,” you murmur, your voice low and teasing. “I’ll be sure to complete your procedure just as thoroughly as you did on me.” 

Oh, and Zayne must realize how utterly fucked he is, for you won’t be letting him go not until you’ve adequately paid him back for all the times he’s deliberately edged you to the point of tears, all the times he’s reprimanded your attitude, all the sweet punishments you’ve ensured that you’re going to give back to him tenfold. 

But before he can try and sweet-talk his way into mercy, your teeth catch on his zipper, dragging it down as your free hand unlaces his belt, tossing it across the room by the time his bulge presses out from between the metal teeth all on its own.

Achingly hard already, and you haven't even begun.

The fact that you know he’s this hard just from eating you out certainly doesn’t help. 

His boxers are soaking, the obvious bulge only emphasized by the way the damp cotton seems to stick to him, and god does the size of him make your core flutter. 

Maybe next time you’ll get him to come just by eating you out. 

Next time, though.

Without warning, your fingers wrap around his cock, freeing it from the confines of his boxers. A hiss grits out through Zayne’s teeth as his jaw clicks and a vein thrums against his neck from the pressure. 

You're so used to having Zayne above you, between your legs, teasing you senseless as his fingers or tongue bring you to the edge over and over again. And now, here he is. Spread out, and all yours to ravage.

The realization alone has you throbbing, prior orgasm all but forgotten as you feel the want burn between your thighs again.

If only he could see how wet you were already.

How could he not, with the way your hips were rocking against his still-clothed thigh, searching for the friction he wouldn’t give?

And yet, despite your impatience, your eyes never leave Zayne, watching the way his muscles flex as he resists the urge to move, ever obedient for you.

"Good boy," you purr, meaning only to tease him further, but instead of the faux glare or inscrutable comment you were expecting, Zayne tenses beneath you, his cock jumping against your palm. Your eyebrows raise, a breathless giggle betraying your intentions as you lean in closer.

"Oh? Do you like that, baby? Being told just how perfect you are for me?”

You're not sure what's more arousing, the fact that Zayne is practically coming undone at your words, or the fact that he hasn't denied a thing.

God, his body feels hot. The mere praise has a dusky blush racing down his gorgeously sculpted chest all the way to the tips of his ears, his bottom lip tucked between his teeth as he looks down between the two of you, to where you’re still teasing the weeping slit of his dick. He moans before he could even stop himself. Fuck. 

Shivering, Zayne reaches out to grasp your wrist, and for a moment you think he's going to put a stop to your little power trip. But his hand only comes up to guide yours, urging you to pump his cock a bit faster, stopping to put more pressure against the base, and you can't help but smirk knowing he must be truly desperate if he's already rushing you to jerk him off properly. 

"My, my, doctor. I suppose I’m not the only one who’s been holding back.” You click your tongue, a teasing edge to your voice. "Were you really so desperate to feel me around your cock, hmm?"

Hazel eyes narrow at the pure filth behind your words, but you see the furrow between his brows, the way Zayne’s throat bobs as he throws his head back with a choked groan. If he looks so damn pretty now, you wonder what kind of faces he’ll make when he cums. 

“You truly are horrible,” He groans, hesitating, hands clenching into the sheets before they fly up to your waist, gently bucking his hips into your awaiting palm. “Mhm- please.”

You hum, lazily sinking to your stomach so your bare chest presses against his still-clothed thighs. With each stroke you can feel his muscles twitch beneath you, see the way his jaw clenches and unclenches, the way his hand guides yours, tightening and loosening, urging you to go faster, harder.

Your mouth waters, and the urge to taste him is far too tempting to resist. 

Plus, you’ve had enough with denying yourself, and more than enough of Zayne denying himself as well. 

So right as Zayne’s head rolls back against the pillows you rock forward, licking a slow stripe up his dick, up between the gap of your fingers where they grip his base. 

Zayne chokes on his breath, hand immediately tangling in your hair, rough enough that it has you wrenched away with a breathless whine. He groans, words shaking out in breathless huffs, “You, hah- this isn’t, fuck—”

"Ah, ah, pretty boy, let me take care of you, yeah?" You fight to come back to him, smiling as Zayne’s grip immediately loosened, and you kiss his tip in thanks.

Rubbing teasing circles into his thighs, your thumbs then move up, tracing his v-line, addicted to the way his muscles tense under your nails and to the red lines that follow. It makes you want to mark him up more. So you do, with your nails again, then with your teeth and tongue. 

“Look at how- shit- how excited you are for me. So pretty.” You lean forward, pressing wet, messy kisses just below his navel and all around his already sticky thighs, heady and coated in pre-cum. 

Another bite, and you squeeze his balls with just enough pressure as you watch his eyes roll back in time. "I'm going to make this so, so good for you, baby.” 

Zayne all but sobs at that.

Every carefully restrained thought breaks completely at the praise, a raspy moan grinding through his teeth before his jaw falls open with every ragged huff of breath. 

“Mhm that’s it, you’re doing so well,” you say, smiling at the way his cock twitches, violently leaking, pre-cum pooling into your palm and dripping down your wrist. “So pretty, so perfect just for me.”

With one last kiss on Zayne’s tip, your hands steadies itself against his abdomen before you kitten-lick around the tip of his cock, and then greedily shove as much of his throbbing erection as you can down your throat.

Zayne tenses, gasping, and the sound sends a thrill down your spine. You press further, tongue flattening along the underside of his shaft, and fuck he’s so thick you nearly choke, forgetting to breathe in through your nose as the lack of oxygen gets to you embarrassingly fast. 

If only you had some more time to properly adjust, you'd force him to the hilt without a doubt. But patience has never been your virtue. 

You’re already edging yourself with every slow grind of your clit against Zayne’s thigh, and you can feel his desperation in every throb along the underside of his cock in your mouth, letting his tip hit the back of your throat, breaching as deep as you could allow.

Zayne begins to buck forward only to freeze halfway, a low hiss leaving him as his hand twitches against the sheets, knuckles turning white as he fights his own self-restraint as you urge him deeper into your hot mouth. Trying to pull you off him, Zayne’s hand laces through your hair as a warning, large enough to cup the back of your neck entirely, but the action only lets you take him further. 

Then he makes the fatal mistake of looking down at you, locking eyes with your teary gaze as you maintain eye contact before licking up his length, and then swallowing him back down, crying as mascara and drool runs down your chin. His hips stutter upwards, and then he catches the shallow bulge now pressing against the base of your throat. Up and down and back again.

The sight breaks him.

He throws his head back with a whine, and fuck, his sounds thrums against your skull, reverberating through your very being as he snaps, hips bucking wildly into your mouth, his powerful thighs trembling around your head. You’re being used as nothing more than a fucktoy now, hands scrambling for purchase against his abdomen for a semblance of control as you take it.

Fuck, maybe it’s the praise, because you make Zayne want to be greedy with the way you were gagging and choking around him.

The mere feeling of you drooling around his length, the way your moans come out muffled and wet with drool and his slick, like a messy kiss to his cock, has his hips stuttering deeper, arching up into your body until Zayne can practically feel the spark of his orgasm behind his eyes. 

But no, that won't do.

After all, you won’t be satisfied until he’s finally fucking himself inside you tonight. He can’t cum anywhere else. You won’t let him.

And right when you feel his cock go rigid, you tighten your hand around the base, and pull off. 

Heaving, you shakily prop yourself back onto your elbows, Zayne's length glistening with saliva between your bodies, twitching violently and leaking all across his abdomen and your chest from its angry red tip. 

“S’pretty, Zayne.”

Zayne moans, hips chasing after the heat of your mouth, hissing when all he feels is the cold air. He wants to protest, wants to ask for more, but you shush him with a kiss.

Your tongue laps across his skin, tracing the ridges of his abs, lapping the pre-cum and sweat that gathers there. You lick a trail, following the sharp cut of his hips.

"What, is that all you can take?" you ask, a teasing smirk on your face.

Zayne curses, a frown tugging at the corner of his lips. “Depends.” His voice is fucked rough, raw, and you never want him to stop talking. ”Was that the full treatment?” 

You hum, biting the inside of his thigh. He gasps, and it turns into a deep groan when you press an open-mouthed kiss over the forming mark.

“No,” you admit, “You’re not escaping until I get to watch you come undone.”

You smile at the shudder both your words and actions draw, the way his fingers tighten in your hair. “Ah, but not here. In me. I want you to fill me up, baby, make a mess of me. I can take it, I promise. And when you're done, I'm going to ride you until you come again. Sound good, my pretty boy?"

Zayne throws his head back with a moan, eyes squeezed painfully shut as though he can’t decide if this really is real or if a succubus was haunting his dreams to every sinful memory he has of you.

Zayne leans into your touch, following your palm as he nuzzles into you with a huff of hot breath. A little like a kitten in a man's body— a sexy body no doubt— but you wonder, not for the first time, if the reason he always holds back is simply because he was afraid. As you were. Until Zayne came to you, until he showed you what pleasure felt like.

So you take his face in your hands, forcing him to look at you, and then kiss him.

He lunges up to meet you halfway, licking into your mouth, fisting into your hair, breathing in every moan and whimper of his name as he hums it right back. Needy, so damn needy for it. 

You smile through the kiss, grinding up and down his muscular thigh alongside the desperate smashing of mouths. Tongue-heavy, teeth scraping, sucking at the corner of your lips. So fucking hungry for you that he’s practically lifting you right off the mattress with just one arm. 

His mouth distractedly chases down your throat leaving opened-mouth kisses before slotting back against your lips, hot and demanding and urgent. 

“Zayne, ah—” you’re cut off with another kiss, “Mhm, please, need you,” another, Zayne looping two arms around your thighs, hiking your knees up to his shoulders, the stretch burning. “Need you in me, now.”

He moans into your open mouth at those words, eager enough that he chases you up, nearly pinning you beneath him until you break the kiss with a gasp, shoving him back down. Zayne whines at the break of your lips, brows furrowed as his back hits the mattress, trapped under you once again, panting.

"Need you, pretty boy." You whisper against his lips, and it sounds just like a promise. "Please, let me take care of you.”

Zayne takes a shaky breath, nodding, drunk on the praise and readjusts himself against the pillows. He watches, eyes half-lidded, as you straddle his waist. Rough hands find your hips and hold them steady as you settle climbing atop him, the head of his cock rubbing between the folds of your soaked cunt. 

It isn’t lost on you how Zayne can barely stop staring at the slick that trails down your thighs, all of it coating his shaft in slick as your pussy hovers over him, connecting the two of you in wet, sticky strands.

"Like what you see, doctor?"

You lick down the milky column of his neck and Zayne groans, leaning back to grant you access. "You and your smart-ass mouth."

“You love it.”

Ya, he does. He could probably cum just from watching you like this.

Leaning forward, you line his cock up with your entrance, smirking at the way his eyes narrow, heart racing beneath your palms as you balance yourself on his pecks, shamelessly groping them.

"Do you have any idea how many times I've thought about this? How many times I've imagined riding your cock, hearing the sweet noises you make as I make a mess of you?"

Zayne opens his mouth, as if to say something, but whatever it is doesn't matter, not as you guide the swollen red tip of his cock through your folds, thick tip pushing and sliding past your entrance, unable to fit even with your combined slick. Teasing, swollen pussy lips drooling right down onto his leaky head when just a simple nudge of Zayne’s squirming hips would end this torment and have you fucked flush against him— raw.

"Please," he groans, his voice raspy and hoarse, eyes fluttering closed, glassy with lust, "I can't- I can't take this. Please,” a low moan of your name has you delirious, and god, you’d give him anything he’d ask for. “I admit it, I need you. So please.”

Were you more than happy to oblige. 

Lifting yourself all the way up on your knees, you steadily apply more pressure to your entrance, working yourself further and further until you could feel your slick drip down your thighs and his cock, each movement now accompanied by an unholy squelch. You slide his cock over your cunt—back, then forward—stimulating your clit with the head each time he fucks it through your folds, desperate as your movements become rougher and more forced.

Zayne’s cock catches against your entrance once again, and a low, breathy moan escapes his lips. He could feel your cunt finally yield to the pressure of his large, overbearing cock, could feel the way your legs trembled, threatening to give way, and he can't help but wonder if this is how you would look, how you would sound and feel, when he fucked you.

As soon as he feels the flutter of your core against his tip, he knows he’s lost, the head of Zayne’s cock sliding into you with a lewd pop as you both moan. 

"Mhm, yes," you moan, voice a high-pitched keen. "Just- ah, like that."

Zayne bites his lip, fingers digging into your hips, and fuck, after being edged not once but twice today he already feels deliciously overstimulated and close, too close.

So it certainly doesn't help when you rock yourself up onto your knees, then drop yourself all the way back down his shaft, taking him all the way in until his balls slap against your ass.

You even don't wait for either of you to adjust before doing it again, and the velvety hot squeeze of your cunt has Zayne seeing stars.

“Ah, f-fuck, oh, shit. S’good Zayne,“ you coo, "Feels so good, fuck."

You’re dripping down your thighs, gushing around him like a vice as he watches his cock disappear into your cunt with a creamy white ring already at his base. 

It’s all turning Zayne delirious with the way you continue to feed him compliment after compliment. It’s all so much, too much, and a low moan is forced out of Zayne’s chest as he begins rocking his hips up to meet yours, hardly even letting you pull out before bullying his way back into you. 

Fuck, you can feel him everywhere, his cock hitting your cervix, your walls stretched tight around him, a mixture of his and your slick pooling onto his abdomen as you chase your way up and down his length.

But god, what you feel is nothing compared to how absolutely wrecked Zayne looks.

His eyes are screwed shut, chest rising and falling rapidly, the flush from his ears having spread to his gorgeously marked-up chest, his neck, the angry red tip of his cock. His brows are drawn together, jaw clenched, the muscles in his neck and shoulders strained as he holds himself back, every part of him curling up to meet yours and press you down, closer. 

But then he turns away, eyes screwed shut as you feel his tip jerk against your cervix once more. 

No. No, no, no that won’t do.

Zayne has watched you come undone countless times. He’s been a worshiper and witness to pleasures you didn’t think you could feel, and this time, you want him to be the subject of all your adoration. To finally give him back all the love he’s taught you to feel and more. 

So you lean down, cupping Zayne’s cheek with one hand as you continue to ride him. “Look at me, baby. Y-you're so, fuck, so big, Zayne, fuck—” You gasp a sharp breath as he twitches violently inside you at the praise, slurring your words. “Mhm, love your cock so much."

But you doubted he could hear you— fuck, you wouldn’t even be able to tell if Zayne was breathing at this point if it wasn’t for the throbbing of his cock against your walls in time to his erratic heartbeat— because his eyes rolled back into his skull, jaw slack as a silent moan rips from his chest, shuddering down his spine right before his hips snap up into yours, throwing you off balance, pinpointing your g-spot with cruel accuracy as you scream.

Your sounds and babble of praises have him dizzy, eyes half-lidded and hazy as he struggles to focus on your face. It almost looks like he’s about to cry, dark lashes wet with unshed tears. You’d tease him for it, had you the capacity to think at all. But no, each thrust continues to bully into that sweet, spongy spot inside you as you moan, and Zayne’s mouth falls open with a cry of his own.

You chase into it with a kiss, clashing your teeth as you feel his tongue lap against yours, sucking hard. You feel the wrecked, blissed-out smile on your face, breaking away from him just long enough for Zayne to see how ruined and turned on he’s making you.

"Y-you're close, aren't you, my sweet boy?" You ask, the words coming out strained as Zayne fucks up into you. Pumping upwards, it’s like he wasn’t even trying every time his weeping head rams your sensitive spots. Just stuffing you full of his cock he denied you for so long, furious enough to mold you to his very shape. "C'mon, cum for me, Zayne. In me, please–ah."

You pull away even as his lips chase yours, arching your back so that your full weight grinds back on his hips. Zayne all but whimpers at the change in angle, his hands gripping the bed sheets as he tries not to starve off his orgasm. 

"Please, please," he groans, his jaw clenching.

"Look at me, Zayne."

He does, and his pupils are so blown, his eyes nearly black.

"Cum for me, baby," you beg again, grinding down against him as his hand comes up to grope your chest the same moment your palm leaves to cup his balls, and that's all it takes.

Zayne comes, a cry ripped from his throat, his cock throbbing inside of you. You can feel the sheer warmth filling you, his seed spilling out and leaking onto the sheets, and god, there’s so much of it that cum squirts out from between the two of you, splattering up his abs and your thighs. 

He’s trembling, head falling back as his hips jolt and stutter, still fucking up into you as though it can’t bear to part. You’re probably not helping with the way you still rocking on his length, your cunt milking his orgasm, and he can't take it, it's too much, too fucking good, he can't stop, never wants to.

But, fuck, one look at his face, and you already want him to cum again.

Zayne looks like sin, sweat slicking his hair to his forehead, his body writhing and straining as he gasps for breath, his skin shining in the afterglow of his release. The muscles of his neck are taut, veins pulsing and straining, his lips bitten red. He is fucking gorgeous, and the thought that he has done this for you, to you, has another wave of arousal shooting up your spine. 

“You…” Zayne’s brows pinch together, but his voice is low, dangerous. Unyielding. “You didn’t cum.”

“I already did, besides I-I ah, Zayne—!”

You’re cut off by your own pussy, lewd squelching accompanying every brutal thrust Zayne overstimulates the both of you with, bullying his own cum out of you with each rhythmless thrust back in. He plants his feet into the mattress, thrusting his hips up as you claw at his shoulders, chest, the slap of skin on skin ringing in your ears.

“No, that isn’t-” Zayne’s words slur, feverish and mindless as his gaze zero’s in to where the two of you meet, the sound of every wet, messy thrust and the slight bulge he now sees in time to his thrusts. “Not enough. With me. Please, hah, cum with me, love.”

Transfixed, one hand drifts to the bulge at your navel, and before he can stop himself, he grinds the heel of his palm against it. Immediately, overbearing pressure shoots up your spine, a broken scream leaving you as you tremble above him, arching violently forward. 

You try and speak, protests leaving as nothing more than garbled whimpers as you claw at Zayne’s wrist, trying and failing to pry his punishing grip off you. 

He doesn’t relent.

How could he, when you’ve finally given him yourself? When this was everything he’s denied himself and more? 

Fuck control, fuck discipline, fuck holding himself back. Zayne wants you. 

Vision blurry, drool dribbling down the corner of your mouth, your combined cum gushes out of your overfilled pussy and spreads in a lewd little pool beneath you. It’s all you can do to take it, Zayne overstimulating the both of you to insanity, but his hips keep the same punishing rhythm. Two slow, deep thrusts before something snaps and he hammers into you twice. Thrice. Then begins all over. 

It’s effortless, the way he bounces your body up and down with one hand, the other remaining pressed against your abdomen, massaging the outline of his dick showing through with every grind forward, rolling your clit between his forefinger and thumb. 

Large hands splay your thighs wider, closer, impossibly stretching you out until all you can feel is Zayne, Zayne, Zayne. You don’t realize you’re chanting his name out loud too. And you never felt more gloriously out of control than when he abruptly jerks his thigh upwards– driving you right along with it– hitting your cervix all at once.

There’s no rhythm. Not anymore. You’re hardly lucid, dropping your full weight down just to meet Zayne’s cock as he pulls you down prone atop of him to catch your mouth in an open kiss as he hits your g-spot again. And again. And again and again and—

“Love,” he all but moans it into your lips, low and broken and oh so addicting. “My love, please.” God, he’s still so painfully hard but the feeling of you fluttering around him, getting tighter each time he calls you love, must be a sort of heaven. “Please– hah, fuck– cum. Cum all over my cock.”

You whine, surging forward to kiss him again, and he feels it, couldn’t do or think of anything but it as you cum around his cock for the first time. 

Zayne’s eyes open even as you continue to suck and lick into his mouth, brows furrowed and vision blurring, lost in every hot pulse of your walls as they coaxed him further and further in, your release squirting against him as you struggle to drag your hips off him again, pussy sucking his cock in deeper, unwilling to let him go. 

Shaking, his hands find their way back to your hips, settling over the light bruises as he guides you up and down again, startling you as you moan into his lips. 

“Zayne,” you whine his name between kisses, strings of spit snapping between you, Zayne chasing hazily after your mouth before you cup his face in your hands. 

God, the sound of his name on your lips is enough to have him keening, pressing his forehead to yours as his entire body trembles. 

You’re coming again before you even realize it, vision spinning in and out as Zayne continues to fuck you through it. Zayne makes a noise, something between a moan and a whimper, his hips slowing despite himself. 

You're gorgeous, the sight of you atop him, still slurring out compliments, and it's too much, fuck, too fucking much, too fucking perfect, his perfect woman. 

With a final snap of his hips, Zayne comes alongside you. 

His orgasm has him gasping and his entire body bows forward, arms wrapping around your middle as he buries his face in your shoulder, kissing into the tender flesh as he just keeps cumming. 

He can't find the need to hold back this time. Not when the pleasure is so intense that his vision is turning white, not when your cunt is hot and pulsing and clenching around him, not when the praise and encouragement keep pouring out of your lips, whispering into the crook of his neck, "good job, Zayne, such a good boy for me, you did so well, my sweet boy, my love, hah, I love you."

When you finally come down from your high your body is sore and aching, the feeling of his hot cum deep inside making you whine, the sensation so much better than his fingers or toys, so much more warm and full.

Zayne’s arms are wrapped protectively across you, hugging you down atop of him even as his cock remains motionless within you, not an inch of skin untouched as his hands rub careful circles down your spine and thighs. 

You nuzzle closer, whispering more nonsensical praises into Zayne’s hair, raising a shaking arm to comb through it as he still keeps his face tucks into your shoulder, hidden and shaking softly still. 

A shift, and you feel his hot breath on your neck, a sudden drop of wetness against your skin, and you realize with a start that Zayne is crying.

He’s crying. Soft, unrestrained sobs muffle into your shoulder as he tucks you close, burrowing his face into the crook of your neck between breaths. You let him. You curl up as close as you can get onto his lap and then closer still, one hand raking through his hair in gentle reverence as you let him cry.

It is silent, save for the sound of his sobs and his labored breaths.

"I love you, Zayne," you say, as if it was the easiest thing in the world. "You really are perfect, thank you, thank you."

You kiss his forehead, then down his cheek and jaw until he finally relaxes under you. Tracing lazy patterns up and down his chest, you coax him down until he finally raises his eyes to meet yours with a flutter of tear-stained kisses to your palm. 

The first thing you notice is the way his cheeks are flushed, his eyes wavering and hazy. The second is the way his lips are swollen, the marks on his neck and chest blooming darker with each passing minute. The third is how the sweat on his skin is beginning to dry, making his hair stick up in all sorts of directions.

The fourth is the look on his face.

The look on his face is soft, tender, and unsure. Nothing like the infallible surgeon the whole city reveres, or the smart-mouthed mentor you’ve grown to admire and respect. Just Zayne. 

You brush the damp locks away from his eyes, pressing a chaste kiss to his forehead, the tip of his nose, and finally his lips, and he melts, his body falling forward onto you as he curls you into his side, tucking you down onto the bed alongside him.

“Stay with me?” He asks, his voice low, as though afraid to ask. Afraid to know.

Always. 

“You can’t get rid of me that easily.”

[messrmoonyy]

- The Forbidden Fruit

Arthur Morgan x Fem!Reader

Request- I NEED ARTHUR TO STEAL DUTCHS GIRL AND SHOW HER A REAL MANS LOVING. FILTHY PASSIONATE LOVING. WORK YOUR MAGIC

A/N- I got incredibly carried away with this. Is basically prawn with no plot honestly. And far softer smut than I think you intended it to be but. Here we are. Enjoy.

Warnings- 18+ | implied toxic relationship ( reader is in love with Dutch van der Linde what can you expect here ), smut: affair, Arthur being desperate to please!!!, fingering, oral ( reader receiving ) , unprotected p in v and he accidentally finishes inside oops, like the tiniest amount of cockwarming ( WC-8.9k )

AO3 | Masterlist - requests are open :)

Arthur didn’t involve himself in Dutch’s relationships. He stayed polite to whatever young woman he had hanging off his arm at the time, but that was about it. He’d seen too many girls come and go- usually in floods of tears at being dismissed by the man that had seduced and charmed them into loving him. Just working his way through shiny new plaything to plaything, hiding his unending sorrow for Annabelle under the skirt of some new girl. 

Unfortunately you were no different. 

In your defence, he supposed, you had lasted far longer than the rest. The only real exception to that being the famed Annabelle herself. But as was almost inevitable, your time in the honeymoon phase was slowly crumbling down around you. 

Arthur did wonder if it was simply because of the current stress levels in camp. They had all been on the run for longer than he cared to try and count, but after the mess in Blackwater they had reached new heights of being hunted. It had never been this bad. Nothing had ever gone this wrong. Because before everything had gone to complete shit, he’d actually seemed quite taken with you. In truth Arthur actually had begun to consider the idea that Dutch really did love you. Had finally been able to move on from the weight on his heart of his dead lover. 

But no. 

Arthur was observing the same pattern as always, it had just taken far longer with you. And that just seemed to make it all the more cruel. 

He barely even looked at you most days now. Barely uttered a few words in return to any question you asked. 

And the arguing was growing ever more fierce. It was practically everyday. 

Arthur didn’t like it. Didn’t like the way Dutch treated you. Didn’t like the way Dutch was treating anyone lately. But you in particular had never been anything but nice to him, kind. Sweet. Incredibly naive but sweet. To Arthur too. Some of the girls Dutch had strung along had been vile, rude and entitled and stuck up. But you? You were a genuinely nice person it seemed. And maybe that was your greatest flaw, for someone like that did not belong with Dutch Van Der Linde. 

In fact Arthur had come to like you from a distance. The times he had spoken to you you had been interesting, intelligent. Far cleverer than him and he had always liked that in a woman if he was honest. 

But still you clung to Dutch. Though your patience with him of late seemed to finally be wearing thin. 

Dutch had never really been one to be ashamed or afraid of airing his dirty laundry within the gang. Whether that be packing on the PDA in camp in a way that often made Arthur want to vomit up his breakfast, or the even more puke inducing sounds of the two of you making up all night long. So arguing was no exception to that either. 

And today was no different. 

“ you barely even look at me! I’m right here! I always have been, I’ve always been such a good girl haven’t I? I do as you say. And look at how you repay me! “ Arthur sighed as he dropped a stack of bills into the box, successfully recovering yet another of Strauss’ debts for him. You were both screaming at each other again, the tent flaps pulled down as if that would over any form of soundproofing. It was the camp's regular ambience now it seemed. 

He did feel sorry for you, he really did. You’d left everything you had for Dutch. Some beautiful, intelligent, well spoken girl. Heiress to her daddy’s mining fortune up north, used to the finer things but seeking some adventure. And Dutch had offered you both. Drowned you in jewels and gifts- though unlike the ones you had once owned the ones he gave were not his to give- Shown you off like a shiny new toy on his arm. Expressly informed Miss Grimshaw that you were not to be lifting a finger, that you would not have to earn your keep with chores like the others. 

You earned your keep by looking beautiful beside him, by boosting his ego with your constant devotion to him, by letting Dutch use you for his own source of pleasure and by the sounds of things- that Arthur truly had no choice but to overhear- not getting very much back in return. 

“ You know I don’t think I’ve ever met a more selfish woman in my life! “ Arthur sighed and sat down on his cot, debating whether or not to make some attempt to get the sleep he had been planning the entire long journey back to Clemens Point. But his tent was but a stone's throw from Dutch’s. 

“ I have needs too Dutch Van Der Linde!” Everyone else in camp didn’t seem to mind it though, most of them preparing to settle in for the night. Whether that be passing out on their bedrolls or drinking by the fire. But Arthur wasn’t sure he could put up with another moment of the damn yelling. 

“ oh? You have needs? “ Dutch’s voice was condescending. Mocking “ I give you everything! You are acting like a spoiled child”

“ a child? A child!? “ Arthur stood back up again, deciding he’d fare better trying to sleep on the damn ground rather than next to the likes of you and Dutch. So he headed out towards the edge of camp, hiding himself in the woods by the water. He slumped down against a tree with a heavy sigh and wished he’d thought to pick up a bottle of beer on the way. 

But it was no matter. He was far enough away that he couldn’t hear the fighting anymore, but close enough that if he was needed anyone calling his name would be heard. 

He looked out across the water, enjoying his rare moment of peace. It was a clear night and a full moon, the reflection bouncing off the water in the most beautiful way. He pulled out his journal and started to sketch it, wishing he could capture its beauty better. 

‘ Dutch and the girl were arguing again. Got out of earshot for a bit to try catch some sleep. Thought the water and the moon looked mighty pretty ‘ 

He scrawled underneath when he was done, tucking it back into the satchel discarded at his side. Javier's guitar had silenced back in camp now and he figured everyone had gone off to bed. But he was quite content there by the water, so dropped his hat over his face and settled in to try and catch a few hours himself. 

He was just dozing off when he heard the sound of boots marching quickly through the undergrowth, snapping twigs as they went. And then the soft sound of someone mumbling to themselves. He silently hoped whoever it was would keep well away from him. But the boots grew nearer and came to a halt not so far away. The crackle of a match being lit and a heavy sigh. 

“ thinks he can talk to me like that? Bastard. Bastard he is. I’m a lady I deserve better than. Than that “ 

You. 

He cleared his throat lightly to inform you that he was there, but unfortunately still seemed to startle you. 

“ Christ! Gave me a damn heart attack Arthur “ he placed his hat down with his satchel with a sigh and looked up at you. In the light of the moon reflecting off the water he could see your cheeks were tear stained, the glow of the end of your cigarette illuminating your face further and showing your makeup in streaks. 

He couldn’t lie that it made his heart ache for you. He didn’t particularly have any solid feelings for you, but he did feel sorry for you. It was hard not to feel sorry for the woman seduced by Dutch. 

And you truly were a cut above the rest in his opinion. Beautiful as the early morning sun and, when you weren’t screaming at Dutch, as kind and warm as it too. But maybe that was fitting. Because much like the sun you could bask people in warmth, but burn them too. Beautiful and bright but scalding and he found he couldn’t look at you for too long, no matter how many times he wanted too. Simply blinding his eyes with your flaming beauty and having to turn away. 

But maybe he was just getting caught up in his metaphors. 

“ shouldn’t be out this far from camp “ you simply shrugged, taking another drag of your cigarette “ ain’t no one nice lingerin’ in woods at night miss” even if no Lemoyne raiders were sneaking around the trees, there were plenty of species of wildlife that would happily do a number on you. Chew off a leg or bite you with poison fangs. You didn’t know how to take care of yourself. You couldn’t handle a gun, didn’t have a single survival instinct in you. 

Dutch had quite made sure of that, he’d heard you ask once or twice. And had been denied. Charming you with some string of words about how you were far too delicate to be handling a gun. To leave it for the men. 

“ you’re lingering in the woods aren’t you Mr Morgan? “ he chuckled and shrugged. 

“ and I ain’t that nice. Point proven lady “ 

“ not like Dutch would care if someone took me anyway. He’d probably be thankful “ your voice was hoarse from the shouting and he couldn’t tell if you were going to cry again or not. You took a long drag of your cigarette before seeming to suddenly remember something, dipping your hand into the waistband of your skirt and pulling out a pack “ sorry my manners. Want one? “ he took one with a nod of thanks “ can I sit? “

You sat down carefully beside him then with a long sigh, tucking your legs beneath you, and leant forward so he could light the cigarette between his lips with the end of yours. 

“ thanks “ you both sat quietly for a short while. Smoking and watching the ripples in the water. He didn’t mind it actually, as much as he had been slightly annoyed at you disturbing his attempt to sleep. You were decent company. 

You rarely strayed from Dutch’s side, but on the odd occasion you had and Arthur had stumbled upon you having a moment to yourself at the edge of camp it had been quite nice. So he didn’t mind sitting there with you, company. For you both. 

“ I think you’re nice. By the way “ you said to break the silence, refrenching his previous comment of bad men lingering in the woods. 

“ No offense to you Miss, but you’re in love with old Dutch. I don’t think you’re particularly qualified to be sayin’ whether folk is nice or not “ he said it teasingly in some hopes of making you smile. And it did. A little. 

“ maybe not “ he watched you bring your cigarette to your lips again, glancing at your hands. Nails perfectly trimmed and not a single speck of dirt or sign of a scar. Hands that had never had to lift a finger. Ever. It was an interesting contrast to his own. Calloused and scarred and bruised “ but Dutch he… he…Can I ask you something? “ 

“ Sure “ he said and flicked his cigarette away. 

“ Do you think I’m beautiful Arthur? “ you asked meekly. Your face was sad. Lingering innocence yet to be wiped away by life somehow, the kind that only remained because you had lived a life so sheltered. Even with Dutch you were as sheltered as could be “ and don’t lie. Please “

“ I think you’re beautiful, sure “ you turned back to the water again, tossing your own cigarette before promptly lighting another. 

“ Dutch doesn’t. Not anymore. Barely even looks at me “ Arthur ran a hand over his face, not entirely sure what he was supposed to say to you in the situation. At all “ I know I know I don’t expect you to agree. You two you’re…you’re like two peas in a pod aren’t you? “ you said with a small laugh, but it held no humour. You took a long drag of your cigarette. 

“ me and Dutch it’s… we go back a long way. But… I will agree the way he’s been treatin’ you. Ain't nice. Not when you done nothin’ but be loyal to him for so long “ you turned back to him again and gave a small smile. It was like a wave of relief had washed right over you. 

Someone was finally listening. 

“ I think he’s got his eyes on Mary-Beth “ you mumbled, red stained lips wrapping around your cigarette again. Much like how he had found himself admiring your hands he now found himself admiring your lips. Soft and plump and stained red in the way they often were. 

He blamed it on his fatigue. 

“ he’d be a fool to give you up. You’re kind, loyal, hell you might jus’ be the most beautiful woman I know. He’s in a weird place right now. He’ll snap outta it, be back to readin’ you Evelyn Miller in no time. You’ll see “ maybe the last part wasn’t entirely true. But the first part was. And you seemed to bask in his compliments. He wondered when the last time Dutch had said something nice to you had actually been. 

“ Thank you “ you looked as though you might cry again. And he really hoped you wouldn’t. He didn’t like to see you cry. And he really wouldn’t know what to say to you then. Once again you turned your attention back to the water and gave a small sigh “ maybe I chose the wrong outlaw “ you said with a small laugh “ always have thought you were quite handsome “ 

He nearly choked on his own saliva, clearing his throat in hopes to pass it out smoothly. He didn’t know if it had worked. 

“ Really? “ 

“ Hmm “ you mused, tilting your head inquisitively to the side “ but you were oh so hung up on that Mary girl when I found Dutch”

“ Yeah well. Mary she’s- that’s all done with now “ maybe Mary was the reason he seemed to sympathise with you so. Because he too had had a broken heart. Though he was sure his was not as brutal as yours. 

“ Guess we both have bad taste don’t we Mr Morgan “ he chuckled and nodded. 

“ That we do miss. That we do “ he placed a gentle hand to your shoulder and squeezed in some form of comfort “ don’t worry bout Dutch though. Really. He’ll come to his senses and if…if he don’t then. Any man would be lucky to have ya “ you sniffled and he figured you’d started crying again “ I didn’t mean to upset- “

“ No. No I’m fine. It’s just…you mean it all don’t you? All these kind words? “ he shrugged and then nodded. 

“ Sure I do. You’re a beautiful woman. Inside an out “ something seemed to flash across your face, a million and one things whirring away behind your eyes. He’d never been that good at reading people, never one for knowing what people were thinking. And the look on your face was the most confusing he’d ever seen. 

The next part happened far too quickly for him to process it. Maybe because he was tired, maybe because he truly hadn’t even slightly suspected you to do it. You flicked away the butt of your cigarette and leaned forward, one hand to his leg and the other to his neck. And kissed him. 

He was taken aback and you pulled away before he could make any attempt to figure out what you’d just done. 

“ Sorry “ you sighed in slight annoyance, seemingly at yourself, sitting back beside him again. Like it was no big deal. Just something that had happened and had no real consequence “ shit- sorry “ Arthur scratched the back of his neck awkwardly and shrugged with a small laugh. Attempting to play it as cool as you clearly were. 

Maybe he’d finally cracked and entered some weird fatigue induced psychosis, hallucinations and hearing voices. And kissing Dutch’s woman. 

“ S’okay. No harm done “ he was bewildered. Trying to process the last 30 seconds and coming up completely blank. 

“ Just the way you talk about me I- Lord forgive me “ he was certain he must have looked half dense. Still completely confused at what on earth was happening with you. And maybe, just maybe, a tiny bit flustered at having a woman like you kiss him. Even if you were begging the Lord for forgiveness right after it “ no one’s spoken to me like that in a long time and…and I wish they had. I want to be told I’m beautiful again. I want to be kissed. I want I want…I want a lot of things “ 

Maybe Arthur was a stupid, idiotic fool. Maybe too many gunshot wounds and bumps to the head had finally caught up to him. Maybe he too wanted to act on his ever growing annoyance with how Dutch was behaving. But he found himself reaching out, fingers tucking under your chin to turn your face to look at him. Your eyes were so beautiful up close. Practically sparkling in the moonlight.

Oh he was such a fool. 

“ could’a jus’ asked “ a small smile tugged at your lips and you laughed a little. 

“ Yeah. Of course. Because you’d have said yes Arthur? “ he shrugged. He didn’t know if he would’ve actually. But now the thought was in his head “ alright “ you whispered and shuffled a little closer to him “ indulge me “ 

His thumb was absentmindedly brushing over your jaw, looking at you in the light of the moon and wondering how on earth Dutch wasn’t constantly begging for your attention. If he had a woman like you constantly hanging off his every word he wouldn’t know how to act. Would be like a mangy dog trailing around after you for food.  

“ I might’ve “ you gave a roll of your eyes but you were smiling still, a beautiful, tempting smile.

You were a temptress. A siren. Luring him in with your beauty to do something terrible. And you were vulnerable. Sad and seeking appreciation. And he was truly debating it. 

“ Well…“ you started quietly, looking up at him through your long lashes in a way that made his chest go tight “ there is… still time for you to say yes “ 

“ we ain’t gonna tell no one bout this y’hear? This it’s… it’s jus’ between me and you. Okay? “ your eyebrows furrowed for a second looking up at him intently, as if trying to figure out if he was joking or not. If he was serious. He wasn’t entirely sure himself, needed you to agree or disagree to put the thought to rest.  His thumb continued to brush along your jaw tenderly and your eyes fell closed for a moment. 

How long had it been since someone had touched you with such care? That something as simple as that seemed to mean so much to you. 

“ I understand “ you whispered, eyes flickering down to his lips again. He pulled you in close, barely an inch between your lips and then spoke again “ you’ll give me what I want? Don’t treat me like him “ 

“ Anythin’ ya want. You got it. I’ll give ya what you deserve “ you let a shuddering breath escape and gave a small nod before closing the gap between you both again. 

He hadn’t kissed anyone in a while, but he sure found his footing quickly. You kissed him like he was your source of air, climbing your way into his lap and slipping your hands into his hair. You tasted of cigarette smoke and something almost sweet. Whatever it was, it was an intoxicating mix. You were like a siren singing your call in his ear, drawing him in and taking him for your own. The weight of you in his lap was almost familiar, welcoming. Just… nice. 

He had almost forgotten just how fun it was to kiss a woman. How so many men seemed to shun it as boring, pointless- Dutch obviously included. But Arthur had always loved it. Had spent many a night as a youngster sneaking his way into Mary’s room just to kiss her. To spend hours kissing and talking and kissing some more. 

Kissing you was something else. Addictive. Intoxicating. 

Eventually he had to pull away, his lungs screaming at him for air. Your hands slipped out from his hair and down to grasp at the collar of his shirt, resting your forehead on his. 

“ Anything I want you say? “ you asked quietly, breathless. 

“ Anythin’ “ you smiled and lifted your head, a quiet determination settling over you. Your lipstick had smeared and he wondered how much of it was now on his own face. 

“ okay… undress me then “ you softly commanded, shifting slightly in his lap “ please. Dutch never- he makes me do it myself, barely even looks I- Please “ 

He almost laughed to himself about now he immediately thought getting you naked was entirely too risky. As if the entire situation alone wasn’t risky anyway. But he didn’t want to think too hard about that, instead simply channelled his recent annoyance towards Dutch into his actions. Tried to tell himself he was doing a good thing, taking care of you. 

You watched his face carefully as he gently untucked your shirt from where it was tucked into your skirt, some silky soft thing that probably cost more than everything he owned in his clothing trunk put together. He undid every pearl button slowly, eyes darting up to your face as he did. Your chest was heaving in long, heavy breaths. You were nervous. Or excited. He couldn’t tell which. 

You shivered lightly when he pushed it from your shoulders, now only the soft cotton of your chemise between his hands and your chest. Your nipples had hardened, from the slight night chill or lust he couldn’t say. But he found himself unable to resist the sight, leaning forward and capturing one between his lips through the cotton. You gasped softly, a sound so beautiful it made him groan. You sounded delicate. Innocent. You’d never made such sounds when he’d overheard you with Dutch. In fact a majority of the time you almost sounded in pain. 

But this sound wasn’t that. This sound was beautiful. And he wanted to hear more. One hand pushed at your back to bring you closer, the other palmed at your neglected breast in hopes you’d make the sound again. And you did. Gentle, soft gasps as his tongue dampened the material of your chemise, teeth tugging at you gently through the material. Your hand found his hair again, raking your fingers through it and arching your back into his touch. 

He couldn’t imagine why Dutch had never wanted to do such a thing. How could he not want to hear you make those pretty pretty sounds? How could he not want to feel you writhing in his lap and yearning to be touched. Maybe Dutch was more of a fool than he had originally thought. 

“ Need you to touch me- properly I- take this off “ your sentence was choppy, like you weren’t focussed enough to truly articulate the words you wanted to say. But he understood, pulling your chemise over your head and dropping it to land with your shirt. 

He took a moment just to look at you, not even entirely because he knew you’d want him to. Just because he wanted to. He’d be a liar if he said he hadn’t wondered what was hiding under your expensive clothes once or twice. How could he not when he had to try sleep through the sounds of you and Dutch of a night. 

“ God damn “ he said softly, hands soothing over your waist as you basked in his admiring stare, taking in the feeling of finally being looked at. Properly. 

“ like what you see Mr Morgan “ you asked, voice sultry and low in a way that made his cock twitch in his pants. 

“ Dutch is a damn fool “ is all he could say, leaning forward to kiss you again, his hands moving to grab at your chest. You moaned into the kiss as he squeezed and massaged your breasts with his large hands, seizing the opportunity to dip his tongue into the warmth of your mouth. Your fingers in his hair, twisting strands around your fingers and tugging lightly. He felt like he was on cloud nine. Certain he’d somehow taken a stumble through the veil and ended up at heaven's gates. 

He wasn’t a particularly religious man, but the way he was prepared to worship and praise you could truly be considered blasphemous. 

He couldn’t resist the temptation of getting his mouth on you again much longer, dragging his lips from yours and wrapping them around a pebbled nipple instead. You rolled your hips against him, those beautiful soft moans still falling past your lips. This was what you had wanted from him. To be worshipped. To be looked at as the beautiful temptress of a woman you were. And not merely glanced at and then used like some two dollar whore in a saloon. 

He wanted to nip at your skin, bite and soothe it with his tongue. But he knew he couldn’t. Couldn’t risk Dutch seeing it if he felt the need to stop ignoring you for a short while for his own needs. But oh how he wanted to. To mark up your smooth skin with reminders that you were desired. That you could look at as they faded and be reminded that you were wanted. 

“ I need more “ you whispered “ Arthur please. Give me more “ another roll of your hips followed by a small whimper told him enough. 

“ I know I got ya “ he murmured against your skin, pressing kisses up your sternum and your neck. Nose brushing at the underside of your jaw and working his way back to your lips again “ stand up. Lemme get you out of these damn clothes “ he caught the smile on your face as you stood up, he stayed seated and ran his hands over the fabric covering your hips. Something seemed to blaze in your eyes as you looked down on him. He realised it was most probably you that was usually being leered down on, but not now. 

Not with him. Not with Arthur. Arthur looked up at you like the goddess you were, looked up at you with what he knew was a silent pleading in his eyes. Dutch would never ask he knew it. Dutch took. Stole. Used. Arthur didn’t. Wouldn’t. 

“ I like how you look at me “ you said quietly, hand soothing over his hair “ you make me feel beautiful “

“ Cause y’are “ he murmured, hands reaching to the ties of your skirt. He wanted to see more. Wanted to see all of you. 

You helped him with the slightly tedious task of getting your skirts and undergarments off, but all so slowly. Taking his time. Making sure he appreciated every single layer of clothing you removed for him, right down to unlacing your boots and holding your leg gently to help you out of them. Until you stood there as naked as the day you were born, illuminated by the moonlight on the water. 

“ well ain’t you a sight “

Your skin was so smooth. Soft. Not a single scar that he could see. The skin of a woman who had never had to lift a finger. Had never known the hardships that he had. The only true blemish on your skin was the almost completely faded bruises on your hips. Fingertips. Dutch. 

He soothed his hands up your legs, pressing soft kisses to the pillowy flesh of your thighs as he went, and stopped as he reached them. 

“ He can be a little rough. It’s how he likes it “ you answered before he could even ask. Arthur too had been known to have his rougher moments. But he could never hurt you. Never mark you in anyway other than that of affection and care. 

“ I ain’t like that “ 

“ I know. That’s why I want you “ he pulled you back down into his lap, his large hands splaying over your hips as he took yet another moment just to look. To admire. To thank whatever stupid damn God may exist for placing such a heavenly body in his presence “ I feel a little like the odd one out here though “ you said with a small smile, tracing a finger down from the open top buttons of his shirt to his pants. 

He’d been far too occupied with you to even really notice the fact that he was ridiculously overdressed in comparison. 

“ Can’t have that now can we darlin’ “ your smile grew and you made quick work of the buttons on his shirt, pushing it off his shoulders with a gentle sigh. You ran your fingers through the hair on his chest, nails scratching lightly at his skin and peppering lipstick stained kisses as you went. Littering his collarbones, his sternum.

“ much better “ your hands kept roaming and your lips kept kissing. Hands seemingly wanting to touch him all, scratching lightly up his sides and over his waist, his stomach and his ribs. Slowly moving to slide over his shoulders and loop around his neck. You rolled your hips against him again and whined softly. He was so hard it was growing painful as he stayed restrained by his pants. But he wasn’t selfish. Not like Dutch. And he wasn’t about to seek out any form of pleasure himself until he had you seeing the stars you deserved. 

“ tell me what y’want “ he murmured, peppering soft kisses across your jaw. 

“ touch me “ you sighed blissfully “ please touch me “ 

His hand slipped down in between your bodies, brushing past the soft curls between your legs and couldn’t contain the groan of a sound that left him when he felt how warm and wet you were. 

“ Christ “ he muttered as your head dropped to his shoulder with a shuddering breath “ he ever touch you like this? “ he asked lowly, already knowing the answer. Why would he? He didn’t get anything out of it. 

But Arthur did. Oh Arthur did. 

“ no “ you whispered “ no never…please. More “ he tested the waters, pressing lightly against your clit and revelling in the squeak of a sound that it caused you to make. 

“ or like this? " You shook your head again, breathing shakily as he dragged his finger through the wetness and drew light circles around your entrance. 

“ Arthur “ you moaned his name in the most delicious way as he pushed his finger inside, burying it to the knuckle 

“ yeah and what about this darlin? “ he again knew the answer. Dutch didn’t care about your pleasure. Didn’t care about wasting time on something as simple as making you whimper and whine for more “ he touch you like this? “ 

“ no “ 

“ think ya can take one more for me? “ you nodded again and he withdrew his finger, gathering your slick on his other before pushing them both past the resistance of your entrance “ that’a girl “ he pumped his fingers in and out steadily, curling and probing at your velvety soft walls to test what you liked. 

“ This is so… oh god. This isn’t proper at all “ you laughed slightly, melting into a soft moan. Arthur chuckled, lifting your face up so you’d look at him. 

“ Ain’t proper at all? It’s damn right filthy darlin” your cheeks were aflame and you closed your eyes for a moment, grinding yourself against his hand “ look at ya. Drippin all over ma fingers like that. Ain’t proper. Not one bit “ you smiled, a cheeky, devious smile that made him lean forward and kiss you again. 

You were so wet it was obscene. He couldn’t tell where the sounds of you kissing stopped and the sopping sounds of his fingers began. You continued to grind down against his palm, practically riding his fingers, his whole hand wet and sticky with you. 

And he wanted to taste it. To taste you. To flood his mouth with the slick, liquid gold covering his fingers. It was an almost primal desire, like a desperation as strong as needing air. He needed to. He had to. 

“ Darlin’ “ he murmured, lifting your head from where it had fallen to his neck again “ gotta let me taste you. You gotta “ the look on your face only made him want it more. Your skin flushed and eyes blown out with nothing but pure lust and desire. He’d never needed anything more. Nothing else mattered, not the painful hardness in his pants, not the realisation that you were very much Dutch’s girl. He didn’t care about any of that. He just needed to be between your thighs. 

“ really? No one’s ever- oh god. Yes. Yes. Please Arthur “ he withdrew his fingers making you whimper and quickly grabbed his discarded shirt and lay it down on the ground. Then he kissed you again as he wrapped his arms around your waist, gently turning you to lay back on the shirt. It still couldn’t have been particularly comfortable. But you didn’t seem to mind, tugging at his hair and lifting your hips up against him as he hovered over you. 

He took his time moving down. Leaving a long and slow trail of hot, wet, kisses on your skin. You writhed underneath him, whining softly and twisting your hands in his shirt underneath you. He took extra time with your thighs. Kissing up from the inside of your knee and stopping before he could place his mouth where he really wanted to, then repeating with the other. 

“ Arthur “ you whined, still squirming around and desperate. 

“ I know. I got ya. Gonna make those pretty sounds for me again yeah? "You nodded, pushing yourself up onto your elbows to watch him as his head sank lower, spreading your legs wider to give him full access to the centre of you “ that’s a good girl “ he spread you open with his fingers, in awe of the way you parted for him. Like petals on a flower, dripping with the morning dew. 

But you were far more delectable. A forbidden fruit begging to be tasted. 

And oh was it pretty. Even in the dark, in nothing but the light of the moon on the water, it was pretty. Begging to be tasted, touched. Admired. 

The sound you made as he dragged his tongue from your weeping hole to your clit was like music to his ears. He didn’t know how he managed to not come in his pants just at the sound of it. 

You still kept it quiet, but loud enough for him. 

His own, deep, guttural moan escaped from his chest as he licked again. Your taste flooding his mouth in a way so so much better than he could’ve imagined. 

He ate you like he was starved. Like a savage predator that hadn’t seen meat for days, like a man ready for the gallows enjoying his last meal. His arms wrapped around your thighs, keeping your legs apart for him as you bucked and squirmed against his face. It was visceral. Carnal. You made him feel like his grip on his own composure and control was weaker than ever, that he was holding on to it with nothing but his fingertips. 

“ Arthur “ he dipped his tongue into the welcoming warmth of your cunt, his eyes falling closed for a moment as he felt you clench around him, desperate for more. Desperate for him. And he would give you more, would give you anything you asked of him. But not until he made you come first. 

He let go of one of your legs and brought his fingers back to their previous position, wanting to feel you again. To be inside of you, as close as he could get. To make you see stars. 

The flat of his tongue found your clit again, certain he could feel you pulsing against him. Desperate and full of desire for him. He felt honoured, privileged. That you were so loyal to Dutch, glued to his side. Never even batting an eye at anyone else. And yet you had broken that for him. Had sought him out because you knew he would treat you well. 

Your back arched off the ground as he sunk them back into you, slipping in with a welcome ease. His thick fingers pumped into you at a steady pace, his tongue diverting all its attention to your clit. Lapping and sucking and letting you press his face harder against you as you tugged on his hair. 

“ don’t stop please dont- Arthur “ he had no intentions of stopping, none at all. In fact he simply honed in on his ministrations, working harder to push you closer and closer to the edge of the orgasm he knew you had been craving for weeks. 

“ Not gonna stop darlin. Ain’t stopping until you come for me. Taste so good, so good “ he murmured against you, curling his fingers and hitting a spot that made you gasp and your body shudder “ there we go, right there “ 

He flicked his tongue over your sensitive bundle of nerves, looking at you as best he could to gauge your reaction. You were pulling a little painfully at his hair, squirming and rolling your hips against his face. He let you do it. Let you be the one using a man for your pleasure, rather than being the one used for once. 

Your sounds were sinful. Melodic. He took it all in. Basked in the noises you made for him, the delicious taste of you on his tongue, drunk on you. On your taste. Your smell. 

“ Arthur- Arthur please I- “ you babbled, a slightly smug smile working its way onto his face as he watched your prim and proper facade melt away “ don’t stop “ 

He hummed an assurance that he wouldn’t, your hips bucking against his face as he did. You were so unbelievably wet, dripping out around his fingers and soaking the hair of his beard. He would never have thought it of you. The way you held yourself around camp, so poised and prim. The accent when you spoke that made everyone else around you sound so common. And yet there you were. On your back in the woods, chasing an orgasm being offered to you by an outlaw. Repeating his name like a mantra. 

And not even that of the outlaw you were in love with.

“ Arthur- “

Only seconds later it happened. You held a hand over your mouth as your orgasm hit you, muffling your choked moans, back arching off the ground and walls clamping down on his fingers as he worked you through it. Tongue still working diligently at your clit until you pushed your hand at his head, squirming away a little. 

He almost didn’t want to stop. Could’ve happily stayed there a while longer, but moved back, an obscene wet sound in the late night silence as he withdrew his fingers. 

He took his fingers to his mouth, sucking the remnants of your climax onto his tongue. Unable to control himself. You watched him do it, mouth slightly agape and eyes half open with some desperate undeniable look of utter desire. He could almost see the way it made you feel, could see you unable to contain the overwhelming feeling of realising you were desired. Wanted. 

“ God. You are unbelievable “ you whispered, pushing yourself up onto your elbows and grabbing at his arm. Your fingers looped around his wrist and tugged his hand towards your own mouth. He shook his head with a chuckle, slightly in awe as you took those same two fingers between your red lips. 

Your tongue swirled between his digits, plush lips wrapping around them and sucking. Your eyes locked on his as you did. It made his cock ache. He wanted your lips on him, wanted your tongue swirling around his length and milking him dry. He could imagine it if he thought hard enough. The way you hummed slightly in appreciation as you sucked his fingers clean, sent vibrations straight through his bones. Rattling him to the core. But he would never ask that of you. But the thought was one he would hold onto. It made him shift slightly. 

“ you ain’t so prim and proper lady “ he murmured as he withdrew his fingers, a string of saliva connecting his fingertips and your lips “ This ain’t very proper of you miss “ Arthur said with a small smile, teasing “ rollin’ around in the dirt with the likes of me “ 

“ Oh to hell with being proper if it means I get to feel like this “ you said with a small laugh and he kissed you again for what felt like the millionth time. He wondered if you could taste yourself on his lips, smell the heady delicious smell of you on his beard.

He would’ve been more than happy to leave it at that. No matter how badly he wanted to sheath himself inside you and stay there for eternity. His goal had been your pleasure and he had achieved it. 

But as he kissed you your hands began working at the buckle of his gun belt, opening it with a skilled ease that made him pull back. 

“ Darlin’ you ain’t gotta do that- “

“ shush “ you pushed at him lightly so you could sit up and went to work on the buttons on his pants next “ I want to. I- Arthur take them off “ he made far quicker work of his own clothes than he had of yours and you leant back on your elbows to watch him. 

You looked like a pinup girl. Like something he’d seen drawn come to life. Your eyes seemed hungry as you looked at him, dragging down his body and lingering on his rock hard cock. He was practically throbbing with want, the tip an angry shade of pink and leaking precum slightly embarrassingly “ come here. Please. Back down here “ 

He did as he was asked, crawling back over your body as you eyed him greedily. 

“ We really don’t…I mean, If y’don’t wanna- “ his words stuck in his throat as your fingers wrapped around the length of him with a small sigh. 

“ I want you to I just…can I ask one thing? “ he couldn’t get the word yes to escape his mouth, your fingers squeezing him softly in a way that made him see flashes of white in his vision. So he simply nodded “ don’t fuck me. Dutch fucks me, make love to me “ you seemed a little embarrassed at the request. But he didn’t think it was embarrassing. In fact he had had no plans to use you as brutally as Dutch. He was almost a little offended you thought he might. 

“ Told you, anythin’ you want. You got it “ you smiled softly and pressed another kiss to his lips before laying back down again. He positioned himself over you, caging your head in between his arms. And it truly was incredibly intimate. He wondered when the last time you had had such intimacy was. If you’d ever received such a thing from Dutch. 

He spat on his hand and grabbed a hold of his sensitive cock, stroking himself a couple of times to get himself slick. Not that he really needed to, you were already wetter than he’d ever known a woman to be. But the last thing he wanted was your discomfort. He lined himself up with you, eyes trained on your face as he dragged his weeping tip between your folds. You gasped as he caught your clit, still sensitive and alert from your first orgasm. 

“ Arthur please “ you whimpered rolling your hips up against him, so desperate to have him inside of you. 

“ So God damn wet for me “ he murmured “ such a good girl ain’t ya? “ you whined in answer, fingers wrapping around what you could of his bicep and digging your perfectly trimmed nails into his skin “ gonna make you feel so good I promise darlin’ jus’ like you deserve yeah? “ you whispered out a yes and brought your other hand to the back of his neck. He couldn’t tear his eyes away from you, still running his cock along the length of your slit. Teasing. 

“ Keep looking at me. Please look at me Arthur “ he continued to do as asked. Again. Though his eyes had barely strayed from your face anyway “ I need you so badly “ Eyes locked on yours, he finally pushed into you, he took it slow. Letting you take it inch by inch, watching the look of ecstasy wash over your face. Your eyes fell closed. 

He fought to retain his own composure, overwhelmed by the tight, wet, warmth of your walls enveloping him. He could feel every unique ridge and bump that made your cunt oh so perfect, feel every muscle stretch and contract as you adjusted to him. 

“ god- oh god “ 

“ shh shh easy there. I got ya “ he paused once he was seated inside of you, grabbing at your hip with one hand to angle your hips better. Allowing you to comfortably take all of him in. He waited, let you adjust to his size, not daring to move before he got the go ahead from you “ there you go, look at you, takin’ all of me like that. So good f’me “ you basked in his praise, a dopey kind of smile spreading across your face.

“ so much bigger than him “ you whispered with a small laugh and Arthur couldn’t help the smug smile on his face. Kissing you and touching you and making you come on his tongue had been one thing. But having you like this? Having his cock buried to the hilt inside of you, so unbelievably close together. And to then be told that? To know he was about to do you better than Dutch ever had. Ever could. It felt like the biggest fuck you to the man that had been not only mistreating him of late, but also the goddess of a woman beneath him “ I’m good. You can move. Please move “ 

He didn’t need telling twice. Pulling out almost completely and thrusting back in in one smooth motion. The pace he fell into was just as you’d asked. Loving. Tender. But hard and deep, making sure his hips were flush with yours with every stroke. You wrapped your legs around his waist, pulled his face back down to kiss him again. 

If anyone had spotted you they’d have easily mistaken you both for a lovesick couple having a private moment to yourselves. The entire thing intimate and passionate. No one would assume it was an affair in motion, hidden away in the woods by the shoreline in fear of your lover finding the pair of you there. 

But it was what you wanted. What you had needed. And he felt privileged to provide. 

He pulled back from your lips to watch you again, enthralled by the way your face relaxed and twisted in the pleasure he was providing you. You continued to spill those angelic sounds from your throat, growing breathier and higher pitch as he continued to drag his cock against the sopping, sensitive heat of your cunt. He had to focus hard not to finish in seconds. So much build up paired with being practically celibate for months was truly doing him no favours, but he focussed. He wasn’t letting this end until you came once more. You deserved it. 

“ Keep those pretty eyes on me “ he murmured as they fell closed again “ that’s it darlin’, look at me there ya go “ everytime he spoke the slightest word of praise you practically beamed, so desperate to hear it. To be told you were good. Beautiful. So different to Dutch constantly yelling at you about how annoying you were, how much your mere presence bothered him these days. So he kept it up. 

“ Doin’ so well for me. This pussy it’s perfect, ain’t that right? C’mon tell me “ he urged, still fighting off his ever looming orgasm. The sounds alone was enough to make him want to burst. Sweat slicked skin on skin, the wet sounds of your cunt dripping around the swollen intrusion of him. And those sweet sweet moans of yours. 

“ yes “ you whimpered “ it’s perfect “ 

“ That’s a good girl “ he increased his pace ever so slightly and your hands slipped from his arms to his back, dragging your nails down him to try to pull him impossibly closer to you. 

He moved a hand down between your bodies, rubbing your clit in time with his thrusts, grunting and choking back his own moans as you squeezed him. Like your body never wanted him to leave, gripping his cock with your cunt and making it ever more harder to hold back. He couldn’t help but have a look, glancing down to see the way you stretched around him, mesmerised at the way you took him in so deep. 

“ tell me I- oh. Tell me I’m beautiful “ you whimpered, sounding almost like you might cry. From pleasure, from upset. He didn’t know. But he continued to do as asked. 

“ you’re beautiful “ he murmured picking up his pace a little more, his sweat slick skin slapping against yours. He was desperate to see you come again. Wanted to see your face up close this time, watch your eyes roll back and your kiss swollen lips part in ecstasy “ so beautiful darlin. Doin’ so well f’me, takin’ me so well “ 

“ don’t stop, don't stop “ he dropped his head to your neck whispering every word of praise he could think of into your ear, your body arching up against his and whimpering and whining with every word. 

“ ain’t ever looked prettier than this “ he whispered, his own voice becoming breathless with the effort “ shit- look at ya, takin’ my cock so well. So pretty darlin’ “ 

Your second orgasm seemed to shock you as much as him, clawing at his skin to hold him close as your body trembled beneath him, biting at his shoulder to muffle your moans. 

He didn’t mean to finish inside of you, had fully intended to pull out. But the way your cunt had squeezed him, the sounds you had made as he pushed you over the edge for the second time.

He muffled his own groan of pleasure in your neck, fingers digging into the dry earth beneath you, spilling load after load whilst fully sheathed inside of you. His entire body tensed, a pleasure he hadn’t felt in an incredibly long time. His heart was hammering in his chest, blood rushing loudly in his ears as it seemed to drag on forever. 

And then he came to his senses. 

“ m’sorry. Shit. Sorry “ he panted as he tried to compose himself and pushed himself up onto his hands to pull out. But you yanked him back down, arms wrapping around his back again and legs tightening around his waist. 

“ no. Please. Stay. Stay right there. Just a moment would you “ he had come to realise in the past.. how long had you two even been out there? However long it was, he’d come to realise he was terrible at saying no to you. Could never possibly even dream to deny you of anything you wanted from him. And so he slumped back down onto his forearms, dropping his head against your shoulder for a moment. Your chest heaved beneath him and you caught your breath, fingers tracing gentle strokes along his spine. He felt he could stay there for hours. 

“ You doin’ okay? “ he asked, pressing a light kiss to your jaw when he had composed himself a little more. 

“ marvellous Mr Morgan “ you whispered with a small smile “ truly. Marvellous “ he couldn’t help but kiss you again, the long lingering kind meant for two lovers. 

After a few minutes you both finally moved, re dressing in silence and then sitting back in your original position against the tree. He handed you a cigarette, lighting it and placing it between your lips. 

He wondered what he looked like. Wondered what evidence you had left on him. Had he sweated off the lipstick prints on his chest or were they still there? He knew you had scratched his back up good and proper and would have that reminder there for a few days at least. 

“ Thank you. Mr Morgan '' you said quietly after a few silent moments of smoking, blowing out a long stream of smoke “ I mean it I- i'm not sure what I’m supposed to say “ 

“ Don’t say anythin’ “ he said with a small wave of his hand, appearing as blaise as he possibly could but in reality knowing he wasn’t about to forget that night anytime soon “ its fine. Really. Anytime y’need me, for anythin’, you know where I’ll be “ you smiled and he watched your body relax a little more. 

“ you know, i might just take you up on that “ 

He sincerely hoped you would. 

[chiscaralight]

cw: nsfw sukuna x reader. this is built off of my college athlete!sukuna au.

“hey, i thought you were good at this game. you’re pretty shit huh?”

“shut u-up, s’kuna!”

his laugh is heavy, vibrating all throughout his body, even right into his cock that’s nestled deep in your cunt. your now-boyfriend has you bent over the backrest of the couch, feet practically hanging off the ground as he holds you tight, pounding into you ever so slowly as you try to concentrate on your game.

he’s right about the first part, you’re generally really good at this game, climbing tanks with speed whenever a new season starts. but he’s fucking up your momentum now, unable to give you just a half hour to get a few rounds in before he gets a few rounds in. he decides it’s his way or the highway though. after all, you’re the one that promised that if his team won their next match he could do anything he wanted to you. he took your words very seriously because he’s been tormenting you about it all day!

and sukuna’s cock is incredibly huge, stretching you out a stupid amount while you weakly attempt to focus your eyes on the screen. but you’re getting cross-eyed from how deep his strokes are hitting, biting down so harshly on your lip to keep your moans in and not give him the satisfaction that he wants.

unfortunately, your boyfriend is a greedy man, and he wants everything about you, including your voice. he hates to admit it, but one of the major reasons he kept coming back to you is because of your saccharine voice. you could be talking about the nerdiest thing, droning on and on about how you enjoy a specific mechanic of a game or how dumb an ending was, but it’s the way you sound, how the melody dripping from your lips has his pants tightening with an insane speed. but you want to keep that away from him? no way in hell is he going to allow that.

and his body mass and power far exceeds yours, because his strong hand is gripping your face and raising your entire upper body from the position you were leaned down in. his fingers press into your cheeks hard and your mouth involuntarily opens, right before he delivers a particulate hard thrust that has your controller hitting the ground with a loud crash, but a long, drawn-out moan following almost immediately after.

there it is. that’s what he’s looking for. your pretty eyes are squeezed shut, fingers gripping at the fabric of the couch cushion that’s being rested upon. your breathing is so labored, legs twitching as you brace yourself for impact. but it never comes. you’re waiting, but he’s waiting for something too.

“s’kuna, come onnn. move, please.”

“oh, you finally have time for me now? what about your little match?”

“sukuna.”

you’re rolling your eyes at the way you can feel him trying to hold back. he’s so annoying when he gets all cocky like this, knowing he has all the power over you right now. if it was any of the other people he used to mess around with, he’d have drawn it out much longer, have them beg hard, humiliate themselves just for an inch of pleasure. but you? he’s already scooping you into his arms, circling to the front of the couch, and shifting the coffee table on the rug with a single push of his leg.

the floor? and your thinking is correct because your back is colliding with the softness of the rug soon enough.

“what, am i not good enough for the couch anymore? and here i thought you liked me.”

“better watch that mouth before i leave you here.”

“you wouldn’t.”

that’s right, he wouldn’t. but he won’t tell you that. he’d rather just slide into your leaking cunt like he is now, relishing in the way you whine as he re-enters. it’s always like the first time with him, the burn of the way he stretches you hot against your achy hole as grasp tight as his wrist. and sukuna loves to bed you over backwards for him, quite literally, because he waists no time to push your legs up, getting them as far as your body will allow before pressing his own weight on top of you, keeping them locked in place so he can start to move.

and he’s been far more patient within the last few minutes, but right now his pace is relentless, fucking you with a speed that your brain actually cannot comprehend, lips nipping at the exposed skin of your neck. it’s been a while since he’s been able to have just enough time with you and all the marks he loves to see against your skin have healed and faded. no problem for him, it’s the perfect setting to give you one, two, maybe thirty more.

your arms are locked tight around his broad shoulders, trying to ground yourself from the pleasure. if you sink too far into it, you might honestly pass out from how good he feels. he knows just when to angle his hips up, just when to lick into your mouth and just how much pressure he needs to put on your stomach to have wail out his name in a sickly sweet tone, the tears that were welling in the corners of your eyes finally starting to roll against your cheeks as he keeps up, pace never faltering.

the man you’re dating is a nasty brute though, and he enjoys saying you like this a little too much. his tongue is quick to lap up the liquid gracing your cheeks, ignoring the way you whine out an ewwww because he knows you love it when he does shit like this. he’ll pay a soft peck to your lips before trailing his rough fingers toward your clit, brushing hard against the sensitive bud. the single action has you arching off the ground, pressing your chest against his as you squirm hard, trying to run away from the pleasure.

but sukuna hates it when you try to escape, it offends him even. he’d much prefer you stay here and take what he decides to give you because he usually gives you his everything. your gratitude can’t be trying to leave, that won’t be fair to him. so he’ll push even harder against your clit, drawing quick shapes against hit in ways that he knows will have you shaking hard against him in no time.

and once again he’s correct because your eyes are rolling back into the darkness of your skull, body spasming under his as your orgasm rocks you hard. it’s all so beautiful, the noises you make, the way you look, the way your cunt continues to flutter around his length; he can’t help but pump you full of his own, grunts deep and hoarse as he fucks it into you. too bad you’re out cold from your own, he would have loved to see the look on your face as his actions would most definitely overstimulate you.

when you finally come to, you’re cleaned up and laid on the couch, in his shirt and a blanket tightly tucked around you. the volume from the tv is low and sukuna sits on the floor, back resting against the chair as he focuses hard on the screen.

“sukuna..what are you doing?”

“i’m playing a real game here. you wouldn’t understand.”

“you’re playing dress to impress??”

he just waves you off, returning his attention back to his very serious gameplay. you roll your eyes, debating wether or not you should unplug your router just to see him suffer, but you come up with another idea.

in almost no time, you’re sliding yourself into his lap, chest facing his as you trail your fingers up and down his built chest. sukuna is well built, almost too well built, body chiseled and toned like a greek god. he spares you only a glance and a smirk as your touch continues to roam over his body.

“you’re not going to mess me up right now, brat.”

smart, but his body is as weak for your touch as you are for his. when you do respond, your voice is low, and sultry and you bring your lips to his ears to make sure he hears you loud and clear.

“i’m not trying to, you can keep playing.”

his entire being stiffens but for only a second. that one second is enough to solidify your resolve, because you’re moving your hips against his, and you can feel his bulge growing against the thin fabric of your panties as you whisper the nastiest things to him, making sure you’re moving just enough to get him on the edge.

you hold back a smile when you feel both hands against the dip of your waist, guiding you against his length. he’s watching you very closely, studying every shift and flutter of your lashes as you cutely smile up at him. god, you’re honestly going to kill him. but before that, he’s going to fuck that pussy half to death until you’re begging him to let you cum.

[sparklingchim]

game on | jjk

pairing: jungkook x reader

word count: 2.2k

genre: footballer!jungkook, fake dating, f2l

rating: pg

warnings: koo gets scolded for sleeping around 🥺, playboy jk <3, hints of a threesome 🫢, oc fights w a laundry machine

summary: jungkook is in desperate need to polish up his playboy image, and naturally, he turns to you for help.

a/n: hii my pretty besties!!!! it's my bday😋 so i wanted to share this silly piece i've been having so much fun writing!!! love uuu n treat urself to smth nice for me today <3 mwah😙

⭒☆━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━☆⭒

Jeon Jungkook is a charming man – and he is well aware of the fact. He plays that card effortlessly.

Most of the time, it works in his favour.

But sometimes, it backfires spectacularly and gets him into trouble.

Which is why he stands in front of his fuming manage, who is radiating enough anger to fill the entire office.

The sight isn’t foreign to Jungkook. He wouldn’t say he is used to it, but he has found himself often enough in this situation to recognise the signs of deep trouble.

Not only is Jungkook’s charm complicating things, but the fact that he is famous too.

Sometimes, he uses that as an advantage. Not in an obvious way — never by flaunting his own achievements or demanding special treatment.

That’s not his style.

His name alone carries weight, and he knows how to let it work for him, quietly bending the world to his will... until the world pushes back.

And right now, it’s pushing back hard.

One thing Jeon Jungkook does enjoy about being a pro footballer, though, is the way women obsess over him.

He knows they love him – sees it in the comments they leave on his ig posts, sees it in the DMs flooding his inbox daily, and experiences it firsthand at public events, where hordes of fans scream his name. Jungkook thrives on that attention.

However, something he doesn’t love, and what he was never prepared for, is the media. The way they scrutinise his every move, how his face ends up on every headline anytime he does something remotely noteworthy.

And now, thanks to his latest shenanigan getting caught by the press, here he is. Standing in front of his manager, Taesung, and his PR agent, Jiwoo, eyes downcast, bracing himself for the scolding that’s already begun.

“You’ve gone too far this time, Jungkook.”

His manager speaks in a flat, monotonous voice, void of even the slightest hint of disappointment, as if he’d long since given up expecting anything different.

“Do you have any idea how hard it is to clean up the mess you leave behind?”

A sense of guilt creeping up on Jungkook, even though he knows if he were just a regular guy, none of this would matter at all. And he finds it a bit unfair.

But to survive in this business, you can’t complain about unfairness.

“Have you completely lost your mind?” Taesung barks.

Jungkook remains silent. He forces himself to.

“If there was more involved than just alcohol-”

“No! Nothing like that,” he denies, his response firm and immediate. “It was just alcohol – and, well, just good vibes because we won the last match, and with the World Cup being next, everyone was just really excited.”

If he had known what kind of trouble a simple, innocent celebration of his team’s win at a club would bring, he would’ve gone straight home yesterday. He would’ve skipped the rounds of drinks, the flashing lights, the loud music, and definitely the attention. But hindsight was useless now.

“Good,” his manager says. “I’m glad you were happy.” Mock sympathy drips from his voice. “Perhaps the last time you are going to be happy this year.”

Jungkook nods, accepting the gravity of the situation. No more clubs, no more parties, no more girls.

At least, not for a while. His reputation had taken a few hits recently, and this latest mess wasn’t helping. He could almost hear the whispers: reckless, irresponsible, unprofessional. The kind of things that could ruin him if he didn’t get a handle on it.

He clenched his jaw. No more distractions. From now on, it was all about the game. He needed to remind everyone why he was Jeon Jungkook — the best on the field, not just the headlines.

“You’re no longer in for the World Cup. You’re out.”

His head snaps up at that. Did he hear that right?

“What?! What do you mean?”

“Myungbo doesn’t want you on the team anymore.” Taesung’s words sound heavy and final.

Jungkook’s heart pounds in his ears.

His world tilts. The room seems to spin, the edges of his vision darkening. This wasn’t just a setback — it was a disaster. The World Cup was everything to him, and now it felt like it was slipping through his fingers. The crushing weight of the news settles on his chest, making it hard to breathe. One silly night is all that happened.

He can’t believe that a single photo of him leaving the club with two girls clinging to each arm has cost him his spot on the national football team. He went home with two girls – so what?

But he doesn’t voice his frustration. He knows better than to add fuel to the fire. Speaking his mind now would only escalate the situation and make things worse. Jungkook knows from experience.

He swallows hard, forcing himself to stay calm. His pulse is still racing, but he takes a deep breath, focusing on controlling his emotions. He has to keep a level head if he’s going to find a way to fix this.

“There has to be a way to fix this.” His eyes move to Jiwoo, his PR agent. “Right?”

His manager fixes him with a stern glare. “Jungkook, remember the promise you gave everyone a few months ago?” Taesung reminds him.

Jungkook cringes. When he made a promise to avoid actions that might damage his reputation, he didn’t think it’d be that serious. He cut back on going out, made the effort to play the role of the “good boy” but really – come on. He can’t maintain that facade for an eternity. Especially after a triumphant victory like yesterday’s.

Taking away his spot on the national football team? He didn’t think that was possible.

“How many more times do we have to fix your problems, because you don’t care enough? How many times do we have to repeat this scenario?”

“I promise I’ll better myself,” he pleads desperately, looking back and forth between his manager and his PR agent. Someone has to believe him, help him.

“Do you genuinely believe this country wants to be represented by a 20-year-old boy, who can’t keep his personal life under control?” Taesung asks, eyebrows deeply pinched together. “This isn’t just about you, Jungkook. It’s about the team, the fans, and the nation. They need a role model, not a scandal waiting to happen.”

“I know. I know.” Jungkook scrambles for something convincing to say, desperate to sway their decision. This can’t be it. He won’t let his career take a hit because of something like this. “But – but this isn’t too bad. This is fixable. I can fix this.” His voice quivers with a desperation he barely recognises as his own. “Jiwoo.” Jungkook turns to her with pleading eyes. “You always know what to do. Please, help me”

“I did propose an idea but-”

“We’re not doing that,” Taesung cuts in. “It’s off the table.”

“What is it?” Jungkook’s eyes bounce back and forth between them. “I’ll do anything. This is – this is everything to me. You have to give me a chance.”

Taesung scoffs. “A chance? As far as I know, you have been given countless chances.”

Sweat coats the back of Jungkook’s neck.

Taesung understands just how much Jungkook has fought to secure his place on the national team. He’s well aware that it’s one of Jungkook’s greatest dreams, a pinnacle of his career that he’s poured countless hours of hard work and sacrifice into. That’s why, each morning, when he wakes up to the latest news of Jungkook’s escapades, he feels a deep sense of disappointment, texting Jungkook with a dejected shake of his head to visit his office first thing in the morning.

When it’s all he wants, like Jungkook claims, why doesn’t he act like it?

“If the head coach won’t give me a chance now, he’ll never do. This is my last opportunity to change his mind, make him rethink. I need to at least try.”

Jiwoo looks at the manager, waiting for his approval. He nods.

“Very simply put: you need a girlfriend,” she says.

For a second, Jungkook is at loss for words.

“A girlfriend? How’s that going to help?” Jungkook tilts his head in confusion. This is not how he thought Jiwoo was going to save him.

“You need a girlfriend to help polish up your image as a player. It’ll make you appear more like a gentleman, softer and nicer. We need to completely shift public perception and counter the negative image they’ve formed about you. It’s all about changing the narrative,” she explains.

“And that is not something we can easily achieve,” Taesung interjects. “Rebranding your entire persona is not feasible at this stage. You’ve been projecting what kind of boy you are to the media for the past two years. It’s going to be incredibly difficult to make a sudden shift look genuine.”

“No! We — I can make it seem real. This is my only chance,” Jungkook insists, his voice gaining a hint of determination. For a moment, breathing feels a bit easier again. “The World Cup is just a month away. That’s enough time to shift public opinion and prove I’m worthy of representing the country on the team.” There’s a hopeful lilt in his voice as he speaks, clinging to the belief that he might not have to bid farewell to his biggest dream after all.

But his manager doesn’t look as hopeful as Jungkook feels.

“How are we going to find a girl who will agree to this? Someone who isn’t an obsessive fan, understands this is purely professional, and can keep quiet? You won’t be able to pull this off.”

“I was actually thinking-” Jiwoo starts, but she’s cut off.

Jungkook hesitates, glancing between them before speaking. “Actually... I think I already have someone in mind.” His voice is more measured now. “That’s not the issue.” Jungkook doesn’t need to think twice.

Taesung sighs while Jiwoo looks at Jungkook apologetically.

“You can’t rebrand your entire persona from a playboy to a lover boy within a month, Jungkook. This is over.” His manager shakes his head, a sense of finality glimmering in his eyes.

One thing that Jungkook forgot to mention is that he is an extremely competitive man, too.

~

“This is ridiculous.”

You kick the laundry machine in frustration, but all you end up doing is yelping and clutching your aching foot.

“That’s the third time this month,” you mutter under your breath. “What did I even spend all that money on if it’s just going to break down whenever it feels like it?”

You shoot a death glare at the machine, teetering on the edge of losing your mind.

“Guess I’ll have to use the public laundromat again,” you sigh, grabbing the overflowing laundry basket filled with your and your roommate's clothes, and heading out of the bathroom with a huff.

On your way to the front door, the doorbell rings.

Please, you think. You were hoping for some quiet, uninterrupted time to deep-clean your dorm on this peaceful Sunday with no one around.

But when you peek through the peephole and see Jungkook standing there, your frustration melts away. You swing the door open, the laundry basket tumbling to the floor beside you in your haste.

“Jungkook!” you exclaim. “You’re timing is perfect! Can you please fix my laundry machine again? It’s been acting up, and I’m getting frustrated.” You groan annoyed.

Jungkook doesn’t share the same excitement upon seeing you.

You grow smaller and take an indecisive step back.

“What’s wrong?” you ask, noticing the tension in his features. “Did you lose the match yesterday? I couldn’t keep up because I had too much cramming to do last night.”

While studying medicine had always been your dream, the reality is less exciting. Right now, it means sleepless nights and relentless pressure. You know that pursuing this path will offer you many privileges later in life, but you have to suffer first.

“I need your help.”

His dark eyes, usually bright and full of energy, seem clouded with worry, and his hair falls messily over his forehead, like he’s run his hands through it a hundred times in frustration.

“Are you okay?” You study him closely, scanning his face for any signs of injury. Physically, he seems fine — still tall, muscular, and as fit as ever. But something is clearly off.

“You need to do something for me.”

“I can help,” you reply, your voice soft with concern. ‘But what is it…?”

“Can you be my girlfriend?”

You blink, repeatedly.

“Huh?”

You start giggling when he doesn’t add more. You expect him to clarify or laugh along, but Jungkook stays serious, stepping closer and gently taking your hands in his. You look down at them, then back up at his face, utterly bewildered.

“You’re silly, Jungkook. If someone on the team made you do this, tell them you did the punishment and quit acting so weird.”

It’s too early in the morning for Jungkook’s nonsense.

“No, ___, you don’t understand.” He squeezes your hands when he feels you trying to pull them back. “I actually need you to do it.”

“Do what?”

“Fake date me.”

[sunderwight]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[dcxdpdabbles]

Hi I love rereading all your fics and prompts! Like, multiple times throughout the day. I have a schedule. Your works are my literal bed time stories (wow that sounded weird).

Anyways (before I ramble any worse). Any updates for Child support? I just love it so much and wondering if there's more

John throws himself to the side, barely avoiding a grab from a fifth-dimension demon throwing a fit after he rejects its request to marry his son. He rolls across the ground, powering up a spell, as he mentally curses his age.

Maybe Batman was right. He should work on his physical form a little more.

"Wait! Wait! I'm sorry! Can we talk about this-" Whatever the demon was going to say is lost after John's spell slams into its chest, throwing it back out of his dimension and sealing him from his Earth for fifty years. The spell is helpful, but fifty years doesn't mean much to demons, and it will wait decades to come back and bother them.

Thankfully, John will likely be long-dead before then. It's always been his solution for most of his problems. Pushing a problem to a later date where it can become someone else's problem.

But what about his son?

Danny, who was half of Time itself, would likely be around in fifty years. If there was one thing he didn't want, it was to leave Danny with all his messes. He'll have to learn a new banishing spell and find some instructors who could teach him an entirely new magic dueling technique.

It was the responsible thing to do. Ugh, fatherhood was making him an accountable bore.

John heaves himself off the floor, sweat pouring from his forehead, and grimaces. On the stove, the eggs he was cooking for Danny's breakfast are smoking, burnt into a dark black smudge. The House of Mystery's old wood groans, displeased with all the smoke, and a second later, the stove and counter vanish as the house creates a hole to drop them out of.

"Now that's just plain rude," John tells the house, dusting his knees. "It's not like I asked to be attacked first thing in the morning. What am I going to feed Danny now?"

The house's floor tiles shift in what John has come to learn was meant to be a shrug. The blasted thing has started copying Danny's teenage behavior, including that of his son's friends, and now seemed to enjoy rebelling against John whenever possible.

Thankfully, the house also seemed to really like Danny because one of the drawers opens, and a local Gotham breakfast dinner menu is flung at him. John catches the sheet with a sigh. He won't have to go too far when dropping Danny off at school.

"Morning, Dad," Danny greets, walking into the room wearing his Gotham Academy uniform. The dark night blue blazer, black tie, and dress trousers make his son look like the heir of the second most powerful being. It only took one glance to see that Danny came from nobility.

John knows he's a handsome bloke, but he had nothing on Clockwork's human form. That man was a temptation itself, and it looks like Danny has inherited his beauty.

John will never know how the brats in Danny's other schools could not see that. His son was perfect. John fights the urge to summon a camera. He always thought the fools always showing off the children's pictures were idiotic. Now that he's a father, he understands.

He smiles, "Morning, love. How about we go out to eat for breakfast?"

__________________________________________________________

They arrived at the dinner just as it was opening. John told Danny to order some black tea and went to the bathroom. He was only gone for a few minutes, but when he returned, he found his boy surrounded by a group of teenagers wearing the same uniform.

There was a splash of angry red on Danny's face as a girl gestured to him, obviously mocking him, and the rest of the teenagers laughed. Danny's hands were clenched in his lap, shoulders hunched, and head lowered as another teenager reached out and flickered his ear.

This one was wearing those ridiculous American leather jackets for some sport. He was also the biggest teenager there, a boy who thought himself too important for his own good.

John's jaw clenched.

Bullies.

Danny had bullies at Gotham Academy. Why can't his son just be left alone?!

John was just about to march across the room, ready and willing to fight a group of children, when Danny suddenly raised his head to yell in the face of the leather jacket git.

Alarmingly, the teenagers don't have the reaction that John expects. The large boy blushes, and the teenagers all seem to grow flustered.

No, John realizes with horror. No, they fancy him. The little rats bothering Danny are into him. Were all the other bullies just dumb kids who were terrible at flirting, too?

He is so stunned by the realization that he misses the way Danny attempts to push past the boy and somehow ends up tripping over his own two feet. He tries to catch himself on the table but the thing tilts over and their drinks fly.

Danny ends up half on the ground covered in drinks and looking bloody misaberle as the rest of the children snicker. John draws to his full height, deciding that it didn't matter what these kids felt for Danny.

His son thought they were bullying him because they made him feel terrible. So they were all going to feel the wrath of the one human who bullshits his way to being one of the mightiest spell casters in history.

"What the bloody hell are you urchins think you're doing!?" He yells. The kids all take one look at him before they scatter, rushing towards their posh cars outside.

"You alright, love?" He helps the boy to his feet, wiping some liquid with a napkin.

Danny looks small as he wipes away at his eyes. There weren't any tears; he was just taking the tea that had run down his face off. "I'm okay. Thanks, Dad."

"Do they bother you a lot?" He asks, anger growing in his chest. "We can go to your headmaster."

"No! Telling the principle will only make things worse!" Danny shouts, looking up in alarm. "Besides, they don't really bother me that much. Damian can usually scare them off. They should go for me, I can handle it; most other kids don't."

Fuck, where has he heard that phrase before?

It's alright if he hits me. I can handle it better than Mum.

John takes a breath through his nose, willing it to calm him down. This is another change that has come to be ever since he learned about Danny. Before, John would have gone off the handle, started a fight, yelled till he was red, drank, or slept through his issues, and damn the consequences.

He's got to think with a clearer head now. He owes Danny because of what his other father will do and because John wants to be the kind of father he never had.

The waitress rushes over, helping them get things set to right, and Danny apologizes for repeatedly knocking on the table. She waves away his worry, stating she saw the group and that, as someone who's worked near Gotham Acadamy for years, she knows what kind of students go there.

She also mentioned seeing what happened to the scholarship students over the years after nodding her head to Danny's pin. John hated that it was a requirement for Danny's uniform as a "show" of his accomplishments when all it did was single him out as a target.

While his son is distracted, John sends a quick text message to Bruce, informing him of the bullying Danny is going through.

Bruce responds with a single message: "It shall be handled." for once, he doesn't roll his eyes at the theatrics. A small thump on the window makes him glance up from his phone screen.

Pressed up against the glass is a blond teenage boy with wide eyes, breathing heavily and looking like a child staring at a feast of their favorite foods. John makes a face as the teenager's palms' and nose lean more into the glass, disorientating his image, but nothing could top the manic grin on his face.

John follows the boy's eyesight to where they practically devour his son, who is busy looking at the pasty bar. The waitress told him to pick anything he liked in the house to try and cheer him up from his bully.

Danny takes his sweets very seriously and studies his options with hyper-focused determination. He bends at his waist to look at the far-back brownies, and the teenager in the window lets out a cat-like growl of approval.

Alarmed, John steps in front of Danny, blocking him and his bum from view. The teenager, wearing the same uniform as Danny, and John was pretty sure he's seen this kid at Gotham High School when they had been touring the place before deciding to take Burce's offer, locks eyes with him.

John doesn't have to see into the stranger's scowl to confirm what he already knows.

That was not a human in control of the body. A demon likely took the unfortunate human for a joy ride. John raises his hand, spell crackling at his fingertips, and the scowl turns darker as the demon wearing the stolen face seers.

Just as he is about to fire off a spell, Danny's voice cuts through the tension, stepping around John with a happy "Bernard!"

His son walks up to the window before freezing and then looks back at John with the same bone-chilling expression of anger that he has only ever seen on one other being. That one being who could make the very fabrics of the universe fall apart despite not shouting or rampaging.

Danny inherited Clockwork's anger, it seemed.

"That thing is overshadowing my friend Bernard Dowd." Danny's voice is low and echoing. Somewhere behind him, John can hear the waitress gasp for air as the room's pressure increases, to Danny's displeasure. "I'm going to kill it."

John's knees shake as he fights to stay upright. "Alright. Make sure you finish murdering it before your second class. You have a chemistry test today."

Danny nods, walks outside, and grabs Bernard's arm to drag him into a dark alley. The dumb thing looked pleased, spraying something into its mouth. I thought Danny was going to snog it.

Fool.

As soon as Danny left, the pressure disappeared from the dinner, every human inside sighing relief once they could breathe better.

"What in the world was that!?" The waitress demands, her voice strained with fear.

John turns to her with a shrug. "Puberty."

Outside, a loud honk is heard as a certain teenager in a leather jacket slams his head against his steering wheel with a wail. His friends are quick to comfort him to the best of their abilities. They likely saw Danny drag the possessed human into the alleyway.

Good.

"Do you have any alcoholic drinks?" He asks the horror-stricken woman. "I need something strong."

"It's seven in the morning."

"Ah, a coffee then. Black. Strong. Anything to help me raise my boy and get through the day."

There is a long pause before she responds. "Of course, and it's on the house. Not easy being a single parent to....whatever that was."

At least she has a heart.

[urdreamydoodles]

X-Men x Reader (Part.1)

You smacks their ass as they walk past (Part.1)

Each X-Man reacts with a mix of surprise and playful teasing when you smacks their ass as they walk past, leading to affectionate and mischievous moments.

Characters: Logan Howlett, Remy LeBeau, Kurt Wagner, Scott Summers, Erik Lehnsherr, Warren Worthington III, Bobby Drake, Alex Summers, Pietro Maximoff & Jean Grey

Logan (Wolverine):

You’re in the kitchen, mindlessly going about your business, while Logan’s at the counter slicing through a loaf of bread. He’s focused, as usual, with that familiar scowl on his face that never quite leaves. The kitchen is quiet, just the hum of the fridge and the faint sounds of his knife slicing through the bread. You can’t help yourself—you watch him for a moment, admiring the way his muscles move under his tight shirt, the raw strength in every little motion. He looks so serious, so in his own world.

As you pass behind him, you smirk to yourself. It’s too tempting. Without thinking twice, you let your hand drift out, and with a sharp flick of your wrist, you smack his ass, enjoying the solid *thwack* that follows. You don’t stop, just continue walking like nothing happened, a satisfied smile curling on your lips.

Logan freezes mid-slice. For a beat, he doesn’t say a word. Then you hear the low rumble of a growl deep in his chest. “Really, darlin’?” His voice is thick, a little rough around the edges, and you can hear the amusement creeping in. He turns his head, one eyebrow raised, that familiar smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

You glance back at him, feigning innocence, but you can see the way his eyes darken just a bit. He drops the knife, turning slowly, taking a step toward you. His movements are deliberate, almost predatory. “You think you can just walk by like that and not face the consequences?” His voice is a low, gravelly whisper, sending shivers down your spine.

Before you can respond, Logan’s hand is on your waist, pulling you back against him. You can feel the heat radiating off him, his breath hot against your ear as he murmurs, “If you’re gonna start somethin’, sweetheart, you better be ready to finish it.” There’s a playful challenge in his voice, a glint in his eyes that tells you he’s not about to let you off the hook that easily.

Remy LeBeau (Gambit):

Remy is leaning against the couch, casually flipping through a deck of cards, as he often does when he’s bored. The two of you have been lounging around the living room all afternoon, and there’s an easy, comfortable silence between you. He’s dressed in that effortless way he always is—dark jeans that hug him in all the right places and a shirt that’s just tight enough to show off his lean muscles. He catches you looking at him, flashing you that mischievous smile, the one that makes your heart skip a beat.

You roll your eyes at him, but you’re already plotting something in your head. You stroll past him, heading toward the kitchen, but as you do, you let your hand dip down and smack his ass, hard enough to make him jump a little. You don’t stop, just keep walking like nothing happened, a satisfied smirk on your face.

“Mon dieu, cherie,” Remy’s voice comes out in a playful drawl, full of that Southern charm he’s famous for. He’s immediately on his feet, tossing the cards onto the couch and following you into the kitchen. “You really gonna hit an innocent man like dat and walk away?” You glance over your shoulder, and he’s grinning, his red-on-black eyes glowing with amusement.

Before you can get far, he’s behind you, his hands sliding around your waist, pulling you back against him. “Y’know, cher, dat’s gonna cost you somethin’,” he whispers, his lips brushing your ear. There’s a heat to his words, and you can feel the playful threat behind them. “You know what happens when you mess with de Ragin’ Cajun, right?”

He spins you around, pressing you up against the counter with that wicked grin still plastered on his face. His hands slide down your sides, landing right where you’d smacked him. “Might have t’ return de favor,” he purrs, leaning in to press a teasing kiss to your lips. “You know Remy always collects his dues, mon amour.”

Kurt Wagner (Nightcrawler):

You’re in the middle of tidying up the bedroom when you spot Kurt near the door, his back to you as he’s sorting through some papers. He’s muttering to himself in that soft, lilting German accent that you love so much, completely unaware of your eyes on him. His tail sways lazily behind him as he concentrates, and you can’t help but grin to yourself, an idea forming in your head.

You move silently, making your way over to him, and just as you pass by, you raise your hand and give his firm ass a playful smack. The sound is sharp in the quiet room, and you immediately keep walking, acting as if nothing had happened. But the reaction is instantaneous.

Kurt yelps in surprise, his tail flicking up and curling in the air as he turns to face you, a mix of shock and amusement on his face. “Liebling!” he exclaims, his yellow eyes wide with playful disbelief. “Did you just…?” His voice trails off as he stares at you, his mouth hanging open in mock offense.

You glance over your shoulder at him, feigning innocence. “What? I didn’t do anything,” you say with a smirk, knowing full well he doesn’t believe a word of it.

Before you can blink, there’s a familiar "bamf", and in an instant, Kurt’s teleported right in front of you, his arms wrapping around your waist as his tail curls mischievously around your leg. “Oh, so you think you can get away with that, meine Liebe?” he teases, his voice low and filled with amusement. “You know I won’t let that slide.”

His lips brush against your neck, his breath warm against your skin as he continues, “Perhaps you need a reminder of what happens when you provoke a demon.” The way he says it is both playful and sultry, sending a thrill down your spine. His tail tightens its grip on your leg, holding you in place as his hands move to your hips.

Kurt’s mischievous smile is contagious, and you can’t help but laugh as he presses a light kiss to your lips. “Next time, I might just have to teleport you somewhere… private,” he adds with a wink, his tail flicking playfully as he pulls you closer, the two of you lost in your little game.

Scott Summers (Cyclops):

You’re sitting at the dining room table, flipping through some documents when Scott walks by with his usual purposeful stride. His posture is perfect, as always, and that stern expression he wears doesn’t falter. He’s got a natural air of authority, but you’ve seen the softer side of him that few others get to witness. As he walks past you, that teasing side of you sparks to life, and without warning, you reach out and give his ass a firm smack.

The sound echoes in the quiet room, and Scott stops dead in his tracks. For a moment, you think maybe you’ve startled him too much, but then he turns slowly, adjusting his visor in that way he does when he’s trying to keep control. “Really?” he asks, his voice calm but with a hint of amusement. “You’re feeling bold today, huh?”

You grin, leaning back in your chair as if daring him to react. “What? You can’t handle a little fun?” you tease, enjoying the way his jaw clenches ever so slightly.

Scott doesn’t let himself smile, but you can see the ghost of one tugging at his lips. He strides back toward you, placing his hands on either side of your chair, leaning down until his face is mere inches from yours. His eyes are hidden behind that visor, but you know that intense gaze is focused solely on you. “You know,” he murmurs, his voice low and authoritative, “I could make this a teaching moment if you keep testing me.”

There’s a flicker of challenge in his tone, and you can’t help but shiver at the way he’s so controlled yet playful all at once. “Maybe I want to be taught a lesson,” you reply cheekily, smirking up at him.

Scott’s lips quirk into a small smile at that, and he leans in even closer, his breath brushing your skin. “Don’t start something you’re not ready to finish,” he warns softly, his tone filled with promise. You know Scott is all about discipline and control, but with you, there’s always an undercurrent of heat simmering just beneath the surface. And right now, you’re enjoying pushing all his buttons.

Erik Lehnsherr (Magneto):

You’ve just finished straightening up a few things around the living room when you notice Erik standing by the window, his arms crossed and his expression distant. He’s always deep in thought, his mind constantly working through plans, strategies, and the weight of his responsibilities. But in moments like these, you love pulling him out of that serious headspace, even if just for a second.

As you walk past him, you let your hand trail along his lower back before delivering a quick, playful smack to his ass. You know it’ll catch him off guard, and sure enough, Erik’s head turns sharply toward you, a mixture of surprise and amusement flashing in his steely gaze. “Liebling,” he says slowly, his deep voice laced with a dark chuckle, “I hope you realize what you’ve just done.”

You meet his gaze with a mischievous smile, shrugging casually. “What? Can’t a person have a little fun?”

Erik narrows his eyes, though you can see the faint smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. He steps toward you, his movements smooth and deliberate, until he’s standing directly in front of you, his towering presence almost intimidating. “You’re playing a dangerous game,” he warns, his voice low and dripping with intent.

His fingers reach out, brushing against your arm with a feather-light touch before sliding to your waist. “You should know better than to provoke me,” he continues, his tone growing softer, more menacing in a way that sends a thrill down your spine. There’s always something about Erik’s raw power that makes moments like these feel electric, like you’re on the verge of something intense.

You raise an eyebrow at him, refusing to back down. “Maybe I like living dangerously.”

Erik’s smirk widens, and without warning, he pulls you closer, his hand firm on your waist. “Careful, Liebling,” he murmurs, his breath warm against your skin. “Next time, I might not be so gentle.” His eyes gleam with the promise of something more, and you can’t help but smile, knowing that with Erik, every moment is charged with tension and passion.

Warren Worthington III (Angel):

Warren is pacing around the room, his wings fluttering slightly as he moves. He always gets restless like this, especially after long missions, and you can see the tension in his shoulders. His wings, magnificent as ever, brush against the walls with each step, and you can’t help but admire the effortless grace he carries with him.

You decide to lighten the mood, and as you walk by, you reach out and give his ass a playful smack. It’s quick, unexpected, and you’re already a few steps ahead by the time Warren stops and turns to look at you, his eyebrows raised in surprise. “Really, Y/N?” he says, a soft laugh escaping his lips. There’s a twinkle in his blue eyes, the corners of his mouth lifting into that charming smile you know so well.

“What?” you reply innocently, glancing over your shoulder at him. “Just wanted to see if you’d notice.”

Warren chuckles, shaking his head as he folds his wings neatly behind him and strides over to you. “Oh, I noticed,” he says, his voice smooth and playful, like silk brushing against your skin. He steps closer, his hand slipping around your waist, pulling you back toward him. “You’re lucky I find it cute when you get cheeky.”

You grin up at him, but before you can say anything, Warren’s lips are by your ear, his voice dropping to a low murmur. “But you should know… you’ve got my full attention now.” There’s a teasing edge to his words, and you can feel the heat of his body pressed against yours, his wings subtly enclosing around you, as if shielding the two of you from the world.

His fingers glide down your back, lingering just above where your hand had landed on him. “You know,” he whispers, his breath hot against your neck, “if you wanted my attention, all you had to do was ask.” His lips brush the shell of your ear, and you can feel the playful energy between you shift into something deeper, more intimate. Warren always knows how to turn a simple moment into something unforgettable, and as his wings wrap around you, you know you’re in for more than just playful teasing tonight.

Bobby Drake (Iceman):

You’re standing by the counter, organizing some groceries while Bobby flips through a magazine at the kitchen table. His legs are kicked up, as casual as ever, when you pass by. Feeling playful, you give his ass a swift smack as you move past him. The sound echoes in the small space, and it’s enough to catch his attention immediately.

Bobby jerks, almost spilling his drink in surprise, before whipping around to face you, his eyes wide and his cheeks flushed from both the slap and embarrassment. “Woah! Y/N, what was that for?” he asks, though there’s no hiding the grin pulling at his lips.

You shrug, flashing him an innocent look. “Just making sure you’re awake.”

He laughs, shaking his head as he stands up, crossing the room to stand next to you. “Oh, I’m awake now, alright,” he teases, sliding his arms around your waist, his touch cool against your skin. “I didn’t know you had it in you to get so… bold.”

His playful tone matches the mischievous glint in his eyes, and you can’t help but laugh along with him. “What? You can’t handle a little fun?” you challenge, enjoying the light banter between you two.

Bobby leans in closer, his lips brushing against your ear as he murmurs, “I can handle anything you throw at me, but don’t think I’ll let you get away with that.” His voice is laced with a teasing edge, and you feel a cool breeze sweep through the room, a subtle reminder of the icy powers he wields. You know he’s up to something, but before you can react, he presses a quick kiss to your neck and steps back with a wink. “You’re gonna pay for that, you know.”

Alex Summers (Havok):

Alex is sprawled out on the couch, looking through some reports when you walk by. His feet are up, and there’s a focused look on his face, the kind he always wears when he’s trying to deal with the endless responsibilities of being an X-Man. You take the opportunity as you pass, leaning over to give his ass a firm smack, catching him completely off guard.

Alex sits up instantly, his eyes narrowing playfully as he turns to you. “Did you just…?” he starts, not quite believing what just happened. He’s still processing it, a mix of amusement and shock spreading across his face.

You grin, crossing your arms as you raise an eyebrow. “What? Just thought I’d remind you who’s boss around here,” you tease, knowing it’ll get a rise out of him.

Alex chuckles, shaking his head as he stands up, his presence commanding yet relaxed. “Oh, is that right?” he asks, his voice low, a hint of mischief lacing his words. He walks toward you, closing the space between you quickly. “Well, I think you’re about to find out that I don’t take orders so easily.”

His hands find your waist, pulling you flush against him. You can feel the heat radiating off his skin, his energy always simmering just beneath the surface. “You like playing with fire, huh?” he murmurs, his lips brushing against your ear, sending a shiver down your spine. “Careful, Y/N… you might just get burned.”

The tension between you sizzles, and there’s a playful challenge in his eyes as he leans in closer. Alex has always had that perfect balance of power and charm, and moments like this remind you just how intoxicating he can be.

Pietro Maximoff (Quicksilver):

Pietro is a blur of motion, zipping around the room as he organizes everything at lightning speed. You’ve gotten used to his constant fast-paced movements, but that doesn’t stop you from messing with him whenever you get the chance. As he darts past you, you reach out, timing it perfectly to give his ass a swift smack.

In a flash, Pietro skids to a halt, spinning around to face you, his eyes wide with a mixture of surprise and excitement. “Did you just smack me?” he asks, his voice incredulous but laced with laughter. “I didn’t even see that coming!”

You grin, leaning against the counter as you shrug casually. “Maybe you’re losing your touch, Speedy.”

Pietro narrows his eyes playfully, zipping right in front of you in the blink of an eye. He’s so close, you can feel the rush of air from his speed. “Losing my touch? Oh, you’re in for it now,” he teases, his lips curling into that trademark smirk that always makes your heart race.

Before you can respond, he leans in, his breath hot against your ear. “You’re lucky I find this little game of yours amusing,” he murmurs, his voice a low purr. “But don’t think for a second I won’t get you back. Faster than you can blink.”

Pietro’s hand slides down your side, and you can feel the energy buzzing off him, the tension between you electric. His eyes gleam with mischief as he tilts his head slightly. “Next time you try that, you better be ready to run,” he warns, but there’s no real danger in his tone—only the promise of more playful banter to come.

Jean Grey:

Jean is standing at the stove, her mind likely a million miles away as she stirs something in the pot. You’ve always loved watching her in these quiet moments, the way her hair seems to glow in the soft light, her expression so calm and serene. As you walk by, you decide to playfully break the stillness and give her a quick, teasing smack on the ass.

Jean gasps in surprise, her stirring hand freezing mid-motion as she looks over her shoulder at you, eyes wide with a mix of shock and amusement. “Y/N!” she exclaims, her voice half-laughing, half-scolding. You can see the blush rising on her cheeks, and it only makes your grin widen.

“What?” you reply innocently, trying your best to look like you didn’t just commit the playful act. “I couldn’t resist.”

Jean sets the spoon down and turns fully toward you, hands on her hips, but there’s a sparkle in her eyes. “You’re trouble, you know that?” she says, though the smile tugging at her lips betrays any attempt at a stern tone.

Before you can respond, you feel a subtle tug in your mind—Jean’s way of playfully reminding you she’s always got the upper hand when it comes to your little games. She steps closer, her fingers brushing lightly against your arm. “You know I could have you pinned with a single thought,” she teases, her voice soft yet teasing. “But I think I’ll let you off the hook this time… unless you want me to show you what happens when you mess with a telepath.”

You raise an eyebrow, feeling the warmth of her body as she presses closer, her lips ghosting over your ear. “Think you’re fast enough to get away next time?” she whispers, her breath hot against your skin, leaving you anticipating her next move.