#rear single bicep

[brozoneex]

Muscle Flex

Wanna touch?

[yawnderu]

Content: domestic Simon ''Ghost'' Riley, husband!Simon, massages, fluff, A LOT of ass smacks because this man has a whole ass bakery.

Simon sat quietly next to you on the couch, mind reeling with the stress from the mission he just came back from, gaze distant and focused on staring ahead. You know better than to take it personal, aware that he simply needs time to unwind and process he's back home, safe and sound.

''Would you like a massage?'' You offer with a small smile, noticing how his muscles seem more tense than usual, bulging out of his clothes even more. He's quiet for a few seconds before looking at you, managing to return a half-smile and nod in agreement. Your hands hold his, trying to pull him out of the couch and being unable to— the asshole is making himself heavier on purpose, a smug smirk painting his lips at the thought of annoying his wife.

You pull harder, grunts escaping your lips because he's just too damn heavy.

''Simon.'' One stern look is all it takes for him to willingly get up from the couch, playfully swatting your head out of the way before running away once you try to kick his ass, running right after him while a small laugh escapes your lips. You crash on his back, purposely pushing him face-down in bed before smacking his ass, dragging a quiet, muffled laugh out of him.

You remove his muddy boots, helping him get out of his clothes until he's stripped down to his boxers, still laying face-down in bed, trusting you completely with his body. You get a bottle of massage oil from the closet, landing another playful slap on his rear before straddling him, sitting on his ass as you began spreading the oil all over his back. He let out a grunt at the spank, but didn't bother protesting, too distracted by the sensation of the cold oil being spread all over his tense muscles.

Your hands work wonders soon after, kneading and applying pressure on every single one of his muscles, slowly getting rid of the knots and tension in his body. He laid in bed with his head turned to the side, eyes closed as he relaxed and enjoyed the feeling of your hands working over his muscles, low moans leaving his lips sometimes at the pressure applied on his back muscles.

20 minutes is all it took to get rid of most of the knots on his back, planting a gentle kiss on the side of his head before giving him another one on the cheek, getting a grunt in response from the half-asleep man.

''I love you.'' You whisper in his ear, using the leftover oil on your hand to massage his bicep.

''I love you too, sweet girl.'' He manages to reply, voice groggy and deeper as he tried to stay awake to spend more time with you. A small giggle leaves your lips when you see his struggle, getting off of him and jokingly playing bongos on his ass, looking at the muscle and fat giggling underneath your touch.

''God, your ass is so perfect.'' Your tone is playful, but he's no stranger to you worshipping his body, a small smile on his lips at your words.

''S'all yours.'' He mumbles sweetly, voice still gravelly and coarse as he allowed you to do as you pleased with him. Another gently spank is delivered to his ass before you lean down, biting one of his asscheeks— not hard enough to hurt him, but hard enough for him to feel it. His muscles twitch from the sudden sensation before he relaxes, a small chuckle leaving his lips as he turns to look at you with a smug grin.

A/N: I don't wanna kms anymore so here's some tender Simon instead of angst

[ode-to-melpomene]

hi hi mel!!! i love all your works and your writing is so wonderful ^^

was wondering if you could write something where one of the bat boys reaches the reader right before they’re about to get kidnapped by some criminals?? like maybe they’re publicly in a relationship w the batboy’s wayne identity n get targeted for that reason but one of the boys gets there js in the nick of time :)

thank u sm and have a great rest of ur day ^^

Love this prompt! Some of these are pre-kidnapping, some are mid-kidnapping. If anyone wants additional characters added, let me know! Hope you enjoy 💛

Daring Rescues

Pairings: Bruce Wayne x gn!reader, Dick Grayson x gn!reader, Jason Todd x gn!reader, Tim Drake x gn!reader Synopsis: Who comes to your aid when you find yourself in need of saving? Word Count: 2466 Warnings: Established relationship! Kidnapping, minor injuries, general mortal peril.

Bruce Wayne:

Bruce knew better than to associate you with Batman. He had learned that lesson a hundred times over by now, how dangerous it was to associate the people he cared for with the cowl. But now wasn't the time to dwell on the blunder.

“Oracle, update,” he barked over the communication device. Bruce perched atop a balcony, staring down at the street below.

“Black SUV turning onto Carlton,” Barbera replied, the sound of her fingers furiously working over the keys of the Batcomputer meeting his ears. “The car is registered to a loan shark put away a few years ago. Suspected ties to Falcone.”

Bruce uttered a grunted mm in response, eyes narrowed beneath the cowl. His eyes scanned the road below. He caught the sounds of sirens wailing in the distance. “GCPD?”

“I’ve got them cutting off side roads. Headed your way now.”

He squared his shoulders and prepared himself to launch from the balcony, one hand braced on the ledge beneath him and the other on his belt. He cocked his head to the East and narrowed his eyes- yes, there. He watched the SUV turn the corner, skidding as it spun around the sharp turn and narrowly avoided oncoming traffic.

“Sixty-three miles an hour?” he guessed.

“Sixty-six. Sounds like you might be losing your touch.”

“Oracle,” Bruce warned. He scowled. That extra speed would change his entry angle.

“Sorry. Dropping in three-”

Bruce’s hand shot to his belt.

“Two-”

The end of the grappling hook shot out from the device in his hand and buried itself within the construction scaffolding across from him. He gave a single tug, then launched himself from the balcony-

“One-”

- And crashed feet first into the rear passenger window of the interior of the modified SUV, seats removed to provide more space in the back. Panicked shouts rang out as glass shards shattered across the interior. Bruce pulled his cape over the lower half of his face, preventing glass from cutting his skin as he hit the floor.

The vehicle swerved and he used the momentum to bring his elbow into collision with a man’s partially covered face, his jaw making a distressing crack at the impact. His other hand lashed out, grabbing the driver by his hair and slamming his face against the steering wheel. The driver’s nose crunched and blood sprayed against the vehicle’s dash.

Hands grasped at his suit and he drove his knee into the third assailant’s ribs, sending him stumbling backwards. Your muffled shriek filled the interior of the SUV as the vehicle swerved and momentarily rocked into the curb.

The driver’s hands gripped at Bruce’s wrist behind his head, his foot flooring the accelerator. Bruce let out a tsk as he lunged forward and looped his arm around the driver’s neck. The man’s shrill scream was quickly silenced as Bruce squeezed the man’s neck in the juncture of his elbow and bicep.

He pulled the man backwards and used his opposite hand to stabilize the chokehold. His freehand reached for the steering wheel, guiding the vehicle down the road. He just needed a moment-

The driver finally went limp in Bruce’s arms. He tugged, pulling the man from his seat and wedged a batarang against the brake, quickly bleeding off speed.

Muffled screams filled the room, followed by a grunt of pain. Familiar hands raked over Bruce’s belt. He gripped the wheel with one hand and turned his head just in time to see a zap of electricity come to life.

You dove towards the third kidnapper, barreling into him and driving the taser into the side of his neck. The man screamed, spasmed, and went limp.

You panted around the gag in your mouth, your hands chained together in front of you. You held the taser tightly in your hands, glaring down with a fiery expression.

When you turned your gaze on him, that fiery passion was replaced with a soft, mirthful glint in your eye. You gave him your best smile, despite the gag, and a cheesy thumbs up.

Bruce scowled, despite the way his heart skipped a beat.

Dick Grayson:

Why did you always have to rush into things?

Of course it was a set up. That was so obvious now that you had a split lip and blood trickling from your nose. It was a last ditch effort on the part of some petty criminals who wanted a piece of the Wayne wealth in exchange for Dick’s hapless partner.

The masked goons cornered you in your own apartment, toying with you like cats stalking a mouse. One swung a pipe wrench and you skittered backwards, nearly bumping into the end table next to your couch. You really needed to move that when this was all over, and make sure the space was less cluttered so you wouldn’t get tripped up like this again-

A blade came slashing down, glinting in the waning sunlight that filled your apartment as it narrowly missed your face. Your curse was met by vicious laughter. With a snarl, you gripped the end table and hucked it at the figure holding the blade. 

Two of the goons jumped away from the end table as it flung towards them. You took the chance to dash to the kitchen, knocking over and tossing random items in your wake. As much as you appreciated the self defense training Dick had put you through, you didn’t trust yourself against their weapons. You took solace in knowing they weren’t here to kill you… but that didn’t mean they weren’t more than willing to rough you up.

You just needed to waste some time. So you threw a plate, a beautiful, arbor rimmed plate that had been a gift to you and Dick from Selina and Bruce (you suspected Selina stole them.) The assailants dodged the ceramic, so you snatched the detachable faucet and sprayed the nearest goon in the face with cold water. Too bad they were smart enough to wear masks.

And then you saw the balcony door slide open. It all happened so fast, a flash of black, blue, and silver darting into the space. Metal clashed with skin, a sickening thunk sounding as an escrima collided with an attacker’s skull. An angered shout tore through the air, only to be quickly silenced by a thud as the outspoken figure hit the floor.

It was over in a matter of moments. Three unconscious bodies on the floor, tucked out of sight behind your kitchen island, and a shadowed figure huffing agitated breaths through gritted teeth. Spots of blood on the escrima, on his face.

You blinked once, twice, clearing the fog from your vision. Nightwing- Dick loomed across from you. He tucked the escrimas behind his back and turned to face you, the scrunch in his brow covered by his mask.

“Are you alright?” you asked, voice barely above a tremble.

His expression softened immediately. He heaved a sigh and dashed around the kitchen island, sweeping you into his tight grasp. You wrapped your arms around him just as eagerly, pressing your face to the stretchy fabric of his suit.

“Should be asking you that, love.” Dick pulled away slightly, holding you at arms length. Though you couldn’t see his eyes through his mask, you knew he was carefully taking stock of your injuries.

“Just a few scrapes,” you said with a reassuring smile in spite of the way your swollen lip burned. “You should see the other guys.”

Dick barked out a laugh and pulled you flush against him once again, burying you in a tight embrace.

Jason Todd:

You should have called a cab.

Rain poured down on you, drenching you to the skin. Rain hadn’t been on the forecast today–you always made sure to check on days you chose to walk to-and-from work. When you had stepped out of the office building to find a slight drizzle dappling the sidewalk, you had thought nothing of it. Like many other Gothamites, you had assumed it was a passing spring weather.

Now the storm drains gurgled pitifully as water gushed into it. Your clothes were sodden, shoes waterlogged, mood dampened. You squelched down the sidewalk with a sour expression plastered across your features. The torrential downpour quieted your sentences, muffling your ears to the acute sound of footsteps following you from a distance.

You turned onto the next block and huffed, the wind now buffeting you face on. What a dreary, horrible day to be let off late from work. Jason would likely be on patrol by now, leaving you to sit alone in your shared apartment, reheating whatever he had left over from lunch. Maybe you could curl up in your bed and dive into that novel you had both been reading. That could make for a good conversation to wind him down from the emotional high of his patrol-

Foreign hands snatched you from your thoughts and dragged you into a dark alley, your scream muffled by a gloved palm.

You were slammed face first into a brick wall, the rough texture scraping your cheek. You bit back a snarl as the hands turned you around and smacked the back of your head against the hard stone. The chill edge of a blade was pressed to your throat and when your eyes readjusted to the sudden darkness and stinging pain in your head you were met with a masked figure. Great, because what you really needed after a long day was a mugging.

You fought viciously as the figures around you herded you down the back alley like a spitting, snarling animal. You stomped your heel on their feet, bit at their hands, kicked and flailed until you heard muffled requests for rope and chloroform. It wasn’t until you saw the van tucked away beside an industrial grade dumpster that you began caterwauling like an anguished banshee.

You were relieved by the sound of a familiar thump at the edge of the alleyway–you would recognize the sound of those heavy boots dropping anywhere, with how often you heard them on your fire escape. Your attackers slammed you against the van and you barked out a gleeful laugh at the sight. The attackers had a moment to turn their heads before Red Hood was descending on them with ferocity. You turned away, pressing your forehead to the van.

Screams, bones cracking, bodies hitting the ground. It was over quickly. When you turned to face him, his armored chest was heaving and he clenched and unclenched his fists at his side. You knew better than to touch him when he was this high strung, so you settled for the safer option.

“Took you look enough,” you teased breathlessly, keeping your gaze one the way the red surface of his helmet snapped to face you instead of on the (you hoped) unconscious kidnappers. “I was starting to wonder if I was going to have to take care of this myself.”

The toe of Jason’s boot nudged an unconscious figure, a red and rapidly welting bite mark blossoming on the individual’s hand and wrist. “I don’t doubt you could’ve, but a little help never hurt.”

You cracked a smile, softening the hard lines of your expression in the hopes it would ease him. His shoulders relaxed at your placating gesture. You extended a hand, fingers spread in a silent offer.

“Walk me home?” you asked, more for his benefit than yours. Your heart still pounded in your chest, but the tightness eased when he interlaced his gloved fingers with yours.

Tim Drake:

Warehouses were such a cliché place to harbor an abductee. What happened to creativity? Tim crawled through an upper window of the dilapidated warehouse, some thirty feet above the ground. He stepped carefully across the rafters as he surveyed the scene.

There you were, a normal college student tied to a chair–well, normal if you ignore the fact that you were rumored to be in a relationship with the Timothy Drake-Wayne. He frowned at the sight of your arms twisted behind you and tied to the back of the chair. They had you situated in the center of the empty room with goons patrolling around you. His eyes sought a singular figure atop a pile of scrap, a rifle in hand. The figure searched the rafters–Tim would have to be careful to avoid him.

Tim stalked across the rafters, keeping to the shadows. He crept across one of the beams that bridged the center of the warehouse, ducking low and staying out of the light. His eyes were fixed on you-

Oh. You perked up, your head lifting and shoulders easing. You knew he was there somewhere, judging by the way your head turned slightly to scan the open room. You tilted your head, a flimsy gesture towards a second figure, patrolling near you with one hand tucked away in her coat. A hidden weapon? He bit back a smile at your clever aid.

Tim took another step, and something clanged. He looked below him, spotting a hook hanging from a long chain, the chain swinging under the beams subtle movements. He turned just in time to see the sniper swing his rifle in the direction of the sound-

You screamed.

The shrill shriek shook each of the assailants and all eyes turned to you. He exhaled a harsh breath of relief as you wailed and the masked figures moved in towards you. The sniper’s weapons whipped towards you and away from Tim.

Tim dropped. His landing was cushioned by the goon you had pointed out, knocking the figure to the ground. He used the momentum to carry himself into a roll, then launched to his feet and barrelled into the next unsuspecting kidnapper. This one was ready, his hands up in fists. Tim gave an opening and ducked as the man’s fist sailed past Tim. He gripped the attacker's arm and yanked, tossing him over Tim’s shoulder. The man landed with a thunk and Tim was quick to follow, extracting a pair of cuffs from his belt and linking the two fallen attackers together.

A shot rang out. It seemed the sniper wasn’t very good, considering Tim remained fully intact. His hands dipped to his belt again and withdrew a few batarangs. A quick volley knocked the sniper's mask askew and sent them stumbling down the rickety pile of scrap they stood upon. He used the opening to launch himself across the room, bo staff extending in hand. He swept the kidnapper’s legs, sending the figure tumbling down the pile.

“How did you know I was here?” he asked as he knelt to cuff and gag the attacker, kicking the rifle aside in the process.

“It got drafty,” you called back from where you sat tied in the center of the room. “Must’ve left the window open.”

[occamstfs]

Triple Shot Theft

Trying to nab himself a sweet treat, Liam finds himself growing into the behemoth whose order he stole.

Shorter story! Petty thief to meathead bodybuilder, hope you enjoy this slightly more succinct story! -Occam

The coffee was in his sights. Liam just needs to wait for a moment when the mobile order counter was unattended andddd- There. He’s already out the door and headed down the street with enough caffeine to get him through his morning. I mean he’s not proud of his little act of delinquency, but it’s not like anyone’s suffering right? The coffee shop has unlimited resources, they'll make whatever poor schmuck whose drink he just nabbed a new one. 

Speaking of, now that he’s home free it’s well time for the first sip. Liam briefly checks the name on the cup, Elijah. “Well Eli, cheers to you. Bottoms up-” Raising the steaming togo cup to his lips Liam prepares for the ritual first burning sip. Not checking the label as he wants to be surprised by whatever hides underneath the lid. As soon as the drink touches his tongue it is revealed to be quite the unpleasant one as he rears back from the scalding drink and grimaces.

Totally unrelated from the boiling heat, the taste was the single most bitter thing he’s ever experienced before in his life. Sticking his burned tongue out before whispering a complaint he checks the label, “Jesus Christ dude!? What the fuck did your order?” Taking no time to analyze his criticism of a man who is by all intents his victim, his eyes grow wide as he sees the drink is a Black Dead Eye, that is drip coffee with three shots. 

He feels his heart flutter as he thinks about the amount of caffeine he now holds in his hand and plans how he is going to ration it out so he doesn’t completely overload himself. His mind briefly tries to picture the type of man to order this, though before a clear thought could be produced he shrugs and takes another sip. Could’ve at least had some syrup in there guy. Still taking a strained sip, an idea unfamiliar fills his mind, ‘psh as if I’m gonna drink some empty calories to start my day.’ 

Eliam’s eye twitches as he scrunches his face, presumably from the bitterness and grunts, “ugh, I hate-” Feeling a frog in his throat he clears it a few times in short succession. “Man, this drink sucks.” His brow immediately furrows as he hears his voice almost sounds deeper to his ears? Eliam eyes the drink for half a second before shrugging and assuming he must be coming down with a cold. Something within his subconscious questions how that will affect his time at work? No, not work, something else. Something close though, his arm rises in a right angle and he tilts his head as the thin limb tries to flex, immediately confused as to why he just did that, after a pause he reconsiders. Why does his bicep look so puny?

Uncomfortable with his bicep barely manipulating the sleeve of his shirt he considers, “Maybe I should start hitting up the gym?” Eliam scratches at his chest and frowns as he feels truly no muscle definition hiding under his T-shirt. His head buzzes with foreign emotion and instinct as the general apathy he has for his body and appearance is rapidly being replaced with disdain nearing disgust. He grunts and keels over as static, burning pins and needles, begins to overwhelm his senses. In the process he nearly spills his coffee which hits him with far more anxiety than losing a drink you didn't even pay for should.

His mouth is cold and dry as he stares at his nearly lost midnight dark drink and, even greater than the bizarre numbness and strange sensations contorting his body, he feels an urge, a need, to drink. Lips puckering as they strain to get closer to the cup as he brings it to his mouth, his legs give out and he falls back against a shop window. Passersby sneer at him as doggedly sits on the sidewalk and raises the cup completely upside down and lets it pour into his wanting mouth. His throat struggles to keep up as something besides himself, something with a will stronger than his own, forces him to down the burning drink in one go.

Mission accomplished, he gasps for air and wipes the few drops of coffee that landed outside of his mouth off his face before sucking them off his stained finger. When a businessman looks down at him with an eyebrow raised Eliamh feels a burning in his chest at the challenge. His jaw clenches and every muscle burns with the desire to show the pen pusher what’s up, dude doesn’t even know what the grind is! Eliamh’s eye twitches and he clenches at his gut as for the first time in his life it seems to be straining his intentionally baggy shirt.

The pettiest thief struggles to stand, using the wall for support as his legs suddenly struggle to carry his body. All the while making embarrassing grunts. He begins burping loudly as his stomach tries to get him to reject the drink in the only way it can. He feels more bloated with every labored breath and heavy movement, his midriff now exposes his thin treasure trail as his arms begin to fill the sleeves of his wrinkled button up. In between burps and groans he just gets out in his now decidedly duller voice, “Whuh- what was in that cup-” 

Usually happy to hide, Eliamh feels a rising need to challenge every man in sight, realizing something is beginning to overwrite his usual instincts, his rational ideas. As his pants begin to strain, thighs and ass bulging larger, Eliamh realizes that no matter his new desire to post up he needs to wait out whatever, uh, food poisoning this is. Stumbling into the storefront he’s thus far used as a stabilizer he groans out to the clerk, hand covering his mouth as he tries to hold back a loud burp, “Burmgh- I, ugh. Need yer restroom, dude.” Mouth curling into a frown at the clearly unwell man the cashier just points to the room at the back and Eliamh quickly stumbles through the door and locks it behind him.

Panting, Eliamh falls to the floor. Sweating through his clothes he leaves a trail on the door as he slides against it. Unconcerned with the filth of being on a bathroom floor his mind screams as his body begins to expand in every direction. Fabric tears as his bloated gut redistributes itself across his whole form. His arms that only recently bulged with any weight at all suddenly rip entirely through his shirt. Veiny biceps tear through, bursting larger than his thighs before his forearms race to match. His hands grow rough with callouses as he tears at his clothes as they begin to suffocate him.

Elijam’s shoulders pecs are initially inhibited by the clothes barely hanging in there. As soon as they give way and his torso is freed to the air do they begin their transformation outright. Drool pouring from his mouth as his mind flitters between the horror of becoming something anathema to himself while at the same time rapidly recognizing the arms as the powerful weapons he has honed for years now. Initially absent, the muscle on his chest pointedly makes up for the years spent abandoned. Pumping larger as his lungs expands and his chest widens to match shoulders that thicken to be shoulderpads, his pecs begin to become unseemly. Weighty enough that his current legs could never support them, his pecs surge to a size where the idea that he could ever be anything but a diligent bodybuilder is foolish.

His rougher hands trail down his sweaty, impossibly large chest and find that there are now swaths of his body where his bulging biceps and dense pecs collide that he simply can no longer touch. Moving down to feel abs as they push themselves out of his lower torso like cobblestones, his grunts and burps turn to deep moans as he bathes in the pleasure of becoming Elijah. Finally reaching low enough to free his package as it begins to fill his constricting pants, Elijah palms his balls as they begin to fill his body with hormones that make his boorish mindset make far more sense. 

Outside in the store the clerk contemplates calling the authorities as the deep moans echoing from the bathroom begin to scare off customers. Back in the restroom the bodybuilders thighs expand to truly the size of tree trunks as they lengthen along the cold tile. Immediately do they tear his pants as it becomes clear that he’ll never take a step without his massive legs rubbing against each other. It’s a wonder his package has any room at all to be as large as it is given the real estate taken up by his massive lower body. In no time at all the sweaty behemoth finds himself filling the small room with his musk which only heightens his heady delight.

His eyes cross as the few shreds of Liam that remained ingrained in his psyche through it all begin to give up the ghost. His balls pulse as the paltry aspects drain from his mind and every inch of him fully shifts to that of Elijah. Memories of countless hours spent underneath the bench press bar, tracking protein consumption, comparing his form with other massive titans. At the very same moment do loads begin to fly. Shooting high enough to grace the ceiling, his spunk stains the wall behind him like splatters on a canvas. His impossible changes took less than a minute but in his ecstasy he feels each and every one of Elijah’s memories soar to fill his mind.

Stumbling to his thick soled feet Elijah scratches his head as he tries to think how he’ll leave this store with nothing to cover his titanic form. The cogs of his mind turn slow enough that it seems like he can barely produce a thought at all. He grabs toilet paper to start to clean the mess made, but only ends up smearing it against the walls. Suddenly he laughs a dull guffaw as he remembers he lives nearby, just needs to run through the store and he’s home free. He’s sure the customers won’t mind seeing him in the buff, he thinks as he smirks at his peaking bicep. 

His cock stirs again as he wonders when he got this pump in. Knowing he doesn’t have time for another session right now he covers his impressive package with his torn clothes and sprints through the lobby, the clerk doesn’t have time to finish his name before he’s exited the storefront and begun to sprint homewards. Pushing through any man who doesn’t quite move out of the way in time, Elijah hits himself in the head as he realizes he needs to apologize to his bro for stealing his coffee this morning. Just as soon does the thought fade with another slow witted guffaw. He’s sure Elijah won’t mind, he’d probably do the same even. After all, they’ve got a lot in common.

[cxrrodedcoffin]

Jealousy, Jealousy - Spencer Reid

Likes are always appreciated but reblogs and feedback keep artists going!

Summary: Spencer and reader are both BAU agents in a secret relationship and a charity gala has reader tired of hiding.

Word Count: 2.4k

A/N: Trying something different with the first person perspective here! bc of that I did have to use y/n twice so sorry for that lol. This is later seasons but pre-prison Spencer, so he’s a little more sure of himself and in return more dominant without being fully there. I promise I’m working on a few sub!spencer fics right now but I stumbled across this old fic of mine while going through my past works and I was dying to rework it because I wasn’t happy with what it was before lol.

TW: jealousy, angst, kissing, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, afab reader, use of “girl” in reference to reader.

Rating: R, 18+ only please!

——

We’d already been here for three hours and I was growing weary watching Spencer make awkward conversation with every person at this charity gala. There were hundreds of people neither of us knew in this room, but bureaucratic duty required the both of us to make small talk with everyone no matter the department. Heaven knows Spencer didn’t have any intention beyond professional with these people, and I certainly didn’t either as it came with the territory of being BAU agents, but somehow I couldn’t help but find the jealous side of me rearing its ugly head with every attractive colleague that looked his way.

I’d kept my distance, allowing him the space he needed to not seem too attached. I knew how important it was that everyone assumed we were both single, interpersonal relationships between agents aren’t exactly looked highly upon here. Still, watching him talk the ear off of another woman had that familiar blossom of insecurity blooming in my chest. No matter how clueless he was, I knew just how many women and men in our professional vicinity would risk a lot to be with Spencer, and they figured that maybe given the right set of circumstances, perhaps they’d have the opportunity. He never gave them that privilege of course, even though we weren’t public with our relationship, we knew what we were, and he never betrayed that trust.

Still, as he was approached by a particularly tall, gorgeous redhead I found myself growing more and more jealous. He said something and she laughed a little too hard, laying her right hand on his bicep and tossing her hair over her shoulder with the other, and the green eyed monster returned, fiercer than ever. A tear slipped down my cheek as I watched, but I quickly wiped it away, fighting to keep my composure.

When he finally broke away from her, I made my way through the sea of elegantly dressed attendees, whispering his name to catch his attention. He turned to me, features softening as he registered my features.

“Is something wrong?” He asked, concern lacing his tone.

“I’m not feeling well, I’m going to head home.” I told him, forcing a reassuring smile so as not to worry him.

“Would you like me to come with?” He whispered, brushing his hand against my arm, just as the redhead had done to him. Such a simple, loving gesture, and the thought of someone who was not me doing it to him made my blood boil. I shook my head, giving him one last look of reassurance before gathering the top of the skirt of my overly detailed gown in my hands and making my way out of the ballroom and ordering an uber.

When I got back to his apartment, I kicked my heels off haphazardly the second the door locked behind me before stumbling to his bedroom. I don’t know why I’d come back to his apartment, I should’ve gone to mine, but I didn’t want to. I was sick of the hiding, the secrecy. I wanted him. I wanted to live with him. I wanted to be with him.

I reached around to the zipper on the back of my dress, roughly pulling it down halfway before it got caught, the expensive fabric bunching under the hardware. I pulled as hard as I could, desperate to get out of the increasingly suffocating garment, but my attempts seemed in vain as the zipper stayed put.

All the emotions I’d been holding in throughout the night boiled to the surface, showing themselves in the form of hot, frustrated tears. I collapsed face first onto the bed, letting the plush bedding consume me as I folded my arms beneath my cheek, feeling the wetness gather against my skin. I let it all out, quiet sobs wracking my body as I groveled in my jealousy, the physical pain of the restrictive fabric only doubling my emotions.

I didn’t know how long I’d been laying there, but his hand on my shoulder broke me out of the jealousy fueled haze I’d been locked in.

“Y/n? Why didn’t you go home? What’s wrong?” His voice sounded fuzzy as I quickly stood to face him, wiping away my tears.

“I don’t want to go back there Spencer, I want here to be home. I’m not home if I’m not with you. I’m so sick of hiding. I want to be yours.” I blurted, too overwhelmed to think about what I was confessing.

“You are mine.” He whispered.

“I don’t believe you.” I responded.

“There’s no one else y/n, you know that.” He continued, but it did little to calm me.

“All those women at the gala, touching you, flirting with you. I don’t want to have to sit back and watch it anymore. I die a little every time I see it.”

“Y/n, you know I don’t-“

“I know! You don’t enjoy any of it, I get that, but they do! They want you, Spencer, and I can’t bare the thought of losing you to one of them.” I confessed, tears welling in my eyes again.

“That won’t happen.” He said, a kind of sureness in his tone.

“How do I know that?” I asked.

“Because you’re the only one I want. You’re the only one that understands me for who I really am. I don’t care about them, not the way I care about you. I’ve never cared about anyone as much as I care about you.”

“I love you, y/n.” It rolled off his tongue as if they were the truest words he’d ever spoken, and as he placed his hands on my hips I practically melted under his touch.

“I love you too.” I breathed, looking up at him doe-eyed, lip quivering as I held back the tears of contentment fighting to escape my waterline.

“I’m yours.” He whispered, pulling me into him before crashing his lips to mine. I turned to putty in his hands, hanging on his every touch as he pulled away and spun me around, large hand resting on my exposed shoulder as the other worked carefully to untangle my zipper, finally allowing the fabric of the gown to fall from my frame.

His lips met my neck, sucking hungrily against my blushed skin and I brought my hand to rest in his brunette curls, holding him steadily against me. He pressed his hips flush against my lower back, his member growing hard as he marked my neck, drawing his swollen lips over the purple patches forming across the sensitive skin of my neck.

I whimpered as he nipped at my pulse point, nimble fingers undoing my bra before letting it join my gown on the floor, immediately cradling my breasts in his soft grip. I rolled my hips back against him, earning a deep groan as my free hand moved to palm him through his fitted slacks.

“Let me prove how devoted I am to you.” He breathed, spinning me back around before laying me slowly onto the bed. I propped myself up on my elbows, watching as he removed his suit jacket, then undid the buttons of his dress shirt one by one, maintaining eye contact as he undid his belt and dropped his pants and underwear, leaving him bare for me to take in.

He knelt at the edge of the bed, taking my ankles in his grip before parting my legs, placing a soft kiss to the small dip on the inside of my ankle. He looked up at me, his gaze never leaving my face as I watched him plant wet kiss after wet kiss up the expanse of my leg before repeating the action on the other, the intimate act arousing me more and more by the second.

When he finally reached my left upper thigh, he lingered, drawing his tongue over the apex of my thigh to my panties, licking a flat stripe over the soaked panel of fabric, drawing a panting moan from my throat. He locked eyes with me, placing a kiss over my clit before taking the waistband between his teeth and letting it slap back against my hip, earning a whimper from me.

He gripped either side of my hips, taking my underwear in hand before pulling them slowly down my legs and discarding them across the room.

I watched transfixed as he kissed his way up my body, leaving soft magenta marks blooming like peonies over my damp skin, paying special attention to my breasts.

“You’re perfect.” He mumbled, tongue tracing around my nipple as I blushed at his words.

“I want to devour every inch of you.” He continued, taking the stiff peak gently between his teeth and tugging, sending a delicious mix of pain and pleasure to every nerve ending in my chest.

“Then do it.” I gasped, relaxing back into the bed. He hummed against me, flicking his tongue over my breast as his other hand slid between my thighs, cupping my cunt. He dipped his index finger to part my folds, already swollen and sticky and dripping with need. I wanted him, and although this certainly was not the first time we’d had sex, I was finally going to have him, all of him.

“So wet…” He trailed off, dragging his mouth up the expanse of my neck before drawing me into a kiss, deep and warm and full of a fire I’d never felt from him before. It’s like his confession had set something free in him, torn down a wall or two, uncaged the animal of desire within him.

“All for you.” I whimpered, pulling him down into another kiss.

He pressed two fingers in slow, pressured circles against my swollen clit, his full lips swallowing every last one of my needy moans and whimpers. Any other night I would’ve reveled in it, secretly loved the slow burn of his teasing, but I was far too emotional for that tonight, and I couldn’t put up with not having him inside of me anymore.

“I need you.” I whined, rutting my hips up into him.

“What do you want me to do, my love?” He asked. I huffed, knowing the game he was playing.

“Please Spence, I need you inside of me. Fuck me, show me what I mean to you.” I practically moaned as he continued rubbing harsh circles against my clit.

“That’s my girl, always so eager.” He praised, snaking his hands around the back of my thighs and lifting to wrap my legs around his hips.

He rubbed himself slowly through my folds, properly coating his cock with my slick before aligning the head at my slit, ready and inviting him in. He pushed slowly into me, a low groan slipping from his clenched jaw as he savored every inch of my wet heat and I met him with a tight embrace, gasping at the way he filled me.

I’d never felt so connected before, like I could feel him in every fiber of my being and as he was seated fully inside of me I felt whole, like we were made for each other.

I wrapped my arms around his neck, pulling him down into a kiss before he pulled almost completely out, pausing before pushing back in, my wetness making it almost embarrassingly easy. He angled his hips upward, knowing how quickly I’d crumble beneath him with the repeated brush of his cock against that soft spot inside of me.

He looked down at me, a certain warmth spreading over his dilated pupils as he halted his hips and opened his kiss-swollen lips to speak.

“It’s only you. Forever.” He purred, pushing the stray hair from my face before kissing my temple and pistoning his hips forward, punctuating his words with a deep thrust.

Each roll of his hips against mine had my muscles contracting, pulling him closer in every way, never wanting this to end. His rhythm remained steady as he picked up his pace, driving the pressure building inside of me ever closer to bursting.

I snaked one of my hands into his hair, gripping tight as the other found his bicep, matching my grip. I needed to hold him, to feel him, to know that having him here like this wasn’t all a dream. His groans and pants filled the thickening air, like a melody in my ear, mingling with my own and the almost feral “mine” that ripped from his throat on a particularly hard thrust had me crying out for him, clawing at his arm as he repeated the intensity.

I was close, so close and as I felt his cock twitch inside of me I knew he was too. I locked my ankles around his hips, holding him inside of me as he rolled his hips quickly, head dropping onto my shoulder. The continued stimulation of that spot, the sweet spot inside of me only he could hit became too much, bringing stars to my eyes as I cried out his name, euphoria so strong I couldn’t feel my legs as I dug my nails so hard into his arm that I had surely drawn blood.

“I’m yours.” He groaned, hips faltering as he filled me, my cunt still pulsing around him with every spurt of warm cum.

Everything after that was a blur of being held in his arms, whispered I love you’s, and gentle caresses.

“We’ll go to HR as soon as possible, I don’t care what paperwork they want us to fill out or how much shit we’ll get from Morgan, I want everyone at that gala tonight to know that I love you.” He broke the silence, his words a final cementing comfort.

No more hiding, no more sneaking around, no more secrets. Only the two of us.

——

Tag List: @pleasantwitchgarden

DM me or send me an ask if you’d like to be added to my general or spencer reid taglist :)

[kechiwrites]

choking hazard

simon “ghost” riley x medic!reader

synopsis: you have a very special request for simon. he thinks you're insane.

wc: 1.3k

cw: afab!reader, choking, grinding, hotdogging, haphazard kink negotiation, thigh riding, playful name-calling, no use of y/n ever.

an: a quick little bite of simon and medic reader for this challenge, which i technically failed cause this is way over 100 words. happy thanksgiving

“What?” He asks, but really, it lacks the traditional inflection of a question. Instead, the single word manages to hold deep exhaustion and a healthy helping of ‘what the fuck is wrong with you’. 

Which, rude.

You stomp your foot, the moue of your lips more than a little petulant. “Oh, come on, don’t make it weird. Just...a little. Enough to pass out.” you raise your hand and pinch the air for emphasis.

“What?” Oh! The inflection was back, and he’d shifted weight onto his other foot. His cotton mask allows for you to see the top half of his face today, and you’re grateful, because the furrow in his brow exposes that while he really wants to just up and leave this conversation, he’s far too curious, or maybe perplexed? Disturbed?

“I want you to choke me out, Simon.” You grin, shrugging, “preferably with your cock in me but...” You mutter to yourself, pressing your lips together and widening your eyes in mock innocence when he glares at you in response, obviously hearing you. 

“No.” He turns away from you, pushing around the ceramic skull you placed in your office. A paperweight, whose presence had absolutely no hidden, romantic meaning whatsoever, you’d simply seen it in a home goods display off base and snatched it up. 

It had been on sale. Or something.

“I’m a doctor.” You tap your name tag insistently, “I know my limits, Si.” Now you’re just trying to rile him up, as if he’d ever lay a hand on you in anger you didn’t expressly beg for. Still, he hates when you shorten his name, used to hate it when you said it at all. 

Thankfully, things change.

“Fucking quack.” He mutters and you make a loud, dramatic, wounded noise you’d heard in a K-Drama you had watched once before flipping back to your favourite period drama you’d watched a million times over. You flatten your hand against your chest and rear back, more for your own gratification than to impress your offence upon Simon. 

“I’m serious! I’m curious and I know it won’t cause any real, lasting damage.” You approach him from behind, wrapping your arms around his middle. He flinches, not from surprise, you guess, but from sensation, before his body relaxes. You push your face between his shoulder blades, rubbing your nose against his shirt. 

“I’ll suck you off after.” You murmur, and the lieutenant snorts derisively. 

No dice.

“Then I’ll ask Soap to do it!” You release him, and circle around your desk, feigning a grab towards your cell phone.

He doesn’t rise to the bait initially, turning back to face you and crossing his inked, scarred arms. You ogle them shamelessly, eyes greedily tracing every bit of knicked skin, every prominent, tempting vein. Thing of beauty, his arms were. “Go on, then.” He shrugs and consternation makes you furrow your brow in defeat. Unfortunately, the closer the two of you become, the more bags of candy and suggestive texts and lingering glances you exchange, the easier it is to read the other’s intent, your bluffs. 

You pout, and kick at the corner of your own desk, shifting it slightly. “Fine. I wouldn’t ask him.” You tilt your head, pinning him with a needy look you hope is suitably enticing, “I’m asking you cause I trust you, Simon. Please?” 

Apparently, bald, earnest honesty is the ticket because your not-boyfriend heaves a sigh and uncrosses his arms, raising one to rub at the back of his neck, the black t-shirt he dons stretched tantalizingly tight over the curve of his muscled bicep.

Oh, this was going to be so good.

“Fine. Just don’t piss yourself.” 

“Do people do that?” You wrinkle your nose, and Simon levels you with a look, dark brown eyes broadcasting a stark “Do I fucking look like I’m joking?” 

Regardless, you clap your hands in celebration, locking the door to your office and sprinting back to stand in front of him, the framed photo of your commanding officer, your mother, and you looking on judgmentally. You try to ignore it but end up putting the photo down on its face, no need for dear mum and your boss to witness your fantasy come to life.

Simon turns you to face away from him, the heat of his hands seeping into your shoulders. He is always so warm. It had been a boon to your freezing feet the few times you’d shared a bed for actual sleeping. (He’d cursed at you for maybe a minute before hiking your legs up to bracket his hips, so you could fall asleep wrapped around him like a koala.)

“Double tap, you understand?” He barks, and you can’t help but shimmy in excitement. 

“Yup!” 

Simon wraps a burly arm around your neck, not exerting any pressure yet. He hooks his other arm around his wrist so it sits in his elbow, and places that palm on the crown of your head, securing you snugly in a standard choke-hold. 

“Good?” He mutters low, his chest blankets your back, and you're enveloped in the clean, sharp scent he usually carries with him.

You laugh, “Yeah-huh-huh-huh.” and you know you sound a little stupid, but you’re getting what you wanted and even without Simon utilizing force, you can feel yourself getting wet, forcing you to rub your thighs together in anticipation.

He begins to constrict your airway and it feels as though your head is ballooning, building up pressure as breathing slowly becomes more and more difficult. Your eyelids flutter closed and your lips part in shock. It doesn’t feel good, necessarily, but it certainly doesn’t feel bad. It’s obvious Simon’s holding back a lot. It probably should hurt but the lack of air makes your mind stutter to a stop, and all you can feel is Simon’s heat along your back and his strength holding you in place and his scent where it’s stalled in your lungs, unable to escape. When he shifts a bit behind you, your eyes pop back open in surprise at what you feel.

“You’re hard!” You wheeze incredulously, using the very last bit of air you had to call him out.

“And you’re a fucking lunatic.” He bites back, jerking his hips forward to rub his clothed erection against the swell of your ass. And he’s been doing that a lot lately, pushing up against your back, grinding along the fat of your thighs. Just last week, he’d spent a whole night hot-dogging (“Dumb fucking name, huh?”) the aching length of his dick between the cheeks of your ass, fucking against your flesh until he spilled hot and thick over your lower back.

You think he may be developing a thing.

He keeps rocking against you, branding his shape into your backside. “God.” He mutters, pulling you up and sliding his knee between your thighs. You can’t speak, what with your brain rapidly losing function, but if you could you’d hiss your assent, maybe scream when the muscles of his thigh nudge against your clit. 

Your lungs and cunt burn in unison, and the edges of your vision fade, but you want to keep going, want to come just like this, completely under his control, dry humping his massive thigh, unable to breathe.

Finally, you raise a shaky hand to tap at his forearm, and Simon immediately releases you, letting you stumble forward, off his leg and towards your desk. Your palms make contact with the polished wood and you hunch forward panting loud and hard. The room is fucking spinning, but all you can bring yourself to do is laugh like a fucking maniac.

“You good?” The soldier speaks, the sound of his footsteps just barely piercing through the sound of your rushing blood. Your voice is practically non-existent and you have to clear your throat three times, but when you do eventually croak out a response, your chest heaves with your desperate breaths in between your words. 

“Yeah, fuck yes.” Your chest slowly loses that frantic, mounting pressure and when you turn your head to look at Simon over your shoulder, his eyes are unfathomably dark and narrowed, running laps over your legs, thighs and ass.

“Good. Take your scrubs off. Right now.”

[mossygirl333]

Kinkmas - Day 1

Lumberjack!Logan x f!mutant!reader

synopsis: You were driving to your cabin in the mountains when your stupid car broke down. Frustrated ,confused, and more than cold you hauled ass to the nearest cabin to help. A rough lumberjack met you, but he'd help you with your car...oh? You can't fix it and will have to order parts? I can stay in your home for the time being? What do you mean you don't have a guest room?! Can you blame him? He hasn't seen a pretty thing like you in ages.

Tw/cw: female + male masturbation, slight dubcon, unprotected p in v, breeding kink (sorry can’t help myself 😍), mentions of marriage, mentions of pregnancy, chubby!reader is my favorite reader!! (Also this man is a blue collar worker, every blue collar worker wants a big woman)

Smut under the cut!!

Logan always preferred loneliness. It was the only thing that promised safety. Time sand fell through blood soaked palms, so many lost to time. It was easier up in the cold mountains, where no one could gaze upon his broken form.

He took comfort in the chill crisp air, heavy and deep in this lungs. The rhythmic chop of an ax, splitting wood with calculated ease. It was so simple to do so. The dull ache of his biceps slowly warming up, face flushed and breath coming out in puffs of steam.

He only looked up when he smelled it. His hand coming up to his nose, making his chest tight. It was female, that's for sure, distinctive and rich. So different from the usual wet soil, sharp clean snow and pine. It was floral, artificial mistletoe tethered up in the air and clung. A seasonal perfume most likely.

He turned, eyes meeting your shy form. Arms wrapped around your clothed self, you didn't have a jacket on. Just dressed in a tight red turtleneck, skinny black jeans that clung to your elysian thick thighs.

"I'm so sorry sir, my car broke down a couple minute walk from here and I don't know what's wrong with it." Your voice was sweet, soothing and saccharine. Worming it's way up to his ears, making his knees weak. "My names ----, nice to meet you..?"

"Logan." He tosses his ax aside and grunts out a small, "I'll look at it." Following behind you as you ramble. Talking about it barely working and needing to go to the shop and wishing you had a newer one.

"-I'm sorry, I'm rambling aren't I?" You awkwardly chuckle, heated up cheeks making your eyelashes flutter and your gaze drop down. He almost felt his lips pull into a smile, but he resisted. Walking over to your car with heavy slow steps, he smelt the failing engine from feet away. Popping up the hood, he already knew it was a quick fix.

"Where were you going?" He asked, looking up from the internals of your vehicle.

"Brothers house. Everyone spends the holidays at his place cause he has a huge mountain cabin. My parents are gonna bother me again about being single so old but-"

"How old are you?" He asks, forcing you to keep eye contact with him. Such an innocent fidgety thing you were, clearly uncomfortable.

"Oh...I'm 32."

That isn't old. He knew how old he was, with every creak of his rotten joints. The age of his body didn't show physically, his mutation stopped that. But he lived a long damn time, never had a long lasting relationship. He was alone by fate, cursed soul. Cursed heart, everyone left eventually.

But you? Sweet almost perfect you, the smell that felt so heavy and weighted in his lungs, dizzying. Making wanton desire stir up in his sinews, that beast coming back. The wish for someone, a woman to enter his life. A woman to keep and fatten up with babies and be his, you made that vicious disgusting desire claw it's way back from the grave he buried it in.

You started at him a moment, fidgeting before starting slowly. "so? Is my car toast?" You laugh, tilting your head slightly as you looked up at him. Oh he could fix it, easily, but he didn't want you to leave so soon. Those sweet round eyes and round face, hair shining in the winter mid-day sun.

Something ugly reared up, the devil sitting heavy on his shoulder. Whispering a plan, scheming up in his head. Such a pretty thing like you couldn't leave, not yet.

“well, I’m gonna need to order some parts. For the time being..." He paused, trailing off as he leaned against the old car. What was he doing? Lying to you. But he couldn't seem to stop. "You could stay with me?"

"Oh that's not needed-"

"I insist. A storms blowing in soon and I don't want ya snowed in." He smiles, charming. Meant to charm. And his eyes roved over how your gaze grew low and your cheeks warmed and flushed, you were happy with his suggestion.

"I appreciate this offer...Logan."

-

You settled into his home quickly, until you noticed the lack of a guest room. You offered to sleep on the couch but he refused, a girl like you needed a nice warm bed. And maybe he did spray some of his cologne in there before you went to bed.

He just wanted his room to smell good right? Or did he want you thinking of him while you tried to sleep.

He laid on the couch with wide eyes. an itch begging to be scratched, reaping under his skin. It made him practically writhe, tossing and turning under a soft quilted blanket he found in the bottom of his closet.

His lust was inmarcesible, bubbling up, waves of heat rolling over sweat slick skin. Eyes half rolled back, the smell of your perfume thick in his head. Dizzy, he felt so dizzy.

Oh if he could see you now. You felt the same, you filthy woman. Your mind stuck on the biceps that bulged and shifted under tan sweaty skin, the smell of cigar smoke that clung to his sheets, his cologne making your creamy thighs clench together and your clit throb with need.

It wasn't wrong, was it? Masturbating in some random man's home while the random man slept ten feet away. He wouldn't hear, would he? Your hand slips down your pants with timid touches, sinking two digits into soaked folds, going in with no give.

You barely kept down your noises, breathing deepening, eyelids growing heavy as your back slightly arched off the bed. He didn't need to hear you moan to know what you were doing, fescennine noises of your fingers sliding through your slick was clear enough.

His felt his dick harden up, eyes shut tight as a shaky moan left his lips. Unbuckling his jeans, thumb rubbing over the leaking tip with ease. Shudders running up and down his spine.

This was wrong, so wrong. But he didn't care. He couldn't care. Desperately trying to sync up his strokes with your pumping fingers, both of you pretending it was each other instead of your hands.

You suddenly still, hearing the man's deep breathing and barely audible moans. Horror and lust flooding to the forefront of your mind, snapping up.

He notices your absence of noise, a curse flying out from his lips as he zips back up. Rushing to your door where he's face to face with you. Your features flushed, lips parted as you pant, eyes blown out. God you looked perfect like this, so utterly perfect.

He's on you before you both can process what this means. Lips pressed against each other. It wasn't tender, it was hungry. All consuming, desperate to take and take and take. But it wasn't enough. You bump into the side of the bed, his tongue pushing itself deeper into your mouth. Spit and drool dripping down your lips and chin, it was all gnashing teeth and spit. Desire ringing through his body like a school bell.

He couldn't hear anything as his hands rip down your sleeping shorts, his palms resting on your thighs. And the second he felt it sink into the fat he held he was a goner. Lips dragging against your jaw, whimpers leaving your lips.

"Logan-" You pant, feeling the shocks of pleasure jolt down to your cunt. Burning heat blazed between those thighs, calloused dragging down your skin.

"Please, let me fuck you." He begs, oh how sweetly he begs. He'll get on his knees if you ask, worship you for just a taste. For just a touch, a second to be in you.

You can't ignore it. Barely saying yes before he's cracking open your thighs. Ripping open the front of his jeans. "Such a wet pussy-" He chokes out, tearing off your underwear. "Dripping for me isn't she?"

You nod, the head of his cock nudging up against your clit. Hips jolting up as the tip brushes against your entrance. Sliding in with ease, he pushes until you hit the base. Falling forward. head resting on your shoulder. "So good f'me, such a pretty girl you are."

You're seeing stars, claws raking down your soft belly, kneading and groping desperately at the fat. Biting and licking at your tits, hips grinding and bucking up into yours. The tip slamming into your cervix over and over-

You cry out his name, holding onto his broad shoulders. "M'close-"

"Cum for me baby. Please cum for me-" He whines, burying his face into your neck. "And i'll cum."

"I'm not on birth control." You choke out, tits bouncing with each thrust. Your mouth was dry, your body filled with frisson. He was passion embodied, lust emboldened by your statement. The fantasy of you having his children only egging on his brutal pace.

"What I wanna hear. Gonna be a good mama to my babies hm?" He chuckles, breathless. Thumb coming down to rub at your clit, the veins of his sock swollen and bumping against every ridge inside. "Say it."

"Gonna be a mama to your baby." You choke out, head going limp and rolling. Hips jerk up, your eyesight going black as waves of pleasure roll over you. Swallowing you up, ripping at every seam of your body till your left limp and pliant.

Thick ropes of cum sear through you, slipping through your cervix to nestle into your womb. His sweaty body collapsing on top of you. Nestled in tight beside, pawing at your soon to fatten up hips.

His lips trail up, kissing your chin before reaching your own. Capturing your mouth in tender passion, brushing slick hair from your face to look into your eyes.

"I love you.."

-

7 months later

You walked barefoot through the house, Logan stalking behind you. He was never far from you now, belly popped out and swollen. His babe kicking around.

You slid on your wedding band, checking your body in the mirror. Your swim suit was a little tight, but made your bump look cute.

"You almost ready babe?" He asks, rubbing your belly from behind.

"Mhm, just let me get my shoes.

[hanasnx]

ohhh my god i haven’t seen anyone talk about riftan in so long??? i used to be so obsessed with him. i wanna sit on his face with his bigass hands locking my thighs around his head so bad

FACE SITTING — riftan calypse.

MINORS DNI 18+ ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 .ᐟ WARNINGS: fem + nervous reader | dom riftan | established relationship | sexual content | face sitting + riding | a little nose riding | use of good girl.

"Wait, wait just a second—" you protest, appealing to RIFTAN CALYPSE's sense of mercy with your touch on his hair, urging his neck to rear so you can raise yourself.

A simple and curt hum of, "Mm-mm," seats you right back down paired with his strong hands squeezing your thighs in a yank. He knows you're getting cold feet, and he won't let you retreat. His impatience has worn that sense of mercy thin, denying you a breather because he knows what it veils: your uncertainty. When you're with a man like Riftan, indecisiveness will not be tolerated. As soon as you feel the muscles in his arms untense, relaxed by your bare heat seated directly onto his lips, you try one more time. Your legs attempt to unfold.

"Riftan, I can't sit down." you whisper with distress, and those silvery eyes strike you with a single glance, flickering to your gaze high above him yet you still feel small.

"Why?" his deep voice rumbles through you, and you swallow your dry mouth. "Afraid you'll hurt me?" His tone is surprisingly condescending, as if daring a little thing like you to hurt a beast like him. You're incapable of such a thing, as he rudely points out, and you press your lips together to quiet your brewing protests. Harsher this time, his biceps swell as he forces you down, pinning you there with his overpowering strength. You gasp as his mouth opens, catching your folds with wet and eager warmth, lapping at your hole with a grateful fervor. His chin is rough against such sensitive tissue, and you squeeze your eyes shut as he eats you out.

It's difficult to focus. Between the pleasure fighting through your anxieties, you brace your hands on either side of his head, trying to ease the pressure on his neck from your weight in any small way you can. He noses your clit affectionately, swiping a kitten lick through your slit that runs a shiver up your spine from the change of pace.

"Where are you running off to?" he questions amusedly, and you can feel his smile stretch against you. "Keep trying to escape, my love, and I'll have to punish you." it's devoid of conviction, yet you believe him. However, you're sure his and your definitions of punishment are very different. A tremor surfaces in your thighs as you futilely battle his hold on you. "Are you really that scared of me? Don't you feel good?" he coos, the nuzzle on your bud sweetly fuzzying your brain. A long stripe from his tongue makes you whine, clutching the pillow under your hands. "Don't hide from me." Those thick callused fingers dig into the flesh of your thighs and you wince, understanding his tone to be a demand, so you will yourself to relax. Uncomfortable, you push through it, straightening your back to sit solely on his face without a crutch.

"That's it. That's a good girl."

[authorhjk1]

Two Rings

(Kim Minji X Male Reader)

@mintwithchoco thank you for the prompt and hosting.

You walk up to her from behind. Minji is sitting on a bench, taking pictures of the beautiful scenery. With two cups of coffee in your hands, you lean over her.

"Here you go, birthday girl."

Minji looks up at you. Her generous, loving smile makes your heart melt. You are lucky, since you get to see this smile almost every day. And yet, you can't stop looking at it. It makes you feel warm.

"Thank you, young man."

Her cheeky comment makes you chuckle. Minji doesn't ever waste a single opportunity to remind you that you're younger than her.

"Are you ready to go back?"

Your girlfriend nods and you offer her your free hand. The two of you turn your backs on the beautiful mountain range and start to walk back down on the path you came on earlier. Minji takes a sip of her warm beverage, a blissful smile on her face.

"How did you get here anyways? Isn't your car at the workshop?"

You smile, still happy that you were able to surprise her earlier.

Busily preparing for their comeback, the Dreamcatcher girls filmed their MV near here today. After their last trilogy ended, their new one will evolve around nature and climate change. Similar to their Apocalypse trilogy. That's why their filming site was outside.

"It is. I came on my bike."

"Your motorcycle?"

You don't have to look at her to know that Minji is sending a disapproving glance in your direction.

"Yeah."

"You know that I'd prefer it if you'd take the bus, instead of the bike. Especially in Seoul."

You silently walk next to her, while Minji keeps going. You can't blame her. Actually, it feels nice to know that she cares so much for your safety.

"...especially other drivers. And also-"

You shut her up with a kiss. Minji's lips taste like the coffee she is drinking. Sweet, a hint of bitterness. The two of you close your eyes. Within a second, the whole world has disappeared. The only people that exist are the two of you.

Once you and Minji finally reach the street, you walk towards your bike. It's an older model, but you already own it for years. You first bought it right after you got your license. But you don't drive often. Minji is right. A car is much safer in the city than a motorcycle.

"Here you go."

Minji's face lights up once more, when you pull out her helmet. It's all fury, decorated with bunny ears. You bought it for her two years ago, when she asked if you could take her for a ride for the first time.

The two of you both put your helmets on after throwing the empty cups into a trashcan nearby. Minji's appearance makes you laugh. Her beautiful, elegant white dress and that bunny helmet. A perfect combination.

Starting the engine, you feel her hands wrap around you.

"Where are we going by the way?"

You barely hear her as you drive off.

"Surprise."

Minji smiles into her helmet. Every birthday with you is special. No. Every single day with you is special. She loves it when you plan things like this for her. Taking her mind off work, just so she can relax a little.

It has already gotten a little darker, once the two of you reach the road at the coast you were looking for. You point to your right. You feel Minji move her head and you glance in the rear mirror on your left. Her white dress is flapping in the wind.

"Wow."

You made it just in time. Minji's appreciative gasp makes you smile. She watches the sundown with big eyes. The sun kisses the sea, disappearing in the orange sky behind her.

Ten minutes later, the two of you walk along the beach. Minji's fingers are locked with yours, her head resting against your biceps. Your leather jacket is draped over her shoulders.

Checking your watch, you make the two of you face the ocean.

"Twenty seconds."

"Huh?"

Minji looks up at you.

"This is already beautiful enough. You don't have to do more."

You can see a hint of guilt in her eyes.

"Trust me, you'll love it."

You squeeze her hand, pretending to be calm. Just like you did the whole day. But in reality, your heart has been pounding since you surprised her earlier. This is gonna be the highlight of the day. You hope.

A moment later, you hear the fireworks go off. You and Minji look up at the night sky. Slowly, red letters start to form. They sparkle in the night. You glance at Minji.

"I love you."

She whispers, reading out the text you've written. Your heart beats faster than never before. Your hands become sweaty. Taking a deep breath, you kneel. Minji is still staring at the fireworks with a wide open mouth.

"Oh my gosh, baby."

A huge smile appears on her face. You can literally feel how happy she is right now as you reach for the ring inside your pocket.

Finally, Minji turns towards you.

"Oh my dear god!"

Your girlfriend covers her mouth with her hand in surprise. She sees you kneeling in front of her. The ring in your hand.

"Yes! Yes, I will!"

You burst out laughing.

"That's not how this works. I have to ask you first."

"Right, sorry."

You see Minji pressing her lips together, her eyes beaming with love.

"Kim Minji. Will you marry me?"

"Yes, I will."

Your fiance leans down, cupping your cheeks and rests her forehead against yours.

"I love you."

You kiss her back, when her lips meet yours. The two of you lose yourselves in the moment once more. It feels like you've already accomplished everything you've ever dreamed off, now that Minji said yes. The realisation slowly catches up with you. You're engaged. Kim Minji is going to be your wife.

Once you calm down, you start to put the ring on her finger. It's not a big one, but it fits her perfectly. You push it along her finger, until it rests against the ring you bought her, when you asked her to be your girlfriend.

"Now I've got two rings."

Minji smiles down at you.

"Give me a kiss, Mr. fiance."

You get off the sand and hold Minji by her waist as you lift her up. Her giggles get silenced by your lips. Her hands go through your hair, giving it playful tugs as the two of you engage in another deep kiss.

You have to admit that you were a little scared. The possibility of her saying no was slim, but you never know. And the ring too. You're still wondering, if you shouldn't have bought her a bigger one. But then again, Minji didn't even look at it clearly. She seemed way too happy to care what type of ring you got her.

[femininenachos]

Hello lovely. I’ve been thinking about vacation au. Please tell me Clarke runs into Lexa swimming in some crystal clear Grecian water and wells has to close her mouth for her.

(Not quite, but close!)

Previously: Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

By mid-morning the narrow streets near the harbour are already swarming with island hoppers fresh off the ferry. More line the quayside, waiting to board the day cruise that takes in the larger, more populous archipelago further down the coast. So-called ‘jewels of the Aegean’, they’re feted for being playgrounds of the rich and famous, boasting a slew of luxury resort hotels, designer boutiques and staggeringly expensive seafront restaurants.

For all its charm and scenic vistas, at least Polis has one foot in the real world. Here, craggy-faced fishermen and dock hands in scruffy overalls are hard at work unloading the morning’s catch, doing their best to ignore the clusters of tourists floating around, or at least tolerating their presence with stoic indifference.

And—it’s possible Clarke might be biased—Polis has Lexa, currently leading the charge like a woman on a mission. Clarke sticks close, her hand in Lexa’s sure grip, hurrying to match her loping strides as they make a beeline for the marina. Along the way they pass an assortment of small motorboats in all shapes and sizes, from dinghies and jet skis to skiffs and cabin cruisers and everything in between, until a gleaming white single-masted sailboat comes into view at last. 

Clarke stops dead in her tracks on the cobblestones, fingers slipping from Lexa’s.

Her jaw drops.

“Is this yours?”

Lexa glances over and laughs at Clarke’s expression. “I make good tips, but not that much.”

She points to the modest vessel moored next to it, an open-top vintage deck boat with a walnut veneer interior and burnt orange leather upholstery that’s bleached from exposure to the sun and the salty sea air. ‘Spirit of Polis’ is written in blue cursive script on the hull.

“I mean, this one’s great too,” Clarke is quick to respond. She styles it out. “Not so flashy. Compact. Classic. Nice, uh, sleek lines.”

Lexa peers over the top of her sunglasses, lips subtly twisting to the side. “It belongs to my uncle, so you don’t have to worry about offending me or the boat.”

She puts down the cooler containing their provisions of cold drinks and extends a hand to help Clarke aboard. A little unsteady on her feet at first, Clarke holds on tightly for support while she finds her balance, shifting her weight to counteract the bobbing motion of the boat as water sloshes against the sides. Once she’s confident she isn’t going to fall flat on her face or, worse, into the harbour, she takes a few cautious steps to reach the small seating area at the rear. She shrugs off her tote bag to stow under the bench and situates herself, the sun-scorched leather burning hot against the backs of her thighs.

From this safe perch (and prime ogling spot), she watches Lexa collect the thick rope that tethers the boat, tossing it onto the deck before she gracefully hops across with the cooler and gets behind the controls. Full of poise at the helm, like it’s second nature to assume command, the signature pout in place as Lexa lifts her chin like she’s surveying her nautical domain. 

It goes without saying that the whole preppy, boat-captain vibe is one hundred percent working in her favour.

Shades on. Hair spilling down her back in glossy chestnut waves, the ends getting whipped around by the wind. Appealing in her pale pink button-down worn over a snug white tank. Shirt open and catching the light breeze, the sleeves rolled up to reveal a hint of muscle definition and the ink that encircles her bicep. Tight little navy blue shorts hug her hips and ass in ways that are about to cause a major international incident at sea, because Clarke is far from looking respectfully.

“Ready?”

When her eyes snap up, she spies the half-smile on Lexa’s side profile, as though she detects the unholy thirst emanating from mere feet away.

Clarke gives a slow, absentminded nod, the tip of her tongue poking out the side of her mouth as her eyes make another involuntary sweep down Lexa’s form.

“Clarke.”

She gets a hold of herself, breathing in deeply, and with it the spell is broken.

“Mm? Oh, yeah,” she says, feeling a resurgent wiggle of anticipation about this mystery adventure they’re about to embark on together. All Lexa was willing to divulge when they met is that it’s Polis’s best-kept secret, a spot known only to locals, unreachable except by boat, and so far unspoiled by tourists. Clarke had feigned offense on the last point, but soon dropped the act when Lexa tilted in for a kiss that went on and on and made her stomach clench. Each time Clarke started to retreat, Lexa would chase her mouth and draw her back in for more. 

Her lips are still tingling.

(Both sets.)

“At least give me a hint about where we’re going?”

The enigmatic smirk that plays around Lexa’s mouth widens a fraction. “I thought you liked surprises.”

“Oh, I do. But I’m also stubborn as hell and won’t take no for an answer, so jot that down.”

It earns a laugh, one Clarke is fast becoming enamoured with, and she can’t control the warm tingle that goes through her when she hears it or the rush of elation she gets from bringing a rare grin to Lexa’s face. 

“Good to know,” Lexa says as she reaches for the ignition key. Her next words are almost lost to the splutter and chug of the engine before it roars to life. “I like a challenge.”

~*~

Within an hour, they reach a small, secluded cove surrounded by sheer limestone cliffs, the ancient rock sculpted by wind and waves, where sparse scatterings of tall, rugged pines sprout precariously from narrow ledges in defiance of the elements.

It appears like a mirage, shimmering into view: a bay of dreamy, pristine, white-gold sands and crystal clear turquoise waters, serene and inviting, and there isn’t a soul in sight. The closest thing they had to company was the pod of dolphins they spotted off the starboard (Clarke learned) side about twenty minutes ago. She’d gasped and clutched Lexa’s arm, bouncing on her heels in sheer delight. But it was the look they shared, brimming with joy and something unaccountably softer and fonder, that made it all the more magical, the moment already locked into Clarke’s memory.

“What do you think?” Lexa asks.

Lost for words, Clarke shakes her head in silent awe.

She turns to Lexa, and the smile Lexa directs at her, eyes bright and glowing in the sunlight, leaves her just as speechless. When Clarke finds her voice at last, it comes out thick, clogged with emotion; touched and amazed by the incredible beauty of what she sees—the place, and the woman who brought her here. So moved that she’s dangerously close to shedding a tear, her vision glazing over. 

She blinks the moisture away.

“It’s…” She draws in a breath and lets it out slowly. Lifts her eyebrows. “Wow.”

She doesn’t second guess the impulse to wrap an arm around Lexa’s waist, to plant a soft, grateful kiss on her jaw.

“Thank you for sharing it with me.” 

Full lips twitch at the corners. “My pleasure.”

With one hand resting on the wheel, Lexa drapes her free arm around Clarke’s shoulders. They remain like that, Clarke hugging Lexa’s side and taking in the spectacular scenery as Lexa guides the boat in at a steady rate of knots.

“I can’t believe this place has stayed under the radar. You’d think tour operators would be running excursions out here every hour until sunset.”

“Clarke.” Lexa grows serious all of a sudden, and that only makes Clarke want to kiss her again. Coax another smile. “You must promise not to tell anyone. It’s how we preserve it for future generations.”

Clarke schools her features, pretending to match Lexa’s gravity.

“Well… it’ll cost you. My silence doesn’t come cheap.”

The slight frown Lexa wears smooths out as soon as she catches on. A quizzical eyebrow flexes in a way that’s rudely attractive.

“Name your price, but don’t forget I work in hospitality.”

“I’m not interested in your money, Lexa. What I want” - Clarke trails her hand over Lexa’s hip and the perfect curve of her backside to give it a slow, purposeful squeeze, relishing Lexa’s intake of breath and the darkening of her gaze as she glances at Clarke’s lips - “is you.”

She meant to say “your body” but she doesn’t correct the verbal slip. Because, yeah, she does want to bend Lexa into all kinds of shapes like a pretzel, but she also has a deep desire to learn more about Lexa as a person, to find out what makes her tick, beyond what she likes to do in bed.

Lexa takes it in stride regardless, easing back into the confidence she has in spades.

Something about the slope of her smile signals she’s about to gain the upper hand. 

She shrugs.

“Okay, deal.”

The enduring gleam in Lexa’s eyes before she turns her attention back to the sea gives Clarke palpitations. Her pulse thunders in her ears, drowning out the engine noise and the crash of the boat breaking the waves. 

~*~

They drop anchor a short distance from the shore, an easy swim from the dazzling white sands. Not yet ready to take a dip, preferring to bake in the heat for a while first, Clarke spreads a large beach towel on the deck for sunbathing. She senses Lexa’s attention on her as she shimmies out of her shorts and shucks her loose tee to reveal the red halter neck two-piece that Octavia helped pick out after breakfast. 

(“Hellooo, mama,” Octavia had drawled after Clarke emerged from the en suite and gave a reluctant twirl. She’d let out a low whistle as she ran her eyes up and down. “Almost wish I was tagging along just to watch Sexy Lexy’s head spin 360-degrees before it explodes. The twins ain’t playing.”)

At the time, Clarke had rolled her eyes and fought a blush but she’s glad she went with O’s suggestion.

Aware of her present captive audience, she proceeds to get comfortable on her back. One knee bent, an arm tucked behind her head as a pillow, showing off her best assets like a 1950s calendar pinup girl. Even behind the dark tinted lenses of her sunglasses, she sees Lexa’s eyes hungrily trace the shape of her body. Clarke basks in it, a smile tucked into the corner of her mouth, secure in the knowledge that she’s not just a snack, she’s the whole damn meal, and Lexa looks like she wants to devour every last crumb.

But Clarke’s smugness is short-lived, because in the next moment she’s the one left gawking when Lexa wordlessly strips down to the skimpiest pair of bikini bottoms and not a stitch else, brow quirking up as she peers over her shoulder then dives off the deck, slicing through the water with barely a splash.

Clarke quickly levers up onto her elbows to watch Lexa surface seconds later, hair slicked back and plastered to her skull, a sly little tilt to her lips as she treads water.

“Come on in. The temperature is perfect,” she calls out, looking every inch the siren that lures thirsty sapphic sailors to their deaths. 

Clarke tries to cling on to the last vestiges of composure she has remaining.

“Gonna work on my tan for a little bit.”

The pout returns and she laughs, “Soon!”

Grabbing the tube of sunscreen from her nearby tote, she squeezes a large dollop into her palm. While Lexa does slow laps around the boat, Clarke liberally reapplies the lotion, slathering it on until all the exposed skin within reach is covered.

Before long, she hears Lexa climb the ladder onto the swim platform, accompanied by the rush of water cascading off her body as she rises out of the sea.

The soft slap of wet footfalls draws nearer.

“Lex?” Clarke twists around. “Could you do my—”

She stalls mid-sentence, only cognizant of her fingers closing hard around the tube in her hand when a spurt of lotion shoots out, splattering across her thigh and the towel. 

She doesn’t even flinch.

All Clarke can do is gape and stare, watching rivulets of water run down the slope of Lexa’s bare chest. Eyes drawn inexorably to taut nipples and golden skin that glistens under the sun, to the long, lean lines of Lexa and the scrap of luminous orange fabric that sits low on her hips.

Clarke’s belly tightens, arousal flaring hot between her legs.

(A voice in her head that sounds disturbingly like Wells tells her to close her mouth.)

She has to remind herself to breathe. 

Is thankful for the oversized shades that partially mask her expression, because she isn’t in control of what her face is doing right now. But if Lexa’s lip-bitten smile is any indication, it’s a lost cause anyway.

Casually wringing the water out of her hair as she approaches, Lexa glances at the milky white streak on Clarke’s inner thigh. 

“Not the first time I’ve made a girl squirt.”

Clarke mutters a sarcastic “ha ha”, rubs the lotion into her skin, then wipes her hands on the edge of the towel before she reclines again. She fakes nonchalance when Lexa sinks down beside her, but it’s impossible to ignore the butterflies.

She rolls her shoulders and stares at the sky above, fixating on the solitary vapour trail that cuts across the endless blue.

“Speaking of previous liaisons... do you bring all your conquests here?” She’s mostly kidding, but there’s an undercurrent of needing to know too. She peers at Lexa. “Or am I one of the lucky few?”

A slow shake of Lexa’s head before she leans over on her elbow, closing in and partially blocking the sun, and Clarke’s skepticism must be plain to see, because Lexa looks so intensely sincere now, no trace of a smile or any disingenuousness when she says: “It’s the truth, I swear.”

Still, Clarke has her doubts. There’s no way Lexa isn’t tripping over hot women throwing themselves at her feet and this boat trip is too well-orchestrated not to be a tried and tested seduction technique. 

Clarke peels off her shades to look Lexa square in the eye, and that frank, steady gaze pierces straight through her.

“I mean it, Clarke.” 

The space between them shrinks. 

Lexa’s pupils dilate as her focus shifts to parted lips. “You’re special.”

Water drips off the ends of Lexa’s hair onto Clarke’s shoulder and chest, and whatever rebuttal she had dies in her throat. She’s the one to reach out, gripping Lexa by the neck to tug her the rest of the way and kiss her like Clarke’s been dreaming of all morning.

As soon as Lexa throws a long leg over Clarke to straddle her, knees bracketing her hips, she needs no further convincing.

It’s on. 

She dips her tongue inside Lexa’s mouth and slides both hands up Lexa’s rib cage to cup her breasts, a shiver running through Clarke when she feels the hard poke of nipples against her palms. She kneads, and the low, throaty noise it earns her sets her nerves alight, warm tingles suffusing her body.

They kiss deeply, greedily.

They kiss until Clarke has to drag her mouth away to gulp down some air, only to have the oxygen punched out of her lungs once again when Lexa uses the opportunity to shove her bikini bottoms off, scoop her mane of wet hair to one side and resettle against Clarke’s thigh. With her hands planted on either side of Clarke’s shoulders, Lexa holds herself up as she starts to work along the tensed muscle.

The slick, molten feel of Lexa, sliding against her skin, riding Clarke, makes her burn. She lurches up into the next kiss, hungrily reclaiming Lexa’s mouth, urging her on with a grip on her ass, and that shaky little hitch of breath in the back of Lexa’s throat whenever the friction gets her just right succeeds in getting Clarke wetter and wetter too. At this rate, she might come before Lexa does, and the odds only increase when Lexa takes Clarke’s hand and guides it between her legs. 

“Use your fingers.”

Another surge of heat floods through Clarke at the instruction, hearing the normally smooth, modulated tone of Lexa’s voice roughed by need.

Clarke studies Lexa’s face, watching for the tiny flickers of reaction as she runs her fingers lower, fascinated by each and every twitch and jolt and slight gasp as she explores. She dips in and drags the wetness up to swirl around Lexa’s clit and is rewarded by the sharp jerk of Lexa’s hips and quite possibly the dirtiest kiss of Clarke’s entire life. She needs no prompting to slide through slick heat to tease at Lexa’s entrance again, fingertips doing a couple of slow swirls before she pauses. 

For a beat they remain suspended in a freeze frame of anticipation. Each holding still, a breath caught in their throats. 

On the exhale Clarke pushes inside.

And fuck, she missed this. Touching yourself is great and all, empowering, fantastic for stress relief, et cetera. But nothing beats the sound another woman makes when you enter her for the first time, when you hear that shaky intake of breath and you feel her clench around your fingers.

“Good?” Clarke asks. 

Lexa nods, bottom lip held between her teeth as she looks down at Clarke with hooded eyes, the green of her irises nearly eclipsed by black.

Part of Clarke can’t quite believe this is her reality. That she’s buried to the knuckles and Lexa is moving on her, rolling to meet the steady pump of her wrist. 

She glances between their bodies and a groan escapes, another sharp twist of lust coiling in the pit of her stomach once her eyes fasten on her own two fingers coated with Lexa’s arousal, fucking into her. But Clarke pries her eyes away, roving over tight abdominals, taking in the curves of Lexa’s tits and the jut of her nipples, torn between wanting them in her mouth and watching her fingers disappear inside again.

It’s Lexa’s half-stifled whimper when Clarke’s thumb finds her clit that sharpens her focus. 

Winding her arm around Lexa’s lower back, Clarke sits them upright and swiftly brings their lips together. The abrupt change of angle has Lexa gasping hotly into her mouth. Again, louder, when Clarke’s palm rubs in. Lexa grips her by the shoulder and the back of her neck, blunt nails digging in as Lexa grinds down harder, faster, speeding towards the climax—the first of many, if Clarke has her way—sucking in short, sharp gasps while Clarke keeps pace, despite it being hell on her wrist.

They’re hardly kissing at all now, mouths hanging slack and sharing the same air, noses pressing into cheeks as they pant against one another’s lips.

She soon feels the first flutters, the growing tension in Lexa’s form, the choppy motion of Lexa’s hips and the careless scratch of her nails at Clarke’s nape. She curls the tips of her fingers on each partial drag out then slams back in, lifting Lexa an inch off her lap with each thrust. Clarke keeps the heel of her palm tight against Lexa’s clit, the pressure firm and constant, and in the next collection of halting, rapid breaths, Lexa’s whole frame pulls taut. A ragged cry is torn from her throat and she clenches hard, coming in a hot spill around Clarke’s fingers. Lexa shudders through it, a tremble in her jaw when she catches Clarke’s mouth in a fierce, bruising kiss, licking into her with a groan that makes Clarke gush in turn.

They remain in a heavy lip lock long after the tremors subside, neither inclined to separate. Restless hands weave through Clarke’s hair then seek out her curves, roaming down her chest with purpose, pushing under the top half of her swimsuit. She gives a low hum of approval when Lexa’s thumbs roll over the tight tips of her nipples, the ache mirrored in the dull, pulsing emptiness between her legs.

She feels close to orgasm already, like if she got even the tiniest bit of friction she’d go off like a rocket. Just a small shift of her hand to grind against her own knuckles would do it. But the way Lexa is touching her breasts, palms running all over, teasing her nipples into stiff, hypersensitive points, might be enough to get Clarke there.

And all the while, she’s still inside Lexa. Fucking her lazily with slow presses of her fingers, incapable of much more vigour when her wrist is screaming. She’s debating what to do next, whether to withdraw and flip Lexa onto her back for round two or continue like this, when a distant droning noise intrudes, faintly audible above the gentle lap of water, the thick, wet squelch of Clarke’s hand working between Lexa’s thighs, and their combined heavy breathing.

Growing more distracted by the second, Clarke draws her mouth away. She squints at the horizon beneath the shade of her free hand while warm lips meander along her jaw and down her neck.

She ceases her movements, despite Lexa’s meaningful buck of her hips and the subsequent small growl of complaint when Clarke fails to take the hint.

“What’s—” Teeth nip at the fading hickey on her throat and she gasps, hand flying to tangle in Lexa’s damp, curling hair. But as the object begins to resolve itself, Clarke tenses for a different reason. “Is that a boat?”

Lexa abandons her sulk to look too.

A white shape is rapidly approaching, throwing up sea spray, sunlight glinting off the surface and the waves and making it difficult to discern from this distance until… oh. Oh, yeah.

Letting out a string of (presumably) expletives in her native tongue, Lexa scrambles off Clarke to scoop up the clothes strewn across the deck. She pulls on her tank top, yanks the shorts up her legs, and has just enough time to arrange herself into a casual pose beside Clarke before the other boat reaches them. The occupants are obnoxiously young; late teens or early twenties, as far as Clarke can tell from a distance; a bunch of bikini-clad girls and lanky guys in board shorts hanging off one another as music blasts.

She sighs inwardly. Grits her teeth and refrains from giving them the middle finger while they whoop and cheer in passing, beer bottles held aloft as they thunder towards the wooden jetty.

So much for the sexy beach idyll. Clearly, not everyone has such reverence for the tranquility of this spot.

“Shall we stay a while or…?” Clarke hedges. 

Lexa purses her lips and casts her stormy gaze around, jaw working side to side in rotation, but a gentle touch on her leg pulls her focus back to Clarke. 

Consternation softens into regret.

“You didn’t even get a chance to swim or feel the sand between your toes.”

“I’ll cope. Besides…” Clarke wets her lips and drops into a huskier register. “It wasn’t a total bust.”

Lexa’s mouth twitches, clearly fighting a smile, and to Clarke that’s a win.

“Come on, don’t let these pesky teens ruin our hot date,” she continues in a playful tone. “I bet you have a few aces up your sleeve; other favourite haunts to wow the ladies with.”

One shoulder lifts in a slight shrug. “We do have the boat for the rest of the day. I could take you somewhere else. For lunch, if you’re hungry yet?”

Clarke gives a noncommittal hum, lightly trailing her wet fingers along the soft skin of Lexa’s inner thigh. “I could eat.”

The suggestive undertone isn’t lost in translation. Their eyes meet and Clarke dares to make it explicit.

“But lunch wasn’t what I had in mind… unless we’re counting pussy as a food group.”

Lexa loses the battle against keeping her smile under control. The tips of her ears are tinged pink. “Are Americans always so forward?”

“Um, I don’t recall any shyness on your part two nights ago.”

Dainty little ears burn brightly while Lexa’s smile grows, becoming toothier, and Clarke just wants to smooch that perfect face all day long.

“Anyway, I prefer the term ‘go-getter.’ As in, I see someone I want and I go get her.”

A pained groan. “I should leave you stranded on the beach for that.”

“Hey!” Clarke swats at Lexa’s knee in retaliation, but Lexa catches her hand, holding it captive. Clarke sniffs for dramatic effect. “I was going to let you strip me out of this bathing suit later, but now I’m strongly reconsidering.”

“If it helps sway your decision, I’d definitely appreciate seeing you naked again.”

“And how would you show your gratitude?”

“Mm. At least three times, and maybe twice more with the strap if you’re into toys.”

God.

“Okay. Alright. Well, lucky for you, I’m kind of dying for you to fuck me so I guess that clinches it.”

It’s about as far from playing it cool as could be, but Clarke doesn’t care. The truth is she’s soaked, aching for relief, and she isn’t picky about whichever method Lexa might use to get her off, as long as it happens soon.

Eyes flashing dark, Lexa cups a hand behind Clarke’s neck and pulls her mouth to hers. Clarke reacts without thought, already opening up to accept the slide of Lexa’s tongue before her brain catches up and she remembers they’re not alone.

Cracking an eye open, she’s relieved to see nobody on the other boat appears to be paying them any attention. She attempts to evade the next kiss, only for Lexa to pursue it more doggedly, and that makes Clarke smile even as she lays a palm on Lexa’s chest to gently hold off her advance. The mini pout on Lexa’s face when they pull apart is a treat, and Clarke can’t conceal her enjoyment of it. Unable to resist the lure, she steals one final peck. 

For a few indulgent seconds, she luxuriates in the softness of Lexa’s full bottom lip, until it dawns on her that an hour-long return journey stands between them and more orgasms, and she sighs. 

“Why isn’t teleportation a real thing yet? Having to wait a full 60 minutes to get you under me is so unfair.”

Slowly, with the greatest delicacy and patience, Lexa brushes their noses together, one side then the other, nudging the tip before she withdraws. Despite the sun beating down on her back, it gives Clarke chills, shivers running down her neck and arms. For the duration she just holds still and melts while her stomach flips, and the butterflies that had lain dormant return in full force. 

When she opens her eyes, she’s greeted by the slight, sloping smile on Lexa’s lips and her stomach does another somersault.

“I’m starting to think you’re only interested in me for sex,” Lexa says lightly.

Clarke lets out a small scoff. “You’re the one with a one-track mind. I was minding my own business, soaking up the rays, until you pounced.”

“Can you blame me?” 

Lexa’s heated stare roves over several inches of cleavage before she forcibly drags her eyes back up. 

“Actually… I have a confession to make.” She draws that plush bottom lip, still slightly swollen and red from kissing, between her teeth. “I dropped a tray of drinks at work yesterday because I had a flashback to you sitting on my face. Anya yelled at me and I didn’t even give a fuck that she deducted it from my tips.”

Heat rises in Clarke’s cheeks, triggered by her own vivid recollection of events. She won’t forget it in a hurry and she’s flattered to hear it was just as memorable for Lexa too. But also, it feels like a point of pride that she made Lexa’s cool girl veneer slip, even if she wasn’t there to witness it in person.  

“Now I feel partly responsible for this tragic loss of earnings and broken glassware.”

“I said you were trouble.”

They inch closer, eyes glued to lips, their breath hot on one another’s faces.

“How can I make it up to you?” Clarke asks.

“I have some ideas.”

Her mind can’t help going to the aforementioned strap.

All smiles, they surrender to the magnetic pull. The world around them recedes. There’s only Lexa’s mouth on hers, soft yet urgent, and the tingles that erupt all over, Clarke’s pulse accelerating when long fingers thread into her hair again.

And it’s sublime. 

Close to perfection.

She can almost hear the swell of imaginary violins soundtracking the moment—until a smattering of shrill wolf whistles pierces through the bliss. 

The kiss breaks on a huff of shared, quiet laughter. Clarke’s eyes slide across to the jetty, where they’re being enthusiastically toasted by their neighbours. She groans and drops her forehead to Lexa’s shoulder, breathing in the saltwater, sun-warmed scent of her before showing her face again.

“I believe that’s our cue to leave,” Clarke says.

The long, lidded look Lexa favours her with, eyes shaded darker by desire and the hint of some deeper emotion that feels altogether too big, too soon to acknowledge, has Clarke battling the urge to launch herself at Lexa’s lips again, regardless of the unwanted spectators nearby.

“Keep that up, Lex, and they might really have something to holler about—and possibly livestream on the internet.”

A faint smile reappears. “What am I doing, Clarke?”

“Looking. Giving me those” - she gestures vaguely - “eyes.”

It loosens a small laugh. Lexa lowers her gaze and Clarke regrets mentioning it now, because it feels like the sun momentarily disappearing behind the clouds when Lexa’s thrilling, singular focus isn’t on her.

“I didn’t say I didn’t like it.” 

Lexa looks up, and the restored eye contact makes Clarke’s blood pump faster.

She lets out the breath she was holding. “Maybe I like it more than I should, considering.”

“Considering…?”

“I won’t be here next week.”

Pragmatic; matter-of-fact. A reality check and a casual reminder they both need to hear before they throw themselves headlong into… whatever this thing is between them: it has an expiration date.

In the lull, Lexa scans every millimetre of Clarke’s face and she hopes the nerves don’t show through the front she’s putting on.

After a moment, the corner of Lexa’s mouth lifts into a smirk, but it seems slightly forced. Her eyes are more pebbly, neutral grey than green. “Then let’s make sure you have good memories to take home with you.”

[angelwings-crossbowstrings]

Whumptober 2023

No. 15 “I’m fine.” | No. 17 “Leave me alone.”

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader (platonic, pre-relationship)

Setting: Post Prison/Pre Alexandria

Warnings: Animal bite, Injury, Illness, TWD Violence

“Thanks,” you muttered while wiping your mouth with the back of your hand. You extended the bottle out to Glenn but he shook his head. 

“Try to get Daryl to drink when he gets back.” You cast him a curious look but he only smiled and shuffled forward to catch up with Maggie. 

The sun was beating down violently on your little group, no reprieve from the clutches of its heat. Just like yesterday. Just like the day before. The bushes rustled to your left, but you were too weary to be afraid. You simply rolled your head toward the sound and watched Daryl emerge from the foliage. You gave him a quick once over as he fell in stride beside you but saw no injuries and also no kill to call dinner. 

“You okay?” You offered the water bottle, but he pushed it back to you. 

“M’fine.”

“I haven’t seen you take a single sip in two days, Daryl.” You were trying to scold but your voice only sounded dry and tired. 

“You need it. Lil Asskicker needs it.” Right on cue, the baby on Carl’s back began to fuss. You glanced behind you where Sasha and Michonne were bringing up the rear. The group of walkers were still a ways back but if you stopped, it wouldn’t take them long to catch up. 

Your attention was brought back to Daryl when he stumbled, hissing through his teeth before getting his balance. You said nothing but watched him carefully. He was slightly favoring his right leg. While you could see no blood, you did notice that the red rag that usually hung from his back pocket was wrapped around his shin, just above his boot. 

“Daryl.” You called to him carefully when he looked up from his feet and wiped the sweat from his brow with his forearm. He grunted in reply, and his gaze dropped again. “Are you hurt?” He grunted again. “That’s not an answer.”

“Don’ worry ‘bout it.” The archer looked over at you, one eye closed and the other squinted. “Ain’t a big deal.” 

Before you could press him on it, Rick called out for everyone to stop at a bridge. It was time to handle the walkers. 

It didn’t take long. Not a single person was injured and you were back on the road. Daryl was in front of you now, and you were watching him like a hawk. Other than a slight limp, he seemed okay. No better or worse than anyone else right now. 

The group had stopped to rest once the scorching sun had lowered, and Daryl had disappeared to hunt. With a nod to Carol, you ducked away past the bushes to join him. You weren’t great at tracking but he hadn’t been gone long and you had learned a thing or two from him. 

It didn’t take you long to spot him. There was a small cabin that looked like it had been abandoned since before the dead rose. Daryl was standing next to a tree close to the structure, leaning his shoulder against it. You smiled, and quickened your pace until you noticed his crossbow was on the ground at his feet. His right boot wasn’t touching the ground, and he was bent at the waist with his eyes screwed shut and teeth clenched. 

“Daryl?” You called out but he didn’t respond. He was sweating and pale, and as you neared, the smell of sick lingered in the air. “Hey, are you okay?” You placed your hand on his bicep once you were close enough. The archer reacted violently, catching your wrist and slamming your back against the tree with his hunting knife at your throat. Had he really not heard you approaching? His breaths came hard and fast. Those pretty blue eyes of his were filled with pain and anger. “It’s me, Daryl.” 

You watched recognition set in, and he released you with a huff. “The hell ya followin’ me fer?” You let your gaze follow him as he replaced his knife and reached for the crossbow. On the ground, near the weapon, was a puddle of vomit. Your eyes narrowed. 

“Daryl, what’s wrong with you?” You pushed away from the tree and jogged to cut him off. “Really.”

“Leave me ‘lone!” He made to go around you, but you moved to stay in his path. 

“You sick?” He tried the other way with the same results. “Hurt?” He growled deep in his throat, closing his eyes in what appeared to be restraint. You weren’t sure that was really the case. 

“Jus’ lay off, would ya?” He snapped harshly. You reeled, face contorting in anger, but just as you opened your mouth, Daryl’s eyes widened. He listed to the side, crashing hard onto his left knee and began to retch violently. With nothing in his stomach, he only managed to bring up a small amount of bile throughout the ordeal. 

“Daryl!” You grabbed hold of his shoulders just in time to stop him from keeling over into the mess. Falling back onto your ass, you managed to pull the man up against your stomach. He was panting with his eyes screwed shut. “Daryl, what’s going on? The truth.”

It took a moment but the archer finally managed to open one eye and seemed to study you before you felt him simply deflate in your hold. “Snake bit.” You quickly glanced at that old rag around his lower leg. 

“You moron, that’s serious! You could die!” Your hand connected roughly with the front of his shoulder but then held him fast where he was when he tried to struggle away. 

“Ain’t gon’ die. S’jus’ a copperhead.” He tried to sit up again and this time you let him. He nodded gratefully once he was shoulder to shoulder with you. “Got bit ‘fore, when I’s ‘bout 10. It won’ kill me but it’ll suck fer a day or two.”

You stared at him, not sure what you were feeling. You were angry that he had hidden this from the group, from you. You were worried that he was or would become dehydrated or the wound would be infected, both were very likely and equally as dangerous. You were sad that he would rather suffer alone than worry anyone even when he was in such a state. 

“Quit starin’ at me like tha’. Told ya, I’ll be fine.”

You nodded, looking down at your boots. You had to think of something. Daryl simply couldn’t keep going like this, disappearing ‘in search of water and food’ when he really just needed a break. You glanced at him again, leaning back on his hands with his head tilted toward the sky. His expression was riddled with pain, even though he was trying not to show it. You knew better. 

Over his shoulder, you saw the little cabin. It wasn’t the ideal solution but maybe one you could make work. “You cleared that yet?”

Daryl followed your gaze and shook his head. “Nah. Didn’ have a chance ‘fore my stomach crawled outta my throat.”

“Wait here.” 

“The hell ya doin’, Y/N?”

You pulled your knife from the sheath on your thigh and marched toward the structure. “Solving a couple of problems.”

The cabin had been blessedly void of walkers. It was small but large enough to shelter your family from the sun for at least a day or two. It was easy enough to talk Rick into stopping the fruitless march toward nothing. At least the group could stay put while you took care of Daryl, under the guise of being out for the night to hunt. 

He had been surprisingly pliant when you dragged him away. Finding a spot to camp for the night was simple. Far enough away for members not to venture in search of you, yet close enough to run for help if things got worse. You had taken all of the water that could be spared, leaving enough for the proper care of Judith and Carl. You hated leaving so little for the adults, but Daryl would surely die without it, closer than anyone to dehydration with the excess sweating and vomiting. 

You sat next to his outstretched leg, carefully pouring the smallest amount of water over the two punctures he had finally let you take a look at. Just to the right of his shin, the wound was swollen and angry, more in thanks to the venom than to infection. If you could manage to keep it clean, you could probably avoid that. 

You taped a square of gauze over the bite, thankful that you had at least that in your own bag. Keeping it covered was best for the time being. It could get air when the venom wasn’t doing a number on the archer. 

You worried about tissue damage, but that was a bridge you’d have to cross when you came to it. For now, keeping him alive was the most important thing. 

“Drink.” You titled the canteen against his lips, holding fast to his chin with the other hand when he tried to turn away. 

“The kid—”

“Has enough. I promise. I wouldn’t have taken it if it meant she or Carl had to do without.” He seemed to accept that, parting his lips for the smallest of swallows. You wished you had more and didn’t have to be so greedy with each offering. He had taken the ibuprofen you had managed to nab out of Michonne’s bag. That should provide a bit of relief from the pain while aiding in the reduction of the inflammation. It wasn’t much but it would have to do. 

“You should get some rest.” You placed your back against the tree, shoulder to shoulder with him. He didn’t look very comfortable but it wasn’t unlike Daryl to sleep sitting up. Sometimes, you think he preferred it. Regardless, he was sick and in pain, so you tried to make him as comfortable as possible. “Why don’t you lay on my lap?”

Daryl opened one eye and rolled his head toward you, blinking away the sweat that burned and obstructed his vision. You thought he might argue or turn you down flat, but he instead shifted with a groan and pillowed his head on your thighs. A true testament to how horrible he was feeling. 

“Better?” You questioned quietly, running your fingers through his damp hair. He hummed, his eyes once again closed. You could see the way they pinched at the outer corners and wished you could do something more for the pain. He’d been bitten while trying to find food and water for your group; trying to take care of everyone else. Always putting himself last. 

There was a content sigh that brought you from your thoughts. You hadn’t realized that you had begun to scratch and knead his scalp, but the way he seemed to melt against you ensured that you continued. His shallow breaths evened out and deepened after a few more moments, an indicator that he was finally giving his body the rest it so desperately needed. 

He would be okay. You knew that now. But if you could offer him some comfort and peace for just one night, you’d massage his scalp until your fingers bled. Daryl, rough around the edges and tough as nails, would bend over backwards to ensure the safety of each one of you. Anyone in the group would do the same for him if he’d allow it. But he didn’t. He chose to suffer in silence until you stumbled across him and forced his hand. 

But he’d allowed you into his space and trusted you enough to fall into a deep, healing sleep while you watched over him. He would be safe and cared for, and you’d make sure he knew that he could depend on this— on you — and drop his walls. He could let you in and be vulnerable. 

You’d be damned if you’d take that for granted. 

[houseofhugo]

ONE AFTER ANOTHER: PART ONE

[ SYNOPSIS ] you take him to your room tempted and riled up for a heated session.

[ PAIRING ] lee sangyeon x f!reader

[ CONTENTS AND WARNINGS ] 18+ read (smut), mdni (minors, please do not interact), stepcest, stepfather!sangyeon, top!lee sangyeon (as what fits him), bot!reader, age gap (both are legal, of course), petnames, blowjob, edging (reader!giving), face fucking, throat pie, tan skin sangyeon (yes, that's a warning), sweats sweats sweats, tiny mentions of porn and porn-related terminology as adjectives and compliments

[ AUTHOR'S NOTE ] this is my first ever smut. if you want to make appreciation of this post, please don't hesitate to like, reblog, comment or do all of the above. hard thoughts are also always open. love, hugo!

[NAVIGATION] PART TWO, THE BONUS CHAPTER

With a single push of your thumb, the click of the doorknob lock behind you bloomed into your ears like music. Your hands are still grasped upon the cold metal behind you but your thumb has been lifted off the button lock. Two open hands then acted like vines as they glided over your skin to find position on your rears—one secured behind your neck while the other snuck up behind your waist. At your eye level, your sight dwells at the low neck of the fitted, bicep-showcasing, sleeveless, gray shirt that extends down enough to fully show off a sexy damp cleavage between firm masculine mounds. From there, your eyes then went up north; through your eyelids, you met the face of the man who let you mix a libido-increasing supplement in his lunch and made you watch him eat every spoon of it right in front of you, and now, he is standing twice your height right in front of you with a wet collar on the shirt darkening the cloth as beads of sweat trail down his temples. The supplement must be making him feel hotter as much as he looks right now.

Who knew you will go this far just to get a man be all over you? And who knew it would be your stepdad for a month now?

"Is it locked?" Sangyeon asked in caution as he held you firmly.

Giving the older a pleased smile, you twisted the knob and both of you heard the lock snapped back open only for you to push it back in with your thumb. Your hands finally left the round metal poking your back. "Yes," you assured him.

His chest descended into ease due to his lessening fear of getting caught—that's actually a minority of his problems right now. Without thinking twice, he hunched and leaned forward to attach his lips onto yours. You're the fuel to this growing fire between you two right now, so won't you just let him work himself for a few moments in devouring your lips?

He wears a pair of beige shorts that only covers one-third of his tree-trunk thighs. You can see through the garment how it hugs and imprints his size that is almost identical to the girth of a kitchen towel tube and quite to the length of a forearm. It's extending down to the leg opening where you caught his whole swelling huge tip with an inch of shaft already peeking out. His hand behind your neck went down to join his other hand on your back to pull you towards him and ground his crotch onto your clothed folds. You held onto his shoulders for extra support. Sensing his desperation, you eventually began munching back at his wet and squelching kisses. Eyelids then draped your sight. You can taste some of the saltiness of his sweat on the skin around his lips. Tilting his head, his nose is now hovering at the zone of your left cheekbone where you feel the air brushing the skin of your left cheek before it gets vacuumed into his nostrils. With that one inhale, he pulls away to have himself a breather; meanwhile, you were standing there silently yearning for the intimate contact that was broken. You want this but you wanna be careful.

"When's mom coming back?" you brought up right away.

"She told me she's gonna meet a few friends until 3 PM to plan their formal gathering."

You turned your head to the digital clock placed on the nightstand behind him showing 12:41 PM in strong red color. Recalling, you two just finished eating during the early minutes of the first half of the hour, so it means the supplement has already done its job on him. You darted your eyes back at his masculine face but something at the corner of your sight suggested you to look around and as soon as your eyes went south first, you knew why.

"What is it?" Sangyeon follows the direction of your head. He sees nothing but his stiff manhood below begging to be freed as it is shoved and pressed on his thighs by the fabric that starts to hardly accommodate his growing and swelling size. You can also see how a line of precum is formed streaming down his calves while his tip drips off that clear and viscous man stuff like a half-way closed faucet. It's just now that he's gotten aware of it which sinks into him how it's quite getting uncomfortable since he's really that big. "Well, look at that. You have no idea how strong that supplement hiked up in me after I ate that food." Through the fabric, he held his cock with is hand in a thumbs up sign as he attempted to wiggle it right at your sight.

You handed over his words to your explorative imagination; the more you think about it, the more you feel your guts warm up. You couldn't help but chew on your lower lip as you press all your fingers right onto your clothed pussy now that you have your stepdad standing in front of you all horny and hot at its peak. However, you don't wanna get yourself losing your shit just yet, so you cupped and pushed his solid shoulder blades down to stabilize yourself standing on your toes reaching his lips with yours to continue the kiss he broke. It went like that for a few seconds until he could feel you nudge forward trying not to trip over.

With Sangyeon's feet apart, he bent his knees as he hunched to even up both of your heights. Feeling stable back again on your soles, you palmed his manhood right at the spot, rubbing his length through the fabric. Of course, it wouldn't be fair if he doesn't do the same. You sensed his right hand slip into the waistband of your shorts. By the time he had is whole hand inside, he began treating your left ass check as the biggest stress ball he has ever held.

A moan of yours was sent out and vibrated through both of your lips. You decide to knead him back while he's stiff and it's quite a pain for Sangyeon since you're treating it like a soft dough when his manhood is nowhere near to that softness; as a reaction, he squeezed his eyes shut and a hum escaped through his nose. He then pushes your head away to break the kiss which distracted you into a full stop from what you were doing with his clothed cock.

"Oh, baby. Guess I can't let you go on like this any further." He ran his words between heavy breaths as he glanced between his legs. "Wanna blow me now, sweetheart?"

You didn't even hesitate and just gave him an immediate nod of excited approval. You signed up for this.

"Yeah? Wanna have the real thing?" A mild laugh was produced from his chest. "Of course, you do."

Sangyeon lets you continue playing his clothed length as he scans your room for the first time. His body keeps nudging back and forth because of the force of your hand on his cock. It's so clear how he's letting you take over from how dependent his hips are to your hand movements. "Where do you want me to sit?" he asked while mentally collecting spots in your room to be in position. Not to mention the way he can already imagine how he would look like getting his cock done in those places was so horny of him.

"Uhm, actually..." Noticing your hotdog pillow next to you on the floor, you horizontally laid it in front of your feet before dropping your knees on top of it one at a time. You then slipped two fingers on both sides of his shorts including his boxer briefs underneath. "Can you just stand?" you proceeded.

Even his smile looks radiant down here. "Anything for you, kitty." He rested his hands on both sides of his waist waiting for you to do your business with those fingers on the waistband of his shorts.

"Want you to take off your top," you instructed.

No horny man will ever be patient, so Sangyeon immediately crossed his arms. Hands fisted at the hem of his white sleeveless top, he crumpled the fabric in his hold. The way he pulls it up with his torso arching backwards seems like he suddenly became your private stripper on the spot. The muscle stretch was so tender and yummy; from his defined v-line, and rock hard chocolate six-pack, up to his juicy pecs, all those gym-molded muscles slowly got undraped right before your eyes. He's such a meal in that tone of tan. The sweat that has been collecting in thick coatings on the surface of his clean and smooth textured skin makes it appear that he received a Midas touch and survived from how golden brown his skin is. You can't believe you're having a man for yourself in your personal space for 20 years since your childhood but you never thought that it would be someone like him.

As you drag down his lower garment right at his knees, you are presented with the way his massive cock that matches the tone of his overall skin made a squelching slap as it sprung up and smacked onto his sweat-glazed abs before the glossy pale-brown head came back pointing right at your face. His dick hole was impressive to dispense a drip of pre-cum that created a short string before falling down on the floor between your thighs. He even got a few soft and damp pubes at the finish line.

Mmh! Delicious. That was so far the hottest thing you made out of him.

With an open palm, you softly struck his shaft from below sending it upward and landing back down on your open hand. Why? You just wanna feel how hefty his cock is in your hold. Not gonna lie, it's almost similar to catching a pillow with one hand.

"You might wanna get your taste buds on that cock now, sweetheart." He reminds you. "You can't play with that if you'll just keep it dry."

The tip was at the level of your mouth. First thing's first. You choked the cock under the tip with your whole hand before treating it like a lever as you pulled it up to uncover his testicles and the thick lining under the shaft decorated with prominent veins. You ran your tongue across your lips before fully sticking it out and leaning over to begin your journey with your tongue at the underside of the base close to his pair of "table tennis" balls. Going up, you started to leave trails of your saliva on his shaft as you made your way up to his tip where you took it whole in your mouth right away. Your hand that was wrapped under the head came down to his base to hold his manhood in place. As he was quite past your pretty lips, you swirled your tongue around the head before your licking organ turns into a shape of an arrowhead inside your mouth because you are about to press the very tip of your tongue right at his slit.

"Oh—" His reaction got caught up mid-throat but he still managed to whisper a, "wow," as he squeezed his eyes shut.

His hands circled into a fist as he kept it hovered over the outside of his thighs to endure the initial stimulation you are causing between his legs, so you thought of bringing them behind his back crossed and fixed. You gave his triceps gentle caresses before your mouth left his tip coated and dripping in your spit. You continued to lick his shaft on the sides just like how anyone would typically consume an ice cream. At the same time, you pepper a few wet kisses until you're back up again at the head where you find the courage to take more of him than a while ago. The slit kisses the roof of your mouth. Still fine with it, you attempted to get his length deeper into you. Since a stiff dick couldn't curve, you hunched your back and tilted your head up to make your throat straight for his size to fit. By the time you pushed yourself on him once again, his head was already resting at the back of your tongue right before your uvula—the one dangling that can make you vomit when excessively triggered—and you thought you would throw up everything you just ate this lunch when you decided to push more of him in; but the next thing you know, your nose has touched something wet with a bit of hair and the pressure in your throat started to build up due to the lack of air, but it's fortunately not enough to pass you out.

"Mmmh. That's it. Warm that cock for me." His mumbles were mixed with an airy tone. Out of curiosity, the man laid his palm under your jaw and pressed your cheeks with his thumb and middle finger causing your inner flesh to concave and touch his girth—the fact that he didn't have to press deep because he already felt his solidness through your cheeks in a split-second. He then leaned back with a hunched back as he tilted his head to see your face before squishing your cheeks once again just to confirm what he felt was reality. "Fuck," he whispered with a smirk. "Did I just fill your mouth instantly, baby girl?"

Sangyeon carefully looks down at you to see you withdraw his length out of your mouth centimeter by centimeter until you were just left with his head again alone in your lips. He releases a deep sigh as he starts to feel your tongue fondle his cock head once again; but this time, with suckles.

"Hah! Ooh, yes!" he exclaims. "Of course, you know what to do—hngg, fuck." He sucked air through his nostrils and released it through his mouth.

You couldn't wait any longer. Laying your hands on both of his thighs, you started bobbing your head in a fixed rhythm. The drag of your lips at the base of the man's tip sends shivers all throughout his hot body as it just begins to fuel him towards insanity.

"Deeper again, baby girl. Want you to savor it all. You signed up for a whole meal, not a snack."

HORNY JAILLLL!!!

Well, who are you to refuse when he's already in the process of outdoing the capability of the lube's glossiness with his own thick layer of sweat starting to look like he just got poured a gallon of it. The way your hands are slipping off his muscular thighs was so surreal. His locks are so wet that it drips off down on you.

By the time you're drooling and you're beating your own throat on his hefty meat, you heard a hummed growl from above. His super wet palms held you by the cheeks to get you off his dick. "Oooh, my gosh!" His release was already right at the tip. He just held you there away as he struggled to prevent himself from building up an orgasm from where he left at. "Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!" Curses spilled as he squeezed his eyes shut. It was then followed by a hiss, a huge out breath through his nose, and an undertone moan as he squeezed the base of his cock with his whole hand to prevent himself from pushing anything out.

"Wow," you subconsciously mumbled. "Did you just—that's insane. Does it hurt, though?" You've only seen men edging in porn. You never thought about witnessing a man doing it real time could outdo the videos.

"Not—ngh... at all. I've done this to myself a couple of times." His hand eventually left the base of his cock once he felt the build up of his orgasm crumble back down. "You liked that?" he brought up the question. "Or did I break your fun on my cock?"

Of course, he did; but the mental image of him jerking off was just different to you, exceptional even. Imagine him alone in the room with his current look right now, stroking that fat meat flute for minutes in bed to the thought of you—well, who else is it gonna be? This is your fantasy. It would be weird to think that he's pumping that cock while thinking of someone that is not you.

"I mean...that turned me on," you uttered.

"So you liked it?"

"Why would I not?"

An idea snapped into the older man's mind and he just gave you a mild laugh before grabbing both of your hands and guided you up relieving your knees at the same time. He dragged you away from the door and led you to the corner of your room where a bean bag is getting a spotlight from the sunlight coming from the window. Sangyeon sits there already with parted legs and beckons you to kneel between them.

Sangyeon looked around. "Do you have any lube here?" he asked.

There was a nightstand next to the bean bag and you pointed him that way. The stretch of his torso was so defined when he leaned back in place and pulled the top drawer out where he saw a bottle of lube rolled out. He squirms at his seat until he feels in a comfortable position before handing the bottle to you. "I'm just going to sit here and all you have to do is jerk me off, okay? I'll let you know when I'm about to cum, so you'll know when to cut me off."

"Oh."

"Yes, sweetie. You're gonna edge me good."

And that's an offer you would never turn down on. "You sure about this?" You twisted the cap off the bottle in contrast to your question. Apparently, you want this.

"Come on. I didn't let you get me on that supplement for nothing. I'm giving you myself to enjoy."

Looking down, you bite your lip as you stare at his delicious hard-on standing proud and tall.

"Go on," he encouraged. "Tease me all you want. I'm all yours."

You tilted the mouth of the bottle down hovering above your open hand. Satisfied with the amount that has landed all over your palm, you put the bottle down on the floor and spread the viscous liquid up to your fingers. With your one hand on top of the other, you wrapped them around his shaft and began pumping him in a slow and steady pace to gloss his sex up. Your hands are already tight enough for Sangyeon to begin riling himself up with. He slips his hands behind his back indicating that he has passed over unto you the control over his climax. He then just realized that this is your first time using your hands full time on his cock which is why the softness felt so silky smooth for him—because also of the lube—rather than fleshy smooth.

Leaving only one hand stroking him off, you reached for one of his pecs and went for the pinching work on his erected milkers. His drive started to tense in his pelvis causing him to hunch with his shoulders folding in. You then cupped his chest and gave it a couple of grope and squish motion before moving to his other one to do the same thing. His firm muscle under your touch feels so warm.

He fisted on the fabric behind him as he carefully rested his head back. Trying to prolong himself, he closed his eyes and breathed through his nostrils with his chin tensing up. The man thought it would work as a distraction until you abused the pace to produce gooey, luscious squelches which took over his senses rather than the on-the-spot distraction mechanism he just made for himself. At the same time, you were swiping your thumb fast on his nipple which triggered the tickle on his chest.

"Ngh! Hah!" Sections of his muscles contracted through his skin causing his body to appear very ripped. "Baby, I'm close!" His words scratched up his throat before exiting his mouth.

Your hand landed on the base for a split second before coming back up brushing past the bottom of his tip as your touch finally leaves his skin and hovers in a fist above his head. You saw a small white bead of liquid forming at the slit like a pearl before it runs down his shaft like a teardrop cry. You didn't expect to get a first glimpse of his cum that way. That bead was already creamy and thick as—

"Fuck!" The word came out airy of the elder. "Gosh! That was so close!" He looks down to inspect his huge swollen meat. He thought his cock would go limp due to how intense that edging was but look, it's still reaching for the ceiling. His two eyes came up to yours with a sharp stare while he was busy catching his breath through his heaving big milkers. "Hope I looked good with that," he spoke through heavy breathing.

"Thought I was actually watching porn for a sec," you complimented.

"I wouldn't leave the video paused if I were you," he replied.

Not gonna lie, he's a perfect spectacle for this. He would be in huge demand in the club if he was a stripper.

"Vibrators?" you offered.

"Surprise me."

It felt like you just won. You threw a smirk at him before coming back to the nightstand next to the bean bag he was sitting on. You came back kneeling to him presenting a big white microphone-shaped one and a cock ring in between your thumb and index finger.

"Oh... are you gonna use those two on me, munchkin?"

"Why not? I'm just making our every second count."

The cock ring was, of course, elastic. Slipping four fingers—two from each hand—into the hole, you stretched the vibrator over the head of his cock before going down wearing it on him like a headband of an 80's workout attire. The only difference is that it was placed under the tip; but it's cock, so it's unnecessarily gonna choke. You let the vibrator sit there in peace with the vibrating mechanism settled right at the back of his tip.

"Tight?" you assured.

"No. It's perfect," he replied.

Shooting him a short-term smile, you switched the microphone-shaped one on and tested it on his thigh. Just as you expected, you earned a little twitch from him. Without any warning, you also switched the cock ring on, letting the sensation torture his big head and run down his shaft then to his aching testicles.

"Shit!" It caused the older to plant his feet on the floor for his ass to leave the seat a few inches north before sitting back down. "I don't think I would even last a minute with this one at all, sweetie—fuck!" With the continuous withdrawal of the vibration from the object, Sangyeon is back with his rapid breathing through his nose paired with clamped lips as he watches how his length starts to significantly vibrate along. He's actually surprised that a small vibrator can cause his massive cock to do something like that, and you're surprised that he's still manspread despite his whole body flaming to the feeling.

Bringing yourself up from your knees, you hooked your thumb on the waistband of your shorts and pulled them down, so that you're left with your panties on. You sat on his left thigh and leaned sideways towards his body avoiding the skin of your knee from making contact with the underside of his shaft by crossing your right leg over your left. The way the sweat on his firm thigh muscle acted like an adhesive for your naked ass to sit on made your walls twitch on nothing but air. You rested yourself there and have your right arm sneak over his shoulder. You just let his head fall back on your arms. With your right hand, you use it to hold the big vibrator and let it do its job on his right nipple.

"How are you feeling?" you talked right at his left ear.

He meets you at the left corner of his eyes with his head still thrown back. "You don't know how hard I'm trying to hold myself together right now—hmm." You cut him off with a kiss where you began lapping his lips up just like how he did to you a while ago, and just like your response to his kiss, he laps back at you where wet squelches began to be produced between your wet mouths. Both of you didn't stop as you swallow his deep manly moans and groans and whines. The sounds he made while kissing were coming to you unforced for a while suggesting that he's still not getting his pleasure striking up his cock, but that didn't last when he started humming in a specific pattern.

"Baby," he managed to let out even if it was muffled, but you were so immersed by the feeling of his lips on yours that you didn't stop lapping him up. "Hmm," he firmly and helplessly hummed through the kiss. He just thought of it by now to tilt is head away so that his voice won't be drowned by your kiss. "Don't wanna—ugh, fuck—cum yet, sweetie. You still have—hmm... a lot to do with this body, remember?" He just rapped his words out before turning into a panting mess because his orgasm is already hiking up to his cockhead.

"What?" You didn't catch him.

"Oh, shit!" The rippling sensation was clogging the words right at his throat. "The... vibrator."

"Shit! Sorry." Without getting off from sitting on his lap, you stretched your left arm to reach for the back of his tip where the button and the vibrating mechanism was positioned at. You also turned the big one off before tossing it to your bed.

"Damn it!" It was obviously inevitable for you to get your skin on his cock which made it worse causing a single string of his cum to shoot out of the slit; it was so thick that you are sure you heard a resemblance of a slap on the floor.

That load escaping made Sangyeon impulsive that he told you take the cock ring off right away, so you immediately dropped yourself on your knees and stretched the ring to get it off of his dick.

"Oh, no," you mumbled as another string of cum couldn't help but jump out the slit and land around somewhere. Once the vibrator was removed, you secure it in your fist. Meanwhile, the man already has one hand wrapped around the base of his cock with pressure just so he could prevent himself from the brink of busting the rest his load.

The whole scenario didn't have to be so chaotic but it did, anyway. It's like you just minimally broke a faucet and didn't know what to do.

He raised his sight at you with a crunched forehead and semi-narrowed eyes. "Why do you have that vibrator, anyway? It's for cocks," he asked.

"I actually have not much idea yet about these things when I bought this. The vibration was just so great, so I just bought it as my first one."

The man's eyebrows rose in surprise after hearing that. "Yeah, you're right." He recalls the feeling. "That thing could've turned me into a fountain."

You stretched your arm out to him with an open hand. "Wanna have it?"

"You sure?"

"I mean...we both saw how it fits perfectly."

Sangyeon puts out his hand open. You dropped the stuff on his palm and his hand withdrew in a fist, getting the ownership passed down to him.

"Just don't tell mom that it came from me."

"You're not the only one who's gonna be screwed if I do tell her."

You nodded your head up and down in agreement. "Right."

Both of you consumed a few seconds to stare at each other's face before he breaks the contact by checking the digital clock on the nightstand: 1:34 PM.

"Wanna make me cum this time?" his voice vibrated through his throat in deep and relaxed mumbles.

Well, you don't know if that was a command or request but, either way, you're not refusing a man like him. He squirms at his seat to make himself comfortable before he sweeps the air with his fingers beckoning you between his thighs. "Come here. Use your mouth now," he said.

You nudged forward to get his cock in your hands. It's impressive that he's still keeping his stiffness to the maximum. You keep on humming as you start to take him inch by inch past your lips leaving one hand wrapped at the base to prevent you going all in and save your throat for later. It didn't take long until you were bobbing your head up and down as you stroked his cock in a twisting motion. He then finally rose from the back rest of the bean bag to lean forward towards you giving you an easier access to his whole torso. Big hands run down your hair as you work his size in your mouth.

Look at him now: slippery, glazed, and hot by the natural light and your combined body heat.

Just as you came up from his member, you replace your mouth with your hand keeping the movement coming to his senses. You then stretched your neck to experiment your tongue on one of his nipples; getting his sweat caught on your taste buds was appetizing and mouthwatering rather than salty and disgusting. He's got the yummy bod you love, so you never actually thought of that beforehand.

"Fuck my hand," you rushed your command as you initiated to stack your hands on top of each other and make a hole out of them for him to ram into. Sangyeon couldn't wait. He laid his hands in a fist behind his back causing him to lean back and get a full view of you between his sweat-glazed beefy thighs with your hand below the other covering his tip. He planted his soles on the floor to get a good grip before he began sloppily thrusting up to meet your hands. You can see how his glistening golden abs wave along his noodle-like movements. Even his butt cheeks are tensing as he does it. It really looks like you just got a private stripper dancing for you in your own place. You then kept an eye on his cock head exiting at the top and disappearing back in your hold like those in whack-a-mole, but you're not here to hammer it in; that would hurt.

Sangyeon notices your tongue gliding through you lips as your eyes are darted at his consistent thrusts. "Like what you see?" he engaged. "Like watching your stepdad being a spectacle for you fucking your hands like this? Aren't you a lucky girl?"

"More than lucky, I guess," you plainly spoke as you were so focused on his moves.

The man thought you were not satisfied enough because of your leisure tone, so he became robust on fucking your hand from below. His eyes narrowed as he bit his lip because the fast brushing of the skin of his shaft in your hands was tickling him that it's triggering his balls to push out all the cream he's been saving to give you a pleasant cum explosion. It's painful for him to hold back like this and it's the kind of pain that's keeps him in seduction.

"Hah!" He threw his head back making his sweaty chin, sharp jawline, and the tip of his big nose the only things that are seen of his face from your lower ground view. You took the chance to replace your hand one by one with your mouth by going down as you remove one hand. You wanna surprise him but you eventually coughed when the tip jabbed on your uvula which caused him to raise his head back to see what just happened.

"Sorry, didn't wanna distract you—cough," your words got caught in your throat.

"You could've just told me you want me to mouth-fuck you." Sangyeon stood up from his seat and bent his knees so that his pelvis was at the level of your face causing him to be in a kind of squatting position. You didn't have to be told as you open your mouth with allowance for his size. By the time you felt his tip going past your lips, you shut the excess space your mouth made—which is not that quite much—causing your lips to comfortably wrap around his tip.

"Just tap my thigh if you want me to go deeper, okay?"

You could only nod your yes in response now. Recalling how you coughed to his rhythm, the elder initiated his thrusts by slowly grooving the underside of his shaft on your tongue.

Seeing him through your eyelashes as your head was thrown back a bit for his convenience, you are met with a drenched Sangyeon watching his manhood reappear and disappear in your mouth. Meanwhile, your hands traveled up past his hips and up to his stomach where your palms traveled across his bumpy six-pack. They were so hard that it doesn't feel like you're touching muscles but rather steel.

From your lips directly shaped by the circumference of his shaft, you let your jaw drop a bit before tapping the front of his thigh three times. You didn't know that what he meant by deeper was past your uvula but to your surprise, your body already registered the sudden gag you had earlier and told your brain that you're all fine.

"Shit! Your mouth is so tight down here," he spoke on behalf of his tip that has already reached the back of your throat. "Is this okay?" he assures.

You hummed as you nod making his cock twitch in your throat due to the vibration the wet flesh inside your mouth produced. One of his hands left the back of your head to go up his chest and cup one of his pecs. You can see how he kneaded and squished the muscle and gave his hipple a pinch. Your hand is still there roaming and worshipping his rock hard abs. Now that he's deep in you, you close your lips around his shaft again and hollow your cheeks to give him a tighter feeling around his member. You don't have any idea what's stopping him from picking up his pace in your mouth so you basically reach for his ass cheeks to pull him in. He read that and now, he was already making lewd noises out of his cock and your mouth. You're just getting obsessed by the hefty feeling of his size that has gone directly all over your jaw and how his tip was blocking and unblocking your airway with every thrust he takes. You played along by randomly humming throughout his pace.

"Hoo! Damn!" Sangyeon twitched in your mouth and it felt like he just redirected your whole jawline. "I'm so close, munchkin. Where do you want me?"

You let go of his dick with a cartoon-ish sound of popping bubbles. From base to tip, he's coated in a glossy thick layer of your own drool. He used it for his own convenience to begin jerking off above your head.

"In my mouth, please."

Sangyeon never heard words so loud and clear causing him to stroke himself faster as his breath was shaking to the rhythm. "Oh, baby. You should be honored. I've never came in someone's mouth before." He used his own facts to rile himself up which riled you up too. It's actually true but you don't wanna dig more up from there. You just want everything now to be between you and him. "Holy shit! Lips around the tip now, munchkin."

You leaned forward to take him just as he wanted. The way his cock inserted into your open mouth like a charging plug was a smooth fit. While he went full speed in pumping himself from shaft-end to shaft-end, you couldn't help but think that he's such a pornographic spectacle to do it in front of you. In fact, he really looks like he would do something like that.

"Gonna fill your mouth good, baby girl—fuuuckkk!" Ropes of his white, creamy, and viscous baby batter gushes out from his slit and onto every corner inside your mouth. "Ugh! Take it all for me, sweetheart." As soon as it started to pool on your tongue, the mild sweet taste was accepted by your taste buds as a delicious treat. You can even smell his cum perfectly in your mouth. He's releasing a lot to the point that he can feel how his tip is getting a dip on his own cum that has already pooled inside your mouth. You tried your best to not swallow because you love the feeling of how thick and gooey he is inside you. You're even thinking of gargling it. By the time he pulled himself out, there was a bit of cum that got caught on his tip, so he came back to smear it on your shut lips like a lipstick. He leaned and told you to open up and there he sees the white sticky substance dwelling inside you in thick globs and stretchy webs; it looks like edible lotion. Your throat feels slippery than usual due to those that made it down your throat. "What are you gonna do with that now?" he questions. The man has seen porn about these things but seeing this personally was silently driving him insane.

Your lips pressed on each other and made sure you exaggerated your gulp enough for him to hear; and to your surprise, it was louder than you expected to be because of how hard it was to push into your esophagus from how thick it was. The feeling of his cum sliding down your throat in globs is something you would be addicted to. You even tongued the corners of your teeth and licked your lips just to make sure there's little to no cum left to see from there.

"I guess I have to cum in your mouth just to hear you swallow like that." He strokes your head a couple of times. "That's not something I would hear from a normal gulp."

"There are a few still stuck in my throat that my saliva can't remedy." You tried clearing the way with a few strained vibrations until you knew that only water can take them away. "You must be eating something."

Duh! Look how firm his entirety is. That man is a god! He wouldn't be looking so damn blowjob-able to you if he's not doing something to his own body; and whatever that is, you wish he doesn't cut it off because mmhh... man so yummy as fuck!

"Guess my meals being different from you isn't noticeable."

If not all, most of the healthy shit he was eating every time in the kitchen started to fired like a machine gun back into your memory. "I should feed you more of those," you didn't hesitate to drop those words right away.

A scoff left his nose along with a hot steam of breath. "You really enjoyed it, huh? Can't blame my girl." He looks down at your body just to notice that he's the only one naked in the room. "You're still clothed, by the way," he reminds.

"Oh." You just realized that. "Yeah, right."

"Did you not touch yourself along?"

"I did. I just... wanted to focus on you."

"Well, baby girl, you know I appreciate that." He hooked his hands under your pits to help you to get on your feet. "Let me focus on you this time."

To be continued...

[fanatichistory]

Scene Prompt 19 pt 5

Part 1 Part2 Part 3 Part 4

This one is full of medical/lab whump! Next part is going to have more of Whumper in it ;D Enjoy!

(Should I give the team names at all? Like Dr. Nova has a name...kinda tempted to name the team members...)

CW: Medical whump, multiple whumpees, needles

Teammate One continued to scream and thrash against the restraints holding them to the gurney. It felt as if their blood was on fire and their skin was peeling off.

The soldiers wheeling them through the hallway were glancing uncomfortably at each other every now and again with Whumper taking up the rear.

"In here." Whumper directed, pointing to the room just ahead.

As they all entered single file through the door, the gurney wheeled between the two soldiers, Dr. Nova looked up from his microscope at the counter and turned to greet them.

"Ah, I see Teammate One is experiencing the enemy's serum…good, good. Place them there." He indicated the open space in front of the monitor and machines.

As the soldiers deposited the gurney with the still screaming and thrashing Teammate One, Whumper stepped up to Dr. Nova and handed over the dart gun.

"For the posterity of your work, you should know that they have two shots in their system. The first one didn't seem to be working effectively. That, or they just tolerated the pain a little to well."

"I saw." Dr. Nova indicated the security feed of the holding cells on his computer. "You simply did not give enough time for it to kick in is all." He drolled, though his tone held the faintest reprimand in it.

Whumper shrugged with an apologetic smile. "I'll leave you to your work, then, Doctor."

Truth be told Teammate One's screams, which hadn't let up yet, were beginning to grate on his ears. Not that Whumper didn't mind screaming in general, but it had already been several minutes now and he was bored.

Dr. Nova merely nodded as they injected something into Whumpee's Iv bag and walked across the large room, picking up the clipboard with Teammate One's notes from his desk, and began looking them over.

Teammate panted heavily, their eyes casting wildly about, their blood still on fire and their skin still feeling like it was peeling off their body layer by layer. Their throat was hoarse as they continued to scream out in agony.

"Yes…they truly manipulated my serum to be absolutely incapacitating…Tell me, what does it feel like?" Dr. Nova gently placed two fingers on Teammate One's pulse to assure themselves that it matched the monitor reading.

"F-f-fire!"

"Interesting. I don't know whether to be impressed by their science division or insulted that my version of the serum was inadequate in some way." They mused mostly to themselves as they scribbled on the clipboard before going to the wall that housed a metal storage rack full of various vials and bottles and chemicals.

Plucking a small bottle from the middle shelf, taking next a few empty vials, Dr. Nova turned to the counter, opening a drawer and pulling out two clean syringes and removed one from the packaging. Their pace was unhurried despite Teammate One's obvious pain and they seemed rather unbothered by the continual screaming.

"This should counter it's effects, but first I need to draw some blood before I can administer it." Placing the instruments on a metal tray, he walked over to where the rolling cart was sitting and placed it on top.

Wheeling it over to their bedside, he picked up the needle and tapped with a finger to find a decent enough vein in their arm.

Teammate One's continued thrashing made it rather difficult, even with the restraints in place, but after a few minutes Dr. Nova was sure he was able to stick the vein as he quietly went about filling up the empty vials with his blood samples.

"Alright, hush now, I probably should have worn ear plugs for this." He mused as he prepared the antidote to the enemy's serum. Hopefully, it worked.

Jabbing it into their bicep he began cleaning up the tray and placing everything back in it's proper place, disposing of the packaging, and placing the blood samples on the counter next to the microscope for further inspection.

Teammate One began to slowly quiet down as the antidote started to take effect. The fire in their veins was beginning to cool finally.

Dr. Nova stood next to their bedside now that the screaming had stopped and they had begun to openly cry. "Walk me through the experience, Teammate One, what did it feel like? Use your words now."

They looked up tiredly, thoroughly exhausted and wanting nothing more than to sleep. But it still felt as if their skin was peeling off, itchy and uncomfortable to a degree they couldn't even begin to describe and it left them in tears.

"Teammate One…speak."

"The f-fire in my veins is-is gone now…" Dr. Nova began to write on the clipboard, shoving their glasses up the nose when it slid down.

"But?"

"My s-skin…it feels wrong. L-Like being peeled…layer by layer." They answered between sobs, their eyes pleading for relief.

"Intriguing to say the least." He responded as he finished his notes, leaving Teammate One as they were. Preparing a slide with a blood sample, he sat at the microscope and raised his glasses to the top of his head to sit out of the way and he leaned over to peer through the lens.

A heartbeat or two go by, Teammate One residing themselves to the fact that their skin with never be comfortable or feel this agonizing from now on as a side effect of the experiment under way.

"My serum was indeed vastly inadequate…this combination of components is markedly inspiring…" Dr. Nova mused, wonder and jealousy lacing his tone as he flicked to different magnifications. "I wonder who concocted this."

Across the room, Whumpee's monitor gave a single beep, alerting Dr. Nova that there was a slight change in rhythm.

It also drew Teammate One's attention as well as he got up to check the machines and make note of the change on the clipboard at the foot of Whumpee's bed.

Whumpee was still injured severely from the other day when Whumper had 'interrogated' them, leaving them multiple broken bones including their ribs, both their legs and one of their arms. It wasn't until after the base was taken over that the team found out that Dr. Nova had requested the broken bones in particular, to test something Teammate One was sure, but apparently Whumper had gotten to enthusiastic that Dr. Nova had to wait until Whumpee was stable enough to even begin.

"H-how is Whumpee?" They dared to ask while simultaneously hoping for information as to what Dr. Nova planned to do with them.

It seemed like the doctor was ignoring them at first as they put the clipboard back and sat at their microscope once more.

"They are recovering just fine. They are stable and resting, though I'm sure that aberration was due to a nightmare of some kind. It is common in subjects who have been through a psychological trauma." He half-answered, turning his back to Teammate One as they resumed their notes on their blood work.

"Interesting…" He murmured aloud, here and there as he continued to work the blood samples.

Teammate One had given up counting the styrofoam tiles on the ceiling and cataloguing every item on the doctors desk. Their skin still hurt and they needed a distraction.

"What is?"

Dr. Nova glanced back over their shoulder with a raised brow. "What I am clearly working on, Teammate One. I know you are still experiencing some adverse effects, the antidote needs some improvement to be sure, but if you would quit interrupting I would be able to manufacture one much sooner for you."

"S-sorry."

"Quite alright…" he turned back to his work, collecting various bottles and vials to bring to his work station as he got to work.

"If you need a distraction try counting sheep."

[anniebaxterthefuture]

For lack of a better word, Dante Lee was delicious. Annie doubted there had ever been a single day in his adult life where he didn’t look completely dapper and, quite frankly, good enough to eat. He’d arrived for their triple date half an hour early, looking positively gorgeous, and Annie had thrown herself into his arms with a squeal of delight. Naturally, he’d caught her, spinning Annie in his arms before carefully setting her down on the marble floor of her Father’s entryway. 

Patient as he was, he’d taken no offence to the fact that Annie wasn’t quite finished getting ready and had delighted in showering her in compliments as she’d applied the finishing touches to her Valentine’s Day look. Narcissist that she was, Annie had of course lapped up each and every word, practically egging him on as he told her just how pretty she looked.  

Though Annie was disappointed that she and Jax weren’t continuing their yearly tradition of spending the day together, she couldn’t help but feel like the luckiest girl in the world. Dante was one of her favourite people, a devastatingly close second to Jackson himself, and she often asked herself how she’d been so blessed with such perfect best friends. Admittedly, when her anxiety reared its ugly head, the loneliness and insecurity wrangling their way into the back of her mind, she found herself doubting the validity of their friendship, sadness engulfing her as she fought off the voices in her head telling her that they had no choice but be kind to her. 

Even after finally voicing her concerns to Jax, the man desperately fighting to reassure her, to make it clear to her just how far his love for her spread, she’d found herself sobbing indelicately, tears spilling down her cheeks as she buried her face in his lap. The night had ended with Jax curled up beside her in her bed, Annie’s head against his chest, Hart at their feet. He’d insisted on staying the night, declaring that he would suck it up and deal with her father’s wrath should it come to that, and pressed a kiss to Annie’s temple. 

She’d felt awful, being so cruel to Jax, but he always bore the brunt of her moods. It wasn’t fair, and she definitely wasn’t proud of the way she’d been behaving recently, but her jealousy had gotten the better of her and she’d hurt her best friend in the process. 

“Okay, Prince Charming,” Annie announced, turning her attention back to Dante. “Elias should be here any minute now, so how do I look?” 

With her words, she took a careful step in front of Dante, and gave him a twirl, giggling as the fabric of her dress lifted, flowing elegantly around her thighs before she came to an abrupt, clumsy halt. Bracing herself, she pressed a hand to Dante's bicep, giving him a playful squeeze as she steadied herself. 

As though the man himself had heard them, the doorbell rang, shrill as it echoed through the house, and Annie beamed up at Dante once more. She was so happy that Elias would be joining them today. He’d seemed shocked to be asked, which she thought was sweet, but she couldn’t think of two better guys to have as a date on the cutest day of the year. Her friendship with Elias was so special to her, and while she’d once admitted to Jax that she was nursing a bit of a crush on the boy, she didn’t mind at all if it wasn’t reciprocated. Truthfully, she just enjoyed his company so much, she’d take being his friend over anything. 

“Hey, could you grab the door and invite Elias in, baby?” she asked Dante. Reaching up onto her tiptoes, she pressed a chaste kiss to the corner of his mouth, before wandering over to the shoe-rack further down the hallway. “I just need to get my shoes on, and then we can go!” 

[bruiisedpetals-a]

STOP - aemond targaryen ( @vhgr​ ) holds regnarra drumm back from walking back out into the fray.    ( several months into their arranged marriage )

regnarra wasn't made for court life, yet she stood tiny but savage; tattooed, with her braided and carefully selectively matted locks still woven with religious tokens of the drowned god, and she refused to wear gowns day to day   (the recent exception to this was the day she wed aemond).     the snickers of the ladies and lords bothered her very little —  her piercingly pale eyes fixed with a spine-shrivelling glare and sneer curling her lip the most common reaction as she passed them by, generally speaking she felt more at ease in the marketplaces and away from the stifling world she was now a part of.   

truthfully, she'd been in a foul mood already ... primed for confrontation perhaps ... when echoed words bounced into her ears, raucous laughter about the newest accusation that regnarra was ... no ironborn, but some bastard pale witch from essos ... bewitching house targaryen into wedding her to a prince. ...   she felt her eye twitch, fists balling slowly ...   give me a chance with the bitch and i'll break her in and then break her neck!     and regnarra was on them before her husbands appointed guardsmen were — she could feel the way her temper reared it's head, her eyes glimmered with irrational anger as she swung a close-fist backhand against the jaw of the first laughing man she fixed her tunnelled glare upon.  the sight of his blood brought a cruel smile to her face as she made to swing for him again ...  but a harsh, hard grip wrapped around her bicep and halted her, someone pulling her back as guards took over the almost-brawl she'd started.    her fists were gripped so tight her knuckles turned white ...  she twisted angrily, turning in fury to see who dared intervene.

                 aemond.

❝ i swear to the drowned god   —   release me, ❞ she hissed furiously, her face contorted in single-minded anger as she whipped around to try and fix her glare on one of the men, any would do; she didn't care who spoke. she didn't care who they were, in fact. she just wanted to feel bones break under her hands or boots.     ❝ 'break me in', will you?   you maggot-bellied cunt! ❞  —   regnarra yelled furiously, trying to pull away from aemond as he (rather wisely) pulled her further back until her vision was obscured —  ( it was harder for her to focus on her blinding anger when she couldn't see the cause of it  ) —   ❝ he couldn't break my neck if his steaming pile of shite life depended on it!❞

[viofitz]

Storm Collectibles Golden Axe: Tyris Flare (Review)

Introduction:

Here, I'am back with another Storm Collectibles (SC) figure review! Like The King Of Fighters (KOF), they also have the license to make Golden Axe action figures. These figures were made into 1/12 scale with feature numerous points of articulation, interchangeable head sculpts and pairs of hands, and special fighting effect parts. Unlike Blue Mary, Tyris was given with a large boxart since she was also included with a blue dragon figure as her horse riding animal. However, I sold the dragon long time ago since I only wanted Tyris figure so, in this review her blue dragon is absent. Tyris also got identical looking boxart like Mary, to be given with large window plastic so, we can almost see the whole contents. The front part was printed with Golden Axe logo with Tyris Flare name, her classic half body artwork from the Japanese Mega Drive cover, and there is 17+ print that this figure was meant for those 17 years old or above. Well, Tyris is given with a sharp materials that could be dangerous for children. While the back part is mostly shown the figure's promotional photos showing how the figure works.

Contents:

Tyris comes with her main figure, she's included with 2 interchangeable head sculpts in total which the hairs are removable and swappable, 5 pair of hands in total, a blue dragon with separated tails, flame effect for his fire spit which is absent in this review. Unlike Mary, her background paper inside the box is not a diorama stage but, rather a select player poster which is just for the window box view.

Tyris is a woman with a slim build, long red hair, and green eyes. In this figure, she got long dark orange hair to her upper back, dark brown eyes, she wears a white bikini clothing with red trims and red boots. Her bikini were mostly sculpted from her body mold and painted well enough, although there's a little sloppy one. Her skin color is rather red-ish , I guess this shown that Tyris is either a native american or due to her bikini getup she got tanned from her long journey. However, her appearance in the original Golden Axe can be inconsistents depending on her artwork or ingame sprites. She sometimes depicted with blonde hair in most of her artworks but, her ingame sprites her hair is light brunette. Most of the main figure was made from a hard plastic material but, upper torso and crotch were made from soft rubber materials.

Her articulation points consisted movable ball jointed head, torso, arms with bicep cut, single jointed elbow, wrists, legs with thigh, double jointed knee, boot cut, ankles and tiptoe part. Since Tyris is mostly shown to be half naked so, her articulation's mechanism may look ugly on her but, that's action figure so can't expect more unless. The annoying part is her upper torso was made from a soft material, whenever I bend her upper torso her back constantly stucked inside her lower back's gap which made from a hard material. I had to move them carefully to get it back properly.

Tyris was included with 2 head sculpts (HS) in total, first would be her standard serious expression with normal hair down. Second HS is her angry expression with a heavy grit to show how angered she is during her actions with flowing hairstyle. The HS are swappable, you can make her expressions with all kinds of her hair parts. Her hairs consisted between fringe and rear part, the fringe was made from semi flexible rubber materials while her rear hair and head from a hard PVC materials. Well, can't really say Storm actually captured her likeness due to her inconsistencies but, I like how storm added a eyelashes on her. Tyris is looking beautiful for a warrior and loving how Storm made her standard expression looking calm but, when she gets angry she looks intense and realistic with that face wrinkle sculpt. Her normal hair down hinders her head movement but, her flowing hair can make her head move freely.

Tyris comes with 5 pair of hands in total, that would be: fisted hands which was already attached to her main figure, pointy hands which I don't know what are they for but, could be for commanding her blue dragon. Grasping hands for gripping her sword, open splayed and open palm hands for her necessary posing. With the existence of her sword and how she mostly using it, we're mostly going to use her grasping hands frequently. Her hands were also made from semi flexible rubber material.

A little funfact, Tyris was originally included with another pair of open splayed hands but, that hands doesn't seem to make it to be mass produced. However, these hands looks quite identical with her other open splayed hands that was included except with a little different finger gesturing probably....

Lastly, Tyris sword! Tyris is very skilled with a sword but, there's no name given on her sword. Her sword is painted neatly with a silver blade with a gold ornate design near the hilt, although there's a slight misspaint but, it doesn't really bothering me. The hilt has gunmetal gray finishing. Her sword is mostly used for her battle scenes and in some certain ingame sprites, she can actually stored her sword on her lower bikini but, storm doesn't seem to include that feature for her. Her sword is made from a hard plastic and it's very sharp so, you might wanna watch your fingers playing this sword. The sword also appeared to be inconsistents just like Tyris depictions.

Hahahaha... This is a revenge from Tyris after she suffered being a punching bag in Mary's review.

Thoughts: Tyris is my second Storm figure collection and her mobility isn't as good as Mary but, despite her single jointed elbow, I could still make tons of her iconic move lists from her game with no sweat, she's also easy to play. I have to admit, she's not cheap due to her blue dragon's figure but, I'm glad I managed to sold that dragon since I don't have any space to store that extra large boxart and to begin with, I only need Tyris figure because it's very rare to a company made a reimagined classic Golden Axe action figures.

Thank youu for reading!😁🙏🏻