#them pec muscles contracting though...

[repressedqueen]

After the reaction to this (really bad) gif, I decided to feed my girlies' Lou Ferrigno chin grab technique obsession juuuust a little bit more... 😈

[yawnderu]

>Simon Riley with bigger pecs because he's bulking save me,,,.....

“Do it again.” Your drunken commands are met with a sigh, though like always— he listens. His muscles flex as he contracts his pecs, letting you feel the mix of fat and muscle moving right under your face, keeping it buried on his bigger pecs.

“That's so fucking cool.” Your words are muffled by his chest, fully focused on the way he can isolate each pec and moves them individually just to impress you. Your hands go down his shirt, traveling up to his now softer tummy and squeezing the fat, too drunk and in love to even care about the amused chuckle that leaves his lips, pressing your face closer to his chest.

[misctf]

Dude I saw that post about the dude becoming the football jock but like, upside down, and I gotta say I loved it. Has that ever happened before? Can it happen again? Love the idea of my hands becoming feet, feet becoming hands as a whole new person takes over my upside down self

You groaned as you slowly sat up in your bed, the morning light illuminating your room. With a sigh, you force yourself out of bed, grimacing at the pounding headache behind your eyes. Did you really drink that much last night? Were you really that hungover? You look down at your phone, the brightness bothering you somewhat as you notice several texts from your friends. Apparently something big was happening on the news. You figure it’s probably just another once in a lifetime event. You slowly stand up. You’d look into it in a moment, but only after you took some Tylenol or something.

“What the hell?”

You mumble, becoming acutely aware of your morning wood. It’s not uncommon, but fuck you were hard. And as you rub touch your dick through your shorts, your whole body shakes. The sensation is way too powerful, as if you hadn’t jerked off in weeks. And as that thought enters your brain, you suddenly realize just how horny you are. Your mind flashing with images of hot guys doing all kinds of things to you. You slowly pull down your pants, and fall back onto your bed. Your hand caressing your incredibly sensitive member. Each small touch sending a lightning wave of pleasure through your body. But as your eyes roll back into your head and you moan, you hear a sickening set of cracks fill the room. And you realize that something feels off. The hands around your dick don’t feel as soft. In fact, your hands don’t really feel like hands. Your eyes shoot open and you raise your hands to inspect them. Only they’re not hands. Your fingers have morphed into toes, your palms the bottom of two very large, masculine feet.

“What the fuck?”

You grimace at the smell that wafts from your two new feet. A muskiness that shares a similar odor to a gym locker room. And as your mind tries to comprehend what its seeing, you feel your arms violently contract. The pain and discomfort causes tears to well in your eyes and you watched through blurred vision as your forearms become shins. The muscles evolving into a set of powerful calves. You want to cry out, but the pain is quickly eclipsed by a pleasure that shatters your thoughts. Your dick seems even harder, pulsating and throbbing desperately for release. For freedom. The smell of your new feet sends you further into bliss and your mind tells you this is right.

“Fuck brah...”

The voice is just a whisper, but it carries with it a masculine edge that drives your libido even higher. It’s the voice of a total jock. The kind of guys you would only ever dream of sucking off. And in the haze of your splintering thoughts, part of you realizes something is wrong. Very wrong. You’re surrounded on either side by a pair of meaty thighs. Ones that squeeze your head, making it somewhat difficult to look around. But it’s not just that. From what you can see, your chest doesn’t look very much like a chest. Instead of two pecs, you see what looks more like a six pack, adorned on either side by a prominent V-line. All leading down to... all leading to you...

“Wh...”

Your voice becomes gargled as a salt liquid falls from your mouth, which is becoming increasingly more difficult to move. In fact, it seems like it’s being forced into a more oval shape. But you quickly become more concerned as you feel yourself lifted out of bed. Your face now pointing to the ground.

“Fuck this feels good.”

That masculine voices fills the room again. But it sounds louder. More prominent. Dripping with an arrogant confidence. You find it so sexy... so right. The voice of a real man... better than what you’d ever been. But in the midst of these blissful thoughts, there’s a resistance that surges. What are you thinking? You couldn’t... Any resistance fades though when you feel a firm, calloused hand wrap around your head.

“You’re gonna make me feel so fuckin’ good.”

The voice says. And before you can even think or muster up any kind of resistance, you feel the hand move up and down your new body. The feeling is beyond anything you’d ever experienced. As your body throbbed and stretched, the pleasure only amplified. The bag of your throat filling up with that salty taste from earlier. Your vision was starting to alter now- it was becoming harder to see. Even smell and hearing were starting to go. Yet, in these final moments, you could catch a glimpse of yourself in the mirror and the hand that was teasing you so much. All attached to the body of an adonis. The type of guy you’d gawk at in the gym. The cocky jock you’d jerk off to time and time again. Now he was jerking you off. Or well, himself. Because as your vision faded and you took one last glimpse of yourself, you knew what you were now.

“Just my fuck stick.” The jock breathed out, holding back a moan, “That’s all you’ll ever be from now on.”

He came just a moment later, coating the mirror with his seed. He fell back on his chair, breathing heavily. His one hand teasing his new, firm pecs while the others greedily pumped you. He smirked down at you, totally spent but clearly happy with his newfound independence. He looked down at your phone, noticing the messages your former friends sent. Just selfies of their new muscular bodies- their cocks limp and spent.

“Look at that lil dude.” He chuckled, “Don’t you worry,” He gave you a few strokes, your body instantly growing hard again, “We’re gonna have plenty of fun today.”

[apartmentsmoke]

"It's okay if it grows a little," Buck called.

Tommy flashed him a grin and hollered back, "That's what he said." Buck's lips opened, ready to retort that he likes it best when things grow a lot, but the sound of his mortal enemy made the words die on his tongue. Ever since they'd gotten back together, since Tommy had cautiously extended the invitation to his place more often and Buck had grabbed it with both hands, Buck had learned a few more things about his boyfriend. Namely, that he would pit Tommy against any suburban father in a World's Best Lawn competition. He was thinking about sending out fliers and charging for admission. Tommy loved his lawn. Buck had endured several lectures on what led to his choice to plant bahia grass, namely its drought-resistant qualities and ability to thrive in poor soil conditions. Every second Tuesday morning, like clockwork, he took out his lawn equipment and began a multi-hour routine that would have made his drill sergeant proud. The lawn was boring, and if Buck heard another word about humidity conditions and what that meant for the grass, he'd poke out his own eardrums. But it did have one notable benefit, one Buck could enjoy with his other senses. Tommy liked to do all his lawn work shirtless.

Buck's eyes followed a bead of sweat running down Tommy's arm, highlighting the sun-warmed skin. Damn. He'd already run off Mrs. Troutman from three doors down once this month, and he was gearing up to it again. Though she'd made some killer snickerdoodles at the recent neighborhood block party, the first one Buck had been to. Maybe he'd trade her some Tommy ogling for the recipe. He followed the drop all the way down to Tommy's fingers, curled around the handle of the power edger. Wished they were curled around his cock, but not even the idea of sweet, unhurried morning sex could keep Tommy from his lawn. Maybe after. Buck's eyes dropped to the flex of Tommy's ass in his pants, how each muscle expanded and contracted as Tommy pushed the mower along. If he'd had his way, he'd be between them, tongue pushed up against muscle, tasting each movement. And then there was the small of Tommy's back, the dimples there made for Buck to press his thumbs into. When he'd woken, he'd seen the faint impression left by the last bruises he'd made there. Couldn't forgot Tommy's spine, either, each knob of it. The ones he held tension in, the ones he liked to hinge when Buck told him to present himself. They all offered opportunity. For Tommy to contort himself just so, for Buck to mouth at or run his cock down before he reached the cleft of Tommy's ass. Buck glanced around for neighbors and adjusted himself in his shorts.

When he looked back up, it was to the sight of Tommy's front, his chest on full display. The sun brought out the pink in his nipples, Buck thought, and he wanted to suck the color right out of Tommy's skin. As Tommy walked his way, going over his work, Buck's gaze trailed the length of hair that ran down Tommy's stomach, watched as Tommy's movements changed how it was presented to him. Each minute motion made Buck's fingers twitch. He was desperate to run them down that path, claim the treasure it advertised.

Tommy's approach drawing closer, Buck began to make out his individual freckles, the ones he'd made into constellations with his tongue. That damn edger, Buck thought wildly, it was the one keeping him from Tommy - aptly named machine - "Join me in the shower after I put this up?" Tommy called, holding the edger on his shoulders like a mountain man held an axe. Buck ached to lick between his pecs, the valley shiny with exertion. "Be right there," he said, and nearly tripped over his own feet getting up in his eagerness.

[mr2swap]

Go from 14% body fat to over 100 kilograms overweight

When I opened my eyes I was confused, the first thing I saw was still a huge 6 foot alpha male, his muscles swollen from exercise, beads of sweat sliding down from his concrete-hard chest to my face.

-Are you okay, old man? Damn, that was a huge fall, I thought you had died something like that... At your age, you should be more careful with your new body-

That voice was so familiar it made my head even more confused, I immediately recognized that man's face, it was the face I used to see every morning, I used to be perfect I was the ideal man before all this shit, I looked down just to check that this wasn't another one of my nightmares, instead of my tiny waist, my colossal pecs and my sculpted abs, I only found two jelly-like middle-aged man boobs, a chest almost as hairy as my grotesque that's Saturday like a mountain, I couldn't even see my legs now, and it had been weeks since I'd seen my own penis. 

-I... yeah, I just think I passed out or something... -

I could barely breathe, the repulsive smell of my aging skin made me nauseous, the doctor told me I would get used to it after a couple of weeks, but it's been over two months and I don't think I'll ever get used to it and the doctor just said that to make me feel better at the time. 

-You should take it easy Jo, if you overdo it... too much I could stay with your body forever... if you know what I mean-

The 60 year old man who had possession of my body smiled at me with those perfect white teeth he used to be so proud of and did a double biceps pose while a huge erection struggled to get out of his tiny sweatpants, the veins seemed to want to burst in his long powerful arms and his cock throbbed every time he turned his gaze to the mirror.

Only 10 more months... only 10 more months of this hell, and I swear never again to exchange bodies with someone... I was counting the days to get out of this horrible body, as a personal trainer I used to do this kind of exchange with my clients, 6 hours inside the body of different people, the gym was state of the art and allowed the clients and trainers to exchange their bodies for a few hours for us trainers to do the rough work for them. 

It was a very expensive service and even though most of the profits went to my boss and SwapCorp they had enough money in my bank account, so I didn't have to worry about money... but I wanted more.

Luxury cars, a huge house on the beach, trips abroad, I used to dream about all that, before Mr. Guzman showed up outside my job, Mr. Guzman was the typical job that most of the trainers at my gym would turn down, he was 60 years old, what little hair he had left on his head was on the sides and back, he weighed around 170kg, he was so dwarf that I had to look down to talk to him, and he had never set foot in a gym in his life.

I liked the challenges and the gambling commission I would get if I took another client to the gym, I started to explain to him what we were doing here, but to my surprise Mr. Guzman had other plans, I walked next to him until we got to the parking lot and to my surprise Mr. Guzman offered me a free ride to my house in his limo, it was the first time I got in one, and it was much better than the subway train or the bus.

He told me how difficult it was for him to lose weight and even more difficult to follow a strict diet, he had tried everything, but nothing seemed to work, until SwapCorp offered him a solution. They gave him my record as a trainer and my stats, 100% success rate in weight loss for my clients, and he knew I was right for the job. 

-How would you like a one-year contract? -

He handed me some papers that I signed immediately when I saw the huge number that was shown on the paper, it was so many fucking dollars that I didn't even know what that fucking high number was called, I would never have to work, as soon as that money was mine I would have absolutely everything I ever wanted....

But now all I want to do is go back in time and never sign that shit.

They took me to one of their best clinics and started the body swapping process, my consciousness was transferred to Mr. Guzman's old brain and vice versa, I had done this every day since I was 18, but... I had never stayed more than 2 hours in one body. 

It always felt strange to go from my glorious body of 14% body fat to a body over 100 kilograms overweight, but at the end of the day I would return to my real body and enjoy my life as the man everyone wanted to be and all the women wanted to sleep with... but this time it wasn't like this.

Mr. Guzman did not stop touching every corner of his new body, he did not even care that I or the doctors were in the same room when he took out his huge penis to give himself his first handjob, we all remained silent while Mr. Guzman used the calluses on his hands that had taken me so long to get in the gym to masturbate, I could not even look away when he rubbed his balls with both hands and then brought his hands to his nose and gave the biggest breath of his life.

-Fuuuuuuuuuck I SMELLED AMAZING! -

I knew Mr. Guzman was the worst client I would ever work with in my entire life, we rode back to his house in his limo and he completely ignored me, he didn't seem to listen to anything I said about eating or exercises to remember while in my body, he just said.

-Yeah whatever, I'll pay someone later to teach me all that boring shit, now let me enjoy my new body...oh and don't call me Mr. Guzman that's...well someone else, call me Jo Lidner...fuck Jo, that sounds hot-

Said Mr. Guzman as he again massaged his cock over his new sweatpants. 

Hello! Here's my monthly story again. I'd like to post here more often, but unfortunately, most of the stories I write are too hoooot for Tumblr (and I think we all know that Tumblr likes the least the hot stories, wink wink) But if you want to see the rest of my stories, you can support me on Ko-fi and have access to my archive and my new aaaand old stories.

[insert-this-fire]

Overpoweringly Sweet

Logan Howlett aka Wolverine x gn!nonspecified mutant! Reader

Summary: Somehow you contracted Hanahaki for a man you hardly ever spoken to. Cant end well can it?

W/C: ~9k Warnings: a little OOC, angst, graphic description of coughing up flowers with blood.

AO3 Mirror A/N: I never post actual fics on tumblr but I feel that it needs to be done here. So sorry if its kinda formatted weird? it will also be on AO3!. First x-men fic too so sorry if its a bit ooc. Not really based on any specific iteration of Wolverine. Also not edited like, at all. Also I take requests! :3

~~ :3 ~~

You know, having a crush on someone so unattainable is laughable at best. Having a crush on them and apparently somehow contracting Hanahaki is even worse. How does that even happen? You haven’t even spoken to the guy more than a few words. Too embarrassed to open your mouth to introduce yourself and you work together. Yet here you are, petals on the bathroom floor and a constricting feeling in your throat. Your head lying on the back of the stall door. Still heaving from the sudden onslaught of overly sickly floral-scented petals that spilled out.

Gardenias. Pure white and mocking. 

The smell of them made you nauseous. The sight of them even more so. After looking up what they meant. It just made things even worse.

Secret love. How fitting.

It’s a damn crush, and the world decided it was love. Love for a grumpy ass old man with hair that kinda made you think of a cat. Actually, he reminded you of a cat in general. One that you want to rest your face on and fall asleep. Bury your face in those pecs of his. Muscles may look hard, but they do have a bit of squish. By God, does he have muscles. You’ve caught him shirtless a few times. All by accident, of course. You weren’t a pervert. Anytime you think of it, your jaw clenches tight.

Ah, getting off-topic here. Back to the fact that apparently, hanahaki doesn’t care if you’ve ever talked to someone before.

The stall door was cool against your cheek when you turned your head, and it was less gross than hugging the toilet like you wanted to so you could flush the flowers down the drain. It was terrible. The petals surround you, and a single full bloom floats mockingly in the toilet.

You know how to cure it. The moment that the flower petals started to spill from your lips, you desperately looked for what it was. It wasn’t that hard to find, apparently some find it sickeningly romantic. Bet they never had to deal with the ache that was constant around your lungs. You found the cure for it as well. Should be easy to do, right? Tell the person how you feel and they return it, or get it surgically removed. The surgery should be the right choice. It’s the only choice. You’ve hardly spoken to the man who coveted your affection, but the thought of not feeling the tug of your heart when you see him was too much to bear. Which makes no sense! It’s a dumb crush.

God, you’re an idiot.

A deep breath fills your lungs slightly, and the pain wraps around your chest as you try to get a full breath. Your hands find purchase on the rim of the toilet, and you push yourself up. Now, on two shaky legs, you wipe your mouth. You need to clean up the petals before anyone comes in. It was still the middle of the day, and classes were still going. Thank God the coughing fit didn’t hit you till lunch, or you would have to explain to a classroom full of students. That would be embarrassing. Yeah sorry class, your teacher is in love with someone they can’t have, let’s continue with the lesson now! Embarrassing.

Your hands start to pick up the petals. Each one feels as if it was searing into your skin. One, two, five, ten, thirty. Thirty petals and one full bloom. You were screwed. You could go to Hank. See if he knew any other way around it, any way to fix the disgusting flowers that took root in your lungs. Maybe being a mutant changed how to cure the disease? That was just hopeful thinking, though.

After mulling over the choices for a few moments more, you finally unlock the stall door and walk over to the garbage, quickly discarding the petals that did not make it into the toilet.

Your feet then carry you out of the bathroom and, as luck would have it, right into the chest of the one person you did not want to face yet.

Logan.

You were right, though. The muscles on his chest were squishy. God you want to just motorboat him real fast. Would that be weird? Yeah it would be. As quickly as you ran into him, you tried to remove yourself from his personal space. You know the guy wasn’t too fond of touch. You think. You actually… don’t know. Words quickly spill from your mouth as you try to apologize. “Sorry, sorry. Didn’t see you.”

Logan just makes some gruff-sounding noise and continues on his way. You could faintly see as he walked away scrunching of his nose. He was probably able to smell the faint floral scent that was clinging to you. It probably wasn’t pleasant. You didn’t like the scent, it probably was a lot stronger on his end.

As you stand in the hallway after the sudden bump into your crush, you place your hand on your chest to calm your beating heart, and you walk in the opposite direction to your classroom. It hurt that he didn’t even say anything back to your apology, but that seemed pretty in character. To you, at least. If you were on friendlier terms, maybe not, but you doubt he even knows your name.

The thought of the surgery resurfaces in your head. Maybe you should get it. Ignore the deep-seated pain in your heart at the thought of losing your feelings for him. However, the repercussions of a botched removal is another reason not to do so. It could remove the feeling of ever being in love again. Would that be so bad though?

You shake your head. You have a class you have to get back to… and a phone call to make.

The day continued on like normal after that. Classes, grading papers, discreetly removing petals from your mouth into the trashcan by your desk as you graded papers. A new norm for you. It did seem that a few students had noticed a slight change in you. In fact, one of them even got you a get well soon card. Sweet, but it left a bitter taste in your mouth.

If you don’t get better soon, you will probably end up another statistic for the disease. How many people were there that had it and perished as the roots wrapped around the lungs and slowly filled the valves on the heart. Too many, probably. You couldn’t bring yourself to look at that. That’s why you were now sitting in your now empty classroom, making a phone call. You had found a number to a doctor who specializes in the disease. You would get some advice and decide from there what you want to do.

The phone rings, once, twice….

“Hello, this is Dr. Forrest’s office. How may I help you?” How fitting a doctor who knows about Hanahaki has a nature-based last name.

You quickly introduce yourself and ask if you could speak to him or schedule an appointment. Apparently the only way to talk to him is with an appointment. The next one isn’t for a few months. You don’t even know if you’ll last that long. You’ve been keeping track. A full bloom appeared today. A singular full bloom, no steam. The petals were loose so it had to be in the early start of the mid stages. It was taking its time infecting you. It must be due to not seeing Logan all the time.

You do tend to avoid him when you can. The thought of seeing him always makes your cheeks burn. Man was just too hot. It made it seem like you were in love with just his looks! You weren’t. Otherwise, you wouldn’t be coughing up all these petals. You’re pretty sure it wasn’t just his looks. The flower has a meaning, after all.

Maybe if you avoid Logan, actually stop trying to see if you can see him across the halls. Stop looking for him during dining hours. Just try to ignore him. Though unless he was going to go on one of those sudden long vanishing acts. Well, you doubt that you actually will be able to avoid him enough to live till the next appointment. You really are screwed. Shit.

Running a hand over your face with a groan you lean back in the chair behind your desk. What should you do? The surgery now seemed to be out of the question. So now you either confess and die, or you just die. Which definitely was not the ideal thing to do. You were screwed. Hands down. Your name is on the death warrant the moment the receptionist said months. Maybe you should go to Hank. Dude was a certified genius right? He would know something.

A knock at your door made you jump. Quickly you lift your head and look over to the closed door to your classroom. Could be a student, another faculty member? Whoever it was either needed you or the room.

“Come on in.”

Silence followed and then the door opened up. Your gaze turns to the door, ready to answer whatever questions that are going to follow. Till you hear the tall tale sound of boots, heavy. The sound of jeans rubbing against legs. A jacket rustling slightly from movement. Jeez, why are you suddenly so aware of the sounds?

Your eyes hone in on the man you’ve been thinking about. Logan. Twice. TWICE in one day you’ve seen him up close. See him in your space. He never seeks you out. You never get to see him up close like this more than once or twice a week. It’s like you’re in a fanfiction and someone is pushing the two of you together.

That’s silly though, this was real life.

“Oh, Logan. How can I… help you?” Could you sound any more awkward? You want to bang your head on your desk. Especially with how he was just looking at you. Should you have called him Wolverine? Mr. Howlett?

“You need to let up on that perfume you’re wearing. Can smell it all over the hall.” His face gives away the fact he smells something he doesn’t like. 

Perfume?... Perfume… The flowers. Of course he could smell it. The floral scent has been clinging to you since the first petals slipped from between your lips.

“Oh, heh sorry. I’ll try to use less of it.” You just laugh a bit, still feeling a tad bit uncomfortable, the sudden tickle in your throat reminding you that you could not stop the smell from permeating your skin. That it will linger on you till you no longer have these flowers growing inside of your chest. “If I use too much again I’m sorry. Can’t really tell when I use too much or not.”

Blue eyes narrow at you, you can tell he doesn’t believe you. That he should call you out on it. “Thanks bub, it’s masking everything else.”

With that he left the room as quickly as he came, there was a slight pause and you can tell he glanced at the trash can by your desk. The trash can that had a few petals thrown in haphazardly. Thought to be hidden by the papers that you threw on top. You hope that is all he sees.

That was such an awkward interaction. You slam your head on the desk once more. God why are you such an idiot.

~~ :3c ~~

Time continues on like normal, but recently you catch Logan at the corner of your eye. Which is normal, you usually do seek him out. Yet now it’s like he is everywhere you go. Walking in the gardens, he’s out there smoking one of his cigars leaning on a tree or the wall of the mansion. You’d be eating and you’d see him a table or two away, his eyes on you. You can feel them boring into your skin. You’ll be walking in the hallways and see him turning a corner before you fully spot him. More often than not you find him outside of the bathroom you were just in after coughing up a storm. Just standing by the door like a guard dog. Always scrunching his nose when the door opens and the aroma of flowers follows you out.

He knew. He had to. He had to know something was wrong with you. There is no way he doesn’t. The man has been alive long enough that he probably knows the signs of what you have. The disease that is currently ruining your life. He has probably seen all sorts of people who have had Hanahaki. You won’t be the first, nor the last person he has seen inflicted with it either. It’s probably why he’s keeping an eye on you. He must have found out when he came to ask you to stop using so much perfume and yet you still smell that sickeningly floral smell on you.

Unless you’re just suddenly more aware of him than you were before. Which you shouldn’t be. You were already highly aware of him due to your damn dumb crush that’s killing you. Eyes are always lingering on him.

It’s probably because of the scent that’s following you around. It is probably sticking out more than your usual scent, which was. You don’t know. What do you normally smell like? Apparently, it’s something non-distinct since the new smell is pretty overpowering. If you can smell it, it must be strong.

You wish you knew what was going through the man’s head. You couldn’t really ask him. You aren’t close to him like that. Can’t ask the people he is close to either because you aren’t close to them. You kinda just, are here in the mansion teaching. You’re not a part of x-men, you aren’t too interested in fighting anyways. You earned your keep teaching. You are vaguely close to Hank though. Well, in recent events at least. You could ask him?

Yeah, no, you aren’t. You’re going to suffer through this. You can handle it. You don’t need to know what’s going on in his mind.

Which reminds you, you need to actually go talk to Hank. You’ve been putting it off, but the full blooms are startling. Every other coughing fit brings one full bloom. It has only been a week since the first bloom and with the sudden influx of Logan sightings, it is speeding up. You needed an out and fast. Before it kills you.

Thus here you are walking through the mansion to head down to his lab. Quickly avoiding anyone you see. The scent of flowers following you through the halls like a wraith. Leaving a trail of sweetness to waft into the air. Disgusting.

As you make your way into the lab you spot Hank, or Beast? Shit, you don’t even know which one he prefers to be called. You really should ask, huh. Anyway, you spot him.

When the blue-furred man spots you, he quickly greets you with your name: “It is good to see you this fine evening. What do I owe the pleasure? It is not often I see you down here.”

If you could, you would sigh deeply. The rattling of vines stops the motion before it begins. “Hi yeah uh. I got into a delicate situation and I don’t know who else to go to? The doctor I had called can’t really see me and I don’t know what else to do and you’re like… The smartest person I know so I’m hoping… you could help?” The words spill out quickly.

Hank raises an eyebrow and fixes the glasses perched on his face. The man was upside down for some odd reason, and he quickly flipped to land on the ground. With grace you don’t expect for someone his size. Then again, you’ve seen some weird ass mutations. He motions for you to sit down on one of the beds stationed in the lab. One used when needed for situations like this. Medical, scientific, not something you can throw a punch at and fix.

After sitting down on the bed, you start to explain. Words flowing like a waterfall. He is the first person you have gone into detail about your condition. How the petals slip from your lips like a poison, the tightening of your chest with each breath. The fear of losing yourself to unrequited love and dying because of it. You do not mention who it is directed at nor the fact you thought it was a crush and did not deserve to have evolved into such a disease.

The room fell silent after your reveal, a silence that stretched on longer than you would have liked. God, you hope he has an idea about how to help you out of this mess.

“From my knowledge there are only two cures. I assume you already know.” A pause as you answer with a curt nod. “I do not believe there are any other alternatives other than what has been proven to work. I assume that you are here to find out if there are any or that you require the surgery.”

“I can’t tell them�� I really had hoped that you would know. I don’t.” You sigh and run a hand through your hair, messing it up slightly. It was already a mess from earlier, but you know how hands are in hair. “It’s not an option to tell them.”

“I see. It will take some time, but I will see if I can learn the correct procedure so that there will be minimal to no complications.” Hank pats you on the shoulder and motions for you to head out. He had some things to do and research to go over. Escorting you out of his lab so Hank may do what is necessary. He didn’t give a timeline, but you trust that he can do it before your time is up.

You really hope that he can do this.

After leaving the lab, you had to pass some of the other faculty. Or X-men? Yeah, it seems they are setting off on a mission of some sort. You pass Cyclops, Storm, Jean and. Yeah, that is exactly who you don’t want to see right now. Logan. Seems he is going with them. To, wherever they have to go. You give them all a small nod in acknowledgment as you pass them. Each one provides you a small smile or nods back.

Logan though? He pauses when you pass him. His face contorted into something you weren’t too sure of. He probably caught another whiff of the flowers on you. Great. The others give him a look and he just grunts at them. Somehow they understand and continue on their way. Leaving you with Logan.

A hand grabs your bicep, fingers wrapping around the muscle. Your gaze drops to the hand, in another life you were sure it would be rough with use, but it was surprisingly soft. The grip was not, natural strength hidden behind the hold. A promise that you would not be able to pull away without exerting yourself.

“You’re smellin’ worse. Thought I told you to let up.” A gruff voice, oh how you want to roll in that voice. That was a weird thought, you should probably stop thinking of that like a weirdo. God are you a weirdo?

An awkward laugh bubbles up from your chest. You can feel your own muscles tense under his hold and gaze. Damn he’s never looked at you like this before. A slight glare, crinckled nose, and a slight snarl on his lips. You must be really weird because damn was that kind of a hot look. Which somehow in turn makes your chest tighten and the tickle of a cough is trying to break free. You swallow hard to bite it back. Yet you can feel the petals moving through your throat. 

“Sorry sorry, I guess I overdid it?” You pull your eyes away from his. Unable to continue to look at his face. Be it from your weird thoughts, the tickle in your throat or your inability to keep eye contact with someone. “I swear I’m not doing it on purpose.”

“You’re hiding that you're sick.” The grip on your arm tightens. Not in a painful manner no, but a reminder that you cannot run away from this conversation. Which is odd right? Why does Logan care? You two hardly know each other. Sure you apparently love the man, but you’re still sure he doesn’t even know your name. You’ve seen him care for others in the mansion, a good friend in an odd way. A father figure and mentor to some of the students. Also in a weird way. You’re sure he’d brush off that idea and say he isn’t. He is.

Wait, he just said you’re sick… “I’m not sick?” 

Logan's eyes narrow as he stares at you. Do you look sick? Sure you’ve gotten a little pale and eating has gotten a little hard so you haven’t been eating as much as you usually do. Does being sick have a smell to it? Fuck that is weird. Well, some animals could tell when others are sick before physical symptoms show. Maybe that's how he knew. No, that wouldn’t make sense because you aren’t really sick. You just have a big fat crush that's killing you. 

You can tell Logan doesn’t believe you. “Just fix it. Can’t stand the smell on you.” His hand lets go and he stalks down the hallway to where the others had walked off to. Your eyes linger on his form as he walks away. The ghost of a feeling on your arm where his hand had wrapped around it. The slight warmth seeping into your skin slowly vanishes. God you’re fucked. 

~~ >:3 ~~

And fucked you are. It’s been at least two months since you told Hank about the hanahaki. Hank is taking his sweet ass time researching the procedure, the doctor you called has called back finally and mentioned that his next opening for a consultation was still months away. Which you decide to say fuck that guy, you trust Hank can do it. The doctor probably won’t even work on a mutant. Logan is still always at the corner of your eye. A scowl or sneer on his face anytime he looks at you. Not to mention the flowers! They’re getting worse.

Full blooms, multiple at a time. Their petals no longer loose around the center. Now they are tightly packed, fully bloomed and speckled with blood as they escape through your throat. Occasionally there would be a flower that had not bloomed yet. Still wrapped tightly, not fully formed. You weren’t sure what that meant, but you’re sure it wasn’t good. At least they were not roses. You feel bad for those who dealt with that. Thorns were something you were happy that was not in the mix of your own flower hell.

The flowers aren’t fully developed yet. Stems have not fallen with them. Yet you are unsure if you would survive long enough to see the end stages of hanahaki. Your body is getting weaker and weaker each day. Your own mutation even fighting against you. You can hardly call on it now. Once you had wished to be a normal person, but that has been years ago. Now you feel like you are losing a part of yourself. These damn flowers truly are killing you. Both physically and emotionally. 

You had to leave class more often. The coughs that tore through your chest made it unbearable to speak long enough to teach an entire class to its completion. Students start to worry, other faculty seem to notice the sudden change as you have to start asking for people to cover your class for you as you rush to the restroom to hug the porcelain throne to exude the flowers of love. Each time more and more petals fall from your lips, tears stain your cheeks more often due to the pain and energy it takes to clear them out from your throat. 

It has gotten to the point where you had to ask someone to cover your class in full, or cancel it. You don’t want to cancel your classes, but at the rate you are going it will be the only thing you can do. Today is probably the last full class you can handle, you feel like shit. Your throat itches, your stomach aches from the lack of food. Your head hurts because of the lack of sleep from the coughing. Yeah, you might have to take a break from it all. What surprises you is that Logan is waiting outside of your classroom.

Ok it’s not that surprising. You’ve been catching him outside your classroom since he came back. It is like he is suddenly more aware of you. He doesn’t say anything, but you can feel his eyes on you. You would be excited usually, your crush suddenly paying attention to you! How great is that? Yet lately it just makes things feel so much worse. Especially with that sneer on his face. You know he knows something is up, he made it clear two months ago. Though he hasn’t brought it up again. Yet he is always there. Like a shadow. 

Which is honestly a bit uncomfortable. You aren’t used to this amount of attention. 

“You don’t have to stand out here you know?” Papers you needed to grade were in your arms. You may need to take a break, but you should at least grade these papers before someone takes the class over. Your last bit of work. 

Logan just stares at you. The slight glare, the wrinkled nose, the arms crossing making those muscles bulge out of his shirt. You had to quickly drag your eyes away from his arms so you aren’t caught staring. You don’t meet his eyes though. It was too intense. 

“You’re getting worse.” Way to point out the obvious Logan.

“Good observation.” A short pause follows after. Silence falls for a few moments. “I uh, it’s why I’m takin a break. Sick leave? Uh… Yeah…” You really don’t know how to talk to him. The tickle in your throat is back again. Too soon, you just hacked up half your lung just moments before. You really don’t want to cough in front of him. You thought he might already know what it is, but he still thinks the smell on you is perfume. So no way do you want him to know the truth. 

Logan stares at you a few moments longer, a slight grunt. His head motioned for you to follow him. That’s how you read it at least as he starts to walk down the corridor and only pauses to look at you. Looks like you’re following him. This can’t end well can it? 

The two of you walk silently through the corridors. Your arms are still full of papers, but it seems the two of you are heading out into the garden. Probably for the best, the crisp air outside will dull the floral scent. Hopefully at least. Even if it lingers on your skin and it has gotten to the point others have even started to point it out. The halls were mostly empty though at this time. Most students are already off doing their own thing, you can vaguely hear a laughter from down the hall as the two of you finally make your way outside.

Into the garden, the cool air bites at your exposed arms. You should have worn a jacket. Too late for that now it seems. The trees are already turning orange, autumn making its way across the land. Oranges, reds and browns. If you weren’t full of anxiety you would be enjoying the sights. Especially as Logan brings you over to a small bench by the man-made pond. A bit away from everyone, but still close enough to the mansion you can dash inside if needed. 

You take a seat first. The papers sit beside you. Logan stands in front of you. Arms crossed and eyes narrowed. He isn’t sitting. Why isn’t he sitting?

“So uh…” Your voice comes out first, awkward and a bit unsure. The tickle in your throat grows again as you fight it back.

“It’s not perfume on you is it?” Logan’s gaze never leaves yours, but you can’t help but look away. Too uncomfortable with the eyes boring into you. You never once used perfume, though you did use that as an excuse didn’t you?

Silence followed after. Your eyes looking at the ground as you kick your legs back and forth. Unable to voice the truth. Logan is still looking at you, jaw clenching most likely. You don’t have to look at him to know.

His voice finally cuts through the silence. Apparently he was sick of you beating around the bush and not answering him. Your name on his lips startling you slightly. You honestly thought he didn’t know your name, but it seems you were wrong. “What's makin you so sick that it’s leaving you to look like that and smell like that.”

You should tell him. Tell him. TELL HIM. 

… 

You’ll tell him without actually telling him. You don’t think you’d survive telling him the full truth. You’re a pretty good liar most of the time. He might be able to pick through the lie but he’s not that perceptive right? 

“I uh… It’s.” You feel like you’re stumbling over your words, your throat constricting. “I have.”

You couldn’t finish your sentence. Your muscles tensing as a cough tears through you. Violently. Your body lurching forward as your hand shoots up to cover your lips as the cough pulls out petals and blossoms alike. Your hand can’t catch all the petals as they spill to the ground. Your eyes clenching shut as tears prickle the corners due to how painful it was. The other hand not covering your mouth grabs at your chest. As if you could claw the roots out through your skin. It burns. 

It burns, it burns, it burns. 

It won’t stop. You can’t stop hacking up the petals. Each cough brings out a sob with it as well. It has never been this bad. The scent of gardenias explodes. It burns your nose. You hate the smell of it. If you survive you’ll never be able to handle this scent again. Your body retching forward as you double over. Body crumpling in on itself as you try desperately to get some air into your already filled lungs. You would think having plants living in your lungs would give you more oxygen. If only it didn’t wrap tightly around your lungs and neighboring organs. Leaving little space for what you truly needed.

You almost forget Logan is there with you. An unexpected presence sits beside you. Warmth seeping into your side. He doesn’t set a comforting hand on your back. Doesn’t say any words. But him sitting beside you is enough comfort. You don’t think you could handle physical touch anyways. Your body would probably jerk harder at it. Hanahaki really was a killing disease wasn’t it. It was going to kill you before even getting to the final stage. You can’t do this.

Slowly the coughing fit lessens. The petals and blooms spilling from your mouth as if it was all you breathed came to a stop. Your body still hunched over, tears filling your eyes as you finally, finally stopped coughing up the damned flowers. You were still shaking, trying to catch the lost breath.

“You’re ok sweetheart. Just try and breathe.” Something large, heavy, warm rests on your upper back. Small soothing circles. He called you sweetheart, that was strange. You don’t expect comfort. You don’t think Logan expected to comfort you like this either. It was an awkward movement, but comforting. You wanted to lean into it, lean into him. You weren’t going to though. Pain was radiating through your chest and you weren’t sure you would be able to sit up straight without coughing again. Fear that any movement will bring on another coughing fit settled inside of you like a vice. You can still feel the slight tickle in your raw throat. 

You taste blood.

It takes a few tries, gasping tries, before air finally was able to fill your lungs enough that you could breathe properly. Or well, as well as you can with roots wrapping around your insides. You pull out a few petals that were still stuck in your mouth and let them fall to the ground as you slowly sit up. Still slightly hunched over but no longer practically hugging your legs. You wipe your mouth on the back of your hand, blood from your lips smearing across your skin. Eyes on the ground where the mess you made mocks you. There's so much, white and red. White flowers that you would have thought beautiful covered in splotches of your own blood. Tainting the gardenias, tainting the meaning of secret love. Disgusting. You’re disgusting. 

Your eyes linger on the ground as you finally speak. Voice raspy and strained. “Sorry.” 

“Nothin to be sorry about, nasty thing you got. Seen it a few times.” Logan’s voice is gruff, yet there is a touch of something tender in there. Unexpected. You don’t like it. He shouldn’t be treating you like this. He doesn’t know you, he doesn’t know that you’re like this because of him, because of your dumb crush on him that the world decided was good enough to practically kill you.  

Ok that’s not true. You know under his rough and tough demeanor and the huge, insensitive ass he could be. He’s caring and trustworthy. Loyal as fuck and self-sacrificing. It’s what had drawn you in in the first place. The soft look he’d give to people he cared about when no one was looking. The way he treats the younger mutants. It was heartwarming. Your admiration for him turned from simply looking up to him to wanting him to look at you that way.

Silence falls between the two of you again as you continue to try to take in oxygen. The taste of iron and earth is still on your tongue. The sound of fellow mutants distantly chatting and the occasional bird cuts through the silence. You don’t want to talk, you don’t want to tell him who your affliction derives from. You doubt he would ask, but he might. You’ll need to think of an excuse. A lie. Anything to keep him from finding out it is him. He’d reject you. You know this already. You’ve seen him look at others. He doesn’t look at you like that. You just learned he knew your name too! The two of you hardly spoke before. This is the most attention you have ever gotten from him. He doesn’t love you the way the disease needs him to. 

“Who's the asshole?” His words cut through the silence again. Surprising you once more. This definitely is the most words he has ever spoken to you.

“Doesn’t matter… He doesn’t feel the same.” Your throat continued to feel raw. It hurt to speak, but you needed to answer. You couldn’t stay quiet when he asked. Your gaze moves from the ground to glance at him from the side. You try not to meet his eyes but you can see a look on his face that had never been directed towards you. In any other situation you would be happy, ecstatic. Right now though, it makes your stomach tie up in uncomfortable knots. 

A slight hint of anger crosses Logan’s face and his hand just rests on your back, no longer rubbing those soothing circles. You know he wants to know. The look he has on him makes you think he sees you as someone under his protection, it’s nice. Even if it is not really what you want at the moment.

“So you’re willing to die for him.” There was a short pause between his words. His tone is soft, you don’t like it. “Seen most with it die that way. Shouldn’t have to die like that.”

You decide not to reply to the fact that you were willing to die for these feelings. Why? Because you still don’t want to believe it is true. Even with the flowers clearly showing signs the crush was love. Infatuation. You hate this. “Dr. Mccoy is going to perform the surgery for me. Should be any day now.”

You at least hope it will be any day now. You spoke to him a couple days ago and he seemed a bit all over the place so you couldn’t ask him if he was ready yet. You know he hadn’t forgotten, you saw the books laying on one of the tables next to some tools, but time was ticking and it was ticking fast. You know it and now… Now Logan knows it too. You’re on limited time. 

“I… can’t tell him. He doesn’t feel the same, he can’t. I’ll die if I tell him. I have to do the surgery. I’d rather chance not feeling love again than to confess and die. I…” Your hands curl into themselves as you look back down at the flowers. The tightening in your chest squeezes harder. You don’t need to explain yourself, but you feel like you have to. This way you can come to terms with it. Speaking it out loud makes it all too real. “I trust Dr.Mccoy. He won’t fail. He… he can’t.”

“Lotta trust in the guy.” Logan leans back on the bench, his hand lingering on your back removes itself as he crosses his arms. You feel the itch in your throat again, it’s too soon for more petals. You at least hope so. Logan then continues, “Remember watching someone choke on their own blood cause of that shit. Don’t want to see you on that end sweetheart.”

Logan called you sweetheart, again. It made butterflies fly around your stomach, churning with the anxiety already there. It was not the most comfortable of feelings. You weren’t expecting it this time either. It was nice. Would be nicer in better circumstances though. “Thanks Logan, but I’ll survive this. I have to…”

“Still think you should tell me who this asshole is. Could talk to him.” You hear the familiar snikt sound, a clear sign he extended his claws. A glance over was all you needed to confirm he did, the light gleaming off the metal. 

“God no! Sure actions speak louder than words for him, but it wont help.” Because he’d be threatening himself. You couldn’t help but let a pathetic laugh bubble up. Pain radiating through your chest and throat as you do so. At least you can still find some humor in this. Logan’s claws go right back under his skin and between his knuckles at your words. Though you can tell he still seemed interested in using violence against who is causing this for you. God, you wish you could tell him.

The two of you fall into another silence. Your own thoughts are swirling through your head and you’re sure Logan is also dealing with his own thoughts. Your disease is now out there. What truly ales you has been revealed without you actually saying the words. You wished you could have said the words, said what it was, told him your feelings. Though things never work out that way do they. 

You aren’t sure how this was going to end.

Logan looks at you the same time you gaze at him. Your eyes meet his blue ones. You would wax poetic about his eyes, but that seems pretty cliche. Everyone always does when talking about blue eyes, how they look like the ocean, or the sky. Logan’s reminds you of steel, the silvery blue that almost matches the adamantium claws you see on occasion. There is something in those eyes though, something you can’t read. Something behind that wall everyone knows he puts up. You want to dig deeper, fall into those eyes to avoid all your problems. Be free of the pain you can’t escape. The two of you seem to just stare at each other far longer than it felt. 

“Tell me when you get the surgery. I want to be there.” 

“...Okay.”

And just like that, the two of you break eye contact and fall into a silence. A silence only broken by the occasional cough from you and the sounds of nature and other mutants about. You wish you could have experienced this sooner. Before your world decided to crash down on you. You’ll just have to enjoy the time with him like this while you can. Before the feelings you have for him are forever torn away. Leaving only a hollow space in your chest for the fellow mutant. 

You’re not ready. 

~~ :3 !! ~~

Hank Mccoy finally let you know he was ready to do the surgery a few days after your chat with Logan. You weren’t ready for it. You didn’t want to lose these feelings, you didn’t want the complications that may follow, but fuck you don’t want to die either. You will die if you don’t do this surgery. You can’t… You have to do this. 

Which is why you are outside of the room Logan usually occupies when he is in the mansion. You've been standing outside of his room for what felt like hours now. You knew he probably could hear your heartbeat, but he isn’t coming out. He asked to be there when you got the surgery. He wanted to support you for some reason. You could just go, leave and get the surgery without telling him. Your anxiety welling up along with the urge to throw up. Your hand is already raised before you could stop yourself and you knock three times.

Silence follows after. The sound of shuffling and the door opens. Logan standing there in one of those slutty little white tank tops and jeans. A classic look that was all too hot in your opinion. Your mouth feels dry as he looks at you.

“I’m getting it now.” You rub your arm, unable to look him in the eyes. You do look at his face though. Just long enough to see shock cross his face for a few seconds, which quickly vanished back behind his usual look. Logan steps out of his room and shuts the door, head tilting to the side a bit as he waits for you to start walking to Hank’s lab. 

The two of you walk silently through the halls. It was late in the afternoon. You could have gotten it earlier in the day but your body was so exhausted from the coughing fit you had that night that you couldn’t bring yourself to get out of bed. In fact you’re still in your pajamas mostly. Sweatpants and a t-shirt. Comfy. You’re going into surgery, you deserve not to dress up for it. Logan doesn’t comment on it either so it’s fine. You’re fine. 

Everything is fine.

The two of you enter the lab quietly. No one else seems to be here but Hank. After all, one else knew. People knew you were sick of course, but you kept a tight lip on what exactly was inflicting you.

Hank greets you with your name. A look of surprise as his eyes drop onto Logan. Quickly he glanced back at you and you just shrugged your shoulders slightly. Letting Hank know the situation. How Logan knew what was wrong with you and wanted to be here with you. Moral support from the emotionally constipated x-men. Well, mostly constipated. 

After going over the procedures and what needed to be done you step behind the curtains, changing into one of those flimsy hospital gowns. The cool air nipping at your skin as you bite your bottom lip. You were scared. You didn’t want this. You couldn’t do this. You can’t do this! You don’t want to lose your feelings for Logan. He just now is starting to show you attention. It’s not fair! You shouldn’t have to deal with this! You can’t, you can’t, you can’t, you can’t, you can’t, you can’t, you can’t. 

“Are you okay?” Hank's voice cuts through your spiral. Eyes watering and your chest heaving. Ohm you were crying. No, you were sobbing again. Your hands are shaking at your side. You glance at the curtain that hid you from the other two. You know they heard you crying, heard you falling apart. How embarrassing. Your hand grips at the gown, bunching it up at your chest as you take a shaky breath. Lungs barely able to hold a full inhale. 

“Yeah… Yeah sorry. I’m ok. I’m ready.” You step out from behind the curtain. Clear concern was on the blue mutant's face. You can’t read the others. You don’t like this. You silently pad over to the table, bed, whatever it is, that is set up for you. Another strained breathe and you sit on the surface. A glance at the two of them and you lay back. You’re surprised the professor wasn’t here to help out. Maybe he wasn’t needed. Hank could handle this on his own. You can handle this. Logan was here, you didn’t want him here, but it was a strange comfort knowing the man you loved was here to support you. Even if said surgery would remove all feelings for him. How poetic. 

You stare at the ceiling, unsure of what to do as Hank moves around you. Logan who had been leaning on the wall walks over and takes your hand in his. Holding it as if you would shatter at the softest of touches. You hate it. 

“Offer still stands darlin’. Can make the guy love you back.” Although the words would work well in a teasing tone. There was a hint of seriousness behind it. Like he didn’t want you to go under. To have the gardenias removed from your chest. Your hand squeezes his weakly. You knew you didn’t have much time left. You had to do this or confess. Only one of those was an actual option.

Hank returns and holds up the mask. You lift your head up as he slides it over your mouth and nose. It’s too late. You can feel the tears threatening to fall again. You’re scared. Your grip on Logan’s hand tightens as Hank moves around you, making sure you’re hooked up correctly. Your vision starts to blur slightly. You try to inhale the gas as deeply as you could, it hurt. Your lungs didn’t want to fill, you think you can feel the roots wiggling deeper through your lungs and closer to your heart. Your eyes are on Logan, fear clearly radiating off of you. Your own eyes showing the anxiety inside of you. Logan just stands strong next to you. Like a silent guard. 

As the world starts to blacken around you, the corners of the room vanishing slowly. You couldn’t help yourself. You were getting the surgery. You can say the words now. It won’t matter. Your head was already floating and consciousness was fading. Eyes focusing on Logan, like a tunnel. All you could see was him as the world around you slowly vanished into nothingness.   Three words slipped out of you without much thought.

“I love you.” 

The world shifts and the world goes dark. 

The quiet beeping echos. A steady rhythm that matches the slight pounding in your head. Your eyes slowly open, only to quickly shut again. The lights were a bit too bright and everything was… Numb. Your mouth feels dry and you physically can’t feel anything. Did the surgery go wrong? Why can’t you feel anything? A groan bubbles up from your throat as you force your eyes to open. That’s when you feel it.

You can feel every muscle, every fiber of the blanket covering you. The heaviness in your chest is gone. You take a breath. You can… You can take a breath. Your lungs are fully filled with oxygen. Chest rising higher than it has in months. You can breathe. Your eyes open again, the bright fluorescent lights above you illuminate the room. You tilt your head away from looking up at the ceiling. Eyes moving around the room. Gaze falling on the little monitor you’re hooked up to. The beeping was your heartbeat. Ok. That looked good. 

Your head turns the other direction as you take in another sweet deep breath. Eyes landing on Logan. He was still here, sitting beside your bed, head lolled to the side clearly asleep. Your chest tightens in the familiar feeling you have been dealing with for months. That can’t be right. You shouldn’t still be feeling this longing. You shouldn’t still be feeling the warmth that spreads through you over the fact that he had stayed. You shouldn’t be feeling the soft tug on your heart as you look at him or the soft smile pulling on your lips.

This was wrong. Something was wrong. You raise the arm that wasn’t hooked up to all the devices and set it on your chest. There was pain there, raw and uncomfortable, but there was no bump on your chest to show there was a bandage, no pain pulling at your skin. The pain you felt was all under your skin. This isn’t right, something is wrong. Your chest felt clear but you have no evidence that you underwent the surgery. You force yourself to sit up. Pain shoots down your spine. You groaned in pain and a hand was suddenly pressing down on your shoulder. Forcing you back onto the bed. Logan had gotten up.

“Logan?” Your voice was scratchy. It felt just like the times you coughed up all those flowers when he found out. “What… What’s going on? Why do I…” 

“Yeah it’s me. Lay back down. Can’t have you moving around too much yet.” Logan’s hand was still on your shoulder, a gentle pressure making you lay back down onto the bed. Your eyebrows furrowing in confusion at the look he is giving you. You can’t read him. “Don’t talk too much either. Hank said you got to heal.”

Yet you’re pretty sure you didn’t get the surgery though! You should be dead. You… You told Logan how you felt. How you still feel. Yet the urge to cough is gone. Your chest feeling lighter than it has since before the disease took its hold on your life. That has to mean something. Something happened when you went under. What happened? Why won’t he tell you? Why is he looking at you like that? 

Logan’s hand finally pulled away from your shoulder. He just stares down at you as you stare at him. Silence falls between you two. His hand then slowly moves again. Your eyes darting down to the hand. Slowly his hand goes to push some hair out of your face. The same look he has been giving you for the past few months crosses his face. You still don’t know what it means, but it is making your stomach flip. 

“Glad you didn’t die for a guy like me. World be a lot darker without you in it.” His hand gently cups your cheek, his thumb gently rubbing your cheek. His hand was soft and warm. The touch a bit too tender for someone like him.

Wait. Wait wait wait. He heard you. He heard what you said before going under. You didn’t go through the surgery yet your chest feels lighter than it should. That could only mean one thing. Your eyes go wide in surprise and your lips part as you go to speak. Pain still itching at your throat.

“You heard me…” Of course he heard you! He was right next to you holding your hand. He has enhanced senses. He heard you confess. He heard you say you loved him. You’re still alive, you still feel for him and you confessed! That has to mean. Your face suddenly lights up. Heat pooling both on your cheeks and in your stomach. There is only one explanation. There is only one way you were able to live and still feel this way. Logan loved you back. That doesn’t make sense though! Before you started smelling like flowers the two of you never spoke to one another. Yet he…

He loved you back.

“Yeah, I did. Could have told me sooner to save you the pain. Told ya I’d make sure the guy felt the same.” His hand leaves your face. He turns to grab the chair he had been sitting in before and pulls it over. The chair legs screeching across the floor making you flinch at the noise. Once the chair was next to you he sat down and took your hand in his again. Once more treating you like glass. Though you appreciate it, you feel like glass right now. 

Logan lifts your hand up to his face, blue eyes staring straight into your own as his lips find your knuckles. Leaving a soft kiss. You were already blushing before, but you swear you feel like you’re on fire. His lips brushing against your knuckles as he speaks once more. You really aren’t used to hearing him speak so much. “Looks like we got a lot to talk about sweetheart.”

You just silently nod, unable to break your gaze from his. Your hand is lowered, your heart beating out of your chest. You are sure he can hear it. You lick your lips, unable to speak a word out of fear you’ll embarrass yourself further. Logan just chuckles slightly, a deep reverberating one. 

“Guess I should say it, not really good with the emotions shit, but I love you too.”

A few blinks and then a small laugh comes out of you. A wince follows after, but the biggest grin spreads on your face. All it took was you almost dying to finally hear those three little words. You’ll never look at gardenias the same again, nor will you be able to stand the sickly sweet smell of a strong floral scent. That doesn’t matter to you though. You obtained something you thought was unattainable. The love of the man you were in love with. The secret love no longer hidden. 

You can now understand the look Logan was giving you. It was the same you had been giving him. You both were in love with each other but were unsure how to go about it. All it took was the flowers that no longer were growing inside of you. 

You finally say the words, more confident than when you went under. “I love you.” 

“Love you too sweetheart.” 

[organicxslime]

☆how they bagged you (gojo, geto, nanami, toji)☆

「GOJO」 wriggled his way into your heart with the power of sweets. He figured out pretty early on that you had a sweet tooth as rotten as he did, so he used it to his advantage, inviting you to try out new cafes and bakeries that cropped up in cities where he was going on missions. Each time you'd accompany him to one of these establishments, he'd promptly show off, flashing a platinum bank card that sounded an expensive, metallic clang as he tossed it on the counter, buying quite literally every single dessert you had your eye on with no regard for the cost. He's fairly certain he accidentally spent $400 in a single bakery once. He finally bagged you by taking you to an upscale cafe and having the waitress bring out the fluffiest, most intricately decorated cake they could possibly produce, looping cursive on the top spelling out “will you be my girlfriend?"

(In all honesty, you don't have enough room in your stomach for the sheer amount of sweets that he buys you, but his students certainly enjoy it when you slip them whatever mountain of dessert you have left over.)

「GETO」 gently coaxes you into loving him with his sweet, quiet voice and honeyed words. He noticed within a few weeks of meeting you that you seemed to stand at rapt attention whenever he spoke, and it didn’t take a genius to know that you liked his voice. It wasn’t the first time he’d experienced something like this - there had been others before who complimented his voice, saying he had a soft, kind tone that was pleasant to listen to - and he knew he could use it to his advantage. He intentionally makes himself sound quieter and more agreeable when he speaks to you, lovingly praising you and complimenting you for the smallest of things. you can’t help but swoon each time he greets you in that lyrical tone, and when he finally asks you on a date , you melt at how hopeful and sweet his voice sounds.

(later, when that same voice is murmuring filthy things into your ear, you’ll be silently reaffirming to yourself that he was absolutely the right choice.)

「NANAMI」 won you over by being the perfect gentleman. He's not one for dirty tricks or flashy displays of affection - he finds these things repulsive. No, he's going to take a much more classic route with it. It starts with little things - a shared smile here and there, complimenting you often, and making sure to stop by and greet vou everv morning at work. From there, he'll graduate to more direct methods, like inviting you to dinner and remembering your exact coffee order to surprise vou with the next morning. As your bond grows, so do his advances, and he finds himself arriving to work an hour early to slip sweet hand-written notes into our desk. Eventually he surprises you with a bouquet of red roses, chastely asking you out on a date, and you're so smitten you can't imagine a world where you would say no.

(You like his methods, but in all fairness he could have taken you on a date to a 7/11 and you still would've been drooling over him afterwards. For the sake of your standards, though, the romantic gestures were entirely necessary.)

「TOJI」 snaked his way into your heart by shamelessly using his body. You were gym buddies, and he had noticed before how your eyes lingered on his body, watching beads of sweat roll off of his glistening pecs and paying particularly close attention to the way his back flexed when he would lift. He began teasing you, making you sit on his toned back as he did pushups, giving you a front row seat to every contraction of his rolling muscles. He'd have you help him tape up for support, too - smoothing the athletic tape over his thick legs and reaching around his basketball-sized biceps to bind up his elbows drove you absolutely wild. At one point, you're pressing his feet to the floor while he does sit-ups, and all of a sudden he leans up further than ever before, leaning into your face and catching you by the lips. Amused, you ask him what that was for, and he says he'll explain himself - but only if you'll let him take you out to dinner.

(You knew damn well what he was up to - but you're just as depraved as he is, and knew a solid opportunity to feel up on a buff man when you saw it. You're so down bad you didn't even care that he asked you to pay for dinner.)

[bigmpregnm]

Enjoy the Ride - Part 2

[Story Collection] | [Part 1] [●] [Part 3]

When we arrived at Mr. Griffin’s penthouse, I was speechless. His office was enormous, but his home made me feel like I had entered Narnia through those double doors. My 2-room-and-1-bathroom apartment was nothing compared to his living room. My whole place fit in a corner of his living room. I think the entire floor of the building I lived in fit in his living room. I felt poor while he showed me his place, but he treated me so nicely that I felt good at the same time.

“I’m surprised you’re willing to do this,” said Mr. Griffin as we walked up the stairs to the second floor of his penthouse. Call me ignorant, but I didn’t even know something like that was possible inside a building. “I guess I had the wrong first impression of you, young man. Maybe I should’ve treated you differently when I brought up this topic,” he added, wrapping his muscular arm around my shoulders.

“I-I just want to be sure that I can pay off my debt, Mr. Griffin,” I responded, surprised by how heavy his arm felt and enjoying the incredible scent of his perfume. I couldn’t help but feel confused because, even though he had tricked me into carrying his kids, I wasn’t scared or mad at him. He made me feel good; deep inside me, I was willing to be with him.

“I know. But this change of plans will make this process much more fun, and hopefully, you’ll enjoy this,” Mr. Griffin said, pulling me closer to his muscular torso, which made me gasp because of how firm it felt. “And, don’t worry, I’ll give you extra money for this,” he added as he opened a double door and allowed me into his enormous bedroom.

I was so impressed by the place that I couldn’t form coherent words for a few seconds. “Oh… I… no… You don’t have to, Mr. Griffin. I-I don’t want to feel like I’m a... you know,” I responded when I snapped out of my trance as he invited me to sit on his bed.

“I know, but I don’t mean it like that,” he said, removing his T-shirt and leaving me speechless again. “But I really want you to enjoy this in all possible ways.” He popped his pecs, and the thick slabs of meat bounced so hypnotically that I gasped in surprise.

I froze and marveled at his body for over a minute. Even though he was much older than me, his physique impressed me so much that I felt my dick stirring in my pants. I had never considered myself gay because the only relationships I had had so far were with women, but I had had some brief encounters with some men over the years, but none of them were as big or hot as Mr. Griffin.

He smiled at me and approached to help me remove my own t-shirt, revealing my well-developed torso. My muscles weren’t as big as his, but I went to the gym a few times a week, so I had nicely developed pecs and arms, broad shoulders, and well-defined abs. He chuckled in surprise, and I blushed.

He reached for my right pectoral and firmly squeezed it, winking at me. “You’re definitely perfect for this,” he said, massaging my pecs as his other hand unbuckled his belt. “Are you ready? Or would you prefer it if we go slower? I can give you all the time you need.”

“I’m fine. Let’s do this.” I shyly smiled and started taking my own pants off.

I had been very reluctant about the contract I signed and how Mr. Griffin used his money and power to turn me into his baby-making slave, but the more I stayed with him, the more I changed my mind about him. He wasn’t a bad man, and I wasn’t his slave; he treated me with respect while we were undressing and asked me several times if I was sure about what we were about to do.

Once I confirmed again that I was willing to carry his kids and do it the natural way, he removed the rest of his clothes, and my jaw dropped to the ground. His dick rose to its full size, and I estimated it was a foot long, if not longer. His balls reminded me of softballs, and his scrotum was so tight around them that they looked ready to burst. His legs looked powerful, his hips swayed beautifully, and when I saw his massive ass on full display, my dick got instantly hard. I had always been proud of my 8.5-inch-long dick, but Mr. Griffin’s was out of this world.

He got in bed and offered me his hand to help me get by his side. His bed was enormous, much bigger than a king-sized mattress. Everything about Mr. Griffin was big, and I really mean everything. I was somewhat scared about his huge dick, but as he started carefully caressing my body, I could only smile and feel great.

“Mr. Griffin, why are you treating me so well? You don’t have to. You know I’ll do this anyway,” I said, enjoying his careful touch.

“I really want you to feel comfortable while we make some babies,” he said, moving his hand down to my abs and slowly reaching for my dick to stroke it, sending shivers down my spine. “How do you want to do this?” He rubbed my balls and made me smile.

“I… think I feel comfortable with you on top,” I responded, lifting my legs for him to have access to my ass.

He smiled and immediately got on top of me, casting a shadow over me and accentuating our size difference. He smiled and leaned forward to kiss my neck, pressing his thick pecs against my torso while his dick poked between my legs. The head of his dick felt enormous against my ass, and I couldn’t help but gasp. I was nervous and still confused, but my body was aching for his dick.

He looked me in the eyes, and I felt his dick getting in position against my hole. I took a deep breath as his hips pushed forward, attempting to fit his huge dick into me. I wasn’t sure if it would fit because the few previous sex encounters I had had with other men were with dicks much smaller than Mr. Griffin’s. I focused on his smiley face and couldn’t help but smile back at him when he pushed harder.

When the head of his dick entered me, I groaned and moaned. I closed my eyes and panted because I felt like he was tearing me in half. I couldn’t think of anything apart from the huge dick entering me. Once the head was in, he slowly slid the rest of his dick inside me, making me gasp even more. I reached for his arms and buried my fingertips in his big biceps, dealing with intense pain but the most fantastic pleasure I had ever felt.

“Are you okay?” Mr. Griffin asked, and I only nodded as he got balls deep into me. I felt his dick throbbing inside me, and the sensation was incredible. “Take your time. I’m surprised you’re able to take my entire dick. You’re the first man who manages to do so.”

“I’m fine… I’m great, to be honest,” I said between moans, loving every single inch of dick buried inside me. “Keep going. I’m ready,” I added, smiling at him.

He grinned, pulling most of his dick out of me, only to ram it back into my hole with such force that the whole bed shook. I moaned loudly and gripped his biceps even harder, aware that I wouldn’t hurt him because his muscles felt like rocks. He repeated the strong thrust, and I saw stars. His hips bucked faster, and even though I didn’t want to let myself go into the intensity of the fucking, he was so strong and yet so sweet while fucking me that I couldn’t help but ask for more. I almost begged him to fuck me harder, and even though he was gentle, his pounding got stronger and faster, and even then, I wanted more.

While he fucked me, many thoughts crossed my mind. I remembered about the surrogacy contract and how I didn’t have a choice but to sign it. I thought about my small apartment and the money I would receive for my services. I was conflicted because a part of me felt bad because I was having sex for money, but the more Mr. Griffin thrust into me, the more I convinced myself that it was a win-win for me. I loved the fucking, and the money was good.

I felt Mr. Griffin’s balls hit my ass, and they felt huge. I knew it meant his balls were brewing a big load to fill me up, and even though I wasn’t that used to the feeling because I didn’t have much experience with other men, something deep inside me was longing for Mr. Griffin’s seed. I felt his pre-cum entering my hole, which was remarkable because I literally felt the flow entering me while he fucked me hard.

Mr. Griffin’s dick was so deep inside me, and it was so thick that it stimulated my prostate and turned me on like never before. My dick was leaking pre-cum while he fucked me, and after a few minutes, I couldn’t hold my load back anymore, shooting several thick shots of cum all over my own abdomen while others landed on Mr. Griffin’s pecs. He grinned when he noticed I was cumming, and with the most powerful thrust, he pushed his entire dick into me, immediately releasing a massive wave of cum deep into my guts.

I felt the massive shots filling my guts to the brim, and just as expected, I felt bloated by the time he stopped cumming. I had seen his big balls, and considering how much pre-cum he had leaked, I was expecting a massive load, and he didn’t disappoint me. I had fucked some men before, and some of those men had fucked me, but Mr. Griffin had fucked me unbelievably well.

I wasn’t sure if it was only due to the size of his dick or his passionate and careful fucking, but while we panted and his dick was still inside me, I couldn’t help but long for more. However, I didn’t want to look so desperate about it, so when he took his dick out of me, leaving me feeling empty, I only relaxed on his bed and rubbed my bloated midsection. I felt full with so much of his warm seed inside me, and I loved the sensation. I was confused because I never thought I would enjoy having sex with Mr. Griffin so much, but the more I thought about it, the more I convinced myself that signing the surrogacy contract had been a great idea.

We stayed in his bed for a while, catching our breaths, and he started telling me about the accommodations he would make for me. The contract already had some benefits for me, but Mr. Griffin had other ideas. He reached for my abdomen and started caressing it as he told me that I didn’t have to go to work while pregnant with his babies. Again, the plural scared me, but considering his huge load was bloating my lower abdomen, multiples were definitely a possibility.

He said my son and I could move in with him and use one of the spare rooms in the penthouse so I could be comfortable. He said I didn’t have to worry about food, clothes, or anything for me or Marco. He wanted me to feel safe and enjoy the pregnancy because that would help the babies develop better. I smiled, and even though it had all started pretty badly between us, Mr. Griffin’s new attitude made me feel great.

“Let’s wait to find out if you got me pregnant, Mr. Griffin,” I said, enjoying his touch on my abdomen. “I don’t want you to spend money on me or my son if I’m not doing my part of the deal.”

“I’ll respect that. We’ll wait.” Mr. Griffin smiled and nodded.

****

I continued my regular life for the next few weeks. I was getting somewhat anxious about the possibility of being pregnant because I knew my life would change a lot. My life was already changing because Mr. Griffin sent me money every other day to make sure I ate well. He insisted that I needed to eat a lot to give him strong and healthy babies. I didn’t complain about the extra money, but his attention only increased my anxiety. A part of me didn’t want to be pregnant, but another part of me knew I had to be pregnant for Mr. Griffin.

I caressed my abdomen every morning when I woke up. I thought about waking up with a huge round belly full of Mr. Griffin’s babies. I thought about raising those kids, even though the contract didn’t mention it. I thought about the changes my body would experience during pregnancy. I remembered how Mr. Griffin massaged my pecs while he talked about me being perfect to carry his kids, making me wonder if my pecs were able to produce milk.

So many thoughts crossed my mind during those weeks, and when I thought about my relationship with my son, my anxiety got even worse. Marco and I were really close because we only had each other. I would do anything to make him happy and give him a great life, even becoming a pregnant man. We shared a bed. I played with him every evening. We went to the park every other day. I took him to a nearby pool in our neighborhood once a week. We did everything together, and I wasn’t sure if I could keep doing all those activities if I was indeed pregnant with Mr. Griffin’s babies.

Even though I knew I had to wait a few weeks to confirm if I was pregnant, only a month after the natural ”insemination,” I noticed some slight changes on my body that made me think that the process had been successful. I gained 5 pounds in a month, which could also be attributed to my excessive eating, but I wasn’t getting fatter everywhere. I noticed my abdomen felt different and fuller, and my abs seemed to be fading. I didn’t know if those changes were too early, but I started sending some photos of my abdomen to Mr. Griffin every morning.

Mr. Griffin got excited with the photos and always responded with happy emojis. He sent me even more money for food, leading me to eat a lot more, and my belly started getting rounder. Since I had more than enough money, I started going out for dinner with Marco every other day, and I always went back home feeling ready to burst. My appetite was out of control, and I didn’t know if it was because I was pregnant or because I was getting fat.

I hadn’t seen Mr. Griffin since the day we had sex, but he texted me every day, several times a day, asking if I had any pregnancy symptoms. I told him that apart from the weight gain, everything else was normal. I knew he was expecting me to get morning sickness or something, but everything was fine until the first week of May, 8 weeks after Mr. Griffin fucked me. Many things happened that day.

When I woke up, I immediately looked down and saw a noticeable curve on my abdomen. It wasn’t huge, but it was definitely there. Marco was snuggling tightly against me like every morning, and his arm was over my small belly. I couldn’t help but smile as I thought about Marco as an older brother. He was such a good kid, and I knew he would make a wonderful older brother. Then, as he woke up, he looked me in the eyes, smiling. I kissed his forehead and hugged him tight, like every morning.

Marco rested his head on my pec and looked down at my abdomen, and after a few seconds of silence, he said, “Dad, you’re getting fat.” His words made me laugh out loud, but he made me realize that my belly was growing, and he noticed.

When I arrived at my job that same day, I couldn’t keep my hands off my abdomen. My mind drifted from one thought to the next, not letting me focus on anything but the possibility of being pregnant. I walked into my office and wasn’t paying attention to my steps. I didn’t care if the place was empty or not; I could only wonder if my belly was full of Mr. Griffin’s babies.

Then, as I approached my cubicle, sudden nausea washed over me. I had never experienced something so intense, and even though I tried to resist it, I had no other option but to try to get in the bathroom to throw up. However, before I could make it to the bathroom, I stumbled against a massive man who triggered a disgusting scene. I couldn’t resist the urge to throw up and ended up doing it all over his torso. I was so embarrassed, but when I looked up, I saw the shocked but empathic, handsome face of Greg, the janitor.

Greg was about 5 inches taller than me but much broader. His muscles were enormous, much bigger than Mr. Griffin’s, stretching his jumpsuit beyond the limits and not allowing him to close the buttons around his pecs. This meant that some of my vomit fell on his bare pecs. I expected him to get mad at me, but he only smiled kindly and offered me a napkin to clean my mouth. I had seen Greg several times before, but I had never interacted with him, and I was impressed by his kindness.

“You should be more careful,” he said, chuckling as he tried to find something to clean his vomit-covered pecs.

“I’m sorry. I’m really sorry. I-I… just…” I said, but another wave of nausea washed over me and made me run into the bathroom to throw up the rest of my breakfast.

I heard Greg entering the bathroom while I continued throwing up, and he sounded concerned about my sickness. He asked me if I was okay, but I couldn’t respond. Apart from my sickness, I was so ashamed that I hoped Greg would leave before I walked out of the bathroom stall, but he didn’t. He was genuinely concerned, and he waited for me to come out.

When I regained composure and walked out of the bathroom stall, I found him with his upper body fully exposed. His enormously bulging muscles looked wonderful, and even though I was still somewhat sick, I gasped and marveled at the magnificent sight of Greg’s body.

“I hope you’re feeling better,” he said, moving his right hand over his pecs to make sure they were clean.

“I am. Again, I’m really sorry,” I said, more ashamed than ever.

“No problem.” He approached, and I couldn’t believe how hot he was. “I’m Greg, by the way. I’ve seen you around but never got the chance to meet you,” he said, sounding sweet. He smiled at me. 

“I’m Adam. Nice to meet you,” I responded, and for a few seconds, I forgot about my sickness, the pregnancy, and the contract. Greg’s sweetness made me feel wonderful.

...

[nelegance]

Chapter 1: The Middle Of The End

“Why is a man’s butt so awkward to look at? There’s no curves. It’s just back and then butt.” I thought as I watched him undress and climb into his mahogany, overly decorated and lined casket. Despite the room being dark, he still refused to sleep in the bed. 

“Are you coming? I’ll get ‘the bleeds’ soon,” Lestat called out. His French accent still ringing strong after years and years of living in New Orleans.

I hated sleeping in the casket. It forced me to sleep on top of him and he knew it. I tried sleeping on the bottom but humans need to breathe and he wasn’t as light as he looked. 

I let my nightgown fall off my shoulders. He watched me as I doubted whether or not to take off my underwear. I knew he’d take them off anyways so I removed them. 

I climbed into the casket and on top of him. He was already ready. He rubbed my breasts with his cold hands before I laid down on top of him. He closed the lid. Despite not having a heartbeat, there was still a warmth between us. Maybe it was the stuffing in the casket. But maybe it was us. The hatred slipped away at night. He loved me and I loved him.

I gasped loudly as he slipped himself inside of me.

“Do you not want this?” Lestat asked, almost meekly.

“I’m okay.”

“Yes but do you want this?”

“Yes,” I lied. I knew that if I said no, he would be angry and pout for days.

I lifted myself up on my elbows as much as I could and slid downwards. Lestat moaned and tried to follow me with his hand. As much as I hated this, Lestat did have a way of making up for it. He fit inside me like he was made for me and he never got wrapped up in his own pleasure. He, and his body, knew I was there.

His hand lay flat between us and followed me upwards and downwards. Two fingers tickled in between my thighs.

“Will we ever have sex in the bed? That’s why you bought it. It would be so much easier.”

“I bought it for you and yes, one day. I promise,” his hand ran down my back and grabbed one of my better curves.

I always thought that Lestat didn’t want me to see him at his most vulnerable. He had power here, in the dark and in his casket. But on a bed with lights on…he would have to show me things he didn’t want me to see.

“Fuck,” I moaned as my body tightened.

Lestat laughed and drummed his fingers faster.

I lost my breath as I reached what I thought death would feel like. A rush of waves, an almost painful contraction of every muscle in my body, followed by a calm, floating feeling mixed with…cramps? That’s new. I wanted him out of me. He didn’t move though. I sunk my teeth into his pec. 

“Ow…” he chuckled. “I can’t move. You’re gripping me too tightly. Just relax.”

I tried sliding again. I was finished but he wasn’t.

“Oh God,” he cursed and dug his sharp nails into my backside. “Keep going.”

I tried moving faster. My hips were becoming sore though and the confines of the casket weren’t making this any easier. 

Lestat groaned something in French as he finished and his nails pierced my skin.

“I’m sorry,” Lestat sighed as I lifted up the casket lid. “Please don’t go. I can heal you.”

I climbed out of the casket. This wasn’t the first time and wouldn’t be the last time. Control wasn’t something he was very good at. He would even admit to that.

“Please. I’m sorry!”

I picked up my nightgown and shook my head as I headed towards the bathroom.

[thicc-astronaut]

I think the first person was right though. I learned from Ms. Frizzle that skeletal muscles can only provide a pulling motion when they contract, but can't provide any pushing motion to return a limb to its original place. The pectoral muscles can only pull your arms towards your chest, and other muscles are responsible for pulling your arms towards your back again.

Someone with four arms and only two pectorals wouldn't be able to move one arm on one side forward without also moving the other arm on that side. The pectoral would be connected to both shoulders, so any time the pec is activated both shoulders would move forward. Kind of like how your ring finger and middle finger are connected to the same tendon.

They could do two left hooks at the same time, but couldn't, for example, do bench presses with their top set of arms while doing bicep curls with the bottom. The pectorals would contract on all four shoulders, forcing the lower arms to also move towards the chest.

If they did have sweet back muscles then I guess they could move their arms backwards independently of each other, but paired with an inability to pull them forward independently it wouldn't be good for very much besides stretching your arms behind your head

I might be wrong though, I'm an engineer, not an anatomist

i can’t get over the fact that if you were to have more than two arms you’d need more than two pectoral muscles to accommodate them

[fitnessmentor]

Unlock Your Potential for a Bigger Chest with Proven Techniques

Jeff from Athlean X explains the best way to do Push ups for a bigger chest.

Best Way to do Pushups for a Bigger Chest

“The pushup is definitely one of the best (and only) options for building a big when training at home. That said, most of us don’t do this bodyweight exercise as effectively as we can, which is costing us a chance to build the biggest chest or pecs that we can. In this video, I show you the best way to do pushups for a bigger chest by making just one small but important change to the way you do them.”

Source: Depositphotos / CrossFit Inc

“To begin, it is important to understand what the function of the chest muscles is in the first place. We are all familiar with their ability to push our arms away from our bodies, as in a bench press. That said, given the orientation of the fibers of the chest, it is actually more important for the pecs to pull your arm across your chest into what is called horizontal adduction.”

Best Way to do Pushups for a Bigger Chest

“This motion occurs most visibly in exercises like cable crossovers and even dumbbell flyes. That said, especially for athletes, flyes present a risk/reward ratio that isn’t necessarily optimal or even necessary if performed with the arms too far out in an attempt to maximize chest stretch. Even Arnold himself tore his pecs twice during the pec fly while chasing that elusive extra stretch he felt the exercise was providing him.”

Best Way to do Pushups for a Bigger Chest

“That said, the portion of the horizontal adduction that we should be chasing the most is the end contraction. This comes when are hands are positioned in front of our chests and at or crossing over the midline if possible.

In pushups, since our hands are fixed on the ground, moving them closer with each rep is impossible.We can still simulate the movement to engage the chest more strongly.

“As I show you here, you want to be sure that when you come up to the top of each push-up, you attempt to pull the hands closer to each other (though they won’t move since they are pressed into the ground) and then turn your forearms away from you. This second part can be accomplished by trying to envision your biceps turning towards the front as you come up. Both of these moves act to fire up the pec muscles even more and get a much stronger contraction on each pushup than you would otherwise get.”

Best Way to do Pushups for a Bigger Chest

“Counting reps during push-ups isn’t crucial for effective muscle building during this home chest exercise. You want to focus on increasing the number of quality reps you perform. The quality means everything. Contract your pecs more for improved development and chest growth during home workouts (or wherever you apply these tips).”

[rachoxpotato]

🦕 Commander Mills x Female Reader ⚠️ Bathing, wounds, naked male/clothed female ✏️ 1.8k words 💕  For @mytbrisgrowing

Mills inhales sharply behind you as he presumably lowers himself into the steaming bath. Water sloshes over the tub’s edges and splashes onto the floor before he says quietly, “okay, I’m in.”

You take a deep breath, fill your lungs, then exhale slowly in an attempt to regulate your heartbeat before turning around. 

He needs you to be professional despite the fact that he’s far and beyond the sexiest man you’ve ever seen. It doesn’t matter that you think of him when you’re on your own, sweating and squirming as you picture his head between your thighs. 

Or that you swear he flirts with you.

What matters is that he’s tired, he’s wounded, and he’s taken such good care of you since the crash, the least you could do is be an adult and assist him with his bath.

You turn around and although you’ve seen him shirtless many times before, it’s never felt quite as intimate as it does now. And not just because you know he’s naked from the waist down as well.

“I’ll be gentle,” you promise, kneeling next to the tub with a cloth. “Where does it hurt most?”

“Everywhere,” he says with a chuckle, then winces. “Ah, nope. Ribs. Ribs hurt most.”

“Left side?” you confirm as you hang the cloth over the side of the tub and use your hands to scoop water over his shoulders and chest.

Mills nods.

His bicep muscles contract and bulge as you touch him and gently scrub his dirt-covered forearms, and massive hands.

You swallow your desire as you take a giant paw into your own hand, holding it steady to suds up his palm. The muscles in his forearm flex as you flip his hand over and run the cloth over the back, paying careful attention to his split knuckles.

“This okay?” you ask, voice breaking as you bring his pointer and middle fingers together.

“Yeah,” he groans, letting his head fall back against the edge of the tub and allowing his eyes to close.

His hand is so much larger than yours, it’s astounding.

“I’m gonna do your other arm,” you tell him quietly in case he dozes off.

Mills nods as you make your way over and repeat your actions from shoulder to fingertips, desperately attempting to assuage the arousal in your core.

This is not the time but… god, he’s so sexy.

Your cloth makes its way to his chest and he releases a puff of air you didn’t realize he’d been holding. His breath had seemed so even-keeled, you hadn’t even considered he might be nervous, too.

Slowly, you cover his collar bones and sternum in suds before turning your attention to his prominent pecs. You swear they’ve gotten bigger since last time you’d seen them. Though, you’re not sure how that’s possible.

Mills moans. “Mmm, feels good,” he whispers as you take your time dipping the cloth into the water and wringing it out, washing away the soap and watching as the droplets race over his muscular chest.

“Do you wanna lean forward for me so I can do your back?” you ask.

He doesn’t immediately move.

“Mills?” you ask gently.

He cracks one eye open. Then smirks as he lowers his hand to the water. Before you can ask again, he makes a fast fist, sending a small spurt of water over the tub’s edge. You gasp when it hits your face and he laughs.

“I see how it is,” you joke, splashing him back.

He laughs harder and then winces, his hand disappearing beneath the water to clutch his ribcage. 

“Ahh,” he gasps. “Don’t make me laugh that hard.”

“Don’t make you laugh?” you ask incredulously, splashing him again.

He smiles and sends another wave your way, this one much bigger than the first. It soaks the front of your white shirt.

“Do you want your back washed or not?” you ask in a ‘now or never’ tone, but your grin gives you away.

“Nah, I’d rather do this.” He raises a hand to the water’s surface and you instinctively pull back.

The damp shirt adheres to your skin with the motion, clinging to the swells of your breasts. Without missing a beat, his eyes drop to your chest and it only makes your already hard-as-pearls nipples even stiffer.

A chill races down your spine when his gaze lifts to find your eyes. You can tell he’s fighting the urge to peer south.

He clears his throat and leans forward.

Your heart falters for a second and when the beat picks back up, it’s faster than you’ve ever felt it. A shaky exhale falls from between your slightly parted lips. Subconsciously, you lick them, waiting for him to lean in a little bit more and kiss you.

“My back?”

“Wh- what?” You’re breathless.

“You were going to wash-”

“Right!” you say, shaking your head. “Right. Yeah.”

His body curls forward a bit more while you position yourself behind him and drag the cloth over the broadest shoulders you’ve ever seen.

It must be heaven to share a bed with him, to feel his weight over you as he kisses your neck and spreads your legs. You can only imagine what it’d be like to have those plush lips exploring your mouth, your skin, your cunt.

You feel dirtier than he’d appeared returning to shelter this evening.

And while your masturbatory concerns should not be at the forefront of your mind considering you are the only remaining survivors from a horrendous crash and now spend every second of every day and night scavenging for food and avoiding becoming dino kibble, you can’t help but think: those fingers would fill you up so much better than your own. 

The only thing that should be less of a focal point than that are the masturbatory habits of the 6’4”, fit, gorgeous, protective man in front of you. 

You are supposed to be assisting him with a necessary task and imagining his cock in his hand is most certainly not helping. 

And yet. 

As you stroke his back, his muscles bulge, contract, flex, and you must admit: you’re baffled. Mills has muscles that you didn’t even know existed. They’re outlined so clearly every time he shifts in the tub and you’re trying to ignore the triangle of strength beneath his underarm but… it’s just so hard and so there.

You’d taken anatomy and you’re pretty sure this man’s back is an anomaly.

You shake yourself from your thoughts and fill your cupped hands with steaming water. 

“I’m gonna do your hair, okay?”

“Sure.”

“Just didn’t wanna drown ya,” you joke, sitting up on your knees. 

Don’t look. Don’t look. Don’t look. 

It would be so easy to gaze over the top of his head at his long legs, perfectly still beneath the water. Too easy to glance between them so you wouldn’t have to imagine anymore. 

Your fingers massage soap into his scalp, earning a couple of moans. His head lolls back into your hands as his shoulders drop. 

Fuck. 

You whimper when it comes into view: his thick cock standing tall, proud, desperate for a channel tighter and slicker than the tub. God, you want to be that for him. It doesn’t help that he clearly wants you to be that for him, too.

Before you lose control, you make a bowl with your hands, scoop water into them, and rinse his hair. 

“I think you’re big- I mean, done,” you stammer. “Done. I… sorry, I don’t know what I was thinking.”

“Thank you,” he says, voice so deep, it could cause this cave to collapse. 

And after the fool you’d just made of yourself, you think that might not be the worst thing. 

“I’m uh… think I can stand on my own.”

“Yeah, yeah,” you say, your own voice so high-pitched, it could shatter glass. “I’ll um… turn around so you can.”

“You don’t…” He trails off and stops talking. 

But you’ve already done so. 

Water sloshes out of the tub behind you and you can only imagine the sight of his large, perfect body soaking wet, wet droplets dripping down over all of the best, toned parts of him. 

“Alright,” he says, but when you turn around, he’s clad just in a makeshift towel, wrapped low around his waist. “Are you still able to…” 

Mills offers his wounded paw to you and it’s so large, taking it in both of your own small hands seems like the only option.

“Of course,” you say, looking up at him.

His eyes drop from your eyes to your lips. He licks his. Then his gaze falls further to your still wet, probably still translucent shirt and your name slips from between his lips, just under his breath.

You’re not sure who moves first. Maybe you move simultaneously.

Regardless, your lips come together in a fiery crash of passion, his wet body pressing against yours. Mills grunts and if he’s hurting, he doesn’t complain. Just cups your cheek with one hand and wraps his other arm around your waist to keep you close. 

Suddenly, your arms find their way around his neck and you’re moaning and it’s like exploring a new, beautiful place and coming home all at once. His tongue breaks past your lips and teeth to find your own, teasing you, breaking you, making you melt. 

“Mills,” you pant, once the kiss breaks. Both of your chests heave in unison.

He lifts his other hand to cup both sides of your face and kisses you once more before resting his forehead to yours.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers. “I… I couldn’t help myself. I’ve wanted to do that for… how long have we been here?”

You laugh and nod. 

“I don’t know anymore. I’ve lost track of time, but… believe me when I say, I’ve wanted it, too. I… I want you, Mills.”

He growls, leans down to kiss you again.

“I… can’t do much more than this tonight,” he admits. “I want to, but…”

“It’s okay,” you whisper. “Let’s get you cleaned up and in bed, hm? I’ll take watch tonight.”

“No need,” he says. “Sleep in my arms. I won’t let anything happen to you.”

You search his soft eyes and your heart squeezes in your chest. “Okay.”

He takes your hand in his, intent on leading you to his makeshift bed but you don’t move. He looks back at you, confused.

You smirk, reaching for his other hand. “Still want me to wrap this up? Or…”

“Oh.” A rosy hue blooms on the apples of his cheeks and he smiles sheepishly. “Please.”

You giggle and sit him down so you can tend to his wounds.

“You won’t have to turn around when I’m getting in and out of the tub now,” Mills says suggestively and you raise an eyebrow. “Because you’ll be getting in with me.”

[baeklination]

With My Favourite Ally

Date: 210923

Warnings: SMUT 🔞, a lot of general fucking, anal, mouth fucking (incl. gagging), sucking, fingering, water*1, eating out, buttplug, gen.expl.lang.

Pairing: Baekhyun x F. Reader

WC: 7,1k

NOTE: *1. Yes, people - we have a shower scene. 2. It's a bit on the rough side at times, so remember that things are said/done in - and with - love.

Masterlist

¤¤

"...so they closed it off, but if you take the exit just before that one you'll be okay", Gemma explains over the speaker.

"Yeah, okay. It should be on the GPS, I think. We wouldn't want to make a…"

"WRONG TURN!"

"WRONG TURN!"

Too many times you've laughed at that joke - too many times you've seen that movie.

"Oh, wait, here he comes", you say, hearing the keys in the door. "Baekhyun..?"

"Yeah..?"

"Your GPS shows roadworks, right?"

"Yeah, sure. Hi", he says, giving you a quick kiss. "Do we have to take a different route?"

"Roadworks. Nothing cumbersome", Gemma assures him.

"Why can't you be friends with people who live in the city", Baekhyun jokes, speaking loudly for Fiona to hear.

"Hey, Baekhyun..! The ocean breeze will do you good, you'll see… So anyway, see you tomorrow? And remember you don't have to…"

A package of hard plastic lands on the table in front of you, flipping it around you raise your eyebrows and look at Baekhyun.

"...just come as you are."

"Yeah, sure. I'll call when we get there, let you know. Bye, Gem."

"Bye..!"

"A little small, no?"

Baekhyun takes a spoonful of your ice cream, shaking his head as he drags the spoon out.

"It's not for you, honey."

"Oh?"

"When you told me you were getting your nails done I felt kinda…"

"Ah, you felt kinda…", you smile at him.

"Yeah. And I thought I'd get an upgrade. You done with dinner?"

"You want to try it now? A size jump? What if it hurts tomorrow?"

He cradles your hand in his, kissing it and smiling mischievously.

"Is that how you felt when you met me..?"

Rolling eyes in head and tongue in mouth, you sigh at his cheek.

"Actually, you're right, Baekhyun. I can't wait."

"And then…", he says, getting to his knees in front of you, putting his hands on your thighs. "...we do it my way."

Baekhyun moans with delight when you press the circle against his hole, securing the plug.

"Can you move?"

"Now why…", he says, pulling you over him. "...are you treating me like a virgin? It's only bigger… Yes, I can move. Or were you hoping I wouldn't be able to..?"

He almost rips your zipper in two when he opens it, but without a care in the world for Maison, he continues to put his hand down your trousers. Twirling your panties around his hand, dragging them upwards, he teases your clit.

"Go change into something I like..?", he asks sweetly, planting juicy kisses on your lips. "Maybe...something black..? Do that for me?"

The way he asks, you'd wear any and every piece of clothing he likes… But also: the way he asks, what he likes may be in tatters by morning, so you don't pick from the high-end side. Giving him a dramatic twirl (mostly in jest) you show off your pick: a spaghetti-strapped mesh body - black.

"Good enough?"

He stops stroking himself, eagerly opening his arms when you join him on the bed - you in turn eagerly open your lips to his. They move delicately but hungrily on your mouth, matching his hands caressing your waist, thighs and rounding the curve of your ass, jiggling it.

"What's this?", he coos playfully, smacking you.

"Hey, I'm wearing a dress tomorrow. No marks", you remind him.

"The new one?"

"Yes. So don't-"

"Then your body's fine", he says and smacks your ass again. "This is fine.. Now be a good little wifey and lay down."

Placing himself behind you, his arm slides around your neck almost like a chokehold, but he keeps his hand firmly on your shoulder, grounding him.

Lifting your leg, he watches himself fuck you in the mirror, his dark eyes fixed on your stretched out pussy. He bites his lip, moaning as he rolls his now slick cock in and out.

"Move it…", he whispers deeply behind your ear, referring to the mesh covering you. "I want to see when you get swollen."

Baekhyun's not alone in enjoying the view; seeing yourself being filled by him adds a lewd layer to the act - one you've been partial to since the days you used to do it in front of his TV, for lack of a big mirror.

"This plug...mh…"

"Is it better..?"

"It's on my g-spot every time I push...and with your pussy around me…", he mumbles stickily, moving faster. "Ohh…"

You feel his entire range of motion with his length, curving up, getting thicker, lodging deep - in this position he even strokes just below your entrance when he slides in and out.

"And I thought I was the main event…", you moan, pressing on his back.

"You are my main event."

Letting go of your leg he closes his mouth around your breast, sucking and dragging his teeth over it, breathing salaciously. His saliva is stuck between the pattern of the mesh when he removes his mouth to pull it down, kissing roughly directly on your skin. Your fingers on his neck draws his attention to your mouth, where he buries his tongue deep, tasting every part of it and pushing his hand between your now closed legs and lets it rest in its tight fit as he thrusts hard into you from behind.

Moving back to kneel, he moves the skin on his cock over its head. When it glides over your tongue you taste yourself before his pre-cum eventually dominates the taste in your mouth. It doesn't take long for it to be clear he doesn't want a blowjob, not the way he's pushing his pelvis forward, steadying your head with a hand on the side of your face, so you stay still.

"Mmm...look at that…"

Throwing a glance at the mirror you're met by your puffed up cheeks trying to keep up with Baekhyun's cock.

"Ahh...look at that", he moans huskily, dropping his head back, grabbing his shaft tightly, squeezing a ring around it with his thumb and index, thrusting faster.

Your nose starts running along with your eyes. He ignores the small jerking of your body - he wants the big one. Blowing out air through your coughing, he gets it. You groan, catching your breath, and shake your head at him and his antics.

His hands are soft going down the sides of your face, as soft as soft as his chuckle and subsequent kiss on your temple before he straightens up, angling your head up to take him in your mouth again.

"Don't block me, honey", he demands in a sweet voice, juxtaposed to his wish to shove his cock down your throat.

Trying a slower approach, he lets you relax your jaw before letting him in, the head of his cock now just nudging down the rounded back of your mouth.

Even though tears have stopped gathering in your eyes from roughness, the slow pace means your larynx is blocked for a longer period, so you start feeling your chest - lungs - contract. Trying to match your breaths with his thrusts, you look up at him - the pout on his lips, tilted head and petting of your head tells you he knows exactly what's going on. For Baekhyun it's not about the sensation, not even about the gagging right now; he likes to know that his cock is lodged in your throat, that he has that kind of wife. Slipping his other hand behind your neck he pushes deep, making your muscles try to swallow him - literally. He groans and sucks in through his teeth, exhaling as he slides in again, his stomach pressing on your head.

"Breathe…", he hums, but knows it's gonna be impossible.

Not pulling out for even half a breath, he rolls his hips in quick succession, making you heave and pull back in no time. So, sitting back you glare at him - an act of complaint he adores. You turn sideways, pushing him away when he comes closer. When he tries to grab your hand you swat his away, but Baekhyun's fast; gripping your wrist before you can pull it back he bends your arm behind you. You lean forward to get away from the pain, enabling him to grab your other arm, essentially cuffing them on your back, pushing your head into the mattress. Sure, you could fight him - but do you really want to..?

Aggressively pulling your lingerie to the side he rams his cock into you.

"Ah...Ah", he growls with every hard thrust. "You think I can't see how wet you are?...Ah… Don't pretend you don't like it...Mh!"

Unintentionally, you moan, biting your lip when his groin smacks against you.

"That's it, honey...show me how you feel…", he continues, running his hand up your ass to your hip.

Taking his cock out, he flicks it back-and-forth over your anal, his breathing shaky - he's about to come. Moaning loudly as he slides back in, he lets go of your arms and holds your hips.

"Uh, fuck..!", he groans, as he rams his cock into you as fast as he can. "Shit, turn around… Uh, turn around..."

His speech is barely more than a huff. The moment you start, he pulls out, roughly grabbing your neck and pumps his cock.

"Aghh...aghh", he growls deeply, as his cum spurts over your face. "Ohhh... oh, shi…"

He crashes into the mattress knitting his brows, a necklace of sweat around his throat, glistening down between his pecs.

"Baekhyun..!", you whine, holding your hand out, keeping one eye shut tight.

Swinging his arm by the edge of the bed he comes up with his trousers in hand and gives them to you.

"Here..", he breathes hard, his stomach rising high.

After wiping his cum off, you tuck your hand under his thigh, but he's quick - so quick - to catch it.

"Don't even think about it…"

You bury your head in the covers, jokingly muttering he's no fun. He laughs, but cuts and jumps to a loud wail, again feeling how exhausted he is.

"How was it? I guess I don't have to ask, but..."

"How was it..?", he echoes, putting his hand on his cock. "I… Felt like the pressure of a goddamn fire hose went through me…", he says, rolling over, nuzzling your neck. "But you already know all about that, don't you?"

Sliding his hand between your legs, he glances up and sighs.

"I'll buy you a new one."

•

Whether it's because he feels he might've been a bit too rough or because he actually only has softness left, that's what you always get from him after this type of sex.

Pulling you down to sit on his lap, you brush your teeth in sync, the shushushu filling the bathroom of your otherwise still apartment. Even being done before you he waits, biting his toothbrush between his teeth, resting his hand on your lower back.

The start of a relationship is usually where you do everything together, but the both of you having tiny bathrooms back then meant one at a time which years on turned into double sinks. If Baekhyun is home - if you are - you wash up together. Not saying much, but together.

His stretched out arm is the airstrip personnel: "land here", which you gratefully do. The sheets are cold and make you shiver, but between pulling the covers and finding the warmth of his torso, you soon cosy on in.

"No ailments to report..?", he asks, stroking your arm.

"Nope", you shake your head on his chest. "I guess I'll see the final product tomorrow, but I shouldn't have any problems with the dress. But if I do…"

"If you do, huh..?", he smiles and tips your chin up for a kiss.

Musing for a second he starts giggling, his chest bobbing under your head.

"What?"

"Do you… Do you want me to dig up my old Halloween costume just to be safe? The mummy?"

With Baekhyun being such a dork, even laughing at his own lame jokes, how could you not follow suit?

"Pff, knowing you, you probably already have at least three dirty ideas about it…"

"I might. And knowing you…", he says, stretching to turn off the light."...you probably already have four."

Kissing you good night on the forehead he settles into the mattress with a faint grunt, like a thud in his throat, wrapping his arms tighter around you.

•

You're woken up by Baekhyun's knuckles gracing your ass.

"I know you're not thinking about putting your dick in me before saying good morning…", you mumble, drunk with sleep, not even opening your eyes.

"Never, ma'am", he whispers, keeping his laughter in his throat.

After some shifting, rustling and cool air hitting your back you feel his palm on your cheek, pulling it up. He places a soft kiss on your entrance, following with a few licks, and another kiss.

"Good morning."

"No, stay", you urge, trying to put your hand on his head under the covers.

He tsks when he comes up, pulling your lower body closer.

"I tagged you first. Besides…", he says, pushing the head of his cock into you. "...you'll barely notice, sleepy head."

Not yet wet, the spit on his cock helps, but doesn't provide the same sensuous glide as the real deal, but he semi-waits patiently; only the shortest thrusts once he's lodged his cock in you. Stroking your thigh, your stomach, kissing your shoulder, lightly pinching your nipple between his fingers while your breast lays in his palm. When you place your hand over his and push your ass back he extends his range of motion - now with the sweet glide of your juice - pressing firmly against your body, almost pausing, with every thrust. Turning towards him you tangle your fingers in his hair and enjoy the deep taste of his tongue.

"I guess a good night really does bring a good morning", you smile.

"Then I think it's gonna be a very good morning", he whispers over your lips.

Contrary to increasing his speed, he pulls out altogether and rolls out of bed. Neither far nor long though; he just gets up to pull the curtain to the side. Not completely, just enough to let in more than the echo of light you had, the overcast sky notwithstanding. His naked silhouette is gorgeous against the sliver of daylight - overcast as it may be - shining behind him and as he comes back his wet cock sways with his footsteps.

You get on his lap the moment he sits down, pushing your pussy against his length.

"Sit on me", he whispers hoarsely against your neck, gripping the underside of your legs.

You press his cock harder against your clit, in your hand feeling exactly how turned on he is, and let it stroke you before raising yourself up - and sliding down. Being pushed, Baekhyun doesn't mind laying, barely keeping his hands on your waist, biting his lips, as you pound him.

His thickness feels good, there's no need to rush. The sensation of your entrance hugging around him when you slide up, as if not wanting to let go, the way it stretches when he fills you.

He hums and caresses your stomach with his thumbs, cocking his head.

"Are you trying to get me to breed you, mama..?"

"No…", you shake your head, dropping to his chest, smiling at his remark.

Wrapping his arms around you, light as feathers, he rounds his length deep inside.

"Then why are you working my cock like that, hm?", he asks softly in your hair.

"Cus it's what I like…"

"It's what you like..? Well if it's what you like…"

He lets you sit back up again, but holds your hips firmly above his body, and thrusts. Bracing with his feet he goes just like you did, precise and hard, purposefully hitting your spot to bring out your orgasm. Even behind all the layers of hunger in his eyes, love is evident; the way he looks to see that he pleases you, does it the way you like it even though his morning hard-on is telling him to F...you...up.

With so many years passed, nearly all insecurities about being on display are far gone; you freely touch yourself in front of him - for him. Sliding your palms up your nipples sends a spark to your core, so, wetting your fingers, you run them over your clit, a signal to Baekhyun to thrust faster. With that, he starts moaning, joining in with your heavy breaths and the wet claps from your bodies.

"Baby…", you moan, dropping your head back.

It's impossible not to move your body, make the smacking harder as your fingers work deliciously on your clit. Baekhyun has always loved his morning naughties, so you bite your lip, squeeze your breast and look at him, eyes fluttering.

"Make me come, honey…"

He shivers, then he grunts, and digs his fingers into you. His pounding vibrates all between your legs as his cock pierces you over and over, and it starts your legs stiffening. You tremble and rub harder, desperately keeping your hand in place despite your tense muscles until it hits; shaking, wailing, releasing more fluids on Baekhyun's cock, you come.

He waits patiently as you ride it out, slowly pushing in and out, enjoying the mess you've made on him. Sliding out, you slump down next to him.

"I should start breakfast…", you breathe heavily, pretending to get up.

Baekhyun's hand encircles your upper arm - with a little smack due to the sweaty impact - and he comes up close behind.

"You - wife - are not going anywhere", he huffs, and kneels behind you.

"Higher", you say looking back at him, when he aligns himself.

Laying down on your back, kissing your shoulder he coos:

"Higher?", and wets his finger, gently sliding it in your ass. "You mean here..?"

When you arch deeper he giggles against your back.

"Yeah, I think you mean...right...here…"

Dropping a big ball of spit on his fingers, he smears it over your hole and presses the smooth head of his cock in, taking his time.

"Ahh...ahh...", he moans with every thrust, getting closer to being fully inside you.

Putting his arm around your neck, the right hand holding your hip, he finds his tempo. Seeing your ass being pushed up with every slap from his crotch is the perfect compliment to his burning breath on your shoulder and the ohh's that roll off his tongue every other time he bottoms out.

Pushing in deep, he changes to pressing his elbows in the mattress, clasping his hands together in front of your chest. It's barely that the rest of his body moves, only his ass swinging up and down, pushing your spine together; it's times like these you wish for some kind of reflection, to see Baekhyun's glutes tightening, the curve of his ass down to the back of his equally taut thighs.

"Ah….hhh...hhh...", he breathes hard, a spray of saliva landing on your neck, and he continues. "...hhh...uh, uh, ah", grips your pelvis hard, ramming, heaving out air as he comes in shaky thrusts.

Slowing down, he bounces against your ass, pushes deep, pulling you towards him, moaning. Even after he's settled he sweeps the hair from your neck, kisses you and, humming, rolls his hips.

•

When he's finally ready to get going his embrace reveals his hard-on, so you stick your butt out, poking him.

"Fina-"

"Ooh, don't", he groans and holds you still.

You turn around and look at him, surprised by his odd response.

"I want it to go down", he says and chuckles. "It's 'cus I put the plug in…"

"You did..? That's why you were taking so long..!", you exclaim with a big smile. "Really? Did you really?"

"I did really", he says, mimicking your tone, kissing you over the brow. "It was easier when you did it…"

"Tense?"

"Mm-hm…", he nods, putting his shoes on. "But it's fi-ine now. Shit..."

Straightening himself up, he puts his hand over his bulge and bites his lip.

It's both sexy and sweet, knowing he has it in - and that he did it in part for you.

"Are you gonna be okay to drive?", you ask, trying not to laugh.

"I'll be fine, hun. And when we get there…", he says, lifting his brow with a smile.

•

After some initial gasping and groaning, Baekhyun managed to get used to sitting with the plug, and now, twenty minutes on, you don't pay it very much mind - except for the occasional realisation that the sexiest man you know is three feet away from you with a sex toy in his ass.

With not much traffic outside of the city, Baekhyun is free to let his fingertips caress the nape of your neck as you lean towards the window, into the warming sunlight.

"I really love fucking you in the ass in the morning…", he says languidly.

"You make it sound as if I usually say no…", you murmur.

"No", he says, weaving his fingers into yours, giving your hand a kiss before resting them on your thigh. "Not at all."

With such a picturesque atmosphere it's no wonder you doze off.

Baekhyun loves singing in the car and though he's dreadfully out of tune it makes you happy to see him happy; tapping his thumb on the steering wheel, swaying his head, feeling good.

"...gateun geudaen yeppeoyo-oh-oh-ooh..!"

"CHUAYO!"

"CHUAYO!"

"Oh, you're up."

"Mm…", you sigh drowsily. "What time is it?"

"Hm, ten to four."

"Oh, it felt more like an hour than fifteen."

"Did I wake you up too early this morning? Go back to sleep...", he says, stroking your head.

"I'm not tired anymore. I wasn't even to begin with, I think."

Why are men sexy when they drive? There's nothing inherently sexy about, yet they are. At least your man is…

Nonchalantly you place your hand between his legs. He doesn't say anything, merely grunts when he slides forward a bit, touching the corners of his mouth with his fingers. He quickly becomes stiff in your hand - partly thanks to his toy, you suspect - so you put your hand down his trousers. A nudge with your fingers and his cock stands straight up in his boxers, an appetising protrusion against your palm. His hand automatically finds your thigh, squeezing it, when you drag your nails over the rim of his head. Faintly bucking his groin, he looks in both the rearview- and side mirror.

"Take it out", he says, voice thick with lust.

Contrary to traffic safety regulations you slip under the top part of the belt and lean to his side. Not pulling his pants down means you can't access his entire length, but it's nonetheless a good mouthful. Baekhyun's cock still tastes of this morning's semen since you decided on showering on arrival, bringing up images of the morning as well.

"Agh…"

His fingers tip tap under the hem of your trousers, trying to slide in, grab your ass, but it's too tight, so he lets them rest where they are. His arousal amuses you, so you push him to the back of your throat.

"Mmm...", he groans, running his hand up your back. "Let's pull in at a rest stop…"

Releasing him, but pumping, you shake your head. Throwing a glance to the side he looks almost worried, running his hand along your neck, his thumb petting your earlobe.

"Why not..?"

Then he chuckles softly through his nose and manages to put at least half of his mouth on your lips while still watching the road.

"Is it too base for my baby? Hm..?"

"No, but it's too soon for my baby", you say and sit back, nodding towards his backside.

He grimaces and squeezes himself, letting go with a loud sigh and pulls his trousers up.

"I know… You're right."

"You'll thank me when we get there", you affirm and take his hand.

"Oh, I'll something you…"

•

"...are you sure? Oh, my god, I'm so sorry."

"It's o-kay, relax..!", Gemma assures you on the other end of the line. "It's not your fault the highway jammed up, and I much prefer to have you guys groomed and clean when you do get over here."

"Argh..! Yeah, I know, but aish… Whatever, okay. We'll hurry up and see you soon."

After making good time - not pulling in at a rest stop - the highway had suddenly become crammed with cars with little to no movement in forty-five minutes, leading to you having circa fifteen minutes until the party starts.

"What'd she say?", Baekhyun asks, hanging up your dress on the closet door.

"You know her, doesn't sweat a thing. I would've said the same thing, it's just different being on this side of things", you sigh, putting your hair in a bun. "It's okay if I don't wash it, right?"

"Oooh, baby, you're so dirty…", he jokes, putting his arms around you. "But if you want to, there's time. I don't want to hurt you, but I think it's time you knew…"

"What?", you squint your eyes at him.

"Gemma...has other friends to hang out with. She's been seeing them behind your ba-…"

"Oh, I knew it was gonna be some-..!", you holler and break free, continuing to undress. "I'll be fifteen minutes."

Wringing out the water from your hair you hear the woosh of the glass door sliding and get a chill on your body.

"Has it been fifteen minutes already?"

"Maybe ten…", he says, stepping in behind you, his cock swaying stiffly.

Grabbing the shower head from you, he lets the water drench his hair, run over his closed eyes, down his body. Combing his hair back and wiping his face he smiles cheekily and starts screwing the shower head off its hose. The water flows out concentrated but soft, like from a gardening hose, so partly covering it with his thumb he regulates the water's pressure and backs you into the corner.

"We've got time."

Feeling behind his balls your fingers meet the plug; you pull it out just an inch and slide it back. Baekhyun moans, enveloping his lips over yours.

"Finally…"

He doesn't have to tell you to spread your legs, you do it eagerly when he puts the water stream to your stomach and brings it downward. The first hit on your clit gets you up on your toes, gasping, pushing your pelvis out. Baekhyun giggles in your mouth and curls two fingers into you, at the same time spraying the water on your clit again. You moan, grabbing his neck - unsuccessfully trying to grind against it, while he fiercely fucks his fingers into you.

"That's my baby", he whispers, turned on by your whines in his ear.

You pull up the skin to reveal the most sensitive part of your clit and when he aims for it your muscles immediately contract, pushing your pelvis out even further. Your mouth hangs open as you claw at his neck, convulsing on his pounding hand, crying out in pained wails.

"Shh, baby", he laughs at your excessive volume, but flicks his fingers over your clit, making you jerk and whine all the more while you come down.

Offhandedly tossing the hose to the side, pressing close, he lifts your leg and slides his hand behind your head. Sucking roughly on your lips he caresses his cock against you, looking for your entrance. Finding it, he nudges the tip in, then rounds out and snaps his pelvis.

"Ah, fuck", you gasp, putting your arm around his shoulders for support.

Continuing snapping, he doesn't stop kissing you. They're both rough, both what you want.

"Now, about what happened in the car…", he coos, looking at you while ramming his cock as deep as he can.

"What..?", you gasp. "What happened..?"

He leans in again, his back becoming hunched with every new thrust as he quickens the tempo. He exhales in high-pitched moans coated in honey, telling of his desire for you.

Water sloshes on the floor when he gets new footing, digging his fingers into your ass, his face in your shoulder. His wet hair gets plastered to his - and your - skin. Pounding into you, yet moving you along with him, he whispers hoarsely:

"I'm your husband, you shouldn't deny me these things…"

Fighting to even catch your breath between the gasps, answering him is not a priority. Being on time isn't a priority - not having your shoulder blades ground to dust against the tiles isn't a priority.

His even-paced pants are interrupted by a deep-chested trembling and his precise smacking turns to rolling when he comes.

"Ah-h-h...ash… A-HH, A-HH, AH, fu…", he moans and cries into your neck, filling you with his cum.

He pushes so deep while riding it out you have to push his shoulders down in turn; he understands, goes a little easier, a little gentler each time, ending up slowly rolling while lavishing juicy kisses on your lips.

Puffs of the giggle through his nose tickle you over the lip and he slides his length out and look down, kicking in the water.

"Leave it…", you sigh, sliding down to the floor, when he bends to grab the hose. "I'll finish up showering from down here… Come. I'll take it out."

So, kneeling in front of you, he arches with a faint moan as you drag the plug out.

"Freedom…"

"Oh, 'cus I'm the one who told you to wear it then work yourself up…"

"You are the one who worked me up, hun", he reminds you, screwing the showerhead back on and giving it to you.

•

"Eh...I don't-"

"I know, but wait 'til you see it on", Baekhyun says, holding his finger up.

Taking his first option off, he pulls the second over his head. You cock your head, knitting your brows.

"Huh?"

"I know, right?", he smiles, holding out his arms.

"How has it done that?", you exclaim in surprise.

In his hand, this flowy silk shirt looked like a woman's blouse, particularly with the knit lace encircling its short sleeves, but on him it - he - looks suave and sexy in a casual way.

"I love it. Ugh… What… And it goes great with the pants."

"Right? Even if it's all black it's a little something, something. I'm just gonna", he says and grabs his watch from the nightstand. "You ready?"

"Technically, but hmm, I don't know… Feels like something's missing…", you muse, looking in the mirror.

"Feeling a little competitive..?", he teases, looking in the mirror behind you. "Didn't you bring earrings? The small gold ones?"

"Ah!"

He breathes in loudly, smacking his lips with a nod; you know him well enough to sigh and wait for his joke about being a top fashionista.

•

"Brubububruuu..!"

"We're not that late..!", you holler, refusing to accept Michael's impromptu trumpet work.

"I had my finger on the dial to Missing People - whow! Coming through with the fashions, bro'. Nice!", he roars when Baekhyun takes off his jacket.

"Aeh…", he sighs and helps you with yours like the gentleman he is. "I have to make an effort when the missus looks like this."

Waving at a few familiar faces, your attention is diverted when Gemma appears in the kitchen door, crossing her arms:

"Well, well... Look who decided to show up!"

You extend your arm, bottle of gin in hand.

"For being late", you grimace apologetically.

"...and you know it's all her fault", Baekhyun says, pointing his thumb at you.

"...since way back in school, I've known them", Gemma explains to one of her guests.

You're not the type of couple to hang on each other's arms the whole night, but being midway through your second drink your eyes keep travelling across the room to where Baekhyun is. There's something unusually alluring about the way he looks in that shirt, be it the thin fabric whispering about his body underneath, the lace hanging off his triceps when he takes a sip or the three buttons he left undone so you'd be "begging for me to take you round back", as he had put it before you left.

Catching you eye, he casually pours a glass of water, takes a sip and - not so accidentally - spills, the water running down his neck to his chest.

"Whow. Here...", Michael says, handing him some paper.

"Thanks."

After patting his neck dry he goes to his chest, opening another button to reach, casting an eye your way.

"Ah...ah...", he moans quietly, the soft, wet clapping matching him.

Unlike in the shower, his hands now hug your hips softly as he takes you from behind. His boxers - anchored around his thighs - grace the inside of your leg as he moves.

Needs knows no bounds so for now a house wall to lean against and an outdoor sofa to rest your leg on is as good as any bedroom.

"Don't look now...", he whispers amused, lowering himself to your ear. "But I think someone's looking…"

You shut your eyes to not accidentally search for whoever it is.

"Where..?"

"You know the edge of the lawn..? He's pretending to be on the phone, maybe he is, but he keeps walking back and forth, looking here every time..."

"You wanna go back in?"

"No. I want to show you off", he says and pulls up your dress to the small of your back. "Should I spank your ass with my cock..?", he snickers.

"Shh, don't overdo it. Don't embarrass him."

"He's the little perv, spying on us. Or maybe you told him to come out..? Ah…Oh...I know how you like an audience…"

"So do you."

Carefully looking to your side, you spot him - and he's indeed a little spy. Baekhyun's right about you liking an audience, so you arch a little deeper, bend your knee higher up. Turning to face him you mouth "faster", so he goes faster, sliding his hands down your cheeks, pressing them apart. Cocking his head he can't resist to caress your anal with his thumb and moans..

His tongue plays in the side of his mouth, as if he knows your secret, knows what a dirty little girl you are, wanting him so bad you don't care who sees.

"I'm….ssh, pulling out...", he says, wetting his thumb then continues to rub.

"Wait 'til we get home…"

"Not like that", he says, letting the tip of his finger slide in, not at all having meant for it to be his length.

Even just that bit of stimulation increases your arousal, so you push back on him. Following your lead, he presses his entire thumb in, breathing all the harder.

"No, no…", he pants after a while, more so to himself than you. "I'm teasing myself..."

"You're not gonna come?"

"No", he replies, on his way over the edge. "Ahh...no, I'm waiting...ah...ah, shit."

He pulls out at the last minute, grabs the shaft of his cock and leans over you with stuttering breaths.

"Fucking close…"

•

Baekhyun's curious way of sleeping when you're out of town continues; at home he likes his side, anywhere else and he tends to stay on yours. As if he's barely moved, his head is tucked deep in the pillow, his arm seemingly slid off your waist lying just behind your back. Knowing he's had a rough week at work you decide to let him sleep in, tuck your feet in the courtesy slippers and carefully close the door behind you.

Finding an - equally courteous - robe in the bathroom you take a deep breath, smelling the hem of it. It is just a morning robe, but the stitching reminds you of the dobok Baekhyun used to wear for hapkido, when you'd pretend to be watching any- and everyone compete until he finally asked you out. He's really loved you for that long...

It's a lovely day. There's no sunny sky, or birdsong when you open the kitchen window, but an overcast, quiet morning. It might be in your head, but you imagine getting a whiff of the salty ocean and decide to have your coffee outside (hoping the beach hammock you've set your sights on doesn't flip you over).

Sighing over just how randomly you managed to pick a random magazine from the pile, you welcome the low snort coming from inside. Bending your knees, letting the robe slide from your legs, you pretend to not notice and continue "reading". A cheeky whistle rings out from the kitchen window.

"My, my…"

Bingo. Hiding behind the magazine, you compose yourself and count to three before dropping it on the grass, and sure as salt on fries, there he walks across the lawn.

"I thought I'd let you sleep in."

"M-hm…", he murmurs, opening his robe, showing his hardening cock. Stroking the back of your thigh he gives you a kiss. "How'd you sleep?"

"I was out in five. You?"

"Same", he nods, letting his robe fall down.

Straightening your legs up, he kisses a trail from your calf downwards, caressing the back of your legs. When his eyes meet yours he spanks your cheek, a quick flick of the wrist causing a lashing effect. He smiles at your jolting and the subsequent bucking of your hips in pleasure.

"Did you put the plug in again?"

"No…", he shakes his head, guiding his cock into you. "You're still my favourite toy."

It's a tighter squeeze with having your legs closed, but it means his length strokes your entrance harder - a different nuance. And when he hikes your legs up, hugging your thighs, you almost feel like a toy; letting your body bounce up and down on meeting his energetic rolling, stroking you here, digging his fingers into you there, biting his lip with dark eyes fixed on yours - Baekhyun knows full well this is the position that makes you feel the most filthy. Because with no anchoring, there's nothing you can do, no action to take than to be fucked by him. Your powerlessness makes you squirm, but also makes you wet. When Baekhyun fucks you like this...your brain goes splat. And of course, he wouldn't be Baekhyun if he didn't tease you about it. Chuckling, sucking on your leg, he coos:

"Mmpoor baby…"

Closing your eyes earns you a rough slam.

"Look at me, honey…"

Continuing with the same, hard, thrusts, he lets out a cascade of sweet moans and hums, he himself eventually closing his own eyes, elation painted on his face. Letting himself be momentarily swept away, he comes back with a few deep, soft thrusts before pulling out, spreading your bent legs. Untying the belt still round your waist, he leans in, dousing you in moany kisses, circling his thumb over your nipple. Backing, kneeling high in the grass, he softly feathers his fingertips on your thighs, his kisses leading the way, sending shivers through your body. When he reaches the edge between your legs and pussy, he runs them along it, up...down...up...down...up...down, letting his fingers follow the curve close to your hole, meeting just below it. By the pull of his lips you can tell he's near bursting with desire to eat you out, yet he waits - not only to tease you, but for your pleasure.

Sliding his fingers up, onto your folds, he carefully parts them, making sure you feel the stretch on your clit. Knowing better than to rush him all you can do is caress yourself, try not to roll your hips.

"You're swollen…", he whispers, swaying his head, taking a deep breath. Stroking circles on your ass with his thumbs, he at last lets his lips touch you, a juicy kiss just under your entrance. Wrapping his arm around your leg, he lets his fingers glide over your entrance, collecting fluids which he uses to slide up either side of your clit, massaging while continuing working under your entrance.

You watch with anticipation when he comes closer. Barely opening his mouth he envelopes your clit, letting his slick lips slide from it before doing it again.

"Put your fingers inside…", you whisper, tangling your fingers in his hair.

He calmly takes it away with a mild "no..." and flicks his tongue over you, gently panting. You moan and automatically bring your hand back - a phenomenal pain electrifies your core up to your chest when he spanks your clit. Don't means don't. He smiles at you while lapping to soothe it, putting some pressure on your entrance, rubbing it, while you grip your thighs in want.

"Get down here", he says, sliding his hands to your waist.

Tipping over in his lap with a yelp, you welcome feeling his body against yours for a moment before he gets you on your back.

Spreading his thighs wide, he steers his cock down and pushes it into you. Knowing you're definitely ready, he sets a quick pace from the get, hooking his hands at the top of your legs, pulsating firmly. Paying special attention to his shaft he makes sure it meets your body with each thrust, squeezing his balls on your ass. The entrance stimulation - smacking and stretching - releases more juice, leading to wetter claps.

He lets you pull him down, but keeps pounding like before, supporting himself on his knees, grunting when you dig your nails in his ass - separating them gives his sensitive hole a tickle.

He breathes wetly next to you, lying down, rocking your body as well as he begins billowing his hips, lifting you up by your ass to get - and give - a deeper hit. The smell of his perfume long gone, only the scent of his slept in skin remains, mixing with notes of freshly cut grass as your moving's broken it to release its scent.

"Mhh", he grunts in your neck. "I love you…".

Raising his head, the muscles on his back grow even stiffer, protruding above his spine. Barely finishing your kiss, he whispers "I love you" in your mouth, his wet lips caressing yours before a wail rings in your head. Dropping his head he stutters, his breath hitching as he swings his hips back-and-forth erratically, fucking his cum into you.

"Uh...ah...mmmm…", he moans, pressing deeply.

His breath is hot on your collarbone, his stomach pushing down on yours as he pants and swallows hard.

"Marry me."

"Marr…", you stutter, breathing heavily, then laugh, seeing as how you already are. "What if I say no..?"

"Nah-ah, marry me...", he says again, peppering tickling kisses on your neck.

You cry out and try to get away, to no avail.

"Okay, okay! On one condition."

"What?", he asks, looking at you.

"Finish what you started…"

A sly smile spreads across his face then he showers you with kisses again.

"You're gonna marry me so many times over..."

[joshslater]

Unmuted

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Micah had pinned and focused Hannah's camera while Ms. Cooper's slide deck was running in the corner of the screen. The slow decline over the past year of zoom classes meant that clothes had been increasingly loose-fitting and comfortable.  Micah had never been much for dressing up for school in the first place, so his white tank top and gym shorts weren't that far off from what he would wear a year ago. Hannah on the other hand used to be meticulous with her outfits and makeup. Now she was sitting in front of the camera in just a white tank top of her own, but one of those loose ones. Micah was pretty sure she didn't even have a bra on today. He would usually be able to make out a black or red sports bra on mornings when she wore the white top, so he was extra focused today. Then it happened, what he had waited for. She reached out for the teacup she had somewhere up and to the right of the computer screen, showing her cleavage for the camera in the process. You could clearly see her smooth, perky breasts, bogged down by gravity as she leaned forward. The light from the screen and presumably Ms. Cooper's slide deck lit up the cave the webcam was peering into. Micah imagined the warm air in there. She used to smell of lavender. "Yeah, show those tiddies!"

"Who said that?" Ms. Cooper demanded. Micah pressed mute faster than anything he had done in his life. Everyone else was silent too, and all other participants were on mute as well as far as he could see. Hannah was blushing, though there was no way for her to know the comment was about her. Micah felt hot too, and a knot in his stomach, but at least his face looked the same as far as he could tell.

"No one?" she continued. "Well, we are just about at the hour so let's break here. Whoever that was, I hope you grow a pair and apologize for it when you've had some time to think about it. See you all on Wednesday." People started to drop off well before she finished the sentence. Micah pressed End Call and threw himself back in the chair. That was close!

He still didn't feel well. Flush and high pulse as if his adrenaline was running. There wasn't anything to be afraid of, but still he felt like he had just escaped a death trap, or that he was hunted. He didn't know if he felt shame that Hannah blushed, or a bit of horny pride that he made her do it. He didn't make her expose herself for the entire class though, so why should he feel bad?

Then came the convulsion. It was like his back contracted, contorting the rest of his body into an arch, and jutting his chest violently forward. His front felt a flash of warmth, like someone threw a water balloon that had rested in the sun straight at him. He could hear the sound of ripped fabric, but all he could see was the ceiling. His head was swimming, like he was about to faint. For a second or two he was fixed like that, afraid that any attempt to move would just make him tumble out of the chair and smash into the floor, until just as abruptly all the tense muscles relaxed and he fell back into the office chair.

He could feel them rubbing against his arms even before he looked down at his new, enormous pecs. They weren't impossibly large like porn star breast implants, but you would have to really dedicate yourself to work up that size of male pecs, something he had never attempted or even wanted. At the front of the chest both nipples, at least double their previous size, protruded out and slightly down. There was no PG way of wearing a tank top anymore, he realized. Or T-shirt, or polo shirt, or most shirts. Even a sweatshirt wouldn't really hide that they were there.

Perhaps that was the idea. Was this Ms. Cooper's doing? Or Hannah's? Or something else altogether. He brushed against one of the nipples and a shiver shot down his spine to his dick. He realized he had another problem as well to urgently deal with.

[nootgi]

Control - MLQC Victor

Victor. In all of Loveland city this man was known as a successful and stoic CEO. His face always had a look of indifference and never showed what was ticking away in his mind. His sharp eyes gleamed dominance and control, just a glare could leave someone shaking in their boots. When the tabloids tried to press and probe into his life, they found nothing but empty rumours and dead ends. He's kept tight reigns on his personal life. No-one could imagine what he does in his personal life. No-one knows what the stone faced CEO does in his free time. No-one except me.

A:N:// this is me posting from my ao3 account onto tumblr! if you wanna read it there my username is the same as my tumblr! Anyways this was from a while back during my pegging spree- 

Word Count: 2130

Warnings: Bottom Victor, Nipple clamps, Bondage and a whole lotta teasing

When I had first met Victor, he walked into the building with people flying around him to bow and appear busy. He oozed confidence from the way his shoulders were pulled back and how his long strides made it seem like he was gliding with each step. His hair shined in the sun, making my fingers itch to run through it. When he stood in front of me, he was looking down at me, literally and figuratively. I was practically eye level with his chest and thought to myself 'Does he really need that tight of a shirt!?' The shirt practically stuck to his chest, showing the perfect slope of his pecs and his small waist. His shadow had literally swallowed me up as he towered over me and there was that infuriatingly cocky smirk on his face when he challenged me. What I would do to wipe that off his face.

Monday, 1:55pm.

Lunch was just coming to an end as tired workers made their way back to the office. The building once again bustled with life as Goldman rushed out of the elevator. He was off schedule a little, he and Victor needed to leave ASAP to even reach the meeting on time. He silently prayed for himself as he reached for the handle of Victor's office door. Suddenly the sound of footsteps, telephones ringing and everyone paused. Silence.

From the silence sounded out a whimper. "Are you ready for your challenge Victor?"

In the center of the open office space was Victor, kneeling. His arms offered him no support as they were tied behind his back with the purple tie he was previously wearing. Moments before the pause he was sitting at his desk till a certain dummy had walked in with her swaying hips and sultry eyes. His neat shirt was undone and his chest was littered with countless lipstick stains and bite marks. Each left with a painstakingly slow pace, fueling the fire burning inside of Victor even more. Her kisses had trailed down his torso, avoiding his nipples, only leaving feather-like touches on them. Every touch from her felt scorching, like her hands were trying to burn themselves into Victor's mind. Feel her even when she's not there. The pants she took off next with swift hands, leaving Victor bare in his office. The cold air from the AC was a sharp contrast to the throbbing heat between Victor's legs, unconsciously he bucked his hips drawing a laugh out of her. Her hands instantly went exploring the newfound expanse, from his feet to his thighs. She massaged her way up, slowly removing the tenseness from the muscles. She always knew the right places to calm his body down. Behind her hands followed her lips, each press made his body melt and just as he was fully relaxed a sharp bite was left of his inner thigh. Startled, he let a moan slip from his lips and fill the silent office. As it echoed around the room, a beautiful red blush bloomed on Victor's chest and cheeks. She always said red looked amazing on him.

Victor glanced at the clock that read 1:45pm and sighed realising that the foreplay has dragged on a little too long. "You've had your fun teasing me but now it's time to--" Victor began to speak, "Who said the fun was over Victor~?" Her voice was low in his ears, the evil in her laugh made the hairs stand up on the back of his neck. "I don't think so." Victor picking up on she meant, instantly rejected. "Why? You don't think you could be a good boy and show me how strong you are?" As she was speaking, her fingers came up to run through his hair. Victor leans into her touch, enjoying her soft touch. The thought of praise caused the breath to catch in his throat. "Prove it to me Victor, show me how amazing you really are." Her voice caused Victor's body to shiver in anticipation as he nodded eagerly. "I accept, though I doubt a dummy like you could do much to make me lose control." Her eyes shone with determination the moment Victor let that comment out.

"You forget who's in control now."

1:54pm, Victor was tied up with red rope in the middle of his office. His thighs were tied to his calves and kept from touching with a metal bar behind his knees. His cock was left exposed to the world and to make matters (fun) worse, he was facing the door in this position. 'Did she lock it?' as if reading his thoughts she smirked and shook her head. 'I don't need it to be locked. I'll win.' On his tip there was a small vibrator taped against it, the setting currently on a low vibration. There was another vibrator sat below his shaft and slightly touching his balls, leaving much to be desired. Just below that sat the jewel head of a plug, that was slowly inserted into Victor. He was a sight to behold. His back was straight and shoulders pushed back. He held his head high, purple orbs glazed over with intense lust and concentration. It would appear nothing was bothering him if not for that tremble on his lips.

Victor picked up on the hurried footsteps of Goldman and the second the minute hand moved, time had paused. His heartbeat started to race, now feeling the stakes of their challenge. If he loses control, he will be shamed and humiliated.

"Let's begin." She was now seated at his desk, her newly done nails tapping against the wood. The challenge is to hold time till she is finished with the work she has to do. If he does it successfully there is promise of having her ruin him. The very thought of having her thrust into him steals his nerves and motivates him.

The first ten minutes is uneventful, the constant vibrations are slowly making his tip leak and the liquid is somehow making the vibrations more intense. His muscles are starting to cramp a little causing his body to shift, as he moved his weight onto one knee, the ropes contracted. The rough dig into his skin made him groan and he just knew marks will be left. He tried to peek a look towards the woman and a whine almost slipped past his lips when he had noticed she never even looked his way once. As if feeling his stare her hand rises, holding a remote. The increase in intensity on his cock gave some clue as to what the remote was for. Her eyes lit up in amusement when a choked moan fell from his lips.

"Keep your eyes forward." The ice in her voice left no room for disobedience. His eyes move back to the door handle instantly. His body started to shake, feeling the toll of freezing time and the stimulation. He stares at the door handle, trying to ground himself and zones out.

His concentration is broken when he hears the clicking of heels approach him. His smug smile started to appear thinking that his victory was secured.

"That's all? I thought you were going--" His words were cut off when the sound of chains came from her hands. She crouched down and there was a sneer on her lips.

"You think that low of me, Sir?" Her lip curved up into a cruel smile and the source of the noise was revealed. Nipple clamps. There was a sharp intake of breath as the metal was snapped onto his flesh. Holding the clamps together was a chain which she used as support to lift herself to stand. The tug made a cry leave Victor, to the girl it wasn't hoarse enough too much clarity. She stood over Victor, drawing his face by the chin to look up to her. Her manicured nails felt so good against his scalp when they ran through his raven locks. Her other hand caressed his clenched jaw, soothing the intense look on Victor's face.

"Hmm, you're doing so well baby." That simple praise made Victor arch his back. The amusement that burnt in her eyes were clouded by lust. Victor again was left in the middle of his room, the clamps starting to make his nipples sore.

Another half hour passes when she comes back. She lightly taps on the clamps, making Victor cry out. There's a small laugh as her hands make her way down his chest. They skip over his neglected cock and straight towards the plug. With one push, Victor was sprawled on his back and legs spread in the air. She ran her nails along the back of his thighs, light red streaks following behind. Her fingers wrap around the base of the plug and Victor holds his breath. She pulls it out till the tip is left and pushes it back in instantly. She relentlessly thrusts the plug into Victor's ass. There's a snide smile as Victor writhes underneath her, his legs trying close but the metal bar prevents him. His back arches perfectly off the office rug, his small waist begging for hands to wrap around it. As the thrusts begin to pick up speed, Victor feels his mind slipping away from him. His moans are starting to become unrestrained and drawn out. When he feels his orgasm approaching, everything stops. His eyes snap open, he hadn't realised they had shut, and he looks towards the woman confused. She says nothing as she lifts Victor back onto his knees by his shoulder.

He's back to facing the door but the girl doesn't leave him. She moves behind him, her hands lingering around him. Leaving every nerve on edge.

"Is this what you call working?" His voice was shaky to start with but regained its bite towards the end.

"The report is being uploaded. Till it is done, I'm not finished." Victor felt her hands wrap around his torso. One trails up to tug on the chain and the other wraps around his cock. He falls back into her touch, head resting back on her shoulder. Victor looks up at her, mouth gaping open as the sensations take over his body once again. Her cool hand on his cock made him jerk hips and the vibrators shifted down. The vibrations were now concentrated on his balls, causing more ecstasy to run through his veins. Her hands leave his shaft and move lower, back to the plug. She moves her lips to his ears, kissing the shell before whispering.

"Will you be good?" The whimper from Victor was all she needed to continue her actions.

In the middle of his office, Victor was on the floor in the arms of the one he loved the most. Falling apart in the most delicious way. The stinging pain of his nipples, the torturous vibrations on his balls and the fast thrust of the plug made his mind break. The more he lost his control, the louder the moans grew. His thighs quivered, toes curling as he felt the familiar peak approaching. One last tug of the clamps bought Victor's ruin down on him. The burning in the pit of his stomach finally exploded out, coating his chest. He's left panting against her chest and as he comes down from his high is only then when he realises. Goldman was rattling the door handle and knocking confused. Then to his left sounded the ding of a completed file. She knew he’d lose.

Victor looks back towards her, eyes glazed over from his orgasm. In her eyes he looked like a lost puppy.

"You lost." Her lips were pulled into a victorious grin and honestly seeing that glee on her face was worth the loss. Victor, too enraptured in her, didn't notice Goldman leaving. She begins to kiss down his jaw, sweet praises leaving her lips to relax Victor's body. He whines against her lips to remove the vibrators and she laughs softly whilst removing them. Victor tended to get silent after an intense orgasm, his voice often hoarse from the constant crying out. There were tender kisses placed onto his nipples as the clamps were removed. Once everything was removed and cleaned, he moved to the couch, laying on top of the girl. She held his head against her chest, fingers running through his hair. Reassuring him that he did well even though he lost.

"The report better be good." He says begrudgingly after a beat of silence.

Only she knew how to take apart the composed character Victor had built. Only she knew how he spent his time. Only she knew how to make him lose control.

[dadzawa-adopt-dabi]

Discord prompt pain lvl 7

He didn’t have a heat for a couple months and his pills made him sick, so Dabi stops taking them. Magne looks at him with worry when he’s sick in the morning and he can't reassure her. Tell her that he can’t be pregnant, he’s always been too thin, too sick but since he joined the League that’s changed. It’s a possibility now, and the tests he buys confirm its more than a possibility suddenly. It’s a reality. The entire league is in an uproar, fussing around him and checking on him constantly. He didn’t know how he felt about it, it made him feel like he was made of glass. Like they were waiting for him to break. Packs did this though, he could get used to it eventually. Used to Jin making coffee and handing him a cup in the mornings. Shigaraki constantly scenting him and dragging him into games. He leaves a lot, Sako and Kuroguri freakout everytime and worriedly call his phone, until he starts leaving a message with someone that he’s going to be back. He gets bigger and rounder and then one night, before he can’t hide it any longer, Dabi leaves the base. He can figure out what to do later, after he’s had her and isn’t worried about the league's reaction. If the baby lives. He’s always had poor health, he’s felt her move on and off. Isn’t she supposed to move more than that? Isn’t he supposed to be bigger? Has his scent changed yet? The questions plague Dabi as he shoves himself into one of his old hiding holes, nicer side of town with nasty people. He just needs to keep quiet. He'll lose the baby or give birth and drop her off. Or die during it, he doesn't know. Dabi doesn't have any options, he ran out of them a long time ago and every choice he’s made sense has given him less and less. He makes it a few more weeks and wants to cry when he feels the cramping start. On a makeshift nest in the corner, sobbing as he realizes he waited too long. He doesn't have any money, any help he was going to call the league tomorrow. He was, he really was but now he cant find his phone and it’s probably dead and this is going to hurt so much. Memories of his mother screaming echo in his mind and he sobs, this isn’t like that. Not yet. He remembers when Enji hit her too hard, the unnamed baby that took hours of her screaming and begging for a hospital as Enji locked her in the bathroom. He’d been a preteen and unable to do anything but stare in horror. A cramp rips through him and he lets out a sob as he rolls himself on to his stomach.

Looking for his phone in the nest. It’s not there and he whines as he feels his muscles ripple, starting to bleed all over it. He’s more scared than hurt so he manages to stand, distressed, and panicking as he runs through the abandoned apartment as fast as he can. There’s an old metal bowl and a rag he finds in the kitchen, under the sink. He fills the sink with water and shakes. He knows there’s going to be blood, that's what the bowl and rag are for. All the towels and pillows he could find earlier are in his nest and he shucks off his coat he’d had on for warmth and grabs everything back to the nest. He never had one of these before the league, hadn’t needed or wanted one. Then he was in a home and the urge had struck, getting worse when he met Hawks. When makeout and late nights stayed make outs. He doesn't know what to do now that he needs one. Can’t pick up and leave because his pack needs him, because he wants hawks, because he’s having a fucking baby.

The cramps grow worse with all his walking around and panic, Dabi realizes he’s been whining the entire time and strips his shirt off at the same time as he steps out of his pants. Balling the shirt up and shoving it in his mouth as he lays back in the bare nest. It smells wrong, Dabi’s scared and everything below his waist is on fire, the pain balling in his pelvis and wrapping around his waist to travel up his spine. His pecs ache worse than they have the week he’s stayed here. Getting ready for a baby who’s going to be dead, they’re going to be dead. Dabi knows it in his soul, he hasn’t felt a kick in weeks, it’s too early, he thinks anyways, he knots the shirt behind his head. He’s on his side, sobbing as each pulse, every push his body demands he gives hurts him. His nails dig deep grooves into his arms and scars as he pushes. Crying and whining through the makeshift gag he’s given himself. His vision whites out in pain several times as he begs for relief, for comfort, help. He won’t get any he already knows. Probably won’t even let him hold his dead baby’s body as they drag him to jail, to die. His quirk starts smoking his scar seams and he knows he can’t do this alone. He can’t , he’s going to burn everything up and the league will never know what happened, his father will never be exposed and he screams in pain. Unlatching one of his hands to pull a pair of quirk handcuffs out from under it, bartered for after he’d burnt down a shelter years ago. Nightmares making it impossible to stay in them anymore and unable to sleep without risk of killing everything around him. He remembered vividly drinking the soda the hero gave him, not knowing what it would do at the time, hours spent on his back in exchange for the expensive necessary things he hates. He can’t touch them without wanting to vomit, the memory slams him in the face every time, but he can’t be found right now. He’s too vulnerable, unable to defend himself, not knowing what will happen besides pain that ruins him as the blood and fluids between his legs gush faster. He’s ruined for anyone after this, mentally and physically he can’t do this. The cuffs lock as omega noises begging for help and distress pour out, muffled by the shirt. He wishes he’d experienced what Keigo gave him at least one more time before he’d done this to himself. Not even keigo will want him again with how wide he can feel his muscles stretching. The blood starts to slow as pain white his vision out for longer. He reaches a hand down to his hole where the baby is coming out and bites the t-shirt, inserting his fingers and wiggling them as deep as they can go as he screams in pain. He’s stretched wide and has no problem inserting them, he touches something and lets out a wail as he withdraws his hand, making sure his coat is gathered under him to catch them. The next contraction makes him throw his head back and squirm, screaming even after the gag is misplaced enough that it falls off. He’s switched on to his back now and his arms are curled near his chest as his legs twitch and kick, but there’s no escaping this pain. He hears a cuss and whips his head around, pleading noises freezing as he sees white and purple through his blurred tear filled vision. He snaps his jaw and gives a deep growl that gets cut off with another scream, he can’t stop pushing and he’s barely made any progress, that he can feel anyways, through the burning mind wiping pain.

“Get the fuck out, hel-” he manages to scream and snarl at her, the beg for help escaping without his permission. The female alpha, that combined with her color scheme and dark skin tone is enough to give him a very clear idea of who has found him. A hero, Miruko, who croons reassurance and takes a step forward as she is muttering something he can't hear, low and fast.

“Leave, fucking bitch. Going to arrest me in labor? Leave me alo-” he screams as the baby moves just that little bit further. Whimpering and unable to even sob afterwards. Rumi leaves, ducking outside the broken door and away from Dabi finally, leaving him free to wail and cry. His hands tremble as he brings them up to his mouth, locked together.

He bites down and pushes with the next contraction, eyes closed and letting his head drop into the nest. He’s just tired and it hurts, he wants it to be done with. Dabi cries as he waits for it to be done, for labor to be over so he cleans up his mess. Go home and crawl into his actual nest, the one that’s small and plush and smells like the league with just the hints of keigo starting to come through. Everything feels wrong and he lets tears pour out of his eyes as his brain keeps giving him the feeling of his baby moving, struggling as hard as he is. He knows it’s not real, it’s just brain signals getting crossed and trying to get him through this. He hasn’t felt any movement in weeks and this is just the last straw. He bears down again, nothing to hold onto and ground him as he whimpers insistently, hating the noise leaving him, blood filling his mouth and making him choke on what he resolves to be his last attempt, he can feel the head stretching and tearing him. He hopes Rumi actually left, he doesn't have the strength to fight off an alpha, won’t even be able to move for several days after this. That’s if his pathetic body can get it together long enough to fight off an infection, at the very least long enough to get him home after he rests. Dabi’s never doing this again, even if by some miracle someone did want him.

part 2 [x]