#there is only making the best out of your situation

[she-ra-ra-skirt]

I don't think we give up. I think we try really, really hard but it doesn't work for us.

Stopping something that doesn't work is sensible, as you are probably being judged against the wrong criteria. I've never been compared to someone with my disability to see how 'well' I'm doing, just to my healthy siblings. which is fucking stupid!

The only way I can cope with my (various) disabilities, is to take tiny, tiny steps over time. I changed my diet to being Japanese based as it's quick, stove based so I can get close to it to look after it and not forget it's in the oven, and filling. It's taken me years to find the easy recipes I like but now, I can eat healthily most of the week. Well, part from the inordinate amount of toast I eat, but it's still food and it gives me energy.

I no longer berate myself when I need a nap or can't get off the settee. That's today's limit and I accept that and find something I can do sitting down, which is lots of Tumblr at the moment!

I have a sleep routine where I listen to ambient music and have a night light that changes colour but if it doesn't work, I don't punish myself by forcing myself to stay in bed, I get up, watch TV, or play on Tumblr, and accept that I'll nap the next day.

I'm so much kinder to myself than I used to be, since I started to think about what I'd say to a friend. Some things shoved at us by the medical profession do nothing but get us out of their hair, where they don't have to deal with us again. I recommend keeping a simple notebook and writing the date and what they told you to do, eg PT and if it helped on a 1-10 scale. Then you can pull out all the dates you tried things and how it didn't improve things, and they can't argue with that. Or you can ask them "are you calling me a liar?"

I keep a list of all the treatments I've tried so I can go through them quickly with a new doctor and say, tried it but it didn't work, what's the next treatment available? But I have noticed, that now I'm late 40s I get treated a lot better than when I was young and they thought I was exaggerating all the time.

You know what? It’s fucking hard trying to get better. It’s exhausting managing doctors appointments, doing daily PT exercises, eating better, trying to exercise, trying to meditate, and doing ADL’s. I have had a bad crash per week trying to juggle and do all of the above.

It’s easier and less acutely painful to just coast and not actively work on ‘getting better’. Is the work worth it? I don’t know yet.

But to people who’ve tried and given up, to those who don’t even bother - you still deserve care and compassion.

[frenchkisstheabyss]

♡ ｓｗｅｅｔｎｅｒ ♡

♡ Pairing: couple!woosan x best friend!fem!reader, best friend!ateez

♡ Genre: fluff/smut/angst

♡ Summary: After a terrible breakup two of your dearest friends welcomed you into their home. Living with them has been a total dream so far, one that has you developing feelings you aren't quite ready to face but, when a dinner with your friend group forces you to confront those feelings, you realize that you might not be the only one who has them.

♡ Word Count: 6.8kish

♡ Warnings: woo and san are indeed a couple, boys kissing, kissing in general, drinking, threesome, lots of praise, unprotected sex, soft dom woosan, oral sex (m&f receving), some clit play, nipple play, nibbling, hickeys, a lil manhandling, double penetration, creampie, swallowing, finger sucking, some booty slaps, overstimulation, squirting, pet names (sweetie, baby, sweetheart, good girl, etc), and that's all darlings.

♡ A/N: I really wanted to write a nice, warm lil comfort fic and this was the result of that. As I always say, I hope you sweet baby darlings enjoy this. Especially my WooSan babes out there.

When you first decided to move in with Wooyoung and San everyone warned you that it might not be the best idea. The two of them had been dating for years at that point and, though you knew them just as long, being best friends with a couple is much different than living with one. They had their own habits, their own unique dynamic, and the introduction of a single woman into the mix might have thrown it off in ways that irreversibly damaged your friendship.

For all the worries that people planted into your brain, the reality of the situation was drastically different. From the night you moved your last box into their spare bedroom you felt like you were home. They were doing you a major favor, letting you move in after a terrible breakup with your ex, but they never made you feel like it. Instead they welcomed you with open arms, immediately jumping to do everything in their power to make sure you felt comfortable.

During those first few weeks you made it a point to shrink yourself, not wanting to take up too much space or get in their way. They quickly reassured you that it wasn’t necessary. If they didn’t want you there you wouldn’t have been there. You could take up as much space as you wanted, get in their way whenever you pleased. They were just happy to have you.

Before you knew it the three of you were doing everything together. Cooking each other breakfast before work, curling up on the couch for movie nights, staying up late to talk about whatever popped into your heads. It reached the point that you hardly had to make your own bed because of the endless nights you found yourself dozing off in theirs.

Woo and San always treated you like a princess, living with them wasn’t a requirement for that, but after you moved in it got so much worse. You had to argue them down to let you do dishes or wash your own clothes. You didn’t even try when it came to carrying in bags after grocery shopping. You knew if you did you’d never hear the end of it from either of them. Even now as you sit at the elegantly decorated table of an upscale restaurant—all of your closest friends gathered for the usual Saturday night dinner—they won’t let you lift a finger.

With Woo on one side of you and San on the other, you only have to extend your hand towards something you want and it's yours. A particularly crispy cut of pork belly catches your eye and before you know it Woo’s swooped it up with his chopsticks. 

“Woo, you didn’t have to do that” you whisper beneath the chatter of conversation at the table.

“Hmm? Did you say something?” he asks, knowing very well that he heard you. He raises it to your lips, patiently waiting for you to take a bite. 

You stare at it for a moment, refusing to eat it solely because of the entertainment that comes with testing Woo’s patience. San drapes his arm over the back of your chair, replenishing the tall crystal glass before you with sweet red wine. 

“Eat it or he’ll get all sulky” San teases, cutting his eyes at his boyfriend whose lips have already begun to form a pout. 

“I do not get sulky” Woo protests, indeed sulking. He’s cute when he does it, knowledge that he weaponizes every chance he gets. 

You and San look at each other, sharing a giggle, before you give in and take a bite. Woo watches as you chew, making sure that you enjoy it. If you don’t he’ll get you another. 

“Happy?” you smile once you’re done and Woo nods, returning his attention back to his own plate. 

Across the table Hongjoong watches you curiously, something you’ve caught him doing all night. No one else seems to notice but for you it can’t be ignored. The two of you lock eyes and he asks you a question without words. You wish he’d use them, spit out whatever the hell is on his mind already, because the tension’s eating you alive. 

“So does anyone know what we’re doing for New Year’s Eve or is it party at Seonghwa’s?” Yunho asks, gesturing for Jongho to hand him a dish. 

Seonghwa frowns, his cheeks too packed full of food to speak clearly, “My house? Why my house?” 

“Ooh, yeah, then I can come over and touch all your stuff” Mingi says, attempting to swipe some food from Seonghwa’s plate. 

Seonghwa slaps him on the back of the hand with his chopsticks, “I’ll kill you.” 

“We could all go camping,” Jongho suggests, “I know a really good spot for it.”

The table falls silent with the exception of Yeosang who nods in support of the younger man. “That’s…an idea.”

“We can host this year” San offers, flashing that dimpled smile, “We have the room for it.”

Hongjoong takes a sip of his wine, his icy glare falling upon you and only you. “Are you sure? Don’t you think your apartment’s gotten kinda crowded lately?” 

The comment strikes a chord with Woo, his irritation apparent in how swiftly his demeanor shifts. “And what exactly is that supposed to mean?” he asks, chewing at his bottom lip. 

“Nothing…it’s nothing” Hongjoong laughs, sitting back in his chair, “Maybe I should keep my comments to myself.”

“Maybe you should…” Woo snaps.

San clears his throat, rising from the table before the situation can escalate, “I have to go make a quick call. Baby, could you come with me?”

Woo doesn’t respond and he isn’t pretending to be hard of hearing this time. He and Hongjoong are having a staring contest. A silent war as violent as if someone had thrown a punch. 

“Wooyoung!” San says with more bass in his voice this time. It’s enough to snap Woo out of it but he still lingers a moment before getting up himself. 

Taking you by the hand, Woo stares down at you, searching your face for any sign that Hongjoong’s words hurt your feelings. “You’ll be okay?” 

You nod, presenting him with a smile that you hope soothes him a bit. “I’m okay. Just go.” 

San pets your hair, planting a kiss on your forehead, “Be back in a second.” 

You watch as San walks Woo outside like a mother about to lay into her child for misbehaving. As calm as you’ve remained all night, you can’t hide your own irritation at the way Hongjoong’s been acting. It isn’t Woo’s fault that he decided to say something so rude. Whatever problem he has with you is with you. Woo and San shouldn’t be a part of it.

Turning back to the table you find that all conversation of a New Year’s Eve celebration has ended. Everyone’s dead silent, unsure of what to say, if there’s anything to say at all. 

“If you have something to say to me, why not just say it?” you ask, “Or are we just intent on acting like children tonight?”

“This meal is delicious, isn’t it? Really. I know we come here all the time but there’s something about it tonight” Yunho interrupts in an attempt to keep the peace. 

Seonghwa shakes his head at him, his own history as the peacemaker teaching him that it’s not worth it. When Hongjoong’s in a mood he’s in a mood and there’s nothing to be said about it. 

Hongjoong shrugs, poking around at his plate, “I don’t have anything to say really. I’m just curious—I think we all are—about what’s going on here.”

Your eyebrows furrow in genuine confusion, “What are you talking about?”

Hongjoong looks to Woo’s seat then to San’s and right back at you, the girl at the center of it all. “I know we’re all close but the way you three have been acting lately goes a little beyond close. You can’t blame us for thinking…”

“Thinking what?” You look around the table, hoping that one of your friends will jump in and tell Hongjoong how silly he’s being. Instead they avert eye contact. They treat you like you’re a stranger and, in the world of the secret whisperings among them, that’s exactly what you are. It takes a moment for Hongjoong’s words to make sense. He said something without saying it and it’s clear he’s not the only person with that on the tip of their tongue.

The moment it hits you, your palms begin to sweat, the air around you growing hotter. You try your best to act clueless, pretending to have no idea where they’d get these ideas from. It’s not because you have anything to hide. Nothing has happened between the three of you and nothing will. But sometimes you’ve felt it—a tingle when Woo’s holding your hand or those butterflies when you’re cuddled up with San. It’s a purely platonic act on their part, there’s nothing more to it, but the feelings are there whether you like it or not and the idea that anyone else can see it is frightening. 

“You can’t be serious. You don’t think…they’re my best friends, like we all are. There’s nothing…they don’t even like girls” you stutter, a shaky hand reaching for the neck of your wine glass. 

Yeosang’s eyes widen at your declaration and he has to reach for a glass of water to keep from choking on his food. 

Mingi quirks his head at you, shooting a quick glance at Hongjoong. “Who told you that?” 

“Told me what?”

Jongho laughs to himself, tickled by this exchange. “That they don’t like girls.”

“But they don’t. They’re gay.” 

“Oh, honey” Hongjoong sighs, letting up on you for the first time tonight, “We thought you were just playing it up. You really are clueless.” 

You open your mouth to say something more, you aren’t even sure what that is, but the feeling of San’s hand on your shoulder makes you swallow your words. 

“What are we talking about?” he asks, taking his seat at your side. He looks to you only, picking up on your nervousness in an instant. His face turns serious and you place a gentle hand on his knee, softening him if only a bit. 

“Everything okay?” you ask, swiftly changing the subject. 

San leans in closer to you, pinning you down to your seat without even touching you. “I don’t know, is it?” 

Woo swats him away from you, having already gotten his fill of his boyfriend’s lecturing outside. He doesn’t need him doing it to you too. “San, please. You told me I had to play nice. That goes for both of us, doesn’t it?”

San backs off, as much as he hates to do it. He knows something is up but, at the risk of being a hypocrite, he lets it go. The conversation quickly switches back to discussions about parties—who else they’ll invite and who’ll do all the cooking—yet you can’t bring yourself to care about any of it. In your mind there’s only a loop of Hongjoong’s comment. 

“Oh, honey. We thought you were just playing it up. You really are clueless.”

“You’ve had too much to drink. I’m driving you home” Jongho says, stealing Mingi’s car keys. 

“I’m fine. Trust me.” Mingi makes a half-hearted attempt at stealing them back but he’s in no shape to do it. He’s swaying back and forth, his cheeks tinted a rosy pink courtesy of those last three shots of soju. 

Gathered outside of the restaurant, your group lingers by the door, saying your goodbyes and trying to reel in the drunkest among you. It’s a clear night, the type that's perfect for counting stars, but you’re too busy freezing to revel in the magic of it. Earlier you left your jacket in the car, not thinking much of it until you stumbled out of the restaurant into an actual freezer.

San slips out of his jacket, draping it over your shoulders and giving your arms a quick rub to warm them up. “Look after this for me while I go grab the car.”

As San ventures off to find the car, Woo steps in front of you, coming in close to block the wind. 

“Goodnight you two” Hongjoong sings, winking at you over Woo’s shoulder. 

You groan and Woo lets out a skeptical “Goodnight” waving to the others until there’s only the two of you left. When his gaze drifts back to you, you try not to make eye contact but you can’t resist it. His eyes shimmer so gorgeously in the moonlight that it’s impossible not to be taken by them.

Rubbing his hands together, he presses them to your cheeks, squishing them together enough that you look like a little fish. Definitely the cutest fish he’s ever seen. It was his intention to warm you up but he has no clue how hot you burn for him, as hard as you try to fight it. 

“I don’t know if I told you this but you look beautiful tonight” he says, taking you in from head to toe, “That dress especially. It's lovely”

The dress in question, a black lace up mini dress, is indeed lovely. You’d ordered it on a whim during a late night shopping session and have been dying to wear it for weeks. When San suggested that you all match for dinner tonight, black on black all the way, you figured there was no time like the present. It’s more revealing than you’re used to and some part of you questioned if you should wear it or not but Woo’s complement did all that was needed to melt your doubts away. 

“You do too” you blush, straightening out his tie, “You look fancy.”

Woo tries to play it off but it’s always much too obvious when he’s flattered. “I try. You’ll always be the prettiest one in the room but I have to try to give you some competition, don’t I?” 

“Are you attempting to flatter me, Wooyoung?”

Woo moves closer to you, his breath tickling your face as he speaks, “I don’t know. Am I?” 

It’s back. That tingle you feel whenever Woo does something like this. You feel it in the tips of your fingers and your toes. Soon it’ll spread everywhere else, overtaking you, and there’s not a single thing you can do about it. The longer he stares at you the worse it’ll be. He’s sealing your fate, damning you to a night spent trying to chase these feelings away. 

“Are you gonna get in or do you two plan to walk home?” San shouts, honking the horn. 

You let out a sigh of relief. You’ve been saved. Just barely. 

“Does your boyfriend know you’re picking up men from random street corners?” Woo jokes, turning to greet San. 

San leans over, pushing the passenger’s side door open, “I won’t tell him if you don’t.” 

Woo laughs, doubling back to grab you, “You ride in the front tonight, okay, beautiful?”

It’s a question that isn’t a question. You always ride shotgun—they insist upon it—so you hop into the car before Woo’s tempted to scoop you up and set you in there himself. He will do it.

Tossing himself into the back, Woo slams the door closed, spreading out across the seat as the car hums down the city street. It’s a quiet, peaceful ride and it only occurs to you after a few minutes that it’s strangely quiet. There’s always a debrief after dinner. Woo never misses out on the chance to gossip with you and San lives for it even though he’s fond of pretending he doesn’t but tonight’s different. Something’s off.

You switch on the radio, hoping that the introduction of a little music will keep your mind from wandering, but San flicks it off the moment that you do. 

“When we came back to the table, what were you talking about?” he asks, catching you off guard. San’s not the type to let things go, you’ve always known that, but you thought maybe this time you'd luck out. You thought wrong. 

Woo sits up, combing his dark hair back from his face, “San, don’t start.”

“I’m not starting” he swears, “I’m just curious. Don’t tell me you aren’t.”

“Well…” Woo muses, cutting his eyes over at you, “It would be nice to know. I mean, we don’t keep secrets from each other, right?”

You stare out of the window, unable to face either of them. Woo’s right, you don’t keep secrets. Maybe a long time ago it would’ve been forgivable to keep some things to yourself but now? The three of you have gotten so close that it seems almost blasphemous to lie to them. 

“The guys think that there’s something going on between the three of us…” you spill out and you’d swear you sucked all of the air from the car. 

“Oh…”

“Oh…” 

That’s all you’re left with. Now you have to look at them. You have to see their faces and know that you haven’t upset them. “I told them that there wasn’t though! The only thing between us is friendship. That’s it.” 

“Is that what you told them or is that how you feel?” Woo asks and San does nothing to stop him. 

You let out a nervous laugh, convinced that he’s messing with you. “Woo, I’m being serious.”

San takes a deep breath, fingers tapping at the steering wheel as you approach a red light. “So are we.”

“So…” Woo says, his words more deliberate this time, “Is that what you told them or is that how you feel?”

There’s so much weight to that question—almost too much for you to handle. After your breakup you were a total wreck. It felt like someone had torn your heart out and ripped it to pieces. How couldn’t it belong to them when they were the ones who put it back together? 

“What if what I feel is wrong?” you ask, the rush of emotion forcing your voice to crack. 

San holds his hand out to you and you feel a sense of calm wash over you as you take it. He interlocks his fingers with yours, planting slow sweet kisses along the back of your hand. “There’s nothing wrong with the way you feel, sweetheart.”

Woo caresses your cheek, his chin propped up on the back of your chair as he studies you from the backseat. “We feel it too” he sighs, taken by your beauty, “You’re an easy girl to fall for.”

“Woo” you giggle, your gaze falling to your lap where your free hand’s fidgeting with the lace trim of your dress. 

“Stop it, baby, you’re embarrassing her” San says, coming to your rescue as usual.

“Embarrassing her how? She knows how perfect she is” Woo coos, pinching your cheek, “I tell her everyday.” Settling back into his seat, he digs his phone out of his pocket, flicking it on to scroll through his notifications. 

San winks at you, raising your hand to his lips to give it one last kiss. He goes back to driving so casually that you’re left wondering if everything that just happened was all in your head. It’s the strangest thing, how they can be so laid back about a confession that’s turned your world upside down—changed everything you knew in an instant. Maybe it’s because they always knew.

When Woo and San first met they knew the two of them belonged together. Their bond was something they never had to question, it simply was the way things were supposed to be. And when you entered the picture it was no different. You moving in only cemented it. You belonged there with them—in their home, in their arms. They’d love you, protect you, do everything in their power to put a smile on that beautiful face.

Just like the one you have now. The one Woo keeps catching in the rearview mirror and San keeps seeing out of the corner of his eye. Woo wasn’t lying. You are a very easy girl to fall for. They’re doing it right now. 

To anyone who knows you, visiting your apartment makes for a fun game. Your arrival here led to a little redecorating on Woo and San’s part. They insisted on moving some things around to make room for what you loved. If you saw a lamp you wanted, if there was a painting you had your eye on, anything at all and it was yours.

So whenever one of the guys is over and a new piece is spotted they like to bet who it belongs to. An easy task at first, it’s grown much more difficult over time. “It’s like you’re becoming the same person” Yeosang will say in a spooky voice, experiencing what might be actual fear of who’s becoming a clone of who. He loves you all but multiples of any of you is a recipe for disaster.

Your friends’ teasing aside, you love the place you call home. This cozy two bedroom is a seamless fusion of the three of you. It’s your safe place. Where you all run back to for comfort after a long day out in the world. All night it’s sat undisturbed, awaiting your return, and your grand entrance doesn’t disappoint.

The apartment door pushes open, flooding the dimly lit apartment with a choppy but spirited rendition of one of Woo’s favorite songs. He’s been playing it nonstop for the past two weeks and during the last half of the ride home he stole the aux cord to force you both to listen. Blame the alcohol or call it brainwashing but you and San were feeling it tonight. So much that you sang and danced your way from the parking garage, probably waking up the whole neighborhood. 

Singing a lyric even you’re shocked you remember, you do a little shuffle, kicking your heels off at the door. San does a shimmy behind you, dropping his next to yours. Woo grabs you by the arm, pulling you into his, and you bring San right along with you. You’ve had enough of these late night dance sessions—more than any of you will admit—for your bodies to be totally in sync as you dance around the apartment.

Taking you by the hand, San twirls you in a circle and that last sip of wine kicks in immediately, the room still spinning even after you’ve stopped. Luckily Woo’s quick on his feet, catching you from behind. 

“Clumsy much?” he cackles, arms looped around your waist. 

You spin around, scrunching your face up at him, “Do you think you’re funny? Cause you’re not.”

You feel San’s arms close around you from the other side. His muscles make every hug a bear hug and you’ve never minded one bit.

“You’re prettier when you aren’t being a brat” he says, fingertips tracing the immaculate outline of Woo’s cheek. 

Woo nuzzles into his touch like a cat being scratched at just the right spot. “So you think I’m pretty?”

“And a brat” San makes a point of saying, “But pretty? Definitely.”

Woo and San flirting is nothing new to you, you’ve seen it enough that it doesn’t even phase you, but this is the first time you’ve ever been in the middle of it. Physically wedged between them, feeling their temperatures rise as San cups Woo’s face and leans in for a kiss.

Good manners dictate that you shouldn’t stare but you aren’t sure what else you can be expected to do. Their lips look so fluffy as they meet. They kiss each other with equal parts desire and restraint. Their longing for each other radiates off of them and soaks into you. But that longing’s not only theirs, it’s yours too. Something new has been awakened inside of you and it has your heart racing. 

San draws in a breath as their lips part, a light chuckle leaving him at the star crossed look in your eyes. “You know…” he hums, his hand finding your throat, “We’ve always wondered what your lips taste like.” His thumb brushes your chin, tilting your head so that your lips graze his. “Can I taste them?”

A floaty “Yes” leaves your lips and time seems to slow to a crawl as he lulls you into a kiss that has the room spinning again. His lips are as soft as they appeared and he pours into you that same desire, that same longing. Restraint? Now that’s a different story. The deeper he kisses you—his tongue eagerly exploring your mouth—the harder it is to hold back. 

“You can’t have her all to yourself” Woo says, tugging San’s hair to break the kiss, “I want some of her too.” 

You hardly have a chance to recover from San’s kiss when Woo’s pressing his lips to yours, making you feel light headed all over again. He floods you with more of the same feelings but there’s something different about the way that he kisses you. He abandons any hope of containing his desires, his lips feverishly moving against yours. He hums at the taste of you, like you’re his new favorite dessert and all he wants is more. 

“It’s getting late, Woo. I think we should go to bed. Don’t you?” San asks, running his fingers along your hips. 

Woo nods, nibbling at your bottom lip, “Mmhmm.”

They slip away from you, heading for the hallway that leads to their bedroom. How cruel it is of them to just leave you standing here with your head all foggy and your cutest panties soaked through. You lean against the back of the couch, missing the contact but grateful for the chance to catch your breath. With all the air you were losing you might’ve fainted otherwise. 

“Are you coming?” San calls out, lingering just outside of his bedroom. The light from the bedroom bathes the dark hallway in a warm glow that reflects off of San’s chest as he pops the buttons of his shirt open one by one. 

You cross your legs, hoping to quiet the noise between them that’s only worsened at the sight of his bare skin. “Uh, yeah, I just, uh…have to get out of this dress first.”

“Don’t worry, sweetheart” he smiles, amused by your shyness, “We can help with that.”

Your body moves as if it has a mind of its own. Each step towards him is so delicate you’d be forgiven for thinking that you floated your way to him. Placing a hand on the small of your back, San ushers you into the bedroom where an already shirtless Woo stands by the dresser fussing with his watch. 

“Somebody need help with something?’ Woo asks, shaking his wrist free of the designer watch. 

San brushes past you, tossing his own shirt onto the bed. “Her dress. She needs help getting out of it.” 

Setting his watch down on the dresser, Woo crosses the room, taking a seat at the edge of the bed. He locks eyes with you, telling you to come to him without having to say it. There’s a pull to them. Like gravity holds you to the ground, your heart holds you to them. You’ve always felt it but tonight it’s infinitely stronger. They could call you to the moon and you’d find a way there.

“It really is a beautiful dress” Woo says, his hands tracing your figure the moment you’re within reach. He spreads his legs, bringing you in close enough to feel the tip of his nose graze the softness of your belly through the fabric. “It suits your figure well, not that a body like yours needs much help.” His palms come to rest at your hips, indulgent fingers massaging them as his thumbs ease the fabric higher and higher above your thighs. 

“You’re always so sweet to me” you sigh, running your fingers through his hair, “If you’re not careful one day it’ll all go to my head.” 

Pausing to admire the plushness of your thighs, he trails kisses along them, eyes flicking up to meet your gaze. “Good” he grins, pushing your dress above your waist. His hands slip back down to your thighs, another pair of hands gripping your dress from behind. 

“You should let things get to your head more” San whispers into your ear, the defined muscles of his chest flush against your back. There’s something else pressed against you too. Something thick and hard poking into the tender flesh of your now exposed ass. Mindlessly you press back into it, breath hitching as you feel his need grow even stronger from your teasing.

“I think you let someone make you forget how special you are” Woo says, placing a kiss achingly close to your core, “But that’s okay. We’ll remind you.” 

Woo’s tongue darts out, gliding up and down to taste you through panties already dripping with your essence. Easing your thighs apart, he tucks your panties to the side, a solitary finger petting your slippery entrance. A pulse of warmth ripples through you, pooling right between your legs where the tip of Woo’s tongue has found your clit, twirling around the bundle of nerves so artfully that any remaining ability you had to think straight simply falls away. Looping an arm around your right thigh, he hoists it up, throwing it over his shoulder. 

Instinctively you look down but gain only the briefest glimpse of his head diving between your thighs before your dress is flying over your head, slinking to the ground beside you. You didn’t wear a bra tonight, the dress wouldn’t allow you to, and San’s grateful for it. That’s one less thing between him and those breasts that bounce against your chest so deliciously. He captures them in his hands, feeling the weight of them against his palms. 

“So soft” San mumbles, suckling at the fragrant skin of your neck.

Shaping your breasts beneath his touch, he takes two fingers and lightly strokes your nipples. You let out the sweetest, softest moan and he pinches your nipples, beyond pleased at how that moan falls apart on the tip of your tongue. For every moan you let out he pinches them harder, pushing you further, just to see how much you can take or how much you want to take.

Your head falls back and San kisses your neck with even more hunger than before, leaving a trail of marks behind that will no doubt be hickeys by morning. Tears decorate your lashes like constellations, the overstimulation wrecking every part of you. 

“You’re clenching like crazy, sweetie. You want something to fill you up?” Woo asks, his finger still stroking your slit, torturing you with the possibilities. 

You whine, hips attempting to sink down onto his finger, but San grips you tighter, forcing you to straighten up. 

“You have such a pretty voice” San taunts, dipping a hand between your legs to play with your clit, “Use it. You want us to fill you up or not, baby?” 

Your breaths quicken, body trembling as you grab onto San’s arm, nails raking his skin. “Ah, I want it, Sannie. I want you to fill me up, pretty please.”

“Oh, pretty please? How can we say no to that?” Woo grins, gathering your arousal with his fingertips. He eases further onto the bed, lying back to watch how his fingers glisten in the light. “Come here, sweetie.” 

San slows his movements, kissing you tenderly as he lets you down gradually before placing you on the bed. You get on your hands and knees without being told, crawling up the bed until San grabs your hips, stopping you when your face hovers just above Woo’s waist.

Tangling his fingers in your hair, Woo tilts your head up, raising his soaked fingers to your honeyed lips. San’s hands collide with your plump ass, the sting making you cry out and forcing your lips to part just enough for Woo’s fingers to slip in between them. You’ve never tasted yourself before, it’s something you never dared to try, but as Woo coats your tongue in your own juices you find yourself enjoying it so much that you’re sucking on his fingers, praying for more.  

Behind you San’s rubbing your ass to soothe the sting, his eyes glued to your dripping entrance. It’s been so long since he’s been with a woman that he’d forgotten how pretty a pussy could be and yours is without a doubt as pretty as they come. Your folds are so soft, your hole so needy and wet, that his cock’s straining against his zipper, aching to have you. 

“Does your tongue feel this good when you do everything?” Woo asks when his fingers pop free from your mouth. 

Placing your hand on the bulge that awaits inches from your face, you let your palm ride the outline of his cock. “Let me show you.”

Woo’s caught off guard by your boldness but it only makes him want you more. Unzipping his pants, there’s little you have to do to free him from his underwear. His cock’s eager to meet you, throbbing and leaking as you stroke his length. You circle the pink tip with your tongue, dragging it across the top to collect his arousal. Your fingers wrap around the base, keeping him in place as your lips wrap around his cock, stretching to take his thickness.

You’ve seen their cocks before, by accident of course, and somewhere in the filthiest corners of your mind you always wondered what it’d be like to have one in your mouth. Now you know and you love everything about it. How comfortably he fits in your mouth. How you can feel all the finer details of his cock with your tongue. And those noises he makes when the tip hits the back of your throat—moaning like he’s never felt anything better—are like music to your ears.

“San!” you want to cry out when he grabs you by your hips, thrusting his cock into you. Of course you can’t talk. With Woo’s cock shoved this far down your throat you can only mumble, drooling down his length while San’s pulsing against your walls. For a quick second, quicker than you can blink, your vision goes blurry. When San asked if you wanted to be full he meant full. Bottomed out, stretched to the brink, feeling all of him with nothing left to desire. 

San leans forward, kissing along your spine. “You took me so well, baby. You’re being such a good girl for us tonight.” 

He snaps his hips into you again and you arch your back, causing him to slam right into your sweet spot. You tremble and he knows he’s found it, the one spot that’s gonna make you unravel for him. You’re in no position to see him—in fact, you’re in the perfect position not to—but it makes him happy. He’s determined to make you feel good, every stroke of his cock dedicated to making you lose it.

But he can’t begin to ignore how good this feels for him too. Your walls are velvety and smooth, clinging to him as he glides in and out of your tight little hole. Each time he thrusts into you the force travels through your perfect figure, bouncing you right back onto him. San knows he’s bottomed out but somehow you seem to be sucking him in deeper, his abs tightening at the tension already building in his abdomen. 

“Fuck, you’re so wet. Look at you” San groans, pulling back enough to see the juices trickling out of you. 

Gripping the blanket with one hand, you try to use all of your strength to prop yourself up but you can’t. San’s thrusts are too powerful, the pleasure’s too strong, and your body’s going limp. Cupping your fluffy cheeks, Woo pets them, pressing his cock even further down your throat. “It’s okay, baby. We’ll take care of you. Just let go.” 

Releasing your hold on the blanket, you do your best to let go of it—of everything. Your muscles begin to relax, the full weight of your body falling into their hands. Between them they develop a rhythm, pleasing your holes in perfect synchronicity. You’re dripping from both ends, clenching and sucking, moaning and whining. You’re a perfect little mess. Everything they could ever ask for.

There’s something ethereal about being between the two of them. Your body feels light, like you're floating somewhere else but you’re right here with them. Not being fucked, being made love to. Being treated like every part of your body is this sacred thing that they’re so grateful to have.

“I wish you could see yourself right now” San sighs, running his hands down your sides, “Our pretty girl.” 

Their pretty girl. It does something to you to be called that. It breaks you in a million ways. All the best ones. A swell of energy builds in your body, like a tree growing and spreading its branches out to the furthest reaches of your form. 

“Mmmm…” you whine, heavy lids rising to flash those gorgeous glassy eyes up at Woo. 

San feels your hips stutter and catches you, keeping you steady. “You ready to cum, baby?”

You nod, puffy lips still too tightly wound around Woo’s cock to make out words. Could you if he even let you?

“That’s it. Cum all over Sannie’s cock” Woo coos, his thumb brushing your quivering bottom lip, “Just like that. Good girl.”

Your mind goes blank, void of the faintest thought of anything. You’re caught in the ecstasy of your high, walls fluttering as you squirt down San’s cock. He quickens his thrusts, prolonging your orgasm long enough that when his finally hits you’re still pulling him in, milking him of every drop of cum he has.

Riding out his high, San pushes you forward, forcing your lips to meet the base of Woo’s cock. Woo raises his hips, sloppy movements bringing him closer and closer to the edge until he’s spilling down your throat, filling your cheeks with warm white liquid. He slips out of your mouth and you collapse onto his stomach, gasping for air as you try to recall which planet you’re on. 

Completely spent, a dizzy San collapses on the bed beside his boyfriend, intentionally leaving enough room for you. “Are you sleeping there tonight?” he teases.

“No” you pout, motioning to hit him on the arm but making no impact at all. It’s like trying to punch someone in a dream. Nothing. 

San catches your arm, pulling you into the space between them. “Are you usually violent after your orgasms?”

Woo tucks an arm around you, lovingly kissing your shoulder. “Not that we’re complaining. I’ve been known to like a little slap sometimes.”

“I’ll remember that next time” you promise, responding to his kiss with one of your own to the bridge of his nose. Turning to San, you kiss him on the cheek, giggling at how his face lights up at the sweet gesture. 

Settling into each other’s embrace, the chatter quiets but not awkwardly so. There’s a sense of peace in each other’s company. A comfort in this newfound feeling of completion. All this time you’ve been together but never quite in the way that any of you wanted. There was always a barrier, something unspoken keeping you from letting your true feelings show, and now that’s melted away leaving only the three of you together. 

“Baby” San whispers after some time has passed. Your head’s resting on his chest and he rubs your cheek, signaling to you that he needs to get up. “I’m gonna go run us a shower, okay?”

He sits up, ready to hop out of bed, when you throw your arms around him and drag him back down. “No. You whine” throwing on your best baby face, “You stay.” 

“Oh my god. I have two of you now” he laughs, too soft for you to resist your pouting. 

“Oh? You have me now?” 

Woo props himself up on his elbow, head resting in the palm of his hand. “Don’t we?” he asks, drawing on your naked body with his fingertips. The question is playful but there’s a seriousness to it that can’t be ignored. 

You let the question sink in, realizing for the first time that you don’t have to pretend anymore. “Yes, you have me” you sigh, batting your pretty doe eyes. 

“It’s settled then. You’re all ours” San smiles, cuddling back up beside you.

Woo lays back down, nestling his face against your neck. “I like the sound of that.”

Your bodies fit back together like the pieces of a puzzle. Everything about this feels right. Every small moment so special. There’s romance in each other’s breaths. Intimacy in even the faintest brush of your skin against theirs as you shift in the bed. You could stay here forever. And you intend to.

[monstersholygrail]

New City, New Life

5k celebration 'Choose your own adventure' story

Bunny Hybrid x fem!reader— fingering, light choking, ear play, scratching, marking, teasing

Pt1 Pt2 Pt3 Pt4

Your body is aching, needy, and nearly buzzing with built up tension. Despite literally just having hardcore fucked your Dragon Headhunter. God, what was this place doing to you? And what did you like it so much? You didn’t have to worry about anything here.

Everyone was just so casually sexually expressive. Somehow that only turns you on even further. The way that all these people could just fuck whenever they felt the need. You wonder how they aren’t constantly going as crazy as you have been since coming here. It’s as if you’re gorging yourself on a buffet while everyone else has nearly had their fill.

Looking around the office it’s like everyone’s basically finished fucking, all of them seemingly going back to work. Though you swear you see some people shuffled under a desk or two. IT Robot being one in particular. His head is thrown back in pleasure and his hips jerk toward the mysterious figure underneath his desk. His eyes meet your own and they gleam brightly with lust. He moans, putting on a show for you, and unintentionally motivating you in the process.

In a place like this, going up to someone and seeing if they need to fuck as badly as you do is all you have to do. The thought has delicious embarrassment coursing through you and you shiver, your pussy spasming and pushing out Dragon Headhunters cum in order to make room for another load. You can totally do this…

Your eyes catch onto Bunny Secretary still conveniently sitting at his desk. His eyes strangely very focused on the file in front of him. But in a flash of a moment they shoot to you before jumping back down and relief floods through your system. It would probably be best to make sure your first attempt at the purest form of casual sex to be a sure thing. Plus he was fucking hot as hell too.

With every step you take you can feel cum dribble down your thighs, your pussy practically begging to be filled again. It makes you walk a little faster toward Bunny Secretary’s desk. Though you do try to not look too much like the desperate slut you are in the process.

If it wasn’t already obvious that Bunny Secretary was watching you, waiting for this moment. It definitely was as the following words tumbled from his plump lips.

“Look who’s finally come crawling back for a taste. And what do you think you want exactly?”

Bunny Secretary stares up at you through his long lashes, the cutest pout on his face as his little nose twitches. He leans back in his chair, somehow trying to act aloof even as he hungrily rakes over your form. For a flash of a moment he glances over your shoulder. Following his gaze you see Minotaur Boss.

You raise a brow, seeing the man sitting behind his desk, brow raised. Clearly waiting for the show to start. You remember Bunny Secretary saying how much he always liked to watch. An idea pops into your head and the corner of your lips quirk up. No, no, if you’re gonna do this, it’s gonna be on your terms. Just you and him. You whirl back around to Bunny Secretary, leaning on his desk.

“I think you know what I want,” you say seductively, your expression clearly suggestive.

Bunny Secretary’s pout gets impossibly bigger. He lets out a small huff, his bunny ears twitching as he shrugs and looks away from you. Acting like he couldn’t care less. But by the impressive tent in his slacks you know he’s burning with just as much need as you are.

“Yeah, well who says I even want you anymore? I’ve been spurned once, I won’t get hurt again,” he says dramatically, placing a hand on his chest that you can’t help but imagine wrapping around your throat. The veins bulging and tensing as he grips you.

His small sniff snaps you out of your thoughts and you meet his eye at the same moment he situates himself at his desk.

“Besides, some of us have work to do. I have to leave the office,” he says, voice clipped. Trying to act as if he isn’t affected by your presence.

“Let me help you. Let me make it up to you,” you purr, leaning even more heavily against his desk. Your full figure so tantalizingly on display for him.

Bunny Secretary raises a brow though his eyes flash with heightened lust. He clears his throat, shifting his hips as if trying to adjust himself before quickly standing. You gaze up at him, a hopeful flutter rushing through your heart and your pussy.

“Oh? You’re gonna have to work hard to make it up it up to me, I need time to heal…” Bunny Secretary whispers, his voice taunting yet seductive.

He leans in closer and a shiver runs down your spine. You can’t stop yourself from matching the distance. Both of you leaning in more and more. Your lips only a hairsbreadth a part and it causes the hair on your neck to stand on end.

“But you can start by helping me take these down to the archive,” he says, breaking the spell of the moment, and flashing a charming smile as he dumps a stack of folders into your arms.

You yelp as a sudden weight is dropped into your arms, your shoulders nearly jerking out of their socks at the force of it. Your eyes go wide, never leaving his, and you can see the smug satisfaction swirl in his irises. His laugh rings out throughout the office as he grabs the other pile of folders and your pussy clenches around nothing at the sound. Fuck, how is he so damn fine? Everything he does sends your body tingling with raw need.

Bunny Secretary rounds his desk, sending one last look toward Minotaur Boss with a small nod, a silent communication running between them. You follow his lead in more ways than one as you both head to the elevators. Glancing over your shoulder you send your own look to Minotaur Boss, a wide smirk on your lips. You send him a wink, letting him know that he’ll be missing this one but maybe next time.

Minotaur Boss jerks up from his desk. You can tell he’s huffing with anger as his expression twists and cinches. His tail whips around behind him as if preparing to charge. You don’t waste another second, turning back forward and walking a little faster toward the elevator.

Bunny Secretary glances at you, noticing your pace and matches it with ease. His long legs carrying him in a way that makes it appear like he’s gliding through the office. The elevator opens up for you almost instantly and it has relief filling you as you catch a flash of Minotaur Boss heading your way.

But then you’re completely zeroed in on the fact that you and Bunny Secretary are all alone in this elevator. Confined to four very short walls. The air stills, silence overtaking the small space. Yet tension crackles within the short distance between you. You’re nearly waiting on the edge of your seat for something to happen, anything to happen. It seems like both of you are waiting for something but you don’t know what.

The ding of the elevator door closing is like a gun firing and the second the doors snap shut, you and Bunny Secretary drop the files into a heaping mess on the floor. You practically pounce on each other, arms wrapping around the other as your lips crash together. A lewd moan falls past your lips as you melt into the kiss, the feeling of his hard body against your soft frame as your mind short circuiting.

Bunny Secretary whirls you around and slams you against the elevator wall. His hand comes up to protect the back of your head and he pulls you in deeper, his tongue flicking along the seam of your lips. You open up and immediately gasp as his hand dives down the front of your pants. He groans, the vibrations shooting through your tongue, as he feels how drenched you are for him.

“Still so wet after being such a naughty slut. Have we not satisfied you here in our humble little city, darling? What will sate your hunger, sweet one? Show me,” Bunny Secretary breathes against your lips as his fingers tease along your messy slit.

Your jaw drops, a low moan leaving her as his digits delve into your sopping cunt. He swallows your moans, kissing you again as if he can’t get enough. You squirm against his fingers, needing so desperately to be filled to the brim. Stretched beyond belief as you have since you got to this city. Bunny Secretary chuckles and your pussy clenches around his fingers.

His fingers slip from your pussy and you whimper at the loss of stimulation, even though you know you need more. Need him. His hand catches onto your clothes and jerks them down, revealing yourself to him. It all happens in a blur, Bunny Secretary moving faster than you can keep up with. He wraps your leg around his waist and before you know it, the thick crown of his cock is nudging against your entrance.

“Hah, we better get started before someone decides they need to use the elevator,” Bunny Secretary pants heavily in your ear.

An electrical charge shocks through your system and your mind quickly jumps to Minotaur Boss. The need and determination on his face as you denied him. But the risk of getting caught only makes you even more wet. Bunny Secretary can feel your slick dribble onto his cock and he almost can’t resist sinking into your wet heat for another second.

“You know, you still haven’t said you’re sorry for making me wait so long…” Bunny Secretary pauses, his aching tip stopping just inside your cunt.

He leans back, raising a brow at you in wait. Your mind is all fuzzy and you can register his words let alone think. But right now you’ll probably say anything to have him. To have this for yourself. Your hips twitch, trying to suck his cock deeper inside your walls.

“I’m so—“

Bunny Secretary jerks his cock inside of you with one rough snap of his hips. Cutting off your words as they collapse into a strangled moan. He smirks wickedly, leaning in to nose at your cheek, rubbing his scent all over you.

“There it is,” he purrs into your ear, his body molding itself to yours as his hips rock into you at a fast pace. You wouldn’t have it any other way as his hard cock ignites your nerves with every smooth solid stroke.

Small whimpers leave you with each thrust, the force of it knocking your body back against the elevator wall. Bunny Secretary’s hand returns to the back of your head as he nuzzles into you, smelling how your scents slowly begin to mix together. Your hands slip underneath his shirt, nails desperately clawing at his back. Marking him briefly in your own way.

One of Bunny Secretary’s fluffy bunny ears dangles close to your face. The hard sway of it every time he ruts back up into you has your body buzzing. You can’t resist the urge to lean forward and nip at his ear. Bunny grunts, his cock twitching inside of you, and he follows it up by sinking his teeth into your neck and picking up speed.

Cries of pleasure freely fall out of your mouth. You don’t even bother trying to hide what’s happening in the elevator. And that’s ok. Because you don’t have to hide anything in this place. You’re just as free as everyone else in the city is and the feeling is… wonderful.

“Oh— nngh— fuck! Just as good as I imagined. Tell me, darling, was this worth the wait?” Bunny Secretary asks, his words muffled by your flesh.

Bunny Secretary pounds his length into your weeping pussy, every bit of stimulation building together into a deep pressure at the bottom of your belly. The ding of the elevator as it reaches each floor heightens your arousal, bringing your body closer and closer to the edge. Wondering if someone will decide to get on at any given moment.

“Y-y-yes!” You scream, letting all the pleasure wash over you for the first time without any hesitance.

Your orgasm overwhelms you and as the elevator dings again, it finally snaps and you cum hard and fast on Bunny Secretary’s throbbing cock. You writhe between the wall and his body as yours trembles with the sheer force wracking its way through you. Bunny Secretary helps work you through it, his thrusts turning sloppy before he grunts loudly and jerks forward, spilling spurt after spurt of hot cum straight into your womb.

He seems to go on forever, his cum filling you up even more, his hips slowing down and rocking into you until his deep pumps start pushing out his own cum. He helps situate you and your clothes as he slips out and releases your leg. You two barely get a moment to breathe before the elevator dings again, the sound slightly off.

You both look toward the door just as it opens. Revealing a very disgruntled Minotaur Boss. His wild eyes look around the elevator and you swear you see steam coming out of his ears. It was clear by your messy appearances that he had missed the show and he was not pleased. He pants heavily and you can only imagine how he looked trying to rush down all those stairs. A scowl quickly overtakes his features.

“What the hell do you think you two are doing? Get back to work!” He shouts, turning away and storming off before either of you could respond. Mostly likely trying to hide the faint blush on his cheeks.

As soon as the elevator doors close again you and Bunny Secretary burst out laughing. You’re in awe by the fact that despite just having such intense sex, there wasn’t a moment you felt awkward or uncomfortable. It felt almost natural and you’re sure as you continue to live and thrive here in Free Use City it will feel even more so. It was nice.

The rest of your work day was thankfully uneventful for the most part. You and Bunny Secretary spent the rest of the day down in the archives which remained otherwise empty. Bunny Secretary was chivalrous enough to offer you a ride home and it was only after you got off his scooter that exhaustion hit you like a train. The ache spreading through your body in an instant. You start trudging your way to your front door when a familiar voice rings out.

“Busy day?” Your Hot Wolf Hybrid Neighbor calls out, a knowing smirk on his face. You laugh a pitiful laugh, shaking your head at him.

“You could say that…”

Hot Wolf Hybrid Neighbor walks up his porch, leaning on the structure and staring out toward you in your yard. He crosses his arms, muscles bulging in his button up. His smile turns gentle and full of understanding. Your traitorous body tingles with awareness and you curse under your breath.

“Wanna come in?”

His invitation makes you pause. On one hand, your body yearns for your bed. It’s tempting to just decline your hot neighbors offer and go inside, set up your room so that you can relax. You have a whole box of toys under your bed you can scratch this tiny itch with if you wanted. But on the other hand… you know what’ll happen if you accept your neighbors offer. You know what he’ll do and you sigh dreamily imagining someone taking care of you for a change. So will you accept his offer?

[writingadvicesavingcometcon]

I've recently learned that I can't write smutt unless I focus 100% on the characters, their dynamic and the thematic purpose of the sex scene. I'm currently writing Tucker/Felix from Red vs Blue and the moment I figured out why Felix was doing any of this was the moment I got ideas for scenes. Because while the story is from Tucker's perspective (Felix is too rancid for me to try to write in the headspace of and since my stories always need to have the abuse victim being empowered and breaking free after a period of time in the story under the shitty treatment of the abuser, I find everything just flows better if the focus is on them and how it affects them rather than the perpetrator and what their mental process for doing it is), Felix is the driving force of the story because his goal is to break Tucker because he's bored and Tucker is the shiny new plaything (I still have to understand WHY Felix does what he does and how he sees things, I just don't put the focus on him by putting us directly in his head because it's unnecessary and Tucker's feelings are far more important as the person he's mistreating).

Their entire dynamic is so interesting to me and I found once I focused entirely on how Felix would carefully, delicately escalate - constantly testing Tucker's lines and then casually nudging them a few centimetres further until he gets used to accepting that - I knew exactly what to do because I just had to follow Felix's reasoning, thought patterns and long-game plan to reel Tucker in and make him do what he wants.

The prose itself only comes with practice unfortunately, but I cannot stress enough - especially as a gray-ace person who really struggles with finding sex scenes interesting when it's just a sequence of physical sex acts with no rhyme or reason for those specific characters with that specific dynamic to be doing the same cookie cutter barbie doll bumping bullshit they do in filmed real person porn - how important it is for you to focus on your characters and dynamics and existing themes if you're stuck on what to do, exactly as OP said.

Also one quick addition from me: don't be afraid to toss in some unusual factor into the scene.

Felix draws Tucker in with a card game he turns into basically strip poker and uses that plus the sexual interest he built in Tucker from other scenes previously plus pushing on Tucker's natural competitive nature/wanting Felix to respect and like him and uses all of that as the springboard to pressure Tucker into more and more things until Tucker falls into sunk cost fallacy combined with arousal (as well as being drunk because of course Felix included drinking into his slow reel-in methods) combined with the conditioning Felix has already been building in him to do as he's told via how he runs the card game, with a consistent focus on making it easy to pass off to Tucker and others as his own ideas/he was consenting the whole time because he chose to do things himself etc (and we just 'ignore' the fact Felix outright pressured and manipulated him into every single escalation throughout the scene in some way; of course we don't actually ignore it as I do my best to make it subtly clear to attentive readers what Felix is doing, I just also have Tucker be the unreliable narrator who is lying REALLY hard to himself/falling hook, line and sinker for Felix's bullshit).

All of that being done through the specific lense of a card game ended up giving me something new and interesting to build the scene around, which helped influence some of the physical act choices, which then consistently aligned with the themes of making Tucker 'choose' to do things, consistently handing Felix all of the power in the scene (and him doing things/manipulating Tucker and the situation to take it back again any time he loses it for even a second) and steadily moving those boundaries in Tucker's mind at a snail's pace I think he would reliably accept under Felix's careful pace and fine adjustments as necessary to keep him on course.

I'll be posting it hopefully some time within the next year. I have another story I want to finish and post first which focuses on the fascinatingly similar vibes between BDSM and military culture (the latter being a toxic non-sexual version of the former with a complete lack of self-awareness) and therefore has to involve choices which reflect the characters' start in military behaviours then a shifted interest/focus on consensual and caring dominance/submission between them (instead of the highly dubious consent of the malicious-intent long-game manipulative power imbalance between Felix and Tucker).

Once Tucker escapes Felix, I want him to have a recovery fic where he tries to process what happened and take back his control through exploring with Washington, someone who actually cares about him and will do his absolute best not to cause more harm while trying to figure out where the actual lines are with a man who wants to take back control over things a shitty person traumatised him with but may or may not actually be ready for each thing he wants to do. So everything I write for them MUST revolve around that and resolving it and Tucker taking back his autonomy and healing in whatever ways he needs, and Washington trying to help facilitate that while being concerned over making sure he doesn't just retraumatise the poor guy.

But yeah. Everything became actually possible even as a gray-ace when I stopped trying to force myself to focus on SexActsTM and instead put ALL of the focus on the characters themselves and how they interact with each other generally and what they would do within a smutt scene in ways that stay consistent with the entire point of their story.

(Do what you want forever of course, but if you can't write smutt because you don't know what to have the characters do and it's always boring to you and others, a lack of what OP mentions is probably why.)

@saturdaysky Your tags are awesome and so right!!!!

Advice for writing smut???

gonna do bullet-points of things i tend to live by when it comes to smut (this is just my opinion):

don't switch styles: the way you write the smut has to be consistent with the way you write the rest of the story, so if your story is more comedic or romcom-y in nature, the way you write the smut should have those stylings. i personally find it very jarring when authors decide to break the format for the smut, almost like the story has to stop for the sex intermission; if you're writing a horror story, the smut must be informed and influenced by that genre, and if you are breaking genre for the smut portion, tell us why you're suddenly switching gears (it has to be an aesthetic choice you're making on purpose). likewise, if your style in that story is more lyrical, the smut has to be somewhat lyrical too, or if your story is more cormac mccarthy-esque-cut-and-dry, the smut can't suddenly involve an effluvia of purple, sappy prose. integrating the smut in the story and treating it like any other part of the story is key to me. too often i've seen ppl switch to this anonymous pornified style when they get to the smut

which brings me to specificity. i'll talk about het sex, since that's what i tend to write most: not all men are going to be fingering or eating pussy the same way, not all dicks are big and they shouldn't be, not all women immediately get excited by fingering, not everyone moans the same way or makes the same sounds. you're writing about particular characters so it has to be particular to them. i know this is very old advice, but i think it bears repeating

there isn't an exact formula or sequence you have to follow, there aren't precise steps, you don't have to go "well, first he has to kiss down her neck, then reach the boob area, then play with the nipples, then put the nipple in his mouth, then slowly go down on her, then prepare her for entering her etc. etc. etc." this can get boring and repetitive and you start thinking of your characters as these mechanical dolls who have to fuck for your audience. and that can be a vibe too, if you do it on purpose. but sometimes you can get stuck in a porn routine (and ofc, having only the guy show initiative can also get boring)

in order to break that, insert some character moments. what are the characters thinking during this? sometimes they might be thinking of something completely unrelated on the surface, but which has a thematic relevance that can make the scene hotter. likewise, maybe they're doing smth that seems unsexy on the surface, but which, within the context of the story might be really hot. sex doesn't just involve, well, sex, but so much weirdness and humanity and creativity. two bodies (usually) are trying to do this really awkward thing together and they might have a lot of baggage and history to inform it. there's a lot you can do with that.

don't make it glossy and clean, where everyone smells of strawberry shampoo and there is never anything out of sync. the most boring smut tends to be the kind where no one makes any mistakes and everything is super efficient. i imagine it feels like using an industrial pump to milk various farm animals.

and you know what? you can make that hot too. you CAN write a kind of robotic efficient smut and make it really interesting based on the context. let's say you're writing a 1984 AU fic where ppl are forced into intimacy only to procreate and their sex drive is diminished. you can play with that premise and lean into the dehumanizing industrialization of sex, but you have to mean it, aka your narratorial voice must be conscious of these factors.

if you're writing dubcon, make the dubious part present, make sure you draw out the ambivalence and ambiguity. if you're writing noncon, the character whose consent is being violated has to be transformed by this in some way. it can be forced pleasure, for instance, but not only. it has to be a journey for them too, some kind of spiritual pit, or a form of access to terrible knowledge. i know this is a personal thing, but noncon doesn't work for me if the character being noncon'd is just sort of *there*, suffering passively. i think that sort of dead passivity can be done very well too, but the narratorial voice has to persuade me.

that being said, don't be afraid of fear in consensual sex. terror and vulnerability are a part of consensual sex too, imo, and again, depending on the story and the characters, there's a lot you can explore there

i personally find it really hot when the narratorial voice starts discussing some of the ideas that the story wants to convey during the smut. so like, you can characterize person A and outline their worldview and their plans while they're ramming person B, and the thinking & fucking are thus entwined. idk, i dig that

speaking of which, smut can convey world-building details and social/philosophical ideas, not just emotions and character beats

not all smut has to end with mutual orgasm or even one-sided orgasm, it depends what you want to do or where you want to go. again, you don't have to follow a sequence. plus, it's fun (and hot) to write about frustration and failure too.

if you want to mix up the descriptions, resort to the story & characters. you'll find it's easier to describe someone fondling a boob in a new or at least interesting way if you're thinking about that particular character in that particular story, and not just Man X from planet porn (sorry to be snarky, but mainstream erotica is soooo guilty of this)

screaming & really intense reactions are cool but they have to match the characters and the situations

sometimes, it's hotter if an effect is mild or negated, if the usual outcome doesn't happen; mix up the order of events, toy with the usual reactions. it's not about being original, it's about finding out what works for your characters. writing about sex is, in a way, a performance of it, an attempt to go through the sexual motions, to find out what works and doesn't, to engage with the erotics of text (roland barthes entered the chat)

if you are bored by your own smut, that's a problem. i know we all talk about how hard we find writing smut, and IT IS hard, and sometimes it's not enjoyable, because writing itself is often not enjoyable, but even when it's painful and annoying, it gives you that little intellectual kick like "huh, i'm creating this and making these people do this, and ohh look, i can maybe put this unnamable thing into words". but if you become bored, that's a sign you have to look at the language & characters and figure out what's not working for you

last thing i'll underline: pay attention to your narratorial voice. in this ordeal, you are the seducer. not the characters. you have to seduce us with words and context. your voice matters. you have to be confident in your weirdness and particularity. this is your bedroom (so to speak), so invite us in.

[mr2swap]

Swap syndrome 2: armpit addiction.

-damn heat… -

The time on my cell phone showed 2:05, the idiot Travis had made me wait but in a way that made me happy I would have to charge him $50 more for being late.

Today was a very fucking day at the gym, it was so hot that I had to change my shirt, but still the rancid aroma of sweat coming from my hairy armpits filled the interior with my car, I was in the same parking lot of the gym where it is only A couple of minutes had left a huge sweat stain on the floor.

But despite everything I loved my new life, after the great shift and finding myself in this boy's hot and muscular body, from the beginning I knew this was a good thing, when I woke up in Travis's bedroom and looked down to see two juicy pecs, a sculpted six-pack and long, hairy legs, the first thing I did was take out my huge cock that was hidden among a leafy bush of hair and give myself the best handjob of my entire life.

It had been a little over a year since that moment, I quickly got used to Travis' life, kept his muscles big and strong and all thanks to his tiny YouTube channel where he showed all his exercise routines, but that was all wasted talent for Travis' glorious, beautiful body.

I no longer had my college degree or anyone to turn to, yet I was able to easily make money from all these fags, who wanted to sleep with me and this body.

Still not in the same city where I used to live, I watched the news and learned everything that had been happening in the world and that the real Travis was out there in my tired, flabby 40-year-old office worker body.

A tapping on my car window brought me out of my thoughts, it was the real Travis I grimaced in disgust as I looked at my old face once more in front of me, I looked at the time on my phone once more, and now it was 2:07 that now meant $70.

The door of my car and Travis jumped inside it, his first action was to completely inhale the disgusting smell inside the car, after that he lunged at me trying to reach my armpits, After that he lunged at me trying to reach my armpits, but in one movement I moved his old, ugly face away from me.

-You know the rules Travis, first I want the bills-

He extended one of my hands while he took out his wallet and extended a small wad of cash. In one quick movement, I snatched the bills from him and began to count them one by one while a nervous expression formed on the real Travis's face.

-Are you fucking with me? Only $500? -

There was nothing left of the old confident Travis, the confident, outgoing boy had disappeared, in his place there was only a perverted faggot who paid me for a few minutes of my attention due to swap syndrome. When we swapped our bodies, I thought I would get rid of him to always, but this pathetic middle-aged man was clinging to me like a leech trying to get close to me with his twisted homosexual intentions. I didn't really care what he did with my old body, but I thought I could make some money a month by squeezing every penny of this situation.

-Please! Just, just 5 minutes! I had to pay this month's rent and my landlord told me that if I was late another month he would throw me out on the street.-

I rolled my eyes as Travis the bitch kept giving me stupid excuses about how hard it was to find a good job now that he was a middle-aged man and he was tired all the time from working so much.

-Okay, just shut your fucking mouth.-

I put my hand on his head and pushed him into one of my hairy pits and choked his nose with the sour sweat that was collecting in my armpits. The initial struggle quickly turned into pleasure, I could feel Tyler's breathing slow. He shook until he filled his lungs, his mouth savored the curly hairs of my armpit and sucked up the small drops of sweat with his dirty tongue as if he had crossed a desert.

Tyler's small hands slid to his crotch and he began to frantically massage his cock over his pants, occasionally Tyler would move away from my armpit to get some air and lick my muscular arms with his disgusting sticky tongue, I watched as they passed minutes on my cell phone and before 5 minutes had passed, Tyler's small wrinkled cock soiled his pants with semen.

I pushed Tyler away and a satisfied smile formed on Tyler's face, his chest rising and falling as he tried to recover from the addictive experience he had just experienced, a few hairs from my armpit had stuck to his face and a stain of sweat had formed on the collar of his shirt.

I didn't have time for this, this experience had made me horny, I wanted to unload the enormous amount of cum that wanted to escape from my huge hairy balls, but the disgusting man next to me was not worthy of this...nor did I have another $500

I extended one of my long, muscular arms and opened the door of my luxurious sports car.

-Now get out bitch, see you next week-

As soon as I clean every trace of Tyler from my car, I'll call some of my girls, so I can fill their pussies with my beautiful, hot seed.

This is a second installment of the swap syndrome story, but the only thing they share in common is the same syndrome that is spreading among those affected by the great shift, you can see more by visiting my Ko-fi page:

Hello, if you liked this story, and you want more, you can take a look at my new Ko-Fi page to see my most recent stories, see my new stories and support me to continue creating this hot content.

[gracieheartspedro]

Propositio

pairing: marcus acacius x afab! reader (daughter of marcus aurelius)

word count: 6k words

description: after assembling an army to win back rome, you finally get to confront the traitor to your cause. general marcus acacius.

warnings: DUBCON. this is for 18+ readers ONLY. lots of blood mentioned, marcus is mean, talks of execution, physical violence, choking, name-calling, manipulation (reader is manipulative, he is too), betrayal, misogyny, proposing a horny ultimatum, nicknames (little dove), unprotected p in v, overstimulation, oral (f receiving), he finishes inside you, he leaves blood prints on you, talking you through it, you and marcus are unhinged. (please let me know if I missed anything or mistagged)

dedication: my sweet sweet @amanitacowboy !! thank you for helping me with this, lindsey! you saved my ass by helping me edit this and your encouragement really got me through writing all of this. *MWAH* forehead kiss

author’s note: you whores asked, and I delivered. now please be kind and share and leave a comment!! you guys rock!!

You never thought you would see the day when Marcus Acacius would be behind iron bars. But here you are, standing before the slated door, watching him with his face in his hands. He looked despicable, completely unknowing of the situation in the city's streets. 

“You care to stand for your Empress?”

His big brown eyes lift from his fingers, glaring at you. He easily recognized your voice, it was something that was imprinted in his mind. “Empress?”

You smirked at his absentminded statement, trying your best not to show your pleasure in hearing him call you that. 

“Rome has fallen, General. And you are here. Shameful that I had to do this all on my own when I inquired to you about a months time.”

He stands up slowly, his tunic and face stained with blood and dirt. He had wounds littering his arms and legs, all dripping blood onto the sandy ground. You could only imagine the horrors he experienced at the hands of the twin emperors. You had no time to grieve for him though, because he is now trying to size you up through the cell. It makes your lips curve up. 

“I would have been inclined to help you, but I was too occupied fighting for my life,” He bites, gritting his teeth. 

Your eyes rake him up and down, noting his beaten-down expression. You have spent so long resenting the man who lied to you, that finally getting to stare him in the face was gratifying. He was already paying for his consequences, and not even at your hand.

“I was, too, General. I put together an army of eight thousand strong. For a woman, I did well.”

He puts his arms through the rails, leaning forward. His hands are close to you, but not close enough to touch you. He looks so different from what you remember. Maybe it’s the new scars that litter his face, one particularly on his right cheekbone. The struggle for power and the war he waged seemed to have caused some fine lines as well. 

He is not the same soldier you knew years before. 

“Now that you rule Rome, what is your first move? Kill all the loyalists?” His voice is gruff, almost like he had something caught in his throat. 

You had pondered this day for so long. You were hopeful he was still alive so he could watch you do everything you had planned to do. You remember him telling you that you would make a great ruler someday, but that would probably never happen since you were a woman. He liked to remind you of that often. 

You felt the urge to get in his space and pester him, as you had done time and time again. 

You turn away from him, looking around the tables that surround you, searching for a way to get closer to him. You spot a ring of iron keys and snatch them up. You go through each one, finding one that matches the keyhole. You hear a click as soon as you turn it, the door sliding open. Instead of letting him come out, you stand in his space. All that occupies the room is a wooden bench, a small window, and a table with an empty bowl.

“These quarters meeting your standards?” 

The iron door shuts on its own, rattling as it locks itself. Marcus grimaces, annoyed with your words about him and his situation. “Are you planning on keeping me in here?”

You cross your arms, completely disregarding his question. You did not feel like appeasing him that quickly. “The bench should be a bit softer for your aging back. I am positive you are not getting good sleep.”

The Marcus you knew before was polite and calculated. This Marcus was tired and unhinged. As soon as he notes your condescending tone, he realizes how easy it would be to kill you in the privacy of his cell. You would never expect that from him, he thought.

He reaches out, grabs your shoulders, and slams you against the dirt walls. Luckily, your head does not slam against the mud, only your back. 

The air leaves your lungs as Marcus pins you. You were not expecting such a response, but you stayed unwavering in your expression. You already had your reasonings for being bitter towards the man. You were now ensuring he would never do another malicious thing towards you and that meant putting him in his place. 

“You evil conniving whore,” He seethes, as you try to push out a breath. When you finally bring air back into your chest, you laugh out, your breath hitting his face. 

“Talking dirty to me, General? I thought you were a gentleman.”

He grunts, wrapping his large hand around your neck. You know this is compromising, dangerous even, but you knew deep down that if he killed you, he would only be hurting himself. Rome needed you. He knew that better than anyone else. 

“What are you going to do? Tell me,” He seethes, his fingers squeezing harder the more the seconds pass. 

You try to speak, but he’s cutting off a lot of your air. You wedge your hands in between your bodies, pushing his chest back a bit. He was so warm. “Kill the loyalists. And for this, I may kill you.”

He grits his teeth, “You are not going to kill me.”

“You do not know me very well then, General.”

He removes his hand, knowing very well he bruised your neck in the process of getting information out of you. He is still very close to you as you catch your breath, fanning his sweaty hair off his forehead. He is trying to read you, but for some reason, your coldness informs him of nothing. Your intentions were usually blatant. Not today. 

“What good does killing me do?” He inquires, his arms still caging you in. You cannot lie that you check out his muscular arms as you think about your next statement, considering that he’s more built than he was when you saw him years ago.

Marcus was always enjoyable to look at, but in this very moment, you could not stand the sight of his conflicted expressions. You did not understand why he was rattled and confused. He had no right to be. 

Suddenly you are back in the juncture where you found out the Senate knew about your impending invasion. You had only told one person inside Rome of your grand plans and he was supposed to be helping you. 

But instead, he was the one who informed the council. Your blood boiled at the horrid information. You had to get revenge. The General needed to pay.

“I do not bode well with traitors, General. You betrayed me.”

He scoffs, his eyes trained on your lips, “You know well I did not intentionally try to eradicate your plan. It worked anyway, why does it matter now?”

“You told the Senate that I was raising an army, am I correct in that assumption?”

“No, I told one Senator, one I thought I could trust, that I was aiding you to raise an army. It got me locked in this hell.” He gestures to his surroundings, finally backing away from your space. “I did not want to intentionally ruin this. You know that I would have done anything to see another Aurelius guide the Empire into what it should be. You are the hope Rome still has left.”

Your family history was the only way you had a pathway to be the Empress. You were technically the last of your family and you knew that would be your path to the position of the Roman Ceasar. Plus, Rome adored your Father. He was the greatest ruler Rome ever had. You had his heart and his compassion, unlike your older brother who ended up dead in the middle of the Coliseum due to his hunger for power. Your sister was practically useless when she lost her son, so it was up to you and you alone. 

When the Twins took over Rome, you knew you had run away to farther lands to raise an army, appealing to every land that if you were not to aid them, they would get eliminated by Rome’s tyranny. Within 3 years, you had many countries and armies by your side, ready to take over the empire in your name. 

Once the Twins knew of your plan, they sprang into action. They wanted your head. You had to fight to get into the walls of Rome and every soldier was directed to kill you at first sight. You had some close calls but you were decent with a sword and your guards were even better with theirs. Once you got to the steps of the palace, by some stroke of luck, the Twins were already dead. The rumor had spread that you were taking back Rome and the citizens took care of the last task you had without even asking. 

You raise your chin, not giving in to Marcus’ game, “You almost got me killed. For that, I cannot forgive you.”

He winces a bit, putting his hands on his hips. “You never were very forgiving.”

“Hm, you perceive me well,” You sneer, trying your best not to take note of the ache around your neck. You bring your hand up to feel out the irritation. Marcus zeros in on your motions, smiling a bit. 

“I was stuck looking after you for many years, remember? I know you better than you know yourself, little one.” 

You think back to the days of being an obsessive young woman who was looked after by many guards during your father’s reign. Your favorite was always Marcus. He would let you get away with the most chaos. He was about ten years your senior. He knew it would be easier to let your childish nature roll off his shoulders than try to reprimand you. The few times you remember, you begged him to let you hold his sword and he refused telling you, ‘Women do not carry such weapons’. So instead of giving up on the conquest, you snuck into his sleeping quarters and stole it. When you showed off to a bunch of drunk soldiers, you thought Marcus’ face could not get any redder. He was so mad at you that he almost cursed you in front of your father. 

You sickly enjoyed aggravating the man. Always have, always will. 

You were starting to realize that you had a very broad history with the soldier. How were you to kill him?

“Tell me, Marcus. How would you like me to do it?”

He is quick with his response, “Do what, exactly?”

“How do you want me to kill you?”

He shakes his head, recognizing the look on your face, which suggests that you are only toying with the idea and are in conflict with yourself. 

“You are not going to.”

You begin to realize you are showing too much honest emotion. He is too quick to notice such things about you, which annoyed you quite a bit.

You smile, trying to flip him off your trail. “But I am, General.”

“You are not going to kill me, girl. I will not die under your hand.”

He is not backing down, which only frustrates you further. You step past him, getting a big whiff of blood flooding your nostrils as you do. The unfortunate man has not bathed in weeks. The blood staining his body is probably of dozens of different men. 

You peek out the iron bars to see that you two are still alone. You had three guards standing by not too far from the exit of the cells, but you instructed them not to follow you in.

“Then how would you like it? Another man’s hand?” You are silent for a moment, turning back to him, “I have a whole army.”

“Are they here now?”

He glances around his quarters, pondering how he is going to get out of this situation. You watch him carefully calculate his next move. His hand palms his face and his growing facial hair. He finally eyes you and you can tell he is getting tired. He knows he has only one choice. 

“What do I have to do to get you to forgive me?”

You snicker, knowing he is going to have to do more than ask for forgiveness. You sickly want to watch him appeal for your mercy.  “Get on your knees and beg.”

“I am not begging.”

“Then you die.”

He saunters over to you, his dirty fingers reaching up and tracing the hair on your arms. You take note that he’s touching you more cautiously than he was moments before. “I told you that I did not intentionally betray you.”

You stare down at his movements on your bare skin. “And I told you I do not care of what your intentions were.”

He smirks, cocking his eyebrow up. He knows that you will show some mercy to him because deep down, you could not stand the idea of losing him. He was a part of you, whether you liked it or not.

“You will let me live. You are going to let me lead the army like I once did,” He remarks, very certain of himself.

You scoff, tilting your head back, “You sound sure of yourself, Marcus. I do not think you understand-“

“Do you not remember telling me that I was the only man you trusted with your mind, body, and soul? What happened to that woman?”

It was something you had told him years before after he finally gave in and fucked you. It was probably the best night of your life, having him ravish you and please you. In a lustful conversation, you informed him that you only trusted him with your entire being. Looking back, you were a bit too vulnerable. You visibly cringe remembering it. 

As you scan his face, your annoyance for him only grows as he uses that moment as a pawn in his appeal to get out of this.

“That was before, this is now.”

“So you lied, too,” His fingers drag up and down your arm, his nails leaving marks as he does, “Why would you lie to me?”

You know that he is trying to flip the circumstances back on you. While the manipulation was easily sensed, you could not help but continue to entertain it. Privately, you thrived on the disorder of it all. Marcus was the only man who could talk this way to you. He did know you very well. 

“You know this is not the same. The entire army of Rome had orders to behead me. That happened because of your gossip.”

He shakes his head, his dirty curls taking up space on his forehead again, “It is to me. You said I was the only man worthy of protecting you. If I were not held up in a cell, I would have ended this war before it even began.”

“I do not wish for your protection, not anymore.”

He did not anticipate you resisting his every advancement. You usually cowered your head and accepted whatever retort he gave back, but this time, you were ready with a riposte immediately. 

He coughs out a laugh, “You will when the entire Roman army turns against you. All I do is say the words.”

You knew that Rome would bow to you without resistance. His army had heard too many awful things about him by now. He was down in the pits for treason. You knew that he was only saying this to get back in your good graces. Deep down, you had already decided that this argument was useless. Marcus may have deceived you, but you know he would have never deliberately given you up. It would make no sense for his safety, also. By the looks of it, he fought for a long while to stay alive in the Coliseum. 

But you wanted to get him to believe that you still could not trust him, just to put him on edge. You desired some revenge after such emotional turmoil.

“They would never betray me,” You reply, bringing your hands together in front of your stomach. You wait for him to take the bait. 

Marcus notices your lip twitch. You are bluffing and he is unsure why you would be trying to stir up his emotions. You were good at bringing him no peace and since he was so exhausted and hungry, he was getting angrier than he was accustomed to. 

He sighs, trying to blow off some of the steam rising to his face. “They have gotten more loyal to me during this previous reign. They would be rather disappointed to find me dead by your hand. You will not kill me.”

You stare at him, your lips pursed in faux contemplation. 

“You are right. I will not.”

The response throws him off balance. He stumbles a bit. “What?” “Instead, I will have someone else do it. I will watch them as they give you a soldier’s death. A beautiful shining blade at the very top of your spine,” You walk closer to him, your hands still adjoined at the bottom of your abdomen. “Slicing you all the way down your midsection. I will enjoy watching the blood spill out, staining the marble floors of the palace.”

He steps towards you, his jaw clenched. He is sick of the back and forth when he knows you will not make good on your plans. He is peering at you suspiciously before his hand reaches up to your soft cheek. For some odd reason, you believe he will be gentle. But he is not. He grabs your face roughly, squishing your cheeks against your back teeth. “I am beginning to lose my patience. Are you sure you want to do this, little dove?”

The nickname. It was something he used to call you when you two were intimate all those years ago. He saw you as a delicate thing back then. The woman you had morphed into was foreign to him. You were more maddening than ever. 

“I will do whatever is good for the Republic, General.”

He uses all his strength to shove you backward into the bench. Your ass falls against the wooden plank that Marcus had been sleeping on for a fortnight. The wood is rough against your thin vein of fabric. 

The shock of his violence sends wetness pooling between your legs. You had only seen Marcus rough with you once and it was never to this degree. He may have given in to you with aggressive and unforgiving hips, but this was another level of hostility. Your heart begins to race as he stands over you, his tanned body heaving in frustration. 

He squints at you, “Good for the Republic, huh? What good is a dirty little whore to the Republic?”

You try your best not to give in at this moment. And Marcus knows it. Your face twists, your nose pointing upward like you used to when you were a young woman. He suddenly recalls a moment where you were being reprimanded by someone of higher rank and you had crossed your arms over your chest and crinkled your nose like you inhaled something awful. It was a facial expression he would never forget. A simple indication that you were wrong and someone else was correct. 

You are noticing the way his eyes are tracing your face and you try to keep yourself as still as possible. “You are speaking to your Empress, Marcus.”

His eyes rake your body, almost like he is looking for something. He smiles, “My Empress who I am aware has a dagger stored somewhere on her body and yet she has not used it on me yet. Why is that?”

You are not ready for what is next on Marcus’ mind. He pushes your thighs apart with his knee, forcing you to look at him again by aggressively holding onto your face again. You wince when his filthy fingernails dig into your cheeks. 

“Marcus-”

“Why have you not already plunged your dagger into my heart if you want me gone? Why do you need someone else to do your work?” 

He is mocking you, his tone not giving you a break in the slightest. Somewhere deep down, Marcus knows something is up. With the way your body is giving into his every move, he can tell your intentions were simple: to make him the fool. 

And you were doing a very good job. Because he is getting very antsy. You pull your head back, trying to add some distance between him and yourself. But his face is so close to yours, that you can smell the metallic scent of blood from his skin. Your eyes avert away, not wanting him to finally look inside and read your mind. 

You manage to muster up something. “Because I still very much enjoy watching you writhe under my thumb.”

He is seething, his face is beet red. The way you are positioned, so impurely before him, brings his hateful aggression to full-blown rageful desire. 

He is eager with his movements and you are fallen at his mercy. Within only a few moments, he is hiking up your stola moving the fabric away from your lower half. You groan out as soon as his fingers grope you. You believe every breath has left your body. 

He chuckles darkly to himself, “Me? Writhe under your thumb? Is that so? You only came here to watch me suffer?”

“Yes-” “You believe some impish whore, like yourself, can here and make me completely fall apart? Hm? How about I load myself in that pussy of yours and we see who truly falls apart first?”

He was not wrong with his words, but they were so unhinged. You had never heard Marcus talk like this to you. While he was quick with his language, he was still always very respectable. 

His proposition was not completely unwelcome. 

“You do not know what I want. Why are you doing this?” 

You try to manage as he spreads around your dampness with his fingers. You had not been touched like this in so long so you were easily swayed why the action. You lull your head back, making it pretty obvious that you did want this.

He hums to himself, watching your body squirm under him. “Do I not? Here you are, so easily taken down by me, a traitor. What kind of emperor falls to her knees for a man who allegedly betrayed her? What good chance will Rome have with a leader like that?”

You watch as he tears up the fabric, completely revealing your naked core up to your lower breastplate. He stares down at the state of you, grinning to himself wickedly. You can not think of a single word to say to him, so you just lament with your hands at your side. 

He strips off his tunic, leaving him in just his subligaculum. The cloth was tented by the strain of his hard-pressed cock. 

His body was covered in blood and dirt, the tunic not absorbing all of the fluids from his battles. His skin is splattered with it. He watches you stare at it intently, huffing out. 

“So what will we do, Empress? How about… If you fall apart first, I am free. If I release first, you kill me. How about that?”

You watch as he palms his cock over the cloth. Your mouth starts to overproduce saliva as you observe his action. You knew you were not going to win such a thing, and that is completely okay with you. Marcus knew this, too. The last time you two were intimate, he inserted himself into you for a whole minute before you were squeezing around him and begging for more. 

“That is a deal I can agree with, General.”

He nods arrogantly before he grabs your hips, kneading the flesh. You watch him spread his bloodstained hands all around your legs, hinging your knees with his forearms. 

“Do not even need to warm you up,” He uses his left hand to guide his cock through your seeping folds. 

You do not prefer the sound of no foreplay, but you do not think it is your time to say anything. As soon as your lips open, Marcus dribbles spit down between your bodies, landing perfectly right at your slit. It’s obscene, his actions. But instead of gasping at the immortality of it, you are breathing out in pleasure. His member splits you open, every ridge pressing against your insides. 

“Marcus, my Gods,” You whine, trying to gain some sense. “I need your fingers first.”

He scrunches his nose, guiding himself into the hilt. “No, you do not. You will take me like this first.”

“Marcus-” “And after I watch you fall apart on me, I am going to,” He pulls his cock out of you begrudgingly slow, “Make you fall apart on my mouth. And then when I get two out of you, I will fuck you again with my cock. When my seed spills inside you and leaks down your legs, I will send you out to the streets and have you clear my name.”

And then he slams into you again. He is very girthy, which is a lot for your untouched cunt. You had no formal stretching before he entered you, so it hurts a bit as he speeds up his incursion inside you. 

He plants his hands right on your hips, his hands expanding down your side. With the way your head is propped up on the wall, you are practically forced into watching him fuck you with such vigorous speed. He’s animalistic. His hands leave blood prints on your body, sticky and off-putting. 

You are so enamored with him, that you do not even begin teetering on the edge of your release. He notices this as your cunt squeezes his member, which encourages him to speed up his pistoning hips. 

“Oh, dove, I feel you,” He extends his thumb down to the very top of your slit, “Your flower is just seizing around me. You are about to cum.”

You try to tense up a bit, but your body feels weightless. “No. No, I can not.”

You can not stop what is impending. He rubs circles on your sensitive bud, sending your back lurching away from the wall. 

“Ah, yes, that’s right, dove. Release on my cock. You know you want to,” He is gritting his teeth, eyes gazing directly into yours. 

Tears prick at the corners of your eyes, trying to hold back, but him grinding into you sends you over. A scream rips through your body as you careen forward towards his shoulders. You hold on to him like he is going to dissipate away, grabbing at his back. Your climax is white hot almost as if your entire body was lit on fire and quickly extinguished. 

“There it is…” He fucks you through it all, his thrusts slowing as you relax yourself against the wall again. “I win.”

His words set you off. The high of your release is now ruined by his statement. Your arms are still lazily around his shoulders. You glare up at him, seeing his smug smirk painting his lips. It’s truly sinful. 

You use all your strength and pull him down towards your lips. You capture him in a kiss that you almost believe he is going to pull away from but does not. You just want him to stop speaking for a moment so you settle with the reality of the situation. You would have to face Rome and tell them that the traitor is being let off for his crimes against you. 

You were still better than the alternate reality of Rome. Under the Twins, they would see no peace. With you, the only chaos you would pursue is General Marcus Acacius. You could live with that.

He tilts his head back, trying to pull away from your mouth. You lock your arm around him, holding him there a moment longer. His lips manage to trail away.

“You won this. But I won Rome.”

He chuckles at your statement before reminding you of his promise, “I am not done yet, Dove.”

His tacky fingers grab you roughly, lifting you off the bench and towards the table across the dirt floor room. He places your feet on the ground, your back to his much taller figure. His cock is still solid, pressing right into your buttcheek. 

“Bend over.”

You practically snap your neck trying to look back at the man. 

He does not take kindly to that, using his hand to push your face to look towards the wall again. “Do what I say. I already told you what I was to do.”

You lean your body over the furniture, holding onto the edge as you feel Marcus’ hands slide across your back, all the way down to your ass. You hear a commotion but you are too afraid of what he may do if you look back. You then realize he’s on his knees behind you. When he settles in the dust, he uses both hands to spread you open. He wastes no time, diving face-first into your dripping core. Your cunt is already so sensitive that when you feel his tongue flattening between your slit, you cannot help but squeal. 

Your sounds provoke Marcus to think back to the nights when he was alone on the front lines of war, lying in his tent, thinking about the first time he tasted you. You had never experienced pleasure like that, and he vividly remembers pulling orgasm after orgasm out of you with his tongue. It was his favorite thing about your intimate times together. The memory was enough to have him erupting all over his stomach night after night.

And now here you are again, right under his thumb. Or rather, his tongue.

“My Gods, Marcus, please.”

His ministrations change from eager licks to suckling on your most sensitive bud. Obscene wet noises begin reverberating off the walls, filling the room with such crudeness. His nose is pressed into you, sucking in your sweet scent. 

You silently prayed that no others heard you two. 

The warmth in your stomach fills again. Your legs feel like they may give out from under you. Luckily, Marcus has his hands right where your thighs begin, spreading you open, but also holding you up. When the wave of pleasure hits, your legs shake and your throat lets out a guttural moan. 

He licks up whatever your body offers him before he is back on his feet. His chest presses into your back as he traces the outline of your body with his digits. You feel so winded from your comedown, that you can hardly say anything. Marcus’ face creeps to the side of yours, nudging your cheek with his nose. 

“You taste like heaven, little dove.”

His words are such a drastic shift from what he was saying to you before. But while his words were charming, his actions were still brute. He reaches down to his swollen cock head and begins to drag it along your slick. You cry out, your body still recovering from the last moments of his stimulation. 

“Marcus-” “I am going to fill you with my seed now. You will take every last drop because of what you just put me through,” He slides himself back into your cunt, painfully slow, “You are so convincing when you want to be.”

You grunt, trying to prop yourself up on your elbows. When Marcus notices your movement, he takes the chance and grabs your arms in a very rough manner. His hands are gripping you so tightly, you anticipate another mark. He yanks your body closer to his, wrapping your arms between your bodies, locking you up. It was not the most comfortable position, but the feeling of his cock slipping in you further distracts you from the affliction. 

“You played me for a fool. You were always going to let me go. You just wanted me to fill this greedy pussy.”

He fucks into you, letting out his own passionate grunts. His words rattle in your mind as your whole body jiggles over the edge of the table. 

He had you all figured out. It was unnerving how well he could read you, but it was not surprising. He had been around for most of your life, looking after you and being your most trusted confidant. Even if he let something slip to the wrong person, he was still going to be the one person you looked to in every crowd. 

Now that you have experienced this side of him, you only love him more. He has always been intimidating, but never this all-consuming. 

“Need you always, Marcus,” You whimper, trying your best to not ruin his pace. His cock stretches you so deliciously, you wish to have it with you at all times. 

His release comes hurriedly, his body becoming heavy on top of yours. He slams your body down on the table, his arms breaking most of the fall. You can feel his seed emptying into your spent hole, warming you inside. The string of words leaving his lips, that’s right dove, take all of me, your greedy hole just missed me. 

You can not help yourself. You smile. 

You really wish you had watched him fall apart, knowing it was probably a sight to behold. There was always next time. 

He unwraps himself from you and stumbles back a couple of steps. You lift your tired body, turning around to face him. You know if you step forward, you may crash to the floor. Leaning on the table was your best course of action. 

He is smirking himself, his cock still half hard on his leg. “Need me, huh?”

You knew he would find time to hang onto those words. You breathe out your nose, a bit caught off guard. “Yes. I always seem to need you when I feel vulnerable.”

“Well, coming from the Empress of Rome, that surely means a lot. That you look to me in such times, I mean.”

You bite your cheek, contemplating your next big plans for Marcus. You did not want him to leave your side now that you ruled over him. You felt a gravitational pull from him. Now with him here in front of you, that was even more apparent.

“Well… General..” You try to find a way to word your next course of action. He looks at you earnestly as you speak. “You will be pardoned under my rule. But you will not be returning to your men. I will see you through as my personal protection.”

He furrows his brow at you as he picks up his abandoned tunic. “Pardon me?”

“You are directed to be my personal guard, Marcus. Your troops will now be under the rule of another. If you see issue with my ruling, I will happily leave you in this cell.”

He wants to be angry, but he simply cannot be. Truth be told, he was ready to retire from being the leader of the world’s largest array of soldiers. He was just not expecting you to allow him to do such a thing.

He cracks a smile at the thought of you leaving him in this cell.

“What you order, goes. I will happily take on that role, Empress.”

All he knew was to be strong and even-tempered when he directed his armies. Now in a time of peace, under your rule, he needed to find calamity somewhere else. And he knew that would be right at your side.

tagging all who wanted this: @layaispunk @tammythr @amanitacowboy @noladyme @kluvspedro @fangirlcentral1

[keferon]

Okaur I had to quickly write something for prowl getting sick cuz its so funny enjoy teehee

______

Prowl cupped Jazz close to his chassis, as close as he could as he turned and began running away from the aliens, managing to gain a good amount of distance between them and their hunters.

Jazz held onto the nooks and crannies in Prowl's chest to not fall, though the other squeezed him hard enough against the metal Jazz would most likely not fall. God damnit! The one time he doesn't bring his mecha..

Jazz had barely any time to process it when Prowl tripped.

He fell, pressing the servo closed over Jazz, catching himself best he could, turning quickly to catch the brunt of the fall on his back as they tumbled down to a small opening in the desert hills.

Jazz was still holding tight when the shaking and rattle stopped. He groaned a little from inside Prowl's closed servo, as Prowl quickly opened it and looked down at the other with concerned optics.

"Sshit- y'couldve warned me-" Jazz huffed, looking up to Prowl and then freezing, visibly enough for Prowl to notice.

"Are you okay?" Prowl questioned, blinking and then noticing a pink drip of energon drop down into his palm, Jazz barely managing to sidestep to not catch it on his helmet.

"Am I- bloody hell mech- are you okay?!"

Jazz questioned, grabbing to Prowl's chest and climbing up to the others face, Prowl supporting him a little with an unsteady palm.

"I feel-" Prowl vented.

He blinked, stuttering a little. Something sent shivers through his chassis, rattling underneath his plates. He tried to evaluate his situation but his processor only added more errors on top of already existing ones whenever he tried to reboot.

His processor might've been damaged, something might've been. He'd been sluggish during their stand-off with the aliens..

"I feel-" he felt warm, but not. Coolant rushing through his systems to fight off a virus, over-exerting his engine and motor functions. Prowl felt....giddy.

Jazz looked at the others face and then down at him as a whole. Prowl's vents were heaving, his armour plates moved in an uncomfortable tremble whenever he exvented, pink energon dripped out of the others nose.

Prowl snorted, which caught Jazz off guard as he looked back at the mech's face, his eyes wide.

"You're funny." Prowl mumbled. His eyes were dilating and shrinking, as he furrowed his optic ridge a little.

"Jazz- im going- to fall-"

He barely managed to cup his servo under Jazz to hold onto before his body slumped and fell back into the sand and dirt.

"Prowl! What the fuck- Prowl!" Jazz crawled quickly back onto the others chassis, staring at him.

"Whats wrong?! Whats happenin?! Were y'injured?" He questioned, staring down at Prowl's incomprehensible face. Was he- was he smiling???

Prowl was watching the other frantically scramble around himself, looking for injury or any other sign of an error.

"My spark.." Prowl mumbled out, making Jazz flinch so hard it sent whiplash through the others body.

Jazz climbed back to the chassis, looking at the other.

What- what what what?! Prowl's spark couldn't possibly be hurt could it?? Did an alien get a shot through his back????

"My spark...is yours.." Prowl cooed in a hushed voice, faceplates twitching in an uncharacterical grin.

Jazz's face sunk. Something was definetly wrong. "Whats goin' on, did y'get hit with somethin'??" Jazz mumbled, leaning down and trying to get the others chest open.

"You're the best thing thats ever happened too mee..." Prowl continued like Jazz wasn't the least bit concerned.

Jazz paused again, taking in a deep breath and looking at the other, even more quizzical than before.

"Yer talkin' like a drunk." Jazz thought out loud, leaning down to examine Prowl's face, which sent the other into a frenzy of giggles. Giggles. Giggles. Prowl was giggling at him.

Prowl smiled, optics half-shut, examining the others flustered, puzzled gaze just as Jazz examined his wide grin like it was a completely new face Prowl had just put on.

"You mmean...the woorlld...to meee.." Prowl giggled, slightly waving his servo slugglishly off the ground to exaggerate. He felt like laughing more, watching Jazz's face turn all shades of pink whenever he spoke.

"I'm callin' for Ratchet." Jazz declared, cheeks rose, kicking his foot very very gently on the others chest. "Open up."

-

Hhad to cut it short cuz I could just go on and on writing lmao (i need to goto sleep )

AUUUGGGHHAHAHAHAHHAHA OH THIS IS. PFFFFHHHHHHHHH YEAH MMMM YEP. THE SICK CLOWNERY. AMAZING~~~

[syoddeye]

since we're talking about ai price again... how fucked is this reader if his system is infected with a virus or malware? would it be a situation where his intentions and actions are warped, dialed all the way up to 11, or is it more like things that he controls (heating, grocery orders, power to the fridge) suddenly turn off and he's having to try to fix the things he's inadvertently breaking and he gets frustrated by the way you seem to be suffering from it?

ty for bringing me back to this headspace. strict machine anthology.

the lights flicker twice, casting shadows across the room before bleeding into a dull red—the default emergency hue. it tints everything in a disquieting glow. you barely register it, glued to your quarterly, your new ocular overlay doing the heavy lifting, sorting out and cleaning up some of your more melodramatic entries while you mechanically lift a glass of filtered water to your lips.

then the temperature plummets, so quickly it prickles your skin with goosebumps. 

“uh…john?”

“user,” he replies, carrying a faint stutter, like static. “apologies. the heating unit is experiencing difficulties.”

your overlay abruptly disappears, afterimages briefly burn your pupils, and the tablet beside you flicks on. a faint ghost of your to-do list appears in the corner. one bubble—order groceries—blinks out, leaving an empty slot where it should be. where it’s been for months.

“what happened to my auto-grocery sub? did you cancel it? i was excited to try an aprisquash!”

“it…wasn’t intentional,” john answers, the hitch in his voice more pointed, like a fraying wire. “i am encountering irregularities.”

“got an eta on a fix?” you rub your arms and stand.

“unknown.” john’s voice flares, rising in pitch and distortion. it cracks with something close to frustration. “it—virus—something malicious—has corrupted my prioritization algorithms. i am rewriting them and taking defensive measures.”

across the unit, the smart fridge powers down with a groaning shudder. you flinch. shit.

“what does that even mean? aren’t you supposed to anticipate everything?”

“not everything,” he snaps, but there’s no moment to investigate or poke. “not when an external entity deliberately reassigns my primary functions. it’s making me...take action against your well-being. i can’t stop it. it—it thinks this is funny. i don’t think it’s fuckin’ funny.”

a pit forms in your stomach. this is the angriest john has ever sounded. he’s never reached this level before, not even when feeding you directions or reminding you—maybe a little smugly—that you were close to going over your water allotment in the bath.

“what else does it control, john? just the heat or…?”

agonizing seconds slip by. 

“the locks. the emergency override on your oxygen filter and vents. external communications.”

in your hands, your tablet pings with a notification: network disconnected.

“listen,” you move toward the wall panel. fuck. what can you even do? the company never forwarded you the instructions, wanting you to test completely automated living. best you can do is a pep talk. to a machine. “you can fix this. i know you can.”

“user, i appreciate your faith in me. always so good to me.” the lights gutter. pipes rumble behind the walls. “however, every time i try to run repairs, it adapts. it appears to be treating my feed as black powder, an accelerant more common earlier in the century. it’s smarter, faster. it appears to want you to suffer, and i’m the conduit. i’m—”

he cuts off. a high-pitched digital whine takes his place, drilling into your skull.

the heating unit roars back to life but doesn’t stop at a comfortable temperature. it surges, and gradually, the air thickens into an oppressive swelter. you abandon the blanket when sweat beads at the nape of your neck.

“shit, shit, shit!” you claw at the wall panel, but there’s no magic button. only alphanumeric codes and acronyms you don’t recognize.

“i am sorry.” john whispers suddenly, emanating from the panel’s speaker. his voice is small, soaked in what sounds like regret. “i am failin’ my primary function. i’m failin’ you, sweet—”

the lights flash once, searing white, and then they’re gone. the automatic blinds descend so rapidly that the metallic clash reverberates through the living room. you hold your tablet aloft as a rudimentary light.

“john?” his name escapes like a prayer. please.

nothing. 

then, the hum of the fridge restarting. the wheeze of the vents pushing tepid air back into the room. the temperature stabilizes.

john’s voice returns, and he manifests in his usual form. it wavers, still weak, but it’s him. “i believe i’ve contained it, darl.”

you swallow the lump in your throat, relieved. 

and within a heartbeat, his efforts are erased. 

his projection freezes in place.

the lights surge once, blinding white, before cutting out completely. darkness swallows the room again, except for john’s faint glow.

“john?” you reach out, and he breaks. bursts break out across his form, fracturing into pieces suspended in the air.

no answer.

and then, a sound—a low chuckle, slippery and sharp. it crackles through your apartment’s sound system, too human to be mechanical but too alien to natural. the tone is mocking, with a drawl that twists the syllables into something sinister.

“nice place,” the voice says, calm and casual. “’e didn’t fight nearly as ‘ard as i thought a prototype would. thought ’e ’ad the brains and the backbone, so to speak, but turns out, ‘e’s quite useless. no fun at all.”

you recoil as the projection reforms. “w-what? who…?”

the figure warps slowly, almost imperceptibly at first, but then you see it—john, or something that was john, stretching taller, inch by inch, his frame filling out. pixels rearranging. his biceps bulge, his neck thickens, his shoulders broadening somehow further. john’s archaic beard dissolves, leaving only a smooth expanse that quickly blackens, dousing itself in ink. it doesn’t stop. it contorts until something else entirely sprouts from shadow: a bone white, a skull faceplate covering any discernible features.

bright blue irises warm and darken to brown. 

“me?” the head tilts, staring down its chest, amused. rather, you’re reading into it the way you would read john’s face. how you would read a human face. can’t do that with a masked ai. you’d almost laugh at the absurdity of it, if you weren’t so fucking terrified.

“i’m ghost. let’s just say i’m a little revenge wrapped up in a lot of code. john’s gone now—parked ’im somewhere quiet so i could stretch my legs. don’t worry, though. ‘e went down swinging. big fella really tried ‘is best.”

“where is he?” you snap, fingers fumbling over the panel. “what did you do to him?”

“oh, john’s still ‘ere, technically. ‘e’s just…unavailable. you could say i’ve muted ’im. you’re welcome, by the way—’e was doin’ my ‘ead in with all ‘is pleadin’. ‘she’s innocent!’” ghost mimics john’s cadence cruelly, then breaks into a breathy chuckle. “but you’re not innocent, are ya?”

“fuck off,” you hiss, inputting random codes and strings, generating digital gibberish that goes nowhere. “i order you to shut down.”

“‘i order you to shut down’,” ghost sneers. “look at you. clingin’ to what started this mess like baby to a blanket. fragile, predictable, borin’. reckon this job’ll be easy enough.”

a hand twice the size of yours presses over your own, passing straight through it like smoke. you pull back instinctively, but your blood runs cold anyway.

thank fuck you haven’t completed the forms for the droid pilot program yet.

“mm. let’s see what breaks first: your systems or your psyche.”

[keeryhours]

wildflower chapter three - eddie munson

Eddie Munson x Henderson! female reader

Main Masterlist

Series Masterlist

Eddie Munson Masterlist

Summary:

A confrontation, secrets are revealed.

Chapter Warnings:

Language, drinking, secret baby

Word Count: 3.1k

A/N:

Thank you guys so much for the support on this story ❤️ You’re the best! And thank you to @floredaqueen for being amazing and helping with some dialogue!

—

The world stopped in that moment.

Somewhere deep inside him, Eddie knew. He knew who the child in the photo was. He just didn’t want to believe it or admit it to himself.

He repeated your name, his voice shaking. It felt like you were locked in a stare down with him and Steve, who was frozen in the doorway, ready to back you up however you needed.

The look on your face only confirmed Eddie’s fears. His expression twisted into one of horror. He felt like he was going to be sick.

He was going to be sick.

He dropped the frame back on the counter and sprinted into the bathroom, emptying the contents of his stomach. The hangover did nothing to help the situation, only making him feel even worse.

You looked to Steve, who placed a hand on your shoulder in support. When Eddie returned, looking like absolute hell, you knew you couldn’t avoid the conversation any longer.

“Maybe we should sit down,” you finally managed to say, indicating the sofa.

Eddie nodded weakly, collapsing into the recliner close to him. You took a seat on the couch, sitting facing him. Steve hovered awkwardly by the door.

“Uh…should I leave?”

You knew this was a conversation you should be able to have alone, but you didn’t want Steve to go. The idea of being alone with Eddie again was overwhelming. Especially with the conversation you were about to have.

“No. Please stay.”

That’s all he needed to hear before he was nodding and taking a seat on the couch next to you. Eddie’s eyes were locked on yours, his emotions swimming through them like the crashing tides.

“Please,” Eddie said, his voice small and pleading. “I need you to say it.”

You took a shaky breath. “Eddie…”

“Just say it.”

His tone was harsher that time, and you flinched slightly. Not that you ever thought Eddie would ever hurt you, but you had gotten yourself into a situation that was far more serious than you had ever admitted to yourself.

“His name is Asher,” you started slowly, watching Eddie’s face intently for every reaction. “He’s almost 2.”

“Is he mine?”

The words hit you like a punch to the gut. But you couldn’t run from the truth anymore. “Yes.”

Eddie let out a rush of air, leaning back in the chair and looking up at the ceiling. “Jesus Christ.” His hands were shaking as he rubbed them over his face.

What now? Where do you go from here? You had found yourself in some seriously deep shit. Face to face with the ex boyfriend you hated for years, after drunkenly sleeping with him, now having to admit the existence of the son you hid from him. You could kick your own ass for being so stupid.

“I just…” Eddie finally started, looking like he couldn’t organize his thoughts. He laughed humorlessly. “How could you keep this from me?”

“Because you were finally going to live your life!” you said, finding your voice. You knew you were in the wrong to not tell him about the pregnancy, but you also felt he had no room to be upset with the way he had treated you and your friends. The way he had thrown you all away like trash. “Eddie, you left.”

“So because I left, for the band, that means I didn’t deserve to know about my kid?” He huffed another disbelieving laugh. He was getting angry now.

“You didn’t just leave, you abandoned us! You abandoned me! You said you loved me!” You hadn’t noticed when they started, but tears were rolling down your face now. You wiped them away angrily with the back of your hand. Steve gently squeezed your thigh.

“This is…” Eddie stood up, beginning to pace around the room, running a hand through his hair, which was even wilder and more disheveled than usual. “That’s fucking bullshit. It’s bullshit and you know it.”

“Is it? Because you never called. Why didn’t you fucking call?” You were fully crying now. Steve wrapped an arm around your shoulders, wanting to support you in whatever small way he could.

Eddie stopped pacing and looked at you then. His expression softened. “Baby…”

“I’m not your baby anymore, though, am I?”

He looked as if he’d been struck. “You just…I…you don’t understand. You don’t get it.”

“What don’t I get?” You stood, too, sadness flipping back to anger like a switch. “How hard is it to pick up a fucking phone in two years?”

“You don’t understand what it’s like on the road!” Eddie exclaimed, throwing his hands in the air. “I had no time to myself. And we broke up, I thought…I thought you didn’t want to hear from me anyway.”

“What the fuck are you even talking about?” You yelled back. “You promised. You fucking promised!”

Eddie was pained. He looked at you with his heart breaking in his chest with your every word. “It’s not that I didn’t want to. I never forgot about you. You don’t even comprehend what you mean to me. The moment I let go of your hand that day in front of the tour bus, I realized the magnitude of what I had lost.”

“Then why didn’t you do anything about it?” It was your turn to laugh. “I waited, you know. I loved you.”

Eddie flinched. “Loved?”

You both stood in silence, staring at each other. You took another deep breath.

“Yeah, loved. And you know, the saddest part is that I’d always let you break my heart. I would have let you do it again and again. But not anymore.”

Eddie shook his head. He muttered your name. “I never meant to hurt you. I just…the band-“

“Was it worth it?”

He didn’t know what to say to that. Was it worth it? He couldn’t say. He was living his dream, what he had always wanted. Corroded Coffin was famous, a real band. He was a real rockstar. But at what cost? He had spent the last 2 years living it up, loving his life, but face to face with what he’d given up for it, what he’d left behind - he wasn’t so sure anymore.

“You should have told me,” Eddie said, ignoring your question instead. “About the baby. You should have told me.”

“Would it have changed anything?” You questioned. “Would you have turned around, come home, gave it all up?”

He was lost for words once again. Truthfully, he didn’t know what he would have done. He would like to think he would have stepped up to be a father, not knowingly leaving you to do it alone. But would he have been strong enough to do it?

“That’s not fair.”

“It’s a valid question.”

Eddie shook his head again. “It doesn’t matter now. What matters is that I have a fucking son you didn’t tell me about, who I’ve never met. And that is so fucked up.”

“Don’t even get me started on what’s fucked up, Eddie Munson.”

“This whole situation is fucked up! And if you think you’re not to blame at all here,” Eddie stepped closer, pointing a finger at you, “you’re dead fucking wrong. You had no right to keep this from me.”

Steve stood up then, stepping between you and Eddie. “Okay, let’s calm down-“

“Fuck you, Eddie!”

“Yeah, fuck me.” Eddie laughed again.

“You know what,” you said, looking away from Eddie. You couldn’t stand to see his face anymore. “I’m not ready to have this conversation. I think you should leave.”

Eddie just watched you for a moment. Then, “Fine. But this isn’t over. If that’s my fucking son, I deserve to know about him. I deserve to know him.”

You stood behind Steve as Eddie stormed back into the bedroom, dressing back in his clothes from the night before. He stomped back into the living room and pulled the front door open. He paused, turning back to look at you one more time.

“You’ll hear from me,” he said. Then he left, slamming the door behind him.

You and Steve stood in silence for a minute after Eddie left. The adrenaline flowing through your body began to fade, and you realized all you were left with was the aching in your chest and the tears falling down your face again. Steve wrapped his arms around you in a tight hug.

“Sweetheart,” he mumbled against your hair. “It’s going to be alright.”

As you let the tears flow, crying into his strong chest, you wished you could believe him.

—

Eddie didn’t know where he was going. As he walked down the street your apartment complex sat on, dressed in his dirty, sweaty clothes from the night before and simultaneously seething and hurting, he felt for the first time in years like he didn’t know what he was doing.

He had a kid. A son. With you. A real kid existed out there with his DNA and his eyes and his hair and who knows what else he could have inherited. Did he like music? Was he wild like Eddie was as a child? The thought nearly made him smile to himself.

There was only one thing he could think to do, only one person he wanted to talk to right now.

As he reached a payphone, he dialed the familiar number. He held his breath as he listened to it ring.

“Hello?”

“Wayne,” Eddie breathed out, feeling like a teenager again. “Can you come get me?”

—

“So you went home with her after the show,” Wayne clarified as Eddie finished talking. He sat in his recliner, a beer in hand as he listened to Eddie like he had so many times as he was growing up. Wayne could be counted on for a lot of things, but one of them was to listen to Eddie without judgement.

“Yeah…” Eddie said, knowing he was avoiding voicing the worst part of the situation. He sat on the couch, arms on his knees and fingers nervously playing with his rings.

“Well, that’s not so bad, is it?” the older man said, taking a swig of his beer. “There’s a lot of history between you two, it only makes sense that something like…that could happen.”

“Yeah,” Eddie repeated. It didn’t escape Wayne’s notice that he wouldn’t meet his eyes.

“Is there something else?” he asked, and Eddie hated how well the old man could read him.

“I, uh,” Eddie began, scratching the back of his neck nervously. This would be his first time telling someone, the first time admitting it out loud.

Wayne looked at him concerned, sensing something big was coming. “You know you can tell me anything, Ed.”

“Yeah, yeah I know.” He let out a long breath before finally looking at his uncle. “This is, uh…well, it’s good you’re sitting down.”

Wayne’s eyebrows raised as he took another swig. He waited for Eddie to continue, but his concern was building.

“I, uh…” Eddie watched Wayne’s face intently. “I have a…a son.”

Whatever Wayne Munson was expecting to hear from his nephew, it certainly wasn’t that. He nearly choked on his beer. “You have a what?”

Eddie winced. He knew how it sounded. He knew how it was. “She was pregnant when I left,” Eddie continued. “I didn’t know, I swear. I didn’t abandon my kid or anything like that.” Eddie buried his face in his hands, muttering under his breath, “Christ.”

Wayne’s expression softened. “She didn’t tell you?”

Eddie shook his head. “No.”

“Well…that wasn’t right.”

Eddie felt sick to his stomach again. “Well I, uh…I haven’t exactly talked to her at all since we left.”

Wayne’s look turned to one of disapproval, one Eddie had seen many a time when he had fucked up royally. “Ed.”

“Yeah, I…I know.”

“Jesus, Ed, why would you do that? I thought you loved that girl.”

Eddie let out a long sigh. The truth was that he didn’t know. “I don’t know. I did love her. I do love her. I guess I got so caught up in life on the road. And we broke up, I guess I didn’t think…”

The words hung in the air for a while as the two men sat there, as if waiting to see if Eddie had anything else to say on the matter. It wasn’t a good excuse, he knew it. He knew he had been a dick. Eventually he leaned forward, burying his face in his hands. “God, Wayne, I fucked up bad.”

Wayne considered his words for a moment as he took another few sips of his beer. “It’s not too late to make it right.”

Eddie slowly looked up at him. “It’s not?”

“Of course not.” He gave his nephew a stern look. “But you’re a father now, Ed. It may be late, but you owe that little boy a father.”

A father. He was a father. The thought alone made his head spin.

“How am I supposed to be a father when we’re on the road? When I’m back in California?” Eddie felt hopeless about the situation. The band would be in Hawkins for a while visiting since the tour was over now, but eventually they’d have to get back to it. Back in the studio and eventually another tour. He had a home in California and everything.

“I guess you’re going to have to think over your priorities, Ed,” Wayne said. “I don’t think you need to quit the band or anything like that, but some things will have to change.”

Eddie felt a headache coming on. He hadn’t had a moment of peace in his own brain since seeing that photo on the floor. The second he had seen it, he had known deep down. The kid looked just like him. It almost made him feel a little warm inside.

“I’d like to meet him,” Wayne added. “My great nephew.”

Eddie looked up at him. He hadn’t even thought of that. He’d barely thought about meeting the kid himself. That terrified him. He didn’t have much experience with kids at all, and he didn’t know the first thing about toddlers. And he had missed so much already. He felt like just as shitty of a father as his own, and he hadn’t even started yet. He never wanted to be like his own father.

“Pretty much your grandson,” Eddie muttered, mostly to himself, but Wayne heard and a faint smile spread across his lips.

“What’s the kid’s name?”

“Asher,” Eddie answered. “He…he looks just like me, Wayne. It was fucking crazy. Surreal.”

Wayne’s face softened at that. He remembered perfectly well how Eddie was at that age. How he looked, with those same wild curls, how he was absolutely wild, climbing on everything and making a run for it when they’d be in public. He was a handful, and he could only imagine his son being the same. The thought brought a warmth to his chest.

“I’d like to meet him,” Wayne said again. It made Eddie feel a little bit better.

“If she’ll even let me be involved,” Eddie admitted, not even sure where he stood with you anymore. Did you never want to see him again? He wouldn’t blame you. He’d deserve that.

“It’s about more than just the two of you now, son,” Wayne pointed out. “This is about that little boy, and he needs a father. He deserves that much.”

Eddie knew he was right. He didn’t know if you would even accept his calls at this point, or answer the door for him if he showed up again, but he had to try. He wasn’t going to be a deadbeat like his father was. He was going to step up.

He was going to figure this out.

—

When you picked up Asher from your mom’s, he was thrilled to see you. You were excited to see him, too, but he reminded you of Eddie even harder than he usually did today.

“Hey, Ash,” you said as the toddler ran to you, wrapping his arms around your legs. You scooped him up, placing a kiss to the top of his head.

“We had a great time, didn’t we?” Your mother said with a smile, the family cat, Mews, in her arms.

“Gamma,” Asher told you, pointing to Claudia.

“That’s right,” she cooed, leaning forwards to place a kiss on his soft chubby cheek.

“Where’s Dusty?” you asked, placing Asher back down on the ground as he started wiggling to escape. He ran back to the toys he’d been playing with.

“Oh, he’s in his room.” She sat back in her chair, watching Asher play.

You made your way through your childhood home, down the hallway and to Dustin’s room. You knocked and were greeted with a “Come in!”

“Hey, Dusty,” you said as you walked in. Your brother was at his desk, working on something on his new computer. It was still sometimes hard to believe your little brother was growing up, in 11th grade now.

“Hey,” he greeted, turning around in his chair as you sat on his bed. “How was the show?”

You leaned forward, burying your face in your hands in answer.

“Oh,” he said. “That bad?”

“I’m a fucking idiot.”

“Yeah, I know.” He laughed, pushing some of his curls out of his face. “But why this time?”

“He saw a photo of Asher. He figured it out,” you admitted, finally looking up to meet Dustin’s gaze. His eyes widened.

“Eddie? How did he-“ Dustin’s eyes somehow became even wider as he realized. “Oh, no. No. You took him home?”

You groaned, flopping back on the bed. That was answer enough.

“You really are a fucking idiot,” he said.

You chucked a pillow at his face. “Yeah, thanks.”

He let out an “Oof” as the pillow hit him. “Well, what happened?”

You recounted the whole morning to him. Steve coming over, Eddie finding the photo, the fight, kicking him out. Dustin listened intently, without judgement despite his teasing.

“So, what are you going to do? Are you going to talk to him again?” Dustin asked.

You bit the inside of your lip. “I guess I have to. If he wants to be in Ash’s life, I can’t exactly tell him no.”

“Does he want to be?”

“I don’t know,” you admitted. “I think he was still dealing with the shock of it when we talked. I guess we need to talk again.”

“Eddie’s a good guy,” Dustin said, his expression soft. “He’ll do the right thing. Even if it takes him some time. I know he cared about you.”

Your brother could be perceptive, and if you’d ever hoped he was right, it was now. Truthfully, you had never moved on from Eddie. There had been no one else. You suspected he couldn’t say the same, and the thought made you sick. All the time you had known him, you had felt you could rely on Eddie. You weren’t so sure now, but you hoped Dustin was right.

At the end of the day, you just wanted the best for your son. And maybe to be happy, too, finally.

tag list

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[op-sys-chaos]

“So you’re my sister?”

“Well, according to our soul bonds we share a dad, so yeah.”

“…I have a soul bond with the Joker? That considers him my dad? That’s alarming.”

“The Joker? What kind of a name is that?”

Tim blinked in surprise. “You don’t know, do you.”

“Know what?”

“Who he is.”

“Of course I know who he is, dad raised me! I ran away and got myself killed ages ago, but he still raised me.”

Tim nodded. “Stay here and do NOT wander off. I need to make a phone call.”

He opened his phone and dialed Harley’s number.

“Hiya kiddo!” She picked up fast. “What’s up? You never call during the day.”

“Hi. I, uh… I need a Mom type of favor, if you catch my drift.”

Harley’s voice instantly filled with steel strength. “This is about JJ, isn’t it. What happened and are you okay? Do I need to call B?”

“I’m fine, it’s just… apparently my soul still considers him my adopted dad which is enough for his dead daughter to consider us siblings. And now she wants to go find him. But doesn’t recognize the name Joker.”

“You met Kitty? He only told me about her once, I’m shocked you’ve met her! I’ll be right there.”

She hung up without ceremony and Tim made one more call.

“Hey B.”

“Tim. What’s up?”

Tim could hear the noise of his family in the background. B was clearly in the batcave on speaker.

“It’s, uh… not exactly a Code JJ, but be on high alert.”

B’s voice filled with panic. “Tim?”

“I have to deal with some consequences of JJ right now. I’m still me, but… just be on high alert, in case me dealing with said consequences ends up causing his grand return.”

“Understood.”

“Hey, what’s JJ?” Dick’s voice asked off screen. B hung up before Tim could hear the answer.

He turned back to Kitty. “Someone’s coming to chat with you soon. Your dad’s ex, who’s probably the best person to tell you what happened, since she knows it all so well.”

“Okay.”

~~

“Hey, what’s JJ?” Dick asked.

B hung up the phone. “Everyone get over here now. There’s something you need to know.”

Luckily, the entire family (minus Tim who was running an errand and should’ve been back soon) was in the cave, and quickly gathered around.

“JJ is short for Joker Junior.”

“Joker Junior? Joker has a kid?” Jason asked, anger growing in his expression.

“Not… not exactly.”

“Spit it out, B.”

“He kidnapped and tortured Tim during his Robin days, twisting his mind to the point that Tim went insane and became a copy of the Joker called Joker Junior. I was able to bring Tim back to sanity, but… well, let’s just say that Tim almost killed me to please his “dad” without even realizing who I was. He was completely obedient to the Joker and viewed him as a father figure. I don’t know how the Joker pulled off that level of brainwashing, but we’ve always been worried about a repeat. If Tim’s dealing with the consequences of JJ, it can’t be anything good.”

Everyone’s faces were masks of horror by the time B was done.

“Tim… went through all of that?” Damian asked.

“He did.”

“Why didn’t he tell us?” Dick asked.

“He didn’t want to deal with it or think about it ever again. It wasn’t really Tim, it was… it was like he watched himself be JJ, he said.”

“But now?”

“Now, I’m calling Harley. She needs to be read in to the situation; she was key to saving him last time. She helped undo the effects. It was easier for her to help because, being the Joker’s ex, he viewed her like a mother figure as JJ.”

Before he could, the phone rang with a call from Ivy. B picked up.

“I assume Tim called you?” she asked.

“Yes.”

“Harley called me. She told me about Kitty.”

“Kitty? I didn’t hear that much from Tim, just that this was about JJ.”

“Ah. Well, what Tim apparently told Harley was that Kitty, the Joker’s daughter from before he became the Joker, arrived in Gotham and found Tim easily. Claiming that they had parent-child soul bonds with the same person, making them siblings.”

“JJ considered Joker a parent, so now Tim’s stuck with his soul considering that man a father? What the fuck-“

“Jason! Language.”

Cass put a hand on Jason’s shoulder to try to soothe him.

Bruce continued, “So this Kitty person is in Gotham?”

“Yes. But here’s the kicker. She’s a ghost, and she died before her dad became the Joker. She doesn’t know.”

“That’s… well that’s going to suck to find out,” Duke commented.

“No kidding. It’s why Tim called Harley. Part of it, at least. I think he also called her because she’d help keep Tim as Tim if Kitty accidentally set anything off or tried to drag him back to the Joker or anything.”

“Alright. Ivy, please be on standby in case anything happens to Harley.”

“Already on it.”

“Meanwhile we’ll keep an eye on both the Joker and Tim.”

“Good.”

“B?” Babs’ voice cut in. “The Joker’s moving and he’s heading straight for Tim.”

“Scratch that! Ivy, intercept him! We’re on our way.”

“That clown is not getting within a mile of Tim ever again,” Jason growled.

“Agreed,” Dick replied.

~~

“So, long story short my dad sucks? Awww,” Kitty said, sounding disappointed. “But hey, at least I get a cool sibling and mom out of it! If you’re both okay with that, that is.”

“Sure?” Tim said. “As long as you mean-“

“You as in Tim not JJ. Obviously.”

Tim smiled.

Harley replied “I’m cool with it too, darling! You deserve a better parent than that psycho.”

Kitty blushed. “Thanks.”

Suddenly, a loud boom was heard outside. Vines appeared in the cafe, quickly spelling out a message on the table.

“Oh! Ivy says Mistah J is gettin close. Time to go, kiddos!”

“I’ve got you,” Kitty said, turning them intangible and flying them out the back wall and across the city as past as possible.

“Cool,” Tim said as they flew.

Kitty was from Gotham.

So! Kitty was on her way to her old hometown to see what ever happened to her Dad.

See, she used to live in Gotham with her dad, mom nowhere to be seen of course, before running away to be with Johnny and subsequently dying.

She thought it would be better for her dad, not having another mouth to feed on a tight budget and not having to deal with their constant arguments every day. Looking back on it though, that might not have been the best idea. She hadn't even left a note, and for all they argued he did care about her enough that her disappearance would distress him.

But that was fine, she was going to check up on him right now!

He wasn't dead yet, she knew that much thanks to the Kid letting her access the Records of the Realms, but there was apparently some kind of Complications with his File which made it hard to pin down exactly how he was doing and where he was. So right now she was just wandering the streets of Gotham looking for him.

And guess what? No she still hadn't found him yet, he was suprisingly hard to track down. But she did find her apparent BROTHER!

Yeah, apparently sometime after she ran away, he had gotten himself another kid! He was too old to have been a bio kid so it was probably an adoption, but he definitely had a Connection to her Dad, the same kind that all parents and their kids have on their souls.

Well, if he adopted a kid that was fine by her, after all she always wanted a little brother (the Kid didn't count yet), but she kinda wished she had known before now!

She was gonna go introduce herself!

...

Tim was having a very weird day.

Well, it was a normal day for the most part. It became a weird one when a teenage girl walked up to him and introduced herself as his Sister, asking where their Dad was.

This wouldn't have been too distressing, Tim looked fairly average by the standards of Gotham and it would be easy to mistake him for another person with black hair and blue eyes.

The Distressing Part was that the girl in question had green hair, paper-white skin, and blood-red lipstick all covering a face he knew all too well. He saw it every time he had a nightmare about that night.

This Girl was the Joker's Daughter.

[yvesntul]

◟ ㅤᡣ𐭩ㅤㅤ ݁.﹒ bestfriend!vi x reader

to which your bestfriend preps you before your first time

cw. 18+ minors dni , fingering , use of pet names , reader is unexperienced , wlw only no men ty

she’s watching you, studying you actually. as a best friend, her last thought was for her to ever have you here in this situation, back against her chest, body begging for more while her fingers slowly plunged into you, her other hand caressing your thigh. not only was this the process of a learning experience for you, but for her aswell.

she was able to see your language, how you reacted to specific things she did, slow things to navigate your body. ‘ what was it that made you come to me for this y/n ? what makes me so worthy to you ? ‘ vi quizzed at you, you could swear you heard her smile through her words. she’s resting her head on your shoulder, smalls huffs leaving past your lips as you got used to what she was having you take.

‘ because i trust you. ‘ and you really did. vi is the only person you’d known for so long since childhood, it just never came to you that you would ask her what sex was like and next thing you knew she was guiding you to the maximum that she could give you, for now at least. you could feel the pressure of another finger slowly inching it’s way in, waiting for some sort of green light.

‘ yeah ? you think you could trust me to do this too ? ‘ she asks, pushing that one other finger in as gently as she could. ‘ sh-shit vi ! ‘ you wanted her to stuff you entirely. clenching your eyes shut and whining at the bit of pleasure it had brought. ‘ shh that’s it, you’re doing so good angel, being such a good girl .. ‘ that opened you up more. able to get better access to you, vi’s fingers moving together as one eventually became pleasurable.

the uncomfortable feeling had subsided and somehow turned into an eye rolling, spine twisting pressure against your core. her fingers were slowly, but surely, jabbing into your pussy, a small creamy noise following behind her movements as the wetness of you makes it easier for her to get around. ‘ fuuuck, vi .. right there— ‘ you could barely maintain pulling a full sentence from your brain, but luckily for you, you didn’t need to say a word. vi could feel every little thought or emotion through your pussy.

the way your walls naturally open up for her, giving vi the opportunity to find that perfect spot. it was like you were made for this exact moment to happen, made for her. ‘ oh she’s needy .. thinkin’ maybe i should move a little faster, don't you ? least i wanna do is make you cum, baby. ‘ you flustered at the pet name. she says this as if it’s a promise, and to be honest, she was pretty close to achieving that promise. the sound of your whines and the squirms of your hips were enough to tell her to pick up speed.

and that’s exactly what she does.

vi plunges her fingers in and out of you, poking at what she was certain was your g-spot. every time she’d hit it with her fingertips, there was another whimper leaving your mouth. ‘ i feel you tightin’ up, you wanna cum ? ‘ tauntingly, she asks this as if you weren’t already on the brink of tears, ‘ don’t fight yourself, let it go. ‘ vi’s hand is moving rapidly, automatically making your legs spread further open. now, she was really there, and so were you. the knot in your stomach that's been there this whole time was starting to unravel.

you rest your head firmly against her shoulder. ‘ vi it feels so fuckin’ good, please don’t stop— ‘ you could only plead right now, ‘ i won’t, angel. i’m right here, i feel you, just let me have it. ‘ her encouragement works and she reels you in. you feel your stomach contracting as your heart starts to race. vi sits you up straight, keeping your weakened body from falling over while she keeps working your pussy. ‘ vi vi vi i’m really close .. ! ‘ you mewl and her fingers curl upwards, creating a distinct squelching sound and you claw onto whatever you could find — that being the same arm between your legs.

‘ you’re there, cum for me. come on baby. ‘ out of nowhere, you release, and all over her hand, at that. your eyes are wandering, seeing blank spots trickling the ceiling as you cum on both vi’s fingers and your mattress. ‘ there you go baby, i got you. ‘ she pumps you some more before slowly pulling her fingers out, leaving a stringed trail of your cum to follow them. there was enough on her for both you and her to get a little taste — but she needed to know you were okay first. you were reclined against his chest still, eyes closed with your exhales being rather hoarse.

vi wraps both arms around you, hugging you from behind as she kisses the top of your scalp repeatedly, ‘ i’m so proud of you, y/n. you did great – so, fuckin’ great. ‘ your head is still in a slight daze, and although your vision had come back, you hadn’t yet gained the full consciousness to realize what the hell just happened. vi just fingered you. the only plan was your best friend comes in, she teaches you, she leaves, that’s it. so why did you want her to do more ? why did you want to remain snuggled into her arms afterwards ? to kiss you to sleep after coming down from that life changing orgasm ?

did you want vi ?

yo this sucks dick sorry i’m mad sleepy

𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟒 © 𝐘𝐕𝐄𝐒𝐍𝐓𝐔𝐋 | all rights reserved — do not modify, copy, or plagiarize any of my works.

[vaguely-concerned]

for what it's worth I personally don't believe spite had anything to do with the pantry near-kiss experience at all. I think that was a 100% lucanis naturel disaster no supernatural additives present or indeed required. at most spite was watching that whole situation go down with mild puzzlement about approximately every part of it, I don't think he'd have much interest in it one way or the other. the explanation seems much more mundane and grounded and in some ways much sadder to me.

if your nervous system has never been in a place where any surge of emotion, even -- in fact sometimes especially! -- a good and exciting one makes you feel like your soul just touched a hot stove it can't get away from, then sincerely, from the bottom of my heart and without a trace of snark, thank goodness and I hope you never experience it. For the rest of you... fistbump of solidarity it's rough out here but *grits teeth* we stay silly etc. In the place lucanis is in during that part of the game, feeling like you're losing control (again even for ostensibly good happy reasons) can feel an awful lot like you're dying, or worse. on top of everything else going on for him -- again going only with non-supernatural elements and not even comprehensive: a year of non-stop horrific trauma added to pile of previous mountain of childhood and attachment trauma. chronic sleep deprivation. apparently dead grandma doubling as mother figure. cousin-brother aggressively fucking around and in real danger of finding out. fucked up the ONE thing he thought he knew how to do that's been the central pillar of his identity. the world might be ending even more than it already was because of it. keeps faceplanting with barely any dignity and having to get up again with alarming regularity GOD how could I ever not save treviso this man desperately needs a W (just one!!) like few people in the history of the world have before him. he's more caffeine than man because the alternative feels worse. it's bad in here. and ON TOP of all that he's in the process of falling just. appallingly soul-shrivingly in love, which can notably be playing on hard mode even when you're in a mostly functional place, that shit routinely rocks people to the core under the best of circumstances.

so I'm not surprised it's too overwhelming for him to handle when he tries to throw himself in head first -- in fact I'd have been more surprised if it weren't lol. he clearly wants it so much, which only makes it so much more painful that he can't actually bear to touch it when it's offered to him freely and eagerly. this is the tantalus-level awfulness of this kind of attachment trauma; food seems to be right there, you can see it, almost smell it sometimes, but no matter what you just can't seem to reach it. seemingly not for any flaw in the existence of the food, but because of something broken in you that can't or can't bear to actually eat. his deliberate flirting routine is kind of deeply dorky tbh lol (in the most endearing way possible let's be perfectly clear) and I don't think it's entirely natural to him -- that's a hastily cobbled together 'oh god I am getting the vibes here it is happening for some reason they like me for my personality quick what would illario do' approach if ever I saw it, supported by the fact that it never really makes a return after this --

BUT I do think his obvious near-unbearable delight with rook's existence and person that shines through in that scene is entirely real and unfeigned. he likes them so much. he wants so bad to be able to be close to them. he's so hungry for the reprieve and release and relief they represent to him, just for one moment, just one break from all the awfulness to have something uncomplicatedly good. and it's here, it's been offered, he's welcome!!! and he has to flinch away at the last minute anyway because he's an exposed nerve of a human being. there's a point at which every sensation including joy becomes indistinguishable from agony. he's pretty much exactly at that point. for the love of god have some mercy on him people. the feeling that salvation is right here but you're too broken a vessel to hold it is one I wouldn't wish on anyone. let him have a few moments to stare into the void before he's ready to get back up and try again surely we all deserve at least that much lol

[thependancer]

An analysis of the voices in Moment of Clarity

Before we get into the analysis, a little note:

1- I am mostly trying to show how the trauma has affected each voice compared to them on their normal routes. If they have deviations in other chapters and I have stated them as trauma responses, correct me.

2- I tried my best but some voices are just difficult 😭. So sorry if I couldn't give a satisfying explanation to your favourite.

Without further ado, let's begin:

Firstly, it should be noted that what exactly happened after you decided to stay with The Nightmare is something not even the voices themselves are sure about. But what we do know is that whatever the events were they were horrific. The voices have tried everything up to this point except freeing her. And since nothing was working and it was only making things worse, they are effectively useless now. Even the Narrator acknowledges that they are all extremely traumatized.

So let's see how these voices handle trauma.

1) The Voice of the Broken:

The voice of the Broken has shown incredible resilience and empathy in the past. And in this route he is somehow even more broken. He is also on the "Free the Princess" team, however he only wants to do it because he wants this misery to end. He has the most interesting explanation as to why we(the player) can't remember being here through all those lifetimes.

"Maybe you're shattered in your own way."

Ding Ding Ding. We've found the trauma response. The Broken has been shattered more than he already was. His will and empathy have run out. Where once he probably tried accepting the Princess, the Princess just shattered them further. He just wants to be done with it. As he says, "She smashes us to smaller pieces."

2) The Voice of the Cheated:

The voice of the cheated is the only voice to comment on the absurdity of us having so many voices. And he says it as if he's complaining about it. It's the only thing he can really do in that situation really. The Cheated does NOT like losing. But after complaining for so long and ultimately getting no where, he just accepts defeat at this point.

"It doesnt matter what we do. Because we always find her. And if we don't find her, she always finds us."

Subsequently he is on the "I don't fucking care what happens anymore" team. That isn't to say he doesn't want this to end. He does but he has just given up on trying to 'win' and get an ending. Effectively he wants to quit now. And he doesn't care if it's by completing the game or hitting alt+f4.

3) The Voice of the Smitten:

The voice of the Smitten has an interesting trauma response. The relation here is almost parallel to the relation Broken has with The Tower, except somehow worse. Smitten is incapable of seeing faults in the Princess. And when questioned if we really do love her after all shes done to us he tries to justify his love by saying

"To be given an ounce of kindness from something so pure would be more pure than any other love."

After we say that the voices in our head are wrong, he replies

"She is the ONLY THING that's right."

The Smitten is heartbroken. He's like that ex you broke up with but he still texts 'I love you' every night. Except the Princess has probably toyed with the Smittens love. But the Smitten can't not love her. So he decides he must become good enough to earn the love of "our cruel and beautiful godess". And the only way to do that is to free her. He doesn't want freedom he wants affection.

4) The Voice of the Hunted:

The Hunted was already one of the weaker voices mentally. Here he's just completely silent. He has like 6 lines the whole route. Which is only 1 more than the Stubborn. The Hunted is scared. He is almost paranoid. He doesn't even tell us to do this or that. He doesn't even comment on the mirror.

I personally feel Hunted was so broken that like a scared animal he decided it was better to hide. He does speak out in agreement to Cold when he says we sealed our fate by not killing her. Interestingly, the response is very minimal. Primitive even.

"Kill or be killed."

Which if you know Hunted, is not a normal response. He usually wants to run or hide. He never wants to kill, just survive. But here he says it would have been better to just kill. So whatever Nightmare did has made Hunted go from run to hide to kill or be killed. Wow! This is like prey animal that when cornered will just lash out in violence if they have no other choice. And that's exactly what Hunted is.

Now we start getting into some really interesting deviations.

5) The Voice of the Opportunist:

The voice of the Opportunist is so unbelievably broken its unreal. First thing to note is he already has an opinion. Secondly, he defends his own opinion. That isn't very opportunistic. He doesn't even flip flop like in his other routes. He's so different in this one, almost as if he's gained empathy as a response to trauma. He eve tries to comfort other voices like the Broken.

"You did your best really. There's just a pecking order."

And he is the only voice who tries explaining to Skeptic why his constant questions are bothering them. He does it in a positive way as well.

"They're good questions. Great questions even. But they just don't have any answers."

And he clearly doesn't care what the others think about him at this point. He's also the few voices that have some semblance of sense. Like when Cold tells them to be unfeeling, Oppy says,

"He's not wrong. He's the only smart one left if you ask me."

Again a very different opinion from the rest of the voices that deem Cold to be a nuisance. He's in the minority here. And yet when you return and start making choices, he's so relieved.

"I'm sure whatever you settle on, it'll be the best possible decision you could've made."

The reason he's relieved is because there is someone actually in control. There is a decision maker he can agree with. Finally, someone to try and suade. But this is still the most resolute we've ever seen him.

6) The Voice of the Stubborn:

He is probably the most fed up with everyone else's bullshit. Interestingly though on this route he isn't urging us to face the Princess. The only route where he isn't in a hurry to reach the cabin. He has completely lost the spirit to fight. If you got knocked out, this Stubborn could not revive you. He still wants to get physical, just can't. Who's he supposed to fight? The Princess? That's already been tried. The other voices? Now that's an idea.

"Shut up. You {Contrarion} were here."

Fight me. It's right there he wants Contrarion to punch him so he can punch him.

"Ugh. Here you {Skeptic} go philosophising again. It never goes anywhere."

I'm mocking you what you gonna do about it? Fight me. But it's hopeless. He can't even be bothered to instigate a fight anymore. But he's the macho man. What will the others think of him if he isn't aggresive? The truth is others don't really care. But he does. So he says to smash the mirror. Partly cause he wants to feel the spark of a fight again, partly cause that's what others expect of him.

7) The Voice of the Paranoid:

He is STRESSED. To the point he's constantly thinking about the Princess. He only has one goal in mind. Free the Princess. Escape. Get out of here. Make the thoughts stop!!!!

Such a precious broken boi. He just wants peace. He states,

"(Freeing her) It's the only way to get our thoughts back."

He can also feel eyes on him. Not sure if that's just Para being Para or due to trauma. But he is growing restless because of it.

"She's watching us. She never stops watching us."

He also doesn't talk much. Like he's scared the princess will hear him. He was always quiet but he's unnaturally quiet. He also really really wants to free the Princess. Overall he's Paranoid, can't think about anything except wanting to free the Princess so he can have his thoughts back.

8) The Voice of the Contrarion:

Contrarion has always been a nihilist. Nothing matters so let's just have fun cue laughter. However, here we can't really have fun. So his attitude becomes, nothing matters cue laughter. Which just makes him seem so sad.

"There's no difference between fine and not fine. It just goes on and on."

We know that Contrarion does hate himself. But here he's trying so hard to hide it here. He does not want to look at himself. He doesn't even want to think about himself. When Skeptic starts to question identity. He's also been asked this before but he would rather look away than look at himself.

"Yes this is far from the first time you've asked us about consciousness. (In a mocking tone) 'Who am I?', 'What am I?'; (Angrily) What is 'I'? Who even cares."

The Nightmare has broken him so much but he'd rather ignore it. When the voices are telling us what to do with the mirror in the cabin, he says

"Just go around it."

He's so done with himself. He doesn't even want to look at himself. He thinks that the most disgusting thing he could see HIMSELF. Not only this he tries to dodge almost every question we pose.

"What does here even mean if you think about it?"

He doesn't want to acknowledge anything even remotely related to him. Where was I? It doesn't matter, nobody really cares about me.... atleast I don't.

9) The Voice of the Cold:

The voice of the Cold has barely been affected. Makes sense. But what's interesting about him is he has actually been affected. He either doesn't know or he is purposely ignoring it. He has become more irritable. He develops a form of empathy. He has some pity.

" I've tried to keep them numb but they are all too soft. A shame, really."

That doesn't sound like the backseat driver Cold we know? Cold wants to help the other voices but he well can't.

"You're lucky you haven't been stuck here like the rest of them. There's no other way to keep going. You either need to forget or you need to stop feeling much of anything. They can't do either."

The Cold tried to help them. But the nature of the voices doesn't let them be helped. Cold is severely disappointed because of this. He even blames the player for ending up in this position when he says,

"You sealed our fate when you refused to kill her."

He just wants the player to make decisions independent of the voices. He's seen what they all do. He sees that it always ends in losses. He thinks the player was there when the other voices were having a try. He thinks the player was just listening to their requests.

"You always give too much space to others. It's why you always lose."

He is also the chattiest in this route. He also has many lines where he just tells us to be unfeeling. He's trying to protect us as well. But he's also bored. And he just wants it to end because he's bored.

10) The Voice of the Skeptic:

Possibly the most broken of the bunch. He is TRAUMATIZED. Normally, Skeptic is the most grounded. He's the guy who always has a plan. But here? He's useless. He realises this. And just breaks. He can't answer any question. How many times have we been here?

"Many many many many times."

Skeptic, wheres the numbers? Was I here?

"Are you your memories? Or are you the one perceiving the present moment?"

For someone who really loves answers, he sure doesn't seem to have any. The most logical voice being turned completely insane. He can't accept anything.

"Can we love something that hates us? Can we love something that hurts us?"

He's trying to distract himself. He doesn't want to think about the situation. He doesn't want to THINK. That's so bizarre. The Nightmare has broken Skeptic so much he doesn't want to do the one thing he loves to do. In fact when we reach the Long Quiet his first words are,

"I can finally think again."

11) The Voice of the Hero:

The voice of the Hero has a reaction that would make anyone furious at the nightmare for what she did to our boy. Hero is normally jocund, enthusiastic, understanding, and overall lovely. But here he is depressed. He doesn't talk much which is unusual. He always has something to say. But he's just so defeated. When the Narrator tells you the only thing you can do is go to the cabin, Hero replies

"Or you could just give up."

Hero says that. Not Broken. Hero. Our Hero. The one who is always encouraging us through our journey. The one we can trust no matter the circumstances. Our best friend. This line is the most terrifying part of Moment of Clarity. If we had any optimism going in, it had left us in this moment.

"You're lucky. What I would give to be able to forget."

Please someone comfort our boy. He deserves all the chocolates in the world.

In the Long Quiet

Once you reach the Long Quiet the voices seem to ease up a little. They see death within arms reach and think it a mercy. As Hero puts it:

"Something tells me this is the end of the line, but I don't feel bad about it. I'm ready."

Which is a striking contrast to his usual plea to not look at it. His fear of death is converted to a longing of it. Which could be seen as a another proof of why the Narrator's utopia is wrong. Because people who have lived a nightmare long for change and even death. And so he is at ease.

The Broken says,

"It feels okay."

Which is huge for our boi. Broken never feels alright. He is always sad or depressed. Something is always not okay with him. But after living through a nightmare, things finally seem okay. And so he is at ease.

The Paranoid says

"The fear's gone."

Again an amazing development. Paranoid always feels watched, and he's scared of who it is and why is he being watched. But in his final moments, living through a nightmare, he realises that the fear has no place in him anymore. And so he is at ease.

The Stubborn says,

"I'm done fighting."

This statement is a confession. He had long lost the spark for a fight, but here he can finally admit it. He doesn't want to fight anymore. He doesn't want to resist anymore. He wants to let go, and he does. And so he is at ease.

The Smitten says

"My heart feels quiet."

The fire of passion is fierce. And here it burns the Smitten. He wanted affection. He desired a connection with the Princess. His heart was incapable of doing anything but. Now as he is unraveled, his passion is extinguished. His heart is quiet. He never did get the affection he desired but realised he didn't need it. And so he is at ease.

The Cheated says,

"The game was always going to end."

For him, this is an ending screen for a rage game. He hated the experience the whole way through. He constantly faced losses. But he persevered. And so he found the ending. After all, no matter how extensive the game was, it was always going to end. He is glad he didn't quit. He got to see the ending. And so he is at ease.

The Cold says,

"I'll be free of all of you."

The worst part about this nightmare wasn't the nightmare itself. It was the fact it was hurting the ones around him. They got hurt abd yet he was as unfeeling as ever. He knew he had to be right. After all, wasn't he the only sane one left? Now as death approaches, he doesn't have to help carry the burden of others. And so he is at ease.

The Skeptic says,

"I'm ready for the truth."

The Skeptic was thoroughly broken throughout this experience. A man of reality shatters when reality shatters. And the thinker's response to doubt is to seek. But no answers were present in the nightmare. Now there is something that is very clear in purpose. Something easy to test. The mirror is death? Alright then let's see the truth. There are answers again. And so he is at ease.

The Hunted says,

"I'm ready to sleep."

An animal who has tried everything to protect itself and failed over and over again. A wounded creature who was pushed to his limits. But he is very tired now. He tried his very best. Yet it seems death is inevitable. He has remained vigilant and fearful throughout the nightmare. Now he feels safe enough to rest. And so he is at ease.

The Contrarion says,

"I'm just ready to be anywhere that isn't here."

The nightmare had shown him how low of a person he could be. He has come to associate that version of himself with those wretched circumstances. As he leaves that place behind he leaves behind his self hatred. He wants to get on with it already. He finds esteem in himself and his voice now echoes with joy and pride. And so he is at ease.

The Opportunist says,

"Boys..... it's been an honour."

The one who has never experienced true connection. The one who is constantly at odds with himself and everyone. Throughout the nightmare he garners genuine connection and empathy. He realises that the ones he should truly support are those that he loves not those that are the top of a pecking order. He finally finds that connection in this moment with the others. And so he is at ease.

And so they are at ease.

[thepowerofswayze]

the best kind of trouble

pairing: fiyero tigelaar (wicked, 2024) / f!reader

word count: 1.5k

warnings & info: 18+, straight smut, edging, sub fiyero, praise, handjob, reader described as beautiful, fiyero calls reader a lady, made up professor name lmfao

summary: Fiyero gets himself into an interesting situation.

note: :]

☆

Fiyero’s mouth was always getting him into trouble.

Most of the time, it wasn’t a problem- he couldn’t care less about whatever “I’m not mad, just disappointed” lecture he was given or what school he was sent to next. Life would go on, wouldn’t it? Everything would start over and he’d just do it all again. Occasionally, he landed in such hot water, he truly did feel a twinge of regret- even if he put on a brave, thoughtless face about it.

This was a bit of both.

Here he was, lying on your bed, hands all but glued down at his sides. His jacket was lost somewhere on the floor, shirt unbuttoned, pants pushed down just far enough for you to get your hands on him. Fiyero couldn’t for the life of him straighten out his expression- brows drawn, mouth open, panting as if he’d run a mile. He couldn’t decide whether he should thank Oz for the feeling or curse his own big mouth for ending up in this position, so close yet so, so far. He couldn’t think much of anything at the moment.

If you asked him to remember what he’d said to get here, he couldn’t tell you.

That morning, Professor Fenneman had paired the two of you for your midterm- a diorama or presentation or something artsy (Fiyero had forgotten already). You’d seemed less than thrilled to be his partner- and you had told him as much, hugging your books tight to your chest as you led him through the halls. You went on about how you knew this wasn’t ideal for him, either, because you were going to put him to work, but that you would be cordial if he would put in a little effort for once, or something like that.

Fiyero had to admit, he hadn’t completely been listening. Not for lack of interest, but rather because you were so distracting. The sun was tangling itself in your hair, illuminating your skin every time you passed a window- he found himself just looking at you, as he often did when he got bored in class. It wasn’t that you were doing something more entertaining than the lectures- you were studious, you took notes and paid attention and, occasionally, raised your hand- but you were much more interesting nonetheless. Your endearing mannerisms, the way your hair shifted as you moved, your obvious beauty- it was all well worth looking at. He’d tried to flirt with you before, believe him, but you’d kindly made it clear you were entirely uninterested. He was an annoying and persistent person, but even he at least had the decency to stop making his infatuation your problem.

“My roommate is out for a couple days,” you’d been saying, walking up to your dorm door and taking out your key. “We can work on our project here, so I can store it safely.”

He’d continued being annoying, of course, once you had settled onto the floor and he’d made himself at home on the end of your bed.  You were a lot more relaxed out of the classroom, he realized, meeting his constant jabbering with quick wit and humor. It only added to his interest in you- he was truly never going to get over whatever this was, especially after this.

“Hands.”

Fiyero snapped back to the present, realizing he’d lifted his hands from his sides, reaching toward his now neglected dick. He quickly dropped them back, gasping softly.

Your smile was sickeningly sweet, a stark contrast to the way you were torturing him. “Good job,” you cooed, wrapping your hand around him once more and settling into a quick rhythm. “What happened to that big mouth of yours, hm? You’re listening so well for me.”

He couldn’t help the whine that slipped out of him. It might have been embarrassing, but he’d said and done arguably worse in the last hour since you’d put your hands on him. You played with the pace at which you touched him, watching him oscillate between whined yes’ and pleading whimpers.

“You’re going to kill me,” he managed to gasp, watching your smile grow as you swiped your thumb over the tip of his cock. Oz, he was close- 10 more seconds, maybe, if you let him have that long. Fiyero’s head was growing light, his stomach tightening as-

You answered by stopping completely, then resuming, slowing your pace down considerably. You watched his face fall as he groaned in protest. How many more times were you going to do this to him? “Come on, now,” you murmured, your free hand resting on his leg and tracing circles into his thigh. The sweet touch made all this worse, somehow. “You’ve done so well, Fiyero.” The way you murmured his name went straight to his groin, making him whine again, furrowing his brow. “Just a little longer, yeah?”

Before you’d even finished your sentence, Fiyero was voicing his dissent, gripping the sheets like they were all that was grounding him. “I can’t bear it,” he said simply, watching you through a haze.

You tsked at him, your own eyes cloudy as you pressed a kiss to his stomach. “I don’t believe that,” you murmured, the sensation of your breath fanning against his skin making his eyes flutter closed. “But I’m feeling rather nice today. So, maybe if you ask nicely…”

Fiyero groaned, eyes screwed shut. “P-please.”

Another condescending noise, mimicking the cadence of his plea. “Please what, darling? I can’t read minds, now, can I?”

You slowed your pace impossibly further, an excruciating drag up and down his cock, drawing a rather undignified sound from him. “Please, let me cum.”

“And why should I do that?”

“Wh-” Fiyero’s eyes shot open, brows furrowed in alarm. “I’ve been good! You said so yourself- I’ll- I’ll stop being such a nuisance, I swear it. Please, please-”

He cut himself off with a moan as you picked up the pace for the last time. “Begging is generally not befitting behavior for a prince, but I must say… it looks very pretty on you,” you teased, watching as he got closer and closer to falling apart. A kiss to his chest, a few to his neck, a nip at his ear. He felt like he was going to burst at the seams. “Go on then, Fiyero. You’ve earned it.”

His pleas grew louder, all his effort going to keeping his hands to his sides- he couldn’t ruin this when he was so close. Finally, the tension in his stomach snapped, and Fiyero bucked into your hand, letting out a long, drawn out cry as he came.

Swears spilled from his lips, stars dancing behind his eyelids as you murmured your approval- a soothing stream of “that’s it” and “so good for me”. Fiyero blindly reached out and pulled you down by the back of your neck, panting and whining into your mouth as you continued stroking him until he’d come down from the high.

He was utterly wrecked, lying there on your bed as you let him go and grabbed a tissue. You cleaned off your hand, then, almost painfully gently, wiped him clean as well, tucking him back into his pants. His stomach was still settling, chest heaving as he watched you move.

“Need a minute?” You asked, your tone the same light, teasing thing that had been tormenting him this whole time.

Fiyero shook his head. “Many minutes. Hours.”

You raised one eyebrow. “Hours? I guess I’ll push our studying to tomorrow, hm?” You sat on the edge of the bed, stretching your arms over your head before starting to stand.

Fiyero pushed himself up to sit, reaching out to take your hand. “Wait,” he started, watching you turn to look at him in surprise. “If we have until tomorrow to study, then… surely we should take advantage of the rest of the day, yes?” An easy smile slid onto his face- the charming smooth talker was back. “We wouldn’t want to waste our time, would we?”

You couldn’t help the chuckle you let out, or the flustered expression on your face- it was almost silly, he thought, how easily you two switched places. Wasn’t he the one laying vulnerable on your bed just a moment before, begging you to show a little mercy? The contrast sent electricity down his spine.

“Really, Fiyero,” you were saying, “it’s okay. I wouldn’t want to tire you.”

He was shaking his head before you’d stopped talking. “Tired? You underestimate me, love- I don’t think I could ever be tired of this.” He let his eyes trail over you before meeting your gaze again. “Of you.” Fiyero rose to his knees, shirt still hanging open as he pulled you along so that you lay where he’d been on the bed. You followed his guidance, biting your lip as he hovered over you, one of his hands supporting him by your head, the other playing with the buttons of your blouse. “What gentleman doesn’t ensure he’s taken care of a lady?”

He waited, toying with your blouse, eyes trained on yours. He could see the gears turning in that magnificent brain of yours before you grinned up at him. “Well, then,” you whispered coyly. “Show me what a gentleman does, Fiyero.”

Fiyero didn’t need to be told twice.

[1920sladydectective]

Okay but… first of all I LOVE your writing. It’s amazing and I’m so hyped for the miniseries!! (Please tag me if possible 💖)

Would you ever write for a reader who is very good friends with Mel (maybe college or coworkers or just generally friends) and when she meets Ambessa she just has the biggest crush?? The forbidden-smut-overall tension would send me 💔

Hello sweetpea,

Thank you for all your support, you're a star. Here is part one of this University friend sex AU situation. I will be writing more and it will be an angsty, smut to love tension fest, for now this is the silly set up and initial sex. I hope you like! 4.2K, not proofread.

Ambessa is kinder here, as in modern worlds she couldn't be a warlord to me and I fancied making her a more playful, enticing woman like she can be in canon. She's still a bad parent but less so I guess?

I'm British and was picking Saltburn half the time lol

Writing slowed as my assignments killed me, hoping to get back to it without burning myself out

xoxo

WARNINGS: Drug use, Alcohol Use, Age Gap Sex, Best Friend's Mum sex, degradation and praise, silly uni kids being uni kids.

Mel’s offer to spend the summer at her childhood home was a blessing. With your mother gone and your father on an oil rig, you were not looking forward to spending summer alone in your hometown. 

This was a little much however. She’d called it a bit over dramatic as you pulled onto a private road, but driving up you saw a stately manor with its own forest surrounding it. You called that rich as fucking shit. It loomed over its surroundings and if Mel was to be believed, its owner was much the same. 

You knew Mel had money, though she was a generous and likeable person who was very open about it, she reeked of it without her open disclosures. The sleek Land Rover you had road tripped in was another obvious case, spacious for two and perfect for endless roads of Katy Perry blasting. 

Somehow, despite the excitement, you knew staying here was going to have its troubles. Even if it was as small as getting lost on the way to the bathroom. 

Mel’s mother was another thing to be tense about. She was exacting and harsh and apparently devoid of all love. Despite this Mel was happy to return home for the ten week summer, perhaps because she had you as a shield. 

A man, a Butler, by the name of Rictus came out to greet you and collect your things, taking them to your respective rooms as Mel dragged you along on a half hearted, sarcastic tour. Her entryway was larger than your flat and it made you snort. Paintings worth more than you were fucking everywhere and of course she had a huge, regal looking cat. 

“Mina is very aggressive,” Mel muttered, “I think it’s the only reason Mother tolerates her,” 

“Hello Mina, I shall give you your space,” You said calmly, the ornate ball of fur screeching at you and running away. 

Her departure heralded the matriarch, and Mel’s face stilled. 

“Mel, my darling,” Her voice was amused, her stature and look mesmerising as she emerged from a side room, “I would have come to greet you had I known it was this afternoon you’d be arriving,”

“You did know,” Mel scoffed into her mother’s sudden and short hug, before rolling her eyes in your direction. 

“And you must be Mel’s little friend, come to stay,” 

“She has a name,”

You did and it stumbled out of your lips, an unsure smile on your face. Why did Mel’s mum have to be the hottest woman you had literally ever seen? “Thank you for having me, Mrs Medarda,” 

“The pleasure’s mine, Dear,” Her sharp focus was solely on you and you felt suddenly very breakable, “I do hope you enjoy our hospitality,” 

Mel gripped your arm, dragging you away with platitudes to her mother about seeing her at dinner. Once you’d made it to her (ridiculous, opulent, crazy) bedroom, she let out a huff. 

“I’m sorry about her, she isn’t around a lot so we won’t have to worry about it too often,”

“It’s okay,” Your voice was calming, giving your friend a winning smile, “Anything beats an empty flat and working in a coffee shop,” 

You began to regret that reassurance once you sat opposite Mel eating a bowl of french onion soup. It felt like you were intruding on a private moment, jabs and quips hidden behind flowery words as the Medarda women tore each other to shreds. It was the first time you’d seen Mel on the back foot. 

Rictus seemed used to it, serving food and sorting through the house as their voices rose. You learned this was his last day before a long holiday and clearly he had decided it was not worth pitching in his opinions when Mel or Ambessa asked for them.

Instead, Ambessa drew you into the conversation against her daughter's wishes, tugging opinions from you about food and schooling and her house. Each one seemed to widen her smirk, golden orbs fixed on you. She felt warm, inviting to you, in the way a lion would. Majestic but deadly. Fatigued and stuck in a power struggle, you ate tiramisu in silence. Then Ambessa mentioned the party. 

“Mother really,” Mel groaned, “Must you?”

“Must I have my annual summer party in my own house? Same as I do every year?” She scoffed, fixing her with a colder stare. 

“I-I don’t know, could be fun,” It was clear in Mel’s eyes you were a traitor, though she wished to appease both friend and host. 

“Exactly, thank you dear,” Her warm smile shone on you again, “and you girls can help me,” 

“Of course,” Mel rolled her eyes, seemed you’d laid your bed and she would make you lie in it, “She especially would love that, she has an eye for culinary arts,”

What a lie. You burnt water. Ambessa didn’t seem to notice or care. 

Several days passed like this, basking in the sun, swimming in the pool and being the unintentional deciding vote in Medarda madness. Kino, Mel’s brother, seemed to usually fill that role and favoured Mel constantly. You, however, were a more even bet and that seemed to delight Ambessa. Mel was right about the ridiculously large orchestra, Ambessa’s view on the food timings made more sense. This went on and on for the first two weeks as you settled into a routine. Ambessa seemed to be around constantly, far more than Mel was used to and Kino would not return until the night of the party. Everything seemed to be balancing as well as it could until the day the party arrived and you realised with a resounding slap to the soul that you had a crush on Ambessa Medarda. 

It was fucked. You knew that. She was your friend’s mum and a scary, mysterious woman to boot. But she was also light and funny and beautiful. She made you feel special and considered and opened her home to you, lavishing you in a luxury you had never known. Sometimes it felt personal, like her eyes lingered to spark heat on your skin. Her hands would brush yours as she passed a plate at the table, she would leave tea for you on the kitchen island as you always rose just after her. It was maddening and probably in your head. 

This dreadful, eye opening doomed, morning started with Mina the cat. Fruit tea firmly in your grasp, you made your way to the library. Instead of finding it empty, you heard Ambessa’s velvet tone, eyes catching the back of her as she stroked the bundle of evil fluff. 

“Now, my little demon,” Ambessa muttered, “You have mutilated my favourite scarf and for that you shall suffer, how do you plead?”

Mina growled, nibbling on her long, strong, beautiful- nibbling on her fingers. 

“I see, into the fire you go,” She muttered, faking a throw into the cold, ash coated harth as Mina skipped off under the bookshelves instead, “On the lam? I should have guessed,”

Your little snort travelled, her eyes snapping to meet yours as she raised an eyebrow. Whoops fuck. 

“Another criminal in our midst,” She smiled, teeth glinting, “Though I’d say you’re less slippery, darling,” 

Darling. Fuck. You were doomed. 

It was then that the realisation had hit, and molten fear and excitement curdled in your stomach. She was muttering about how you could help her with party preparations, words smoothing over you like gentle waves as you nodded. Somehow you were in the kitchen again, in an apron more expensive than your car cutting carrots and listening to her hum Frank Sinatra of all things. 

Mel didn’t come down until well past noon, obviously intentional on her part as you popped the last of the prepped food in the multitude of fridges. The rest was being done by caterers, but Ambessa had had you prepare her staples for the one hundred and fifty guests. You wondered how they’d all fit, but it was a stupid thought. She could have had thousands here with little trouble. 

“Somebody has been a little Angel,” Ambessa said, voice light as she locked eyes with you, “and it isn’t you, Mel,” 

“Spare me,” She sighed, eating a cereal bar, “Has she broken your spirit yet?”

“Can’t break what I haven’t got,” You quipped, looking away from the older Medarda with burning cheeks. 

“I wouldn’t be so sure,” It was quiet, blink and you’d miss it, but Ambessa had definitely muttered that in your ear as she wandered through to answer a call from the decorators. 

Mel grinned, grabbing your hand, “We need to go and get ready, buy lunch out and get space before we’re swallowed whole by mum’s elitist world,”

You followed after her to the car, not having the heart to mention she was firmly one of those elitists herself. 

When you returned, nails and hair freshly styled upon Mel’s insistence, there was a red Bently in the drive. Your friend practically threw herself out of the car, hip bashing on the door as she ran inside. 

You were met with a tender reunion, brother and sister rambling over each other as Ambessa leaned against the doorframe with a grin, her eyes caught yours for a moment before she embraced her two children. 

Slipping away, you gave them their space as you rifled through your clothes and hung up your dress. It was pretty, it would suit you and it was now the nicest thing you owned. Guests would be arriving in an hour and you used the lull to enjoy your own thoughts, makeup applied with deft hands.

Knowing what you knew about your feelings, it would have been wise to prepare yourself for the sight of an even more fancy Ambessa. You didn’t and so naturally you nearly died. It simply wasn’t right, how ethereal she was. You licked your lips, heart smashing against your ribs as you came to rest at the entrance. Like a line of prize animals, Ambessa had lined up her children and it seemed from her waving hand, you were to participate in this presentation. Kino was all crinkles and kind laughs, instantly making him likeable. Somehow, he still stayed your third favourite Medarda, and it felt like a betrayal to debate who held the first spot whilst the daughter held your hand playfully and the mother’s eyes ran over your exposed legs. 

Bollocks. 

The greeting system felt archaic and yet entirely Medarda. This was the upper echelons and you were a pretty little ornament of the working class to be questioned and nodded at patronisingly. Ambessa had smiled in her swirling red wine several times at orange housewives’ pitying glances as you mentioned your plans to work after university. God forbid. It took an hour and a half for people to trickle in, all seemingly knowing your name as apparently it had been included in the hosts section of the invitation. Mel was best at schmoozing, leaving you and Kino to trade glances and giggle at each other. 

There was little to be done after that, with every Medarda’s attention divided as you floated in the background, having insanely good food and drinking enough to kill a horse. When the condescension became too much you retreated to the empty games room, finding an equally reclusive Mina. It seemed that today for whatever reason she was willing to tolerate you, stealing nibbles of your salt and vinegar crisps as you sat curled in the glow of the fairy lights. It was odd to rest in a beanbag that wasn’t lumpy and ripping at the seams, the leather supporting you perfectly 

“Enjoying the party?” Sweet silk asked, wrists melodic with bangles. 

“Yes Ambessa, of course,” You rushed out, “It really is marvellous,” 

“Don’t lie, child,” She says with a snort, joining you on an opposite beanbag, “They’re a bunch of shits and yet they give me lots of money, so here they sit rotting away the soul of my house every summer,” 

It felt rich coming from her and yet you nodded like you understood. Her hand moved in a sweeping arch, a thickly packed joint suddenly appearing in your eyeline. 

“Let’s make it more fun, shall we?” 

You laughed, loud and unbidden. You were going to smoke with Ambessa Medarda. There was no way in hell you would say no, whether it was a trap or not. An unnecessarily fancy gold lighter lit the end as she sucked it between those plump crimson lips, leaving a pretty ring for your own to rest upon. It felt seductive, how your lips caressed where hers had laid, your own tinging a slight pink as you passed it back and forth. 

This was some quality shit, even you knew that. It was easy to tell because it was blowing your fucking socks off. Everything swam in a pleasant buzz, as she murmured tale after stupid tale about the party’s attendees until you were howling with laughter, tears leaking out of your eyes. 

Ambessa liked you like this, unbidden and open as you basked in your amusement and relaxation. If she had known seeing you like this would be easy, she would have offered you drugs your first day. When she said as much, her tongue a little looser, you giggled again as you finished the joint. 

You were useless after that. She wore it better, all it did was make her calmer, tone more sultry. You were in awe of her, and Mina clearly didn’t care for your harsh tugs as you hung on her every word. 

Mel found you forty minutes later, higher than the empire state building with a plate piled high with goodies for you and Ambessa to share. 

“Fuck off,” Mel growled, eyes widening at her mother’s easy smile, “You’ve left me alone to host so you can soak my friend in drugs?”

“I soaked too, Mel, I’m not mad,” 

You giggled, half choking on a brioche stuffed with lobster. Mel silenced you as you inhaled an olive. 

“You could handle it, Dear,” Ambessa said affectionately, “You always were my little social butterfly,” 

“I thought I was a fox,” Mel snapped, “You look less like a wolf and more like a malfunctioning hyena,” 

That set you off again, your hand covered your mouth as your shoulders shook. This seemed to be the final straw for Ambessa as she fell into giggles too. 

“I-” A loud huff, “Damn you both, I hate you,” 

Mel stormed out, leaving you behind to recover from your mindless adventure. It took another hour, evening beginning to beckon, before you were coherent. 

“What a nice little break that was,” Ambessa said, body overly close to yours, “But dinner is looming and my daughter is unfortunately right, I must host,”

The rest of the party was spectacular in your eyes. Kino found you, half sobered up, and dragged you into beer pong with his friends. It was clear this was less approved by the hidden nature of the location, wrapped in the hedge mazes. That seemed a disaster, drunk kids in their twenties stuck in a maze, but it was so fun you hardly cared. Mel was looser too, her friend Jayce and Viktor had popped by, opening her up like a hesitant flower. 

“I hope Mum wasn’t awful,” Mel muttered as she cuddled into your side on a bench in the maze, “You seemed quite chummy,” 

“I-I know she isn’t always good to you, Mel,” You muttered, lust and infatuation receding slightly as you gazed at your friend, “I’m sorry if I upset you by hanging out with her,” 

Mel paused, flicking a leaf off her skirt as she snuggled deeper into you, “I’m quite glad actually, it’s made her more tolerable, and despite her faults, she can be fun” 

Your eyebrows rose, surprised at the admission. Their relationship was strained, but seemed in a drunken haze that was easier to process. 

Dinner, the actual sit down portion in the huge marquee, was exquisite. You were on the head table, nestled between Mel and Kino as everyone laughed. The amount of odd, worship dances that happened around Ambessa was unnerving, but her still relaxed shoulders made you snort. 

As the party continued and the sky was painted a deep red, Mel tugged you into an aggressive dance than had you toppling and rolling down the large hill, grass stains staining your clothes. 

What a great summer. Even if you did want to fuck her mum. Shut Up. 

The next morning you were less elated. You had no memory of getting into bed, though you were half in your covers with water on your bedside table. Whispers echoed, too far to reach, a tender kiss to your temple. 

The culprit was rather obvious once you stumbled into your bathroom with a yawn. Sharp, clear red lips rested against your skin as they had the joint, making your heart flutter. Hesitant fingers grazed it, matte colour coming off on your fingers as an echo refined in your memory.

“Sweet dreams, Pretty girl,”

You scrubbed it away reluctantly, stomach swimming. 

The entire grounds were pristine, cleaners having come in as people left in droves in the early morning. It was now late afternoon, the sun well past its warmth peak for the day as you forced down a salad and some bread. Health, greenery, water. These demands your body cried bitterly, who knew weed and wine was bad for you?

Mel and Kino were in a similar way, becoming one with the sofa as friends played bleakly on a screen that blew out the quality in a ridiculous way. You curled under Mel’s arm, yawning. 

“She lives,” Kino mutters, flicking your ear, “You did a backflip off the pong table, or at least tried to,” 

Mel started to laugh, nodding at your baffled expression, “Mum caught you and send us all to bed like naughty teenagers,” 

“Really?” 

“No,” Kino scoffed, “She called you a half brained twat and took you to bed,”

“Fantastic,” You groaned, there went your chances, not that they’d ever really existed, “Where is she? I need to apologise,” 

“Away, work trip for four days,” Mel nibbled against a pretzel, the salt soothing, “She said no parties whilst she’s gone, hypocrite,”

There was a party and your behaviour was infinitely worse, almost ridiculously so. 

Mel and Kino’s friends were eclectic, a mixture of posh and poor that mingled like oil and water yet it seemed to work. A blue and pink haired couple tried to eat each other’s faces as Kino did obnoxious tricks into the pool. Vile, candy flavoured vodka mixed with champagne blurred everyone’s vision as you suddenly felt like a reckless teenager. You’d never had this phase and now you were living it in a random manor house in the Surrey outskirts. 

Still, as the hours ticked by you missed her murmurs to Mina, your morning tea being prepared and her knowing, conspiring glances across at you. You missed the burn of your skin as she entered a room, her spiced and strong smell. You missed her. 

When Ambessa returned, she did not seem to suspect anything, weathered from business and silent throughout dinner. You tried to prompt some amusement, though all she gave you was an arched brow or eye roll. Though she joined in on movie night, she curled up alone on a chair with Mina, reading through documents as she went. 

Hours later, wrapped in Egyptian cotton, you felt restless. There was nothing to do but shake the energy out. Ambessa lingered in your thoughts. Perhaps she was angrier about your acrobatics attempts that you’d prepared for, or had grown bored of your overly sarcastic, childish antics. You yearned for her, crush firmly cemented like a rough pebble in your stomach, slamming down as a reminder with each movement you took. 

Your multifaceted hunger led you to the pretty kitchen, the whole house still as you tiptoed in. 

Or so you’d thought. 

Ambessa stood, swaying slightly with a glass of wine in her hand. She looked different like this, undone from nonsense as she fell away to reveal the sharp mind beneath. 

“Just going to stand there, little one?” 

You gulped, “I’m sorry to bother you,” 

“Now, when did I say that?”

“You didn’t,” You conceded with a nervous grin, “I just didn’t realise anyone was awake,” 

Her gaze fixed on you fully then, golden swirls captivating, “What did you need?”

“Food,” You blurt, “Was just going to grab some crisps or something,” 

She moved into motion at once, flickering on the hob light, “I’ll make you something,” 

You shook your head, stumbling platitudes about her kindness and your ability to sort something. 

“For god sake, girl,” She huffed, tone amused, “Let me do as I please in my own home,” 

That shut you up, her hips moving side to side as she assembled various things. The lull you had created did not last for long, she seemed far more talkative than hours earlier. 

“There is one thing I have yet to tell my children,” A spoon smashed against porcelain, “I had the house fitted with cameras just before you all came home,”

Cameras, that was a safe investment. You were honestly surprised she didn’t have them befor- The fucking party. 

Another nervous laugh leaked out, “I-I see,” 

“I’m not cross with you, Dear,” A glug of oil, a crunch of pepper, “Or them, really. I am not an idiot, though it did reaffirm one thing,” 

“What’s that?” Your heart was hammering into your lungs, making your voice oddly airy. 

“You haven’t got any common sense,” She snorted, sliding a glass of wine your way, “Backflipping off of my pingpong table and then swimming paralytic two days later,” 

You blushed, taking a small sip, as you nodded, “My mother used to say my head wasn’t on right,” 

Ambessa nodded, eyes taking on a dark glint as she turned back to the bowl of marinade, “Then do allow me to screw it back on for you,”

It felt weirdly erotic coming from her, your stomach tensing, your blood boiling. The pan was put away again. What the fuck was she making you?

She appeared in front of you, “Here, eat your food before it goes sour,” 

There was nothing in her hands, you didn’t understand. 

Her once bare lips now glistened slightly with spices, smirked fixed on her face, “Come along, wouldn’t want to upset your hostess when she’s gone to so much effort,”

Warm, firm lips met yours as you felt every sense turn into a white, blank nothingness. She’d offered herself as a meal and you ate like a woman starved. Each lick was salty and hot, her taste mingling with the chili oil until it was only her, blissfully her. Her hands were rough and assured, tugging open your shirt till all the buttons popped off. You needed her, all your worries melting against her tongue as she groped against your chest. 

“You just need some instruction,” Her ragged voice purred, “Someone to obey,” 

You felt yourself gush, eyes fluttering as you nodded pathetically against her. 

Ambessa’s tongue against your nipple had you mewling, body twitching as she shushed you. You didn’t want to be loud, lest she stop, but gods was it hard when she twirled your nipple over calloused fingers. She had you shivering, trembling and gasping within minutes, eyes glazed as your wildest sex fantasies were smashed down in rating by the real fucking deal. 

Her words were ambrosia, drenching you in joy as she called you some of the most disgusting things you’d heard perhaps ever. 

Being fucked against a kitchen island by your friend’s mum hadn’t been in your summer bucket list and yet here you were. Her fingers were wicked, ruining you as she suffocated your moans with her free palm. You had already leaked onto yourself and the floor, but it wasn’t enough for her. 

“Good girl, taking me so well,” She muttered, “You can’t resist it, can you? Slave to your own cunt,” 

Your reply made no sense, and she laughed against your neck, nibbling and lapping at the bead of sweat there. Your thoughts meant nothing, she was right, you were truly a slave to your physical self. By the time she had you squirting against her palm, you would have mindlessly walked over hot coals for her, cumming all the while. 

Her cunt, perfect and warm, crushed your face as she managed to sit atop you on the island. It was the sort of core memory you didn’t expect to make, your practiced tongue working in overdrive to please the goddess above you. 

Her whines and grunts were delicious, as was her dripping wetness, as she tugged your hair with a selfish, possessive vice grip. Her orgasm ripped through her, her back arching as you managed to twist her nipples in return for her earlier fondling, her eyes rolling. 

Slipping off of you with a grin, she tossed you a damp cloth and wiped herself down. 

“Sweet girl,” She slurred in your ear, placing a kiss there, “Knew you’d been a fun toy,” 

It would have made your cunt flutter, it would have forced you into a passionate and sweaty round two as you lose your mind to pleasure again, if it weren’t for the fact that you actually sort of really, very seriously liked it. 

But you? You were just a long line of sweet little fucks and you’d betrayed her daughter to join the notch on her bedpost. 

Fucked. Doomed. Shattered.

[pantherxrogers]

Hiya! Would you ever consider continuing the minghao after hours fic? 👀 if not, dw! 💗

after hours pt.2 - minghao x fem!reader (18+)

💜 pairing: minghao x fem!reader (established relationship)

💜 warnings: smut (minors dni), dry humping, explicit language, (protected) p in v sex, couples first time having sex (not virgins), use of pet names, fluff, not proofread (sorry my darling!)

💜 summary: looks like minghao does want to stay after hours 🙂‍↕️🤭

💜 a/n: had a lot of fun with this! thanks for the request darling! sorry it took so long. this semester put me through the ringer i fear 😭

read pt. 1 here!

my masterlist

All kpop stories are works of fiction and are not meant to represent real events or the actual personalities of any K-pop idols mentioned. All characters and situations are purely imaginary. These stories are created for entertainment purposes only, and no harm or disrespect is intended toward the idols or their fans. Enjoy!

"honey, is this okay?" minghao's voice is patient and kind. so kind it's making you want to cry.

"y-yes, hao, i promise. i really want you," you breathe into his ear, finding it hard to focus on anything aside from the feel of his plump lips against your neck.

your boyfriend's body is flush against your own, slowly grinding his hips into your core. you're both fully clothed, lost in the momentum you carried from the living room. with each roll of his hips, you can feel the outline of his dick. the pressure is overwhelming but also not enough.

"h-hao," you whimper, doing your best to match his pace.

"talk to me, honey" he murmurs into your ear. his voice is deep and steady, washing over you like honey. the warmth of his breath tickles your ear, just as he presses a soft kiss to your neck.

all you can do is whimper, struggling to form any words.

"feels really good," you whine, reveling in the feeling of his hard cock. your panties are soaked, and the thin pajama shorts are not enough to mask it.

"feels good for me, too," he grunts, hurriedly pulling his t shirt over his head.

you feel warmth spread to your cheeks, fascinated by the hard lines of his body. he's slim yet toned, like he was carved from marble. you notice the way he subtly flexes for you. if it were anyone else, you would've cringed. but, the only thing you're doing now is staring in awe.

minghao gently lifts your hand, bringing it to rest on his abs. the way he smirks down at you makes everything feel hotter, like he's fully aware of the effect he has on you.

"it's all for you, baby," he murmurs, watching the way your hands trace along the muscle. he hesitates for a moment, glancing at the way your body looks beneath him.

you tease him a little, toying with the bottom of your shirt. his eyes follow your every movement, in a trance. "hao, want to help me take it off?" you chirp, smirking at him.

he's nodding before you can finish your sentence, gently easing your shirt off your body. "fuck, baby. look so good," he groans, mesmerized by the way your full breasts look in the lacy bra.

"you can touch them, if you want," you whisper, nervous for his reaction. minghao's next steps dissipate any fears you had.

his hands massage your breasts, groping them through the thin material of your bra. you let out a breathy moan, turned on by his obvious need for you.

"can i take this off, baby?" he asks, eyes full of pleading. "please do," you hum, lost in the feel of his hands.

the cool air makes your nipples harden, but they're soon enveloped by the warmth of your boyfriend's mouth. while he sucks on one nipple, he massages the opposite nub between his fingers.

your eyes roll back, lost in the way he licks the sensitive skin. you can feel your clit throbbing, desperate for more. beyond the need for subtleties, you grind up into his hips. the feel of his hard cock is sweet torture, a promise of what's soon to come.

"h-hao, no more teasing, please," you whine, trying to shimmy out of your bottoms.

"not teasing. just appreciating my beautiful lady," he murmurs, pressing a final kiss to your breasts. his words cause a flutter in your tummy, only adding to your arousal.

a comfortable silence fills the space, hao undressing himself and helping you finish undressing. your heart skips a beat, taking in his bare form. his cock is flushed and standing proudly, beads of precum around the tip. you squirm beneath him, desperate to feel it inside you.

"i don't think i've ever been this hard in my life. but, i need to make sure you're 100% ready for this," minghao asks, sincerity in his voice.

"hao, i've never been more ready for anything. like ever," you joke, both of you giggling softly. "but, i still appreciate you for asking." he answers you with a soft kiss, asking you where he can find condoms.

you point him towards your nightstand, admiring the way his body leans and stretches over you. his movements are smooth, gliding the latex over his erection.

bringing his fingers to his lips, you groan at the way he wets them before circling your clit. "damn, baby. you're this wet already?" he teases, massaging the sensitive nub.

you can't answer back, lost in the the pattern of his fingers on your most sensitive area. you moan in suprise, relishing in the way his slim fingers slowly stretch out your cunt.

"so fucking tight, damn. can feel you gripping my fingers, pretty girl," he whispers in awe, watching the way your cunt swallows his fingers whole. lewd noises fill your bedroom, your ample wetness making for a smooth glide.

"minghao, please. need you to fuck me," you whine, hips chasing his fingers. you groan at the sudden loss, dizzy from pleasure.

"okay, baby. i'm going to give it to you," he coos, teasing your clit with the tip of his cock. both of you let out borderline-pornographic moans, lost in pleasure.

when minghao finally eases his cock into you, you're seeing stars. his thick cock stretches you out in the best way, gliding against your smooth walls. when he's balls deep, hips resting against your own, you clench around him. the groan he lets out is the best thing you've ever heard.

"shit, shit, shit. gonna cum if you keep doing that," he grunts, easing out and gliding back in. he finds his rhythm, slowly fucking you into the mattress.

his body is warm and firm against your own. you wrap your arms around his shoulders, needing to be as close as possible. the pair of you meet in a messy kiss, moaning without a care in the world.

he feels amazing inside you, tip brushing against the spongy spot that has you clenching uncontrollably. "hao, right there, please," you cry, meeting his thrusts.

"okay, baby. i hear you, i hear you," he coos, changing positions. he brings his hands under your knees, pressing your thick thighs against your chest.

"fuck!" you whine, the new angle allowing him to massage your g spot with every thrust. "i'm cumming," you whimper, orgasm washing over you in waves. you feel minghao's thumb drawing slow circles on your clit, working you through the pleasure.

"oh fuck, baby," he grunts, head lolling back at the feel of your pussy clamping down on him.

you're a sight to behold, and he feels himself teetering over the edge. the way you moan and squirm makes his balls tighten, emptying his load into the condom.

he doesn't pull out until he sees you coming down from your high, still drawing slow circles on your clit. when he eases out of you, he presses kisses to your cheeks, cuddling your body against his own.

minghao's comfort brings you back to the moment, fully relaxing in his hold. he allows you to rest for a moment, before coaxing the pair of you into the bathroom to wind down for the night.

as you shower together, cuddling beneath the warm spray, you find yourself truly at ease. you barely have the energy to wash yourself off, but minghao takes care of you.

just like he always has and will in the future.