#this is less concerning than its coming across

[eatmyheartoutjpg]

𓇻 𝗦𝗠𝗢𝗞𝗜𝗡𝗚 𝗣𝗢𝗟𝗜𝗖𝗬 ˢⁱˡᶜᵒ ˣ ᵍⁿ ʳᵉᵃᵈᵉʳ

𝙎𝙪𝙢𝙢𝙖𝙧𝙮 ;; Short Fic. Romantic/Wholesome. Established Relationship. Somewhat suggestive. You've noticed Silco smokes a bit too often, so you decide to redirect this habit. 𝘼/𝙉 ;; The edits got me so bad. Also, thank you so much for the absurd amount of support for my first post!!

11.22.24

The dim glow of the lamplight casted shadows across the room, Silco seated at his desk with a cigar poised between his fingers. The air was thick with the familiar, acrid scent of smoke. You wrinkled your nose, leaning against the doorway, arms crossed.

“Do you ever put those down?” you asked, tilting your head toward the smoldering stick. You've noticed the stacked cigar boxes in the trash, growing more concerned with each box. Not to mention, the amount of ash in his ashtray, it was piling.

Silco looked up at you, arching a brow, a subtle smirk tugging at his lips. “Would you rather I didn’t?”

You hesitated, then pushed off the doorway, closing the space between you, floorboards creaking with each step. “Actually, I would. So, I’ve got an idea. A new… rule, I'll say.”

His good eye gleamed with amusement as he leaned back in his chair. “A rule? Do tell.”

“Mhm,” you said firmly, planting your hands on the edge of his desk, looming over his seated figure. “Every time you want to smoke, you come kiss me instead.” You gestured to yourself, festering a cheeky grin.

The smirk on his face grew wider, more dangerous, as he leaned forward, placing his elbows on his desk, covering the paperwork he previously had laid out. “Every time?”

You nodded, trying to ignore the heat creeping up your neck. “Every time.”

“An intriguing proposition,” he mused, extinguishing his cigar in the ashtray. You listened to the sizzling sound it made as he grounded it against the rustic metal. “Very well. Let’s see how committed you are to this… intervention.”

You didn’t have time to prepare for what came next. Silco was on his feet in an instant, his right hand bracing the desk on your left, his left hand gabbing your chin. He pulled you into his lips and captured yours in a kiss that left you breathless, his presence overwhelming, intoxicating in a way no smoke ever could be. You could still taste the remnants of the strong cigar he had smoked seconds prior, ignoring the slight sting you felt in your throat.

You looked at each other, not daring to blink. You could only feel his grin growing impossibly larger.

He pulled back just slightly, his face inches from yours, and murmured, “One.”

You swallowed hard, heart racing as he sat back down, reaching for another cigar.

“Wait!” you blurted out, regretting your choice the second you saw the spark of mischief in his eyes.

“You said every time,” he reminded you, already setting the unlit cigar aside and standing again.

By the fifth kiss in less than ten minutes, you were clinging to the edge of his desk for support.

“Silco,” you breathed, trying to sound stern despite your flushed face, you could feel yourself radiating smoke. “You’re not taking this seriously.”

“Oh, I’m taking it very seriously,” he purred, his voice low, rough, as he leaned in for another kiss. “The question is—are you?”

You groaned, half in frustration, half in surrender. This was going to be a very long intervention.

By the time Silco leaned in for the eighth kiss, you were certain you had grossly underestimated his persistence—and his ability to weaponize your idea against you. He barely gave you room to breathe, his lips brushing yours with calculated intensity before pulling away just enough to leave you wanting more.

You planted your hands firmly on his chest to stop him, but it was futile. His smirk was insufferable as he tilted his head, observing you like a predator toying with its prey.

“Are you regretting your little ‘rule’ already?” he asked, voice laced with amusement, mocking, even.

“Yes,” you huffed through pursed lips, though your cheeks betrayed you with their warmth. “This isn’t a substitute anymore.”

Silco chuckled, the low sound reverberating through you. “If anything, I’m merely following orders.” He leaned closer, his breath warm against your ear as he added, “Though I must admit, this is far more satisfying than a cigar.”

“Silco—”

Before you could finish, his lips were on yours again, his hands sliding to rest at your waist. His touch was firm, deliberate, as if he were daring you to challenge him. This kiss was slower, and deeper, leaving you momentarily dizzy. When he finally pulled back, you couldn’t decide if you wanted to shove him away or pull him closer.

“I should’ve added limits,” you muttered in your flustered state, trying to regain your composure.

“You should’ve thought of that before tempting me,” he replied, his tone smooth and teasing. He sauntered back to his desk, picking up the cigar he’d abandoned earlier. He didn’t light it, just turned it in his fingers, watching you. “Now, every time I feel the urge… I’m reminded of how delightful your little rule is.”

You narrowed your eyes, pointing at the cigar. “You’re doing that on purpose.”

“Am I?” He raised a brow, his smirk widening.

The next few hours were a relentless cycle of him testing your resolve. Every time his hand drifted toward his cigar case, you braced yourself. And every time, he kissed you like he’d been waiting an eternity to do it.

By the end of the day, you were sprawled on the sofa, utterly spent, while Silco sat beside you with an air of triumph.

“You look tired,” he observed, a trace of smugness in his voice.

“You think?” you shot back, glaring at him.

He chuckled, pulling you closer so you were tucked against his side. “You should be grateful. I’ve gone nearly eight hours without lighting a single cigar.”

“Because you’ve been too busy attacking me,” you grumbled, though the warmth of his arm around you made it hard to stay annoyed.

Silco tilted your chin up, forcing you to meet his gaze. His good eye softened, and for a moment, the playful façade dropped. “Admit it,” he murmured, brushing a strand of hair from your face. “You prefer this to the alternative.”

You sighed, leaning into his touch despite yourself. “Sure."

He smiled—not his usual sly smirk, but something softer, almost genuine. “Good,” he said, pressing a lingering kiss to your forehead. “Then I suppose we’ll keep your little rule… indefinitely.”

You groaned, burying your face in his chest as he chuckled, low and quiet. He might have won this round, but as you felt his steady heartbeat beneath your cheek, you realized that maybe—just maybe—you didn’t mind losing this time.

ˢᵉᵛᵉⁿ

[sleepymoonlady]

Roevember Day 19: Temper

"This must be important business indeed. Though if it concerns anything so underhand as an assassination, I fear I can be of little help."

Even as the negotiations were well underway, Rose still repeated Lolorito's glib little jab to herself over and over again, gritting her teeth all the while. It had been two years since that fateful night--the Bloody Banquet, in all its infamy. Two years since the Scions were disgraced and very nearly wiped out, all unwitting and unwilling pawns in a game of chess played by two warring factions of Ul'dah's Syndicate.

She had accepted--bitterly--that Lolorito's bargain was better for the stability of Ul'dah than the vengeance she had been craving since that night. Well, that wasn't entirely true: she had accepted that Raubahn, Alphinaud, and Nanamo all arrived at that conclusion. And out of respect for the wishes of her friends and closest allies, she stood down. But it never sat right with her. Even after he--through Hancock--furnished the Scions' efforts in Othard with a base of operations and more gil than they could spend. Even after Nanamo had come to Rose and told her that they needed his help, for the sake of Ala Mhigo and Ul'dah both. Rose was a woman of many talents, but neither forgiving nor forgetting were chief among them.

Ever since she was a child--even before she lied about her age to debut as a gladiator on the Bloodsands--she had been a person of action. She loathed passivity, couldn't stand to sit by and watch, and had never been good at forgiving--or at forgetting. She solved her problems, more often than not, by beating them into submission. But the problem of Lolorito--that opportunistic little shite--was off-limits. NOBODY should be above justice. But somehow, he kept managing to be just that. Even Thordan and his lackeys weren't.

She needed something. Anything. Some kind of closure. So when the meeting came to a close, she said she needed to speak with him in private. She concocted some kind of lie that felt right in the moment--damn if she remembered what it was. Something about discussing further contributions to the East Aldenard Trading Company no doubt. As Nanamo left the room, Rose kneeled down to be... closer to Lolorito's eye-level, at least. The man turned on his stool to face her.

"I must admit, champion, I'm curious to hear your idea," he said, with that smug half-smile that never seemed to leave his face--or his voice. "I didn't think you had much of a mind for business." Rose felt the anger that had been festering in her chest rising--gods, how did she expect to talk to this little fucker? She had forgotten how infuriating it was--he spoke at you, not to you. You were never his bloody equal. Did he even know that she had helped run her mums' shop growing up? That she had to learn arithmetic just to help them make ends meet? Not much of a mind for business, indeed. If fuckers like him weren't so greedy, maybe things would have been less tight growing up--THEN she wouldn't need a "mind for business."

"Honestly I rather thought it was too complicated a topic--"

Lolorito's next backhanded observation was ended--rather abruptly, too--by Rose's gauntleted fist crashing into his jaw with a sickening crack, sending him flying off the stool and across the room. Before she knew what she was doing--before she could even consider the consequences--she bounded over the table and pinned him to the ground with her left arm, before raising her right in preparation for another blow.

"I am SICK and BLOODY TIRED of this GODS-DAMNED CHARADE, LOLORITO," she snarled through gritted teeth.

"Have you LOST your MIND?" Came the retort from the merchant, spoken laboriously through a broken jaw. "Have you not thought of the CONSEQUENCES of assaulting a member of the Syndicate!? I'll have you--"

"SHUT UP!" Rose punctuated her demand with a raise of her fist. Her mind spun as she stared down Lolorito. This man KNEW what was going to happen that night. He could have stopped it, showed his hand earlier, anything. But he didn't. He didn't. Did he have ANY idea what he did? What that night had cost!?

Thancred couldn't use magic anymore.

Shtola lost her sight.

Min...

Rose's fist began to shake as she remembered. As she turned the sentence over and over again in her head, still afraid to say it to herself after all this time.

Why her? Why couldn't it have been someone else?

Why not HIM?

Shakily, she finally spoke again. "Her Grace has decided that you're better off to her--to us--alive, Lolorito. Out of respect for her, I've kept my peace all this time."

"But make no mistake, you miserable little shite:" As Rose spoke these next words, the fury in her voice could have shattered stone, and the hatred in her eyes--a hatred only the likes of Gaius, Thordan, or Zenos had seen before--shone brightly enough to melt through steel.

"The second you outlive your usefulness to her? The bloody MOMENT I even BEGIN to suspect that you're harboring any foolish delusions beyond your station?

I will personally deliver you to Thal."

-----------------

Hi hey if you made it all the way here uhhhh have a funny:

[sewerratzz]

thinking of doing something that will be hard and. i want to do it but i don’t know how, really ?

[two-calicos-in-a-trenchcoat]

I can not tell if harley is sick or if her allergies are just worse this year

Other than more frequent sneezing and being a little quieter and a little extra sleepy last week shes acting totally normal

But shes not lethargic. She didn't eat or drink much yesterday but sometimes that fluctuates anyway and shes been eating and drinking just fine today and had been before yesterday except maybe Wednesday but the weather was fluctuating again and allergens were high that day

Its possible shes having a reaction to the carpet cleaner cuz that was in and on my vacuum when I used it Monday (and her symptoms showed up soon after that) and I havent washed my rug so its possible I didn't get all of it back out of the rug after the vacuum spit it out

So im gonna clean my room this week and dust and wash everything and see if that helps

Like she was less sneezey when my mom took her outside earlier than she's been in the house all week (and she spends most of her time in my room)

She was doing yoga

[im-ovulating]

"Jasper teaching Y/n how to ride him"

I ask, with all the love in my dirty, perverted heart. Fix it.

I ain't even gonna ask anonymously, because you know who it's gonna be.

(A/n: Your wish is my command~ (aka I'm lowkey scared of your wrath))

(Not proofread)

Word Count: 1,832

Summary- It's only fair that the cowboy gets cowgirled (Alternatively: TIME TO EAT, SLUTS🚨)

Warnings: Inexperienced reader, Creampie, Jasper calls reader "Darling," "Doll," and "Sugar" (I think there's one more, but I can't be bothered to scroll through and find it.) (It's not a missed warning - It's simply a surprise cunt throbber) (...sorry...)

Age Rating: 18+ Minors DNI

(This specific gif is a lil inside joke, dont worry abt it lol)

Jasper Whitlock x Fem! Reader: Most Dangerous Game

---------------------------

The kiss breaks with a gasp as Jasper's knee bullies its way between your legs, forcing you on tiptoe. The firm muscle bypasses the fabric of your skirt and presses against your barely clothed pussy in a way that sends your vision swimming. Even through your panties, the rough texture of his pants creates an addictive friction that causes you to chase more - rocking your hips down experimentally rewards you with even more of that coarse deliciousness and pulls a deep moan from you.

He wastes no time as you grind against his thigh, moving his lips to the hollow of your throat, licking and sucking at the area until red blooms across your skin in an intricate pattern of possession. Your hands desperately fumble to grasp anything they can, eventually ending up fisted in his hair. A warning growl rumbles deep in his chest as you tug on the soft blonde strands. Your proximity forces the vibrations through your own chest, weakening your knees.

Jasper presses closer, keeping you upright. His mouth finds its way back to yours as his hand comes up to your neck - fingers pressing into your pulse point as he tilts your head back to deepen the kiss. He eagerly drinks up your sighs as your lips continue to meet in a battle of teeth and tongue; it's becoming less of a kiss as the heat between you increases, but it doesn't matter. Not when you can feel just how hard he is against your stomach.

He all but swallows your keen when he flexes his thigh. Your hips stutter when your clit rubs against the denim; a cry of his name leaves you without thinking at the stimulation. Another, more vicious growl rips through you both as he yanks you away from the wall and walks backwards towards your bed. His lips never leave yours as he falls backwards, pulling you into his lap.

"The things you do to me, Darlin'..." Jasper mumbles into the kiss.

Hands are everywhere- his hair, your jaw, his chest, your ass. Every touch makes as he moves from one place to another sets a trail of fire in its wake.

The new position forces his hard cock to press against you and you can't help but press down harder. The pressure causes your head to drop against his shoulder; causes your jaw to drop as Jasper's hands slip to your hips, rocking you firmly against him.

You can tell he knows exactly when your throbbing cunt pulses out even more slick: you can hear his sharp inhale as it pairs with the way his fingers dip tighter into your flesh.

"I want you to ride me, Doll. Can you do that for me?"

It's only then that your movements halt. Freezing like a deer in headlights, you look at him with your mouth slightly agape. Neither of you are strangers to sex - hell, once Jasper got confident enough to let loose around you, there was a month when you were damn near fucking like rabbits. But of all the ways he's taken you, you've never been the one to be on top.

What if you're bad at it? How would you ever get over that?

"Darling," Jasper's voice cuts through your thoughts, definitely feeling your emotional turmoil. "What's wrong? Talk to me, Sugar." His golden eyes bore into you with a different intensity than before. His once heated gaze now only harbors concern as his thumbs rub gentle circles on your waist.

“It's nothing…” you mutter moving in to nose at his neck, pressing small kisses along the column in an attempt to bring the mood back.

His grip on you shifts, pulling you back a respectable distance to read your face. “Tell me what's wrong, or we're stopping right now, Darlin’."

Oh. Serious voice… As the realization that there's no avoiding voicing your insecurity if you want to get railed - which you do -, your face starts to heat, embarrassment flooding your veins.

Ever the patient man, Jasper waits for you to find the least embarrassing combination of words.

“I've never-” God, your face feels like it could smelt iron right now… “I've never rode anyone; I, um, I don't know how…”

Your voice falters to a whisper, but you know he heard you.

A grin starts to cut its way across his face, leaving you to balk. You know he isn't about to laugh in the face of your anxiety right now.

“You know what- forget I said anything.” you mumble, moving to get up only to be unceremoniously yanked back down.

“Where do you think you're going, Sugar?” Jasper chuckles, ducking his head to try to meet your gaze.

Ever the avoider, you look to the side, opting to pout about it since you can't storm out to the room all dramatic like you wanted. One of his hands comes up to brush some of your hair you were hiding behind.

“I'll teach you.”

Your eyes snap to his finally as the heat in your face starts to creep down your neck. “What?” You choke out.

“I said I'll teach you how to ride,” Jasper says, the humor in his eyes underlined with something darker- hungrier.

Your mouth goes dry from the intensity in them. Gulping, all you can do is nod, words failing you for a different reason this time.

“Yeah?” He hums. “My pretty baby wants to learn to ride me?”

His hands trail down to your skirt, slipping under the hem to trace the elastic of your panties. “Why don't you take these off, Sugar…”

His voice may be gentle, but you know a command when you hear it.

You slide off his lap, standing on shaky legs as you slide the thin fabric down.

“Skirt and shirt too. I want to watch my cock disappear in you while you grind those hips against me.”

You'd be lying if you said that didn't make something sinful twist inside you.

Once all the offending fabric is gone, you take a deep breath. Right now this is nothing new for you. You've been naked in front of Jasper countless times, this is fine.

His eyes never leave you as he works on his jeans - unbuttoning and unzipping them before shoving them down his thighs along with his boxers. He curls two fingers to beckon you closer, other hand leisurely stroking himself, smearing his precum along the shaft.

Settling yourself back in his lap, you slightly fumble, trying to steady yourself. Back in new territory.

“Easy…” Jasper soothes, holding your waist. He stops fisting himself in favor of manhandling you into position.

Your knees are spread to rest just away from his legs, and your hips angled above him by the time he is done adjusting you. One of his hands slips down once more to line up with your slit.

“Drop yourself, Darlin’. Slowly,” he guides. “Once the tip is in, roll your hips forward as you move further down.”

And so you do. Steadily, you push yourself down and forward as his cock slips further and further into your waiting quim. Within seconds, your hips meet his and he sits comfortably to the hilt inside you.

“That's it,” Jasper mumbles, hands lightly stroking your sides. “Can you lift back up and repeat that same motion for me, Sugar?”

“Yeah…” you breathe. This isn't hard, you think, lifting yourself up, not hard at all. Your hands steady you against his shoulders as you rock back down.

Jasper's head falls back with a heavy breath through his nose. “Fuck.”

You still. Did you already do something wrong? You're only two bounces in- are you really that bad at taking direction?

“You're doing great, baby, but if you keep clenching around me like that, I'm not gonna last,” Jasper chuckles, gripping your hips to force you to move again.

And just like that, he once again soothes your nerves. Perks of knowing the ins and outs of emotion, you guess.

So, you start your movements again, allowing his hands to go back to simply encouraging you. As you move, you find yourself growing more and more confident - adding in a few circles along with your roll forward, spreading your knees to take him deeper - the noises your experiments draw from Jasper have your eyes slipping shut and your head lolling forward to rest against his cool collar.

As you ride, you can feel to need for more steadily creeping up to you, forcing your hips to move faster, for you to grind your clit against him as you chase your release.

“Goddamn it-” Jasper hisses, burying his nose in your hair as he inhales your scent. “You're a fucking natural, Darlin’. C’mon, Sweetness, cum for me.”

A soft whimper falls from your lips at the praise, your face heating as you nuzzle further into him. Your thighs are starting to burn, but the ache in your pussy, the pure need to cum, outweighs any discomfort in your trembling legs as you start to slam yourself harder and more desperately onto his solid length.

You can feel your release. It's right there; dipping in and out of sight in a twisted game of desire, but you'll be damned if you lose.

You clamp down on Jasper, the sudden tightness causing even more of the delicious friction you're craving. The deep rumble that drags from Jasper's chest only pushes you closer, more and more noises drip from your lips as you all but ravage the man beneath you.

“Come on, Darlin’, give it to me- let me see how pretty you look creamin' all over my cock.”

You hips give a final jerk forward when his thumb meets you clit, the swollen nerves throbbing at the sudden shock of cold. With a sharp cry of his name, you cum.

Your nails dig into his arms as you rock against him, trying to prolong your high as long as possible. Not that you could stop if you wanted to - Jasper's hands are back to forcing your hips down, chasing his own release.

His hips have started to jerk up into you, meeting you movement for movement as he draw closer and closer to his own climax. Rambled praises have started to fall from him as he holds you tight. From mumbling about how beautiful you are sitting atop him, to growling out about how good your pulsing cunt feels.

Just at your limit, right before the stimulation becomes too much, Jasper finally empties himself into your heat. You though his growls before rumbled you, but the absolute animalistic sound that rips out of his chest as he loses himself in you uproots your very being. The knowledge that you can bring such a powerful creature, *the* Apex predator to such euphoria - the fact that such a magnificent being has allowed you to share in this game - has you shuddering in his hold.

The world's most dangerous game. And you've won.

[hoshigray]

Are you able to right a gojo fic? He pulls you aside after a meeting to a spicy makeout with you that leads to more than just a make out:,)

𝐚. 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: "more than a make out" indeed, lmao

⊹ 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭���: Gojo x afab/fem! reader - explicit reader; minors DNI - canon divergence; you're gojo's partner who works in Tokyo jujutsu tech with him - kissing; making out - fingering (f! receiving) - clitoral play (swiping and pinching) - breast sucking - deep impact position - praising - pet names (angel, baby, cutie, princess, sweetie) - cameos: Ijichi and Yaga - Gojo is a touch-starved fool, bless him lol.

⊹ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 3.1k

“Y/n~~!”

“…! Oh, Gojo!”

“Ahh, it’s Gojo-sensei!”

Being the strongest sorcerer in the modern world is a hassle, no matter how much Gojo loves to shake it off as if it’s not. Not that he doesn’t mind it — no, no. If anything, he prides himself in it. It fills his ego, knowing that a scarce few could be compatible with his power. He’s a dependable light for the jujutsu world, sorcerers of the nation thankful that he's not on the wrong side. 

But alas, being the best has its taxing side, especially taking in tedious missions across the land and attending mandatory meetings with the entire jujutsu faculty body — not to mention being a teacher. The white-haired sorcerer was a busy man — no other way to explain it. However, the worst thing about it all was that there would be times when he’d have less time to spend with a certain someone who had him in the palm of their hands. And if he keeps being away from them, he might – no, will – malfunction. 

You were Gojo’s partner, his sweet baby that he cherished more than anything. You were a faculty member of Tokyo Jujutsu High, making things a little easier for the two of you to meet and elope (professionally). Nevertheless, those moments seem to frequent less and less with how many meetings have Gojo backed up this past week. The poor guy can’t even remember the last time he heard your sweet voice (which is a lie since you call every morning and night; he makes sure you do). 

Although, today would be different. Once this meeting with the Kyoto officials ended, he made a straight beeline out of the room to find you. And to his cheerful chuckle, he skips in your direction when he sees you conversing with Yuuji in the hallway. The salmon-haired teen greets his teacher with a high-five and a bow from you. 

Yuuji hears Megumi call for him from outside, so the boy dismisses himself with a goodbye and wanders off, leaving you and Gojo to yourselves. 

“Hello, Y/n~,” the man says your name with a happy tune, his lanky figure swaying to be close to you.

“Good noon, Gojo,” you greet him again with a modest smile as the tall man walks to you. “How was your meeting? Did the officials give you a tough ti—Mmmph!?”Your boyfriend surprises you with a kiss, taking in your perplexed moan with his pillowy lips. One peck comes after another while Gojo’s hands sneak to your waist. You quickly push him away, but his hold keeps you close to his figure. “G–Gojo, what are you doing!?” You express your concern in confusion, covering your lips with a hand. 

“Mmm? What do you mean? I’m greeting my princess with a kiss,” the blindfolded man says so matter-of-factly, beaming his delighted demeanor that nearly blinds you. “I miss you!”

“I miss you, too, but you can’t just—“ He tilts his head as you try to explain. You chew your lip with cheeks boosting in warmth, averting your glance away from his charming face that’s inching closer and closer to yours. His eyes are masked by the black cloth around his face; however, you can still sense the intensity of his gaze. “N-Not in public, Gojo...”

He plays the whining card, bringing you in for a tight hug that could restrain your breathing. “Ehhh, but I haven’t seen or touched you in days! See, we’ve been apart for so long that you’re going back to referring to me by my last name!”

“I always call you by your family name when in the school, no??”

“Yeah, but that’s only for when people are around, not just the two of us!” His complaints are genuine, swaying around with you in his arms. You roll your eyes, listening to him yap more. “Come on, Y/n; it’s been such a hectic week for me, missions after missions, meetings after meetings. Any more than this, and I just might combust — especially when I don’t have time to see my angel.”

You hear him make fake crying noises to your shoulder, reminding yourself how much your tall, strong boyfriend can be such a whiny puppy if he’s away from you for too long. But you can’t kid yourself; you missed spending time with him just as much as he did. “I know; I wanna see you more often, too. Don’t you worry, okay? This week is almost over, so keep pushing through like the tough man you are…Hehe, my strong Satoru.”

The snow-haired sorcerer springs up with a childish smile at the use of his name, his dimples present with the shine of his teeth. “If that’s what must happen, can your strong Satoru ask for another kiss to make his hell a little bearable?”

You give him a look at his request, but his anticipation doesn’t falter. With a sigh, you smile and whisper, “Just a kiss, Satoru?”

He chuckles lightly, drawing his mouth close to yours. “Yes, princess.”

His soft lips land on yours. There’s no restraint as you welcome him, your hands coming around to cup his cheeks before breaking the kiss. “One more,” he says before your nose is brushed away from his. You comply and place another gentler peck, and the man sneaks a hand from your waist to the back of your head. You withdraw your lips again, but Gojo utters another “One more…” Your stomach does flips knowing what game he’s trying to play. Another kiss is received, and his leg sneaks in between yours.

You mewl, finding yourself stuck in this predicament. He’s now in control, using this opportunity to deepen the kiss and make it more passionate, sucking your bottom lip and running his tongue for more access. You have no choice but to accept him, whimpering at the tongue intruding into your oral cavity while his leg moves further and further. 

Your hands come to his shoulders, gripping his jacket as the Gojo furthers himself into the kiss. The hand behind your head keeps you steady, keeping him focused on your mouth, where he sucks on your tongue in a way that leaves you breathless — like, actually. After he quits the kiss, you two are gasping for air so hard, and your lips are wet because of him. 

“Hahhh, ’Toru, stop,” you wipe spit from your mouth. “We can’t be doing this here…”

Your complaint falls on deaf ears, the sorcerer placing chaste kisses on your cheek. “Hmmm, why not?”

“Mmm..Someone, your students, we’d be caught here…”

Gojo smirks; it’ll never stop being adorable how bashful you are around him, particularly when he expresses his undying affection for you in public. But he will respect your wishes, and the idea that pops into his head makes him giggle.

Before you can process anything, Gojo picks you up with your legs held up and a hand on your back. You squeak at the unexpected action, grabbing a hold of his neck to balance yourself. Your mouth opens to express your bewilderment. Yet one moment, you two are in a hallway of the school; then you’re transported to a familiar room with a bed the next — your bedroom.

You blink in perplexity as Gojo throws you on top of your bed, stammering to find the right words. “Satoru, I wish you’d stop teleporting without letting me know! And don’t you have another meeting to get to!? Why are we in my apart—“ You don’t finish that sentence; you stop yourself once Gojo crawled up on the bed to you. Suddenly, you feel too small to utter a word.

“Sorry, baby,” No, he wasn’t. Not with that childish grin posted on his face. He brings his face to yours, placing more smacks on your lips. “But you’re the one who said we shouldn’t be doing this on school grounds. Heh, you act so cute when you’re shy…”

“No, Satoru, we can’t—Mmmm,” silencing you with kisses was such a vile card, knowing you’d be whimpering under him just from him twirling his tongue with yours. “Mmph..Mmah…! You’re scheduled for…another meet—“

“Shhh, don’t worry; I can be late for a few minutes,” another lie. If Gojo’s late to another meeting, Principal Yaga will put the younger man in a chokehold again. “I’ll make this quick, I promise. So, just let me enjoy you…”

Sucking your tongue is all it takes for you to give up on trying to persuade him out of what he’s doing. Gojo takes off and throws his jacket to the bedroom floor to let his black fitted tee breathe, and his hands initiate unbuttoning your blouse. He then slithers it down to the bottom of your long pencil skirt to pull up, greeting your undergarments with his digits. You jerk at the contact of his middle finger that presses on the damp spot of your panties, earning a faint, salacious laugh from Gojo. 

“Awww, did my baby get wet just from kissing earlier?” He rubs the underwear further, soaking the spot more with your fluids. Your thighs tremble, “Did you miss me that much?”

“Sato—Oooh!” He sinks his finger deeper into your entrance; the material barrier is so wet from your essence seeping through. “Your finger...Mmm.”

“What is it, cutie?” He whispers to your ear, and you have to bite down on your lip to suppress a moan. “You want my fingers?” You nod sheepishly, amusing the snow-haired man. “Now, Y/n, you know I want to hear you tell me what you want. Use your words, princess.”

You gulp to satiate your dry throat. “Yess, Satoruu, I want your fingers. Please, let me cum on your fingers…”

“That’s my angel,” he praises before straightening himself between your sheer pantyhose-covered legs. After sliding your damp panties off, he brings a leg to his shoulder and finally slides his blindfold off his face, his hair losing its spiky position and falling with gravity. Cerulean eyes catch a glimpse of your wet cunt in his sights, biting his lip. “Made such a pretty mess all for me, huh.”

His hand returns to your now bare chasm, sliding his ring and middle finger between your soaking folds. You hum to the touch, gripping on your blouse to use as reins. After a few seconds, he inserts the middle digit inside, immediately going to work after he pulls a gasp from your surprised body.

Slow motions sneak up on you, scraping your velvet texture with the blunt fingertip. His slender digit pushed and pulled from inside you, making sure you took him to the knuckle. He swirls it around, evoking shaky screams from him, scratching your inner walls so diligently. And your eyebrows furrow once the movement quickens.

“Hooohh, ohhh!” You threw your head back to the pillows. “Ahhnn, faster, go faster…”

“Hmm? You want me to go faster?” He teases with a perched brow. He does as asked, but with a catch; he sneaks his ring finger inside with your slick as lube. You shriek, two fingers now ravaging your insides and pleasing you with faster shifts. “Like this?” Did you even have to answer that; were you gripping the sheets and hips moving on their own not enough?

“Oooo, fuahhh, fuuckk, ‘Toru, nooo, y’re making me…Hoohh!”

“Yeah, that’s right,” he kisses your calf before placing his lips on your ankle to lick playfully. “Just let me make you feel all good.”

Fuck did Gojo miss this; it’s been more than a week since he’s had his hands on your body like this. The constant meetings have almost made him forget the warmth and plush of your frame. He needed this, like, BAD. He’s barely containing himself now; the image of your slit taking his fingers so well is bubbling his excitement, and the tent of his pants that shields a boner grows painfully hornier.

You were bound to cum on his fingers in no time, howling with an arched back when he does the ‘come hither’ motion and scrapes your inner walls. They contract around his digits as your legs tremble with the surge of your orgasm. Gojo loves the sight and stirs the fingers to tease your keen nerves more. “Good job, sweetie,” he kisses your ankle again while slowly removing his fingers from you, inserting them inside his mouth to lather his tongue with your juices. He almost caves in just from the taste.

But a sudden buzz in the pocket of his pants alerts him. He brings out his phone ringing with a call and presses the green button before pressing the device to his ear. “Yo, Ijichi.”

“Ah, thank goodness you picked up. Where are you; the meeting starts in a few minutes.”

“Mmm, I’m at Y/n’s,” even if you’re in a tiny daze, your face morphed into an expression of shock at his nonchalant honesty. “I’m only here to grab something real quick, and then I’ll head back to the school.”

“Are you sure…?”

He laughs, “Now, Ijichi, are you calling me a liar?”

That was precisely what he was — a whole liar.

“—Taahh, ahhhn, Sa’oruuuuu! Yer hitting shoo deep in—Saaahh!!”

It’s been a solid fifteen minutes after that call with Ijichi, and Gojo is still in the confines of your bedroom. He was very much late; of course, he was. Why would he not be? He finally has this chance to have you to himself, so he’s indulging it however long he wishes.

Gojo ripped you out of your clothes to meet with his clothing on the floor, leaving you bare and nude for him aside from your pantyhose. You’re lying on your side with one leg up on Gojo’s shoulder while the other is between his, and his cock now pushing to and fro inside your chasm that was filled with his come. 

His thrusts were sharp and rough, the curve of his dick jabbing areas in your vagina you never thought would be stimulated. Jesus, his length was dangerous, having you babbling incoherent words to the air and reaching so deep inside that you quaked under him. Your brain is stuck in a haze, especially since this is the second time he’s fucking inside you and made you cum a total of three times!

“Ohhmy, Gohhhd! Sato—Ohhhh…!!” He grasps around your leg to plunge himself further and faster, the work of his pelvis having you see stars.

“Hsshhh, God, you feel so fucking good, baby,” he coos sweetly, juxtaposing with the erratic pace of his hips that move your figure with every rut. Azure orbs take in the display before him; your naked body submitted to him to alleviate his week-long stress and please the both of you. Strands of his silverfish-white hair are drenched from the sweat built on his forehead. “—Hmmgh! Shit…keep clamping onto me like that.”

You chew on your lip, sneaking a hand down on your clitoris to whisk your fingers around it. Oh, it feels so good, playing with yourself as your boyfriend massages your insides. “Mmaaah, s’ good...”

“Hmm, what’s that?” His hips now go slow; the stretch his curve causes when entering inside has your toes curl. “What feels good?” He then snaps his pelvis to startle you.

“—Mmmph!! You! Y’u feel so good, ‘Toruuu..!”

“Heh, you feel amazing yourself, Y/n,” returning to an erratic rhythm, Gojo pumps his cock til the base kisses your squelching folds. His balls smack onto you after every push. He then curves downward for his face to be closer for you to hear him, “Hmmnn, you gonna be good and come again, right?”

You nod cursorily, your eyes shut to enhance the feeling of you rubbing on your bud. “Yesshh, I’m so close, I wanna cum…Want you to fill me u—Uuuhhn!!”

“Jesus, you look so fucking hot,” he grins before bringing his mouth to your nipple, his tongue dancing around the tip to harden. “Let’s cum together, okay, cutie?”

He sucks in your nipple as his thrusts go grim, and severe hits to your cunt result in you wailing far from your control. The tip of his cock picks at your silky walls so euphorically that you hum his name. A hand comes to your chest to keep you steady and synced with him, and he keeps rutting into you even when his body shudders as his load is exerted inside your tight slit. And you’re not far from him either; your orgasm seconds away from his hits you hard, and you quiver in the shocks coursing through your body.

As you two rock slowly through your crescendos, your essence mixes with his seed, and your sweaty bodies heave and pant for the third time this session. Gojo releases your nipple from his mouth after withdrawing his dick from inside, and his jizz seeps out of your frame. “Phew, man, how I needed that.”

You respond despite your brain feeling a bit all over the place. “Are you happy now?”

He laughs while kissing your cheek. “Thank you, princess!”

“You’re welcome, Toru,” you shook your head with a meek smile. “But you really should get going; I don’t want you getting in trouble with—“

KNOCK!! KNOCK!! KNOCK!!

An abrupt sound comes from the front door, confusing the both of you as the knock comes from out of nowhere. Nonetheless, you get up and wipe yourself quickly before putting your clothes back on. Gojo does the same as you walk out of the bedroom to see who’s at your door. And once you open the door, your heart meets your stomach.

“Y/n,” it was Yaga, the principal adorning his usual attire and sunglasses.

“Principal Yaga,” you greeted the older man with a hurried bow. “Wh–What can I do for you—“

“He’s here, isn’t he?”

Your lips flatten at the question, using the silence to speak for itself as you move out of the way for the principal to enter. Yaga apologizes for the intrusion before marching into your apartment and presumably going after the person still in your bedroom, who lets out an exclaimed shout of pain from what you can assume was from a punch to the head from his old teacher. 

The former instructor strolls back to the front door where you remained; Gojo is dragged on the floor behind him. “Sorry again for the inconvenience,” Yaga puts his shoes back on before exiting your home. You observe the men leave with a heavy sigh, waving goodbye to your snow-haired sorcerer as he’s pulled across the hall like a toddler.

“See ya, sweetie,” he cries out to you without regard to the neighbors hearing him, putting his blindfold back on. “I miss you already!”

requests/thirsts are open hehe~ 🧸

© 𝐇𝐨𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐲2024 – reblogs and comments are appreciated wholeheartedly ☆ header edit done by me + dividers by @/benkeibear.

[occamstfs]

What You Really Want

Milo mouths off about a man dating his long time crush before immediately learning the lesson that he should be less trusting of strange voices promising to fulfill his desires

Pretty standard straight to gay himbo/jockification! It will also be my final story for some time I believe, so I do hope you enjoy! -Occam

“It’s no fair that they literally have it all.” Like many a ‘nice guy’ Milo has spent an inordinate amount of time skulking social media and disparaging more physically gifted men as he stumbles across them. The root of his despair is not difficult to ascertain, his eyes burning with envy make quite clear the inner monologue of ‘girls always date assholes.’ He sneers as he comes across the most recent post of his friend and crush, Juliet. The jealous man of course knows next to nothing about the character of James, the jock-type now dating her, but judging by the gleaming smirk and the bulky arms of a killer hanging from his shoulders, the judgemental dweeb has more than enough evidence to speculate.

Delving into his memories, Milo’s face burns with embarrassment as he recalls mentioning his crush to Juliet, ‘Oh!’ her bright eyes shift uncomfortably and her cheeks begin to blush enough to match the pink tint she threw on this morning. Milo’s fist clenches as she almost giggles in her discomfort, ‘sorry Milo I guess- Well, I guess I just thought you were gay?’ After this Milo played it cool, he thinks. Hand scratching the back of his head as he asserts his straight identity and the two go on to have a meal far more quiet and awkward than usual. When new-boyfriend James comes to pick up Juliet, Milo forces a smile before staring daggers at his back as the pair walk away. 

This brings us to the present hate scrolling session in which Milo is more than absorbed. Lips curl into a sneer as he traces the impossible to ignore curves of this must-be dullard’s defined body. Milo scoffs as he sees the litany of women that must make up the man’s dating history. “Bet they won’t even last a week, ha! I mean judging by how much the douche spends in the gym I bet he’s just using her as a beard anyway.”

With this final rather homophobic assertion, the nerd’s phone flashes before going dark, “What the-” before he has to determine whatever caused this, he goes stiff as a strange voice resounds through his head. ‘Tired of all the big boys getting what they want, hmm?’ Immediately concerned he’s lost his mind, Milo gets to powering back on his phone to call for help. ‘Now now, Milo. Do not worry your little head. I am here to help. Would you not like the chance to be just like them?’ Just like them. Envy burns through his veins greater than anything. Sensing this immediately, whatever this voice is seizes upon his clearly fragile psyche, its laughter steely and alien, ‘Ah ha ha. I thought so.’

Dropping his phone once more, Milo tries to drill the voice, “Wh- what are you exactly. Are you a dem- hm, an angel?” The voice answers almost before he even finishes the thought, ‘It matters not what I am. All that matters are your desires. Now. Do you wish to be all you desire, all this James embodies? All that he is in your head.” Miles gulps and almost starts drooling at the idea, just like James. Women at his fingertips whenever he wants, a body sculpted by the gods while keeping a far better mind than that oaf could ever afford. With next to no hesitation or forethought, Milo nods and the world goes dark.

When he awakens the poorly mannered man finds it’s the next day. His phone rests in his hand and when opened he finds it zoomed in on a picture of James’ meaty bicep. Milo rolls his eyes and tosses his phone aside before going to stand. Making it halfway up he grunts in pain as he only then discovers morning wood more pressing and turgid than he’s ever encountered. Falling back down he clutches at the pain in his crotch from his cock being forcibly yanked by his underwear. Hands now grasping it he gasps as he finds it filling them far more than it has any right to. 

Well now, while they’re already down there he might as well have some fun right? After briefly struggling to get his waistband over his swollen package his mouth falls open in shock as he’s finally able to appraise the almost unrecognizable cock hanging from his crotch. It’s like none he’s seen before, not that he generally observes dicks of course. Far more impressive than he imagined a dick could be. His fingertips can scarcely meet his palm when he tries to grasp it, and as he begins rubbing it it feels leagues more sensitive than it has before now, as if nerve endings are multiplying. Looking to his awaiting phone he sees the photo of James and what’s her name as he begins masturbating outright.

Seeing a bulge in James’ strained pants he grunts as he returns to stare at his own suddenly substantial cock. More like him. The already thicker rod strains as he reflexively humps into his hand, forcing his grip wider as it expands to simply need more room. The new veins painting the length of his nascent ten inch dick surge higher up its length as he swears he can see them pulse and bulge with each racing heartbeat. Beneath his thrusting hands, bouncing as his hips continue to forcefully thrust with more strength than he has, his balls similarly grow heavier, larger as they send hormones flowing through him enough to metamorphosize and, more immediately, cause pre to stream and coat his fingers. 

Milo leans his head back as he is bursting with a need for release greater than he can understand. He shifts his jaw as it twinges with the pleasure of growth, widening and strengthening into one fit for titan. Below his newly defined chin, his neck thickens and moans grow deeper as an Adam's apple bulges out of his throat. Hearing his voice echo deeper throughout his bedroom, his heady pleasure comes to a head as he is struck with the bizarre urge to lick the pre off his fingers. Before he’s able to acquire or express shock and disgust, his eyes blast open and he is again staring at the image of James, more like- and he blows his load.

The moment of release may as well have shut him down once more, pleasure overloads him like a flashbang as every inch of his body feels at once. Drool drips from his plumper lips as his mind is fried and his hips continue to thrust without any input or awareness, sending stains across his wall and splattering into his darker hair as it begins to pull shorter and tint darker. Eyebrows thicken and cover more of his forehead as his brow hangs lower over his eyes staining brown and growing duller.

His whole form tenses as he finally achieves release, staring at the image of his, uh, competition. Arms flex as his hands crack wider, fingers stretch longer, skin grows rougher. For the first time in his life definition appears on his arms, biceps and triceps compete for which can increase faster, which can catch more eyes, which can rival those alluring arms of James. Beneath shoulders packing on weight are pits that darken with curls now thicker, a deeper brown nearing black as the forest strives to prevent any light from breaking the canopy. Similarly they moisten with the masculine heady musk that they are perfectly designed to disseminate, powerful enough to allure any twink towards his dick, or uh, huh.

Milo moans as this seemingly intrusive thought makes itself at home in his morphing psyche. Barely returning to sentience enough to realize the stray gay thought, he arches his back and stretches as if he were waking up. Mindlessly he wipes the cum staining his larger hands on the new dark treasure trail as it itches and slowly inches up from pubes unshaved. Feeling the hint of an Adonis belt he sits up with a shock, the feeling of something he has long envied bringing back his awareness.

Despite the obvious differences it takes far too long for him to be aware of, to truly notice what has become of him. He struggles to make sense of the effort it takes to move his new larger limbs. He grabs at his new hair and sucks drool through his teeth as he tries to understand how it’s changed texture and color so totally, did he dye it and forget or what? The gears in his mind slowly turn as his fingers move to scratch an itch under his arms, struggling through the dank jungle of curls. Thoughtlessly he brings his sweat-wet fingers to his nose and grimaces. “Fuck man, I smell like an, uh, like a, unnh-” he moans quietly as he’s unable to even finish the sentence, instead an image of James forces its way to the front of his mind and two now-malnourished brain cells spark together and strain to form a thought.

“Oh fuck I’m turning into a imbe-, an uh imbekle? Ugh, an uh- a dumb jock.” Milo bites his lips and flexes an arm to try and assuage his nerves, to get his attention focused on anything but his anxieties. Fortunately to this end, seeing his bulging biceps he feels his larger cock begin to stir. Some semblance of rationality knows ceding to his wanting package is probably what led to this encroaching fog over his mind. His skin begins to prickle as all-around it grows more sensitive. Beyond these skin deep sensations it also seems as if darker hairs are beginning to spread out wherever his follicles will allow.

Seeing hair beginning to prickle his chest and blanket his legs his mind produces images of hairy men he has leered at through the years. His neck twitches as whatever dregs of the pathetic skirtchaser he once was rise up and try to combat his new predilections. He’s straight, he’s always been straight. Right? His mouth goes dry as he tries to remember ever having dated a woman in the past. Barring that, only just able to recall that something is happening to him, only just able to remember that he is transforming into some alien self, Milo tries to produce an image of what he used to look like. And he cannot.

His mouth falls open as it often does whenever he struggles to produce a thought, making it almost his default state. Mouth-breathing mouth ajar he fully experiences the thick air of his bedroom as it fills with his new musk. The room around him begins to dissolve and reform into surroundings that reinforce who he is now, that prove this is who he has always been. Clean pressed laundry dirty and shift into unwashed gym clothes that help cloud the room with his stink. Posters of whatever movies and video games he enjoys corrupt into images celebrating the impressive male form, all distinctly stained from the years of hanging on Milo’s bedroom walls. He hears clanking outside of his bedroom as bookshelves collapse and reform into weights heavier than he would be able to lift.

Milo stumbles to his larger feet and ignores the hefty weight of his balls and cock bobbing in the air as he drags himself out of his bedroom to find a mirror. He leaves sweaty footprints larger than any shoes he owns on the tile of the bathroom as he bumbles in. Leaning over the sink his lips quiver as he sees a razor clogged with hair darker than he feels he should have. Sooner than the doubts arrive they vacate as a thick, stubbled beard rapidly bursts onto his face. Looking up he smirks as he sees a thick mustache surges over his upper lip, looking just like the ones he appreciates,  just like he has always been into. His eye twitches and he grunts as his hair retracts once more into something far more intentional and stylish. At the same time pecs suddenly bulge larger and hang lower as Milo leans heavier over the bathroom sink. 

His eyes glaze over as complex thoughts once more become too elusive in the face of his rising lusts. Muscles bulge larger as his back and legs creak, stretching him taller as thighs and shoulders widen and continue putting on mass. Feet spread like fins on the floor as his hands widen and sweatily slide on the ceramic sink. His mouth continues to water as he inspects all these increasingly masculine changes and his cock continues to throb. Milo bites his lip as new sensations arise from his cock once more, this time the change is apparent as his foreskin regrows, making his cock look even thicker as its head grows hooded and he struggles not to immediately break into masturbation at the powerful image of his own seductive form.

Milo’s barely functioning mind struggles to argue for any reason to not just return to the immeasurable delights of gratifying his all-encompassing urges. He stays his hands for a moment before the greatest horror yet rears its head. A monologue begins in his mind that is not his own, that cannot be his own. Dull laughter echoes through his increasingly vacant mind as a voice even slower and deeper than that which sounds from his new vocal chords, “Yooo broo come onnnnn. Give up, give in. This is what you wanted, ‘s what we wanted huhuhuh.”

He feels a pressure in his balls as they almost churn with the otherworldly need that seemingly always flows through him. He can’t help but imagine the men he’s going to bed with his new endowment, how many cocks he’s going to take in his new powerful ass. Drool trickles from his lips through the dense black stubble that coats his face denser with each second, with each breath. Spit continues down the length of his more defined face before dripping onto weighty, similarly furred pecs. His heavier hands slowly creep towards the hardening cock standing tall and long from the jungle of pubes. Before he’s able to assist his thrusting hips however, his lusty haze is interrupted by his phone chiming. His mind immediately thinks it must be James which fills him with conflicting emotions of rage and giddiness. “Ohh bro maybe he’s inviting us over. It’s been toooo long since we fucked huhuh-”

Milo pointedly tries to ignore his hairier, bulkier reflection as he stumbles out of the bathroom to check his phone. Unfortunately he catches a glimpse which makes it all the more difficult to ignore the throbbing weight dripping, almost pouring, pre onto the floor. Despite it all he stands strong, quieting this other voice as it urgently tries to convince him to give in before he’s able to pick up his phone. In a final act of resistance, or perhaps impotence, he has the lofty idea of calling for help before his mind goes completely blank and, seeing the notification, he instinctually goes to his messages to find who texted him. It’s Juliet! 

First his heart flutters before he’s absolutely confused at the sensation. She’s just his bestie? Weird. He shakes off whatever that was and gets on to reading the message, “heyy girlie- which of these do you want me to post? Oh ya and lmao, are you and james cool if I do the last one?” At the mention of James his pulse again races and there are butterflies in his stomach far more powerful than whatever bizarre feelings he had but moments ago. No time to dwell, Milo starts swiping through the images sent. They’re a photoset of their little group outing to a halloween party last week, the trio, Milo, James and Jules dressed up as a group, as X-men! Respectively dressed as Wolverine, Cyclops and Jean Grey.

He smirks as he starts chubbing up again thinking of how easily he was able to pass as the hairy beast. His eyes then return to see James’ bubble butt in trademark spandex, which only makes it harder to not lose control then and there, moaning as he imagines playing with that ass. Holding to whatever well of willpower remains within him Milo holds strong and keeps his hands above waist level. Finally he gets to the specific image Juliet mentioned, one of him and James messily making out on the dance floor. James yanks at the hairy Milo’s hair, visor half hanging off as Milo reciprocates by shoving his hand into James’ pants. Fuck that’s hot.

Without even touching his needy cock, without any pleading from the new voice in his head, without a single chance to hold back. Simply from seeing the steamy image of him and James, Milo’s mind is overrun with memories and desires of the new man he is. The man he ever was and always will be. And for the second time today, but not the last, he loses control. Cum splatters against his phone as his mind goes blank anew with rushing pleasure. Painting himself once more with his most-used utensil he laughs dumbly as he realizes how swiftly he just came. Almost with pathetic haste, though now he’s quite unfamiliar with any sense of shame. The voice that only just wormed its way into his head spills from his mouth as it fully and forevermore wrests control as the true Milo.

“Huhuhuh guess I should work on my hair trigger,” He grunts as he looks at his phone and texts back some variation of ‘girl that’s porn you can’t post that!!!’ he turns his mind where it goes more often than anywhere in his new life. He wonders what James is doing and immediately texts him. Waiting for a reply Milo heads off to the gym to get a pump in before presumably going to meet him, not worrying about cleaning up or covering his scent. The gym’s for smelling like a man right? He certainly wouldn’t mind if everyone else followed his lead huhuh. Milo bites his lip trying to ignore his hardening cock as he makes his way out of the apartment clad in too-tight, stained gym clothes. 

Before he even makes it out the complex he gets a text from James and promptly changes course. Immediately Milo’s racing down the street to his lover’s apartment. Cock already snaking down his shorts and creating a stain at its nadir, Milo hopes he can keep his needy cock at bay until he makes it. Thinking of the alternative work out he’s to enjoy in bed with James, Milo struggles to not moan obscenely as he waddles as quickly as he can into the lobby of James’ building. Heart racing with excitement he can’t wait to see James in person. Jittery with nerves, it feels like he’s going to meet the man for the first time. Hah! Milo promptly ignores the idea and starts to get some stretching in before their session. Trying to practice mindfulness with a mind thicker than mud he quickly finds himself possessed with memories of their countless times fucking in the past. Easy enough as the pair have been doing so for years. Still nerves assail him as his cock continues to strain his shorts. As the elevator doors click open he smirks as he was able to make it this far without blowing his third load of the day. His cock throbs with anticipation for its release soon to come, and impatiently awaits each and every similar session to follow.

[ha-rinrin]

Wired for War

Summary: You and your beautiful wife, Jinx, are preparing for war, and you decide to let your family step into the game.

Pairing: Jinx x fem!reader (you come from a powerful family)

Wordcount: 2.1k

Authors note: soo, this randomly popped up in my head and I HAD to write it, I love married jinx x reader its an obsession. Hope you enjoy this one!

Jinx was hunched over her workbench, the dim lights of her lab casting flickering shadows over scattered blueprints, spare parts, and glowing vials of chemtech. She was absorbed, her eyes lit with a fierce focus as she twisted wires and calibrated triggers, whispering to herself with excitement. In her hands, each screw and bolt was a promise of devastation to come, a chaotic edge Zaun would soon wield.

Just as she adjusted her goggles, ready to test her latest creation, a familiar voice echoed through the room.

“Well, if it isn’t my destructive little genius.”

Jinx froze mid-assembly, a wicked grin spreading across her face before she turned around. “You know I can’t concentrate when you sneak up on me like that,” she teased, eyes narrowing playfully as they roamed over you.

You chuckled, stepping fully into the room, and Jinx felt a surge of warmth as you closed the distance. Dressed in sleek attire that hinted at the influence of your powerful family overseas, you looked as formidable as you did elegant, a reminder of the depth of strength you brought with you.

“Just checking on my favorite weapons designer,” you said, reaching out to tilt her chin up so she looked at you. “I see you’ve been busy,” you noted, glancing over the disassembled parts and the eerie glow of her latest chemtech concoction.

Jinx smirked, her hand resting over yours briefly. “Busy is an understatement. You know, I’ve got some surprises for Piltover that’ll blow them right off their high horse.” Her voice was charged with enthusiasm, that hint of chaos behind every word.

You nodded, running a hand along one of the blueprints on her desk. “I’d expect nothing less from you. But remember, there’s more to this than firepower.” Your eyes softened as they met hers, the playful glint in your gaze tempered by genuine concern. “War can be dangerous, even for a genius like you.”

Jinx’s smirk softened. “And that’s why I’ve got you, don’t I?” She stands up, leaning her back against the workbench, crossing her arms. “The powerful, mysterious wife with all the connections. You’re my ace, y’know that?”

You rolled your eyes but smiled. “Maybe, but you’re still going to be careful, right?”

Jinx stepped closer, slipping her arms around your waist as she murmured, “I’m always careful. Well, careful enough. Besides,” she smirked, looking up at you through her lashes, “you’d come storming in to save me, wouldn’t you?”

A grin tugged at your lips. “Oh, I would. But let’s try not to get there, alright?”

Jinx laughed softly, brushing her lips against yours. “Alright, wife. Just for you.” Then, with a mischievous glint, she added, “Now, wanna help me test out some of these bad boys?”

You immediately got to work, testing the connections on a detonator Jinx had just handed over, both of you shoulder-to-shoulder at her chaotic workbench. The room was filled with the faint hum of chemtech and metal grinding against metal, but the real electricity was in the way her gaze lingered on you, pride and mischief flickering in her eyes.

As you adjusted the detonator, you broke the silence with a casual mention. “I spoke to my parents about all this,” you said, glancing at her. “They offered their soldiers to support Zaun.”

Jinx’s eyes widened as she paused, looking at you with a mix of surprise and delight. “Wait, seriously?” Her smirk grew wider, almost mischievous. “They’d throw their whole army behind us?”

You nodded, a grin tugging at your lips. “Just like that. They might not be from Zaun, but they’ve got no love for Piltover. And as long as it’s to help keep you safe… well, they wouldn’t think twice.”

A flicker of warmth softened Jinx’s face. “Guess I really picked the right wife, huh?” She nudged your shoulder, her smile full of gratitude and affection. “Didn’t think I’d be lucky enough to have a family at my back… especially one that actually likes me.”

You laughed, setting the detonator back on the table. “They more than like you, Jinx. Remember the wedding?”

Jinx’s grin widened as she recalled the day. Your family, powerful and influential as they were, had completely embraced her the moment they met her. She was so different from anyone they’d ever known, but they’d loved her energy, her fire, and, most importantly, her devotion to you.

“Oh, I remember,” she said with a chuckle, her tone softening as she lost herself in the memory. “Your parents practically threw me a parade when we said our vows. Never thought anyone would get so worked up over a troublemaker like me.”

You reached out, tucking a stray strand of blue hair behind her ear. “That’s because they could see what I see. They knew you’d do anything for me, even if it meant going toe-to-toe with Piltover.”

Jinx smirked, a glint of mischief in her eye as she looked back at the blueprints. “Guess they’ve got good instincts. But it goes both ways, you know.” She leaned closer, her voice soft but fierce. “Anything for you, too.”

You leaned forward, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead. “Then we’re both all in.”

Jinx grinned, slipping her fingers through yours. “Looks like Piltover’s got a storm coming. With you at my side—and that little army of yours—they don’t stand a chance.”

Your fingers brushed over a pile of metal scraps, picking up a thin wire as Jinx adjusted the fuse on her latest invention. The two of you worked in sync, comfortable and in tune, even amidst the chaos of her lab. She was about to speak when you decided to drop the real bombshell.

“That’s not all,” you said, your voice low, but carrying a weight that made her look up instantly. “My family’s pulling out all the stops. They talked to… well, you’ve heard of the Black Rose?”

Jinx’s brow shot up, and a spark of curiosity lit in her eyes. “The Black Rose?” Her voice dropped, almost reverent, like she’d just uncovered a secret too wild to be true. “You mean… the Black Rose is real? The whole dark magic, underground network, shadow-in-every-corner thing?”

“Oh, they’re real all right,” you replied, crossing your arms as you watched her face shift through surprise and intrigue. “They’re willing to offer their resources, but there’s a catch.”

Jinx tilted her head, clearly eager to hear what kind of condition such a group would demand. “What’s the price?”

“They’ll only help if we let them ‘take care’ of Ambessa Medarda,” you said, voice edged with dark amusement. “They want her gone, and not in some subtle way. They want her head.”

A wide, wicked grin spread across Jinx’s face, her eyes glinting with manic delight at the idea. “So, they want us to clear the path and let them take out the queen of Piltover’s power brokers? Just hand over Ambessa’s head on a platter?”

“Exactly.” You smirked, meeting her gaze. “They think she’s too much of a liability to leave standing. They’ll only help if they get full access to her and… take care of her their way.”

Jinx let out a low laugh, clearly reveling in the twisted web of alliances that had just come into play. “I have to say, toots, your family has taste.” She twirled a screwdriver in her hand, eyes practically gleaming. “And here I thought I’d be the craziest one in the room. Let the Black Rose do their thing, and we get all the backup we need.”

“Exactly. We get their resources, and they get their revenge on Ambessa,” you replied, feeling the thrill of the plan settle in your bones. “And my family? Well, they’re more than happy to keep the Medardas off their backs.”

Jinx leaned in, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “Then let’s give them what they want. Let them paint Piltover red if they need to. With the Black Rose on our side, it’s not just gonna be war—it’s gonna be a whole damn reckoning.”

Her hand slid into yours, her grip firm and electrifying. “So, partner… ready to let the games begin?”

As Jinx’s hand held yours tightly, her wild grin softened, and her eyes, still blazing with excitement, met yours with a warmth that cut through the thrill of war planning. She leaned closer, her expression softer, almost tender—a side of her she saved only for you.

“Didn’t think I’d ever get this lucky,” she murmured, thumb brushing over your knuckles. “Having you by my side… having a whole family by my side? Didn’t think it was in the cards for me.”

You felt a smile pull at your lips, squeezing her hand in return. “Well, you’re kind of hard to resist, you know.”

Jinx’s lips curled into a smirk, but there was a trace of a blush on her cheeks as she rolled her eyes. “Pfft. Me? It’s you who’s too perfect for your own good. Sweet-talking war councils and charming dark magic cults into doing our dirty work.”

“Just doing my job as your wife,” you said with a playful wink.

She laughed, the sound warm and genuine as she pulled you closer, her forehead pressing softly against yours. “Guess I got myself the best one, then.”

For a moment, the plans, alliances, and whispers of war faded away. It was just you and her, together in the quiet of her workshop, like you had all the time in the world. Her gaze softened, and she let her hand move to cup your cheek, her fingers cool against your skin.

“Stay with me,” she whispered, her voice barely a breath. “No matter what happens out there. Whatever crazy plan I come up with. Just… stay.”

You tilted your head, pressing a gentle kiss to her fingertips. “Always. From here to wherever this takes us.”

Jinx’s eyes sparkled with a mix of fierce devotion and rare vulnerability as she leaned in, pressing her lips to yours—a kiss that was slow, lingering, and filled with everything words couldn’t capture. You could feel her smile against your lips, that mischievous grin you’d fallen in love with, softened just for you.

When she finally pulled back, she wore that familiar, confident smile again, but it was edged with warmth and love only you could bring out. “Alright, wife of mine,” she murmured, her fingers twining with yours. “Let’s go turn the world upside down.”

As you and Jinx stood there, savoring the quiet moment, the door to the workshop creaked open. Before either of you could react, a little voice shouted, “Surprise!” and a burst of glitter erupted in the air, sparkling bits of color showering down onto you and Jinx.

You glanced down to find Isha, her face lit up with pride and mischief, holding the remnants of a small glitter bomb in her tiny hands. “Did I surprise you?” she asked, her eyes wide and gleaming with joy.

With a laugh, you crouched down, scooping Isha into your arms as she giggled, her little fingers still sticky with glitter. “Oh, you definitely got us,” you said, smiling as she beamed up at you, clearly pleased with her work.

Jinx let out a chuckle, brushing glitter off her shoulder as she watched the two of you, a soft look in her eyes. “You didn’t tell your parents about our new daughter, did you?” she teased, raising an eyebrow at you as she ruffled Isha’s hair, getting a fresh handful of glitter in the process.

You rolled your eyes, grinning. “Not yet, no. I figured the glitter bomb announcement would probably be Isha’s idea of breaking the news anyway.”

Isha squirmed in your arms, a sign for you to let her down, and so you did, her attention now fixed on Jinx’s workbench, full of half-built gadgets and brightly colored wires. “Mom, can I help?” she asked, looking up at Jinx with wide, hopeful eyes.

Jinx softened, her smirk melting into a genuine smile as she knelt down to Isha’s level, nodding. “Alright, but just this once, kiddo,” she said, her voice filled with affection. “And we’ll keep the explosions to a minimum this time, yeah?”

You watched them together, your heart swelling as Jinx handed Isha a small, harmless trinket to tinker with. She shot you a wink, her hand resting on your shoulder, grounding you in this moment that felt like a gift in the middle of all the chaos.

“Looks like we’ve got a little troublemaker on our hands,” Jinx murmured, her gaze sliding over to you as you both watched Isha focus intently on the tiny piece in her hands.

You wrapped an arm around Jinx’s shoulders, pulling her close. “Well, with a family like this, it’s no surprise, is it?”

Jinx grinned, resting her head against yours. “Nope. She fits right in.”

[velarisdusk]

Beneath the Vines

Lucien Vanserra x Reader

word count: 6.7k content: [ explicit sexual content, sex pollen (so, dub-con), unprotected PIV, public sex (forest setting), language, rough sex, biting/marking ] summary: Seeking refuge from court politics in a secluded part of the forest, Lucien meets a female from the Summer Court searching for a hidden spring. He offers to guide her, but their journey takes an unexpected turn when he comes into contact with a mysterious pollen... author's note: this idea has been cooking in the back of my mind since i finished the first book back in december, so i'm happy to finally share it :) writing some of his lines and the narration had me swooning i love him your honor ✦ . Masterlist . ✦

Lucien let out a long breath as the sounds of the court faded behind him. Sunlight filtered through the leaves, dappling the forest floor with warm patches that shifted in the gentle breeze. He closed his eyes, focusing on the soft rustling of branches and distant birdsong. It was rare to find such quiet moments, free from the constant dance of court politics and expectations. As the tension in his shoulders slowly eased, Lucien allowed his thoughts to wander, no longer needing to guard every expression and word. 

His brow furrowed as he mulled over the latest reports from their border scouts. Hybern was growing bolder, their movements more frequent and less concealed. He’d tried to discuss it with Tamlin, but the High Lord seemed more concerned with maintaining the illusion of peace, instead focusing his people and efforts on the upcoming Calanmai festivities. 

A twig snapped beneath Lucien’s boot as he began to pace. Rumors were swirling through the courts. Whispers of Hybern’s king sending one of his most cunning generals to Prythian. Amarantha, they called her. The name tasted like ash on his tongue. 

He paused, leaning against a tree trunk, its rough bark grounding him. How long could the Spring Court afford to turn a blind eye? How long before the fragile peace between the courts shattered under the weight of this looming threat? Lucien’s gaze swept across the peaceful forest, so at odds with the turmoil in his mind. He’d seen firsthand how quickly alliances could shift, how devastating the fallout could be. This time, he vowed silently, he’d be prepared. Whatever storm was coming, he’d do everything in his power to ensure Spring weathered it. 

His ears pricked at the sound of rustling leaves, followed by the snap of a twig. In an instant, his posture changed from relaxed to alert. His hand flew to the dagger at his hip, drawing it in one fluid motion as he spun towards the source of the noise, russet eyes scanning the brush.

A figure emerged from behind a large oak, and Lucien found himself face to face with a female High Fae. She froze, eyes wide, clearly not expecting to encounter anyone else in this secluded part of the forest. Lucien’s grip on his dagger loosened slightly as he took in the unexpected sight before him. The female stood there, clearly startled, holding a woven tote bag over one shoulder. Her hair flowed slightly in the wind, and she wore a sheer, cream-colored crochet cover-up that did little to conceal the black swimsuit underneath. The ensemble was revealing for a trek through the forest. 

“Sorry to interrupt, kind sir,” she said sarcastically. “Just passing through.”

Lucien raised an eyebrow, a smirk playing at his lips. “You’re going the wrong way.”

“How could you possibly know that? You don’t even—”

“You’re looking for the spring, right? It’s not that way.” He gestured to his left, far ahead. “It’s hidden, and not in the direction you were headed.”

She crossed her arms, clearly skeptical. “And you know this because…?”

Lucien chuckled softly. “Because I’ve spent more time exploring these woods than I’d like to admit.”

She started walking off in the direction he signaled, and he jogged a bit to keep pace with her. “I can show you the way, if you’d like.”

After a moment’s hesitation, came a shrug and a nonchalant response. “Alright, lead the way then.”

He didn’t try to hide his smirk at her casual demeanor. 

As they fell into step together, he couldn’t help but notice the graceful way she moved across the uneven forest floor. He broke the silence after a moment.

“You’re not from the Spring Court, are you?” he asked, his tone light and teasing. 

Her lips formed a small smile. “Is it that obvious? I’m visiting from the Summer Court. I heard tales of the hidden natural springs here and couldn’t resist seeking them out,” she replied. “And the heat wave made the idea of a cool spring irresistible.”

Summer, he mused. She had a brightness about her, a warmth that seemed out of place in the cool shade of the forest.

He chuckled. “Well, you’re in for a treat. Just beyond those trees over there, through the vines. I must admit, Summer, you certainly know how to find the most intriguing places.”

She glanced at him with a raised eyebrow. “‘Summer’?”

He grinned, a playful glint in his eyes. “Seems fitting for a female as radiant as yourself.”

An eye roll failed to hide the smile tugging at the corners of her soft lips. 

“I’m Lucien,” he said, extending his hand with his palm up. 

She hesitated for a moment before placing her hand gently in his. “(Y/N),” she replied, her eyes meeting his with a spark of curiosity and amusement. 

“A pleasure, Summer,” Lucien said, his voice low and smooth. He lifted her hand to his lips, brushing a soft kiss across the back of it.

She laughed, a melodic sound that seemed to blend with the sounds of spring around them. “Nice to meet you too, Lucien.”

He lingered for a moment, their hands still lightly clasped, before finally releasing her. “Shall we?” he asked, a smile playing on his lips, his eyes twinkling with intent. 

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

Their conversation flowed easily as they walked, with Lucien pointing out various plants and sharing tidbits about them.

“What’s this one?” she asked, pointing to a vibrant blue flower.

“That’s moonbloom. It only opens at night, used in sleeping draughts,” Lucien explained, pleased by her interest.

“And that? The tree with the silver bark?”

“Whisperwood. The Court’s best instruments are carved from it.”

Their exchange continued, with Lucien sharing more about the flora they passed. Eventually, he turned the conversation to her.

“Tell me about the Summer Court. I’ve spent some time there, though I suspect there’s always more to learn.”

“It’s vibrant and full of life. There are endless festivities, stunning beaches, and exquisite food. I may be biased but of all the courts I’ve visited, Summer definitely has the best cuisine. People are already preparing for the solstice even though it’s barely March.” A soft sigh. “But… the constant activity, the heat… it can be a bit overwhelming.”

Time seemed to slip away as they walked, the forest around them a lush backdrop to their discussion. Eventually, they reached a curtain of vines hanging between two ancient trees. 

Lucien stepped forward gently parting the greenery. A fine, glittering pollen dusted his hand as he brushed against the vines. He blinked, momentarily disoriented by a sudden rush of warmth through his body, but he attributed it to the day’s heat. 

"After you," he said, holding the vines open with a slight bow, trying to shake off the lightheadedness.

Amusement and appreciation danced in her eyes, accompanied by a warm smile as she stepped through the vines. Lucien followed, letting the vines fall back into place behind them. As they walked, a sweet scent filled his senses — warm vanilla mingled with honey and a hint of sea salt. He found himself inhaling deeply, drawn to the aroma.

As they rounded a large boulder, the spring came into view, its serene beauty unfolding before them. The sight before them was breathtaking. A lush, verdant oasis spread out in a natural amphitheater, encircled by towering trees draped with cascading vines. The milky white pool at the center was fed by a small, delicate waterfall, its gentle cascade a soothing murmur that filled the air. Vibrant moss cloaked the surrounding rocks and tree roots, forming an ethereal green expanse that stretched to the water’s edge. Exotic flowers in vibrant hues dotted the landscape, their colors a stark contrast to the predominantly green surroundings. Above, the canopy formed a natural dome, with sunlight filtering through the intricate patterns of leaves, casting a magical glow over the alcove. 

"It's beautiful," her words were hardly more than a breath, eyes widening in genuine awe as she tentatively stepped deeper into the sanctuary.

Lucien nodded, his gaze drawn between the spring and his companion. "The minerals in the water give it that color," he explained, his voice taking on a rich, velvety quality that surprised even him. He cleared his throat and leaned against a tree, arms crossed. He watched as she  set her woven tote bag onto a nearby rock. Reaching over her shoulder to unfasten the tie of her cover-up, the delicate fabric slipped off her shoulders, revealing soft, smooth skin. The way the bikini she wore fit every dip and curve deliciously. His breath hitched as his russet eyes lingered on her, watching her with an intensity that surprised him. 

Flip flops discarded, she dipped a toe into the water, a shiver running up her spine as the coolness contrasted with the warm air. “Oh, that’s refreshing,” she murmured, taking a tentative step into the spring.

The water was unlike any she had ever felt, a soothing mixture of cool and silky, enveloping her in a comforting embrace. She fully submerged herself, the refreshing sensation washing over her as she disappeared beneath the surface. When she emerged, droplets of water clung to her skin, shimmering in the sunlight. 

A warmth spread through Lucien’s veins, his pulse quickening as he watched her. The way the sunlight played on her skin, highlighting the gentle curves and the elegance of her movements, captivated him. His thoughts grew hazy, his usually sharp focus dulled by the inexplicable urge to be closer to her. His gaze traced the line of her neck, watching as the breeze gently lifted strands of her hair. Every subtle shift, every graceful motion seemed to draw him in further. The serene pool and vibrant surroundings had practically faded, leaving only the mesmerizing vision of his Summer Court visitor before him. 

His…?

Lucien shook his head a bit, a useless attempt to rid himself of the growing intensity of his thoughts. It had to be the heat, it was getting to him. 

“You look hot,” she said, snapping him out of his thoughts.

Lucien blinked, momentarily flustered as he took in the way her wet hair clung to her, the bathing suit now a shade darker and clinging to her curves. She looked exquisite, the milky white water droplets glistening on her skin like tiny jewels. “So do you, Summer,” he replied, a playful smirk forming on his lips.

She laughed, the sound like a light, bubbling brook. “I meant you’re dressed too warmly for this weather. Why don’t you join me and cool off?”

Lucien felt a rush of heat that had nothing to do with the weather. He forced himself to move slowly, deliberately, as he began to undress. His fingers deftly unfastened his tunic, revealing a chiseled chest and toned muscles beneath. The sunlight filtering through the leaves cast tantalizing shadows across his skin, highlighting every ridge and contour. 

As he shrugged off his tunic, he noticed the sticky pollen coating his hand. He tried to rub it off onto the fabric, but it clung stubbornly to his skin. He frowned slightly. No matter, it would come off in the water. 

He continued undressing, kicking off his boots and undoing his belt, letting it fall to the forest floor. As he slipped out of his trousers, now standing in just his boxers, he couldn’t help but notice her eyes following his every move.

Lucien caught her gaze and held it, a slow, knowing smile spreading across his face. He had been watching her watch him the entire time, a fact she only realized when she tore her eyes away from his body and looked up to meet his gaze.

With deliberate grace, he stepped into the water, the coolness a stark contrast to the heat bubbling beneath his skin. The spring’s translucent white waters swirled around his calves as he waded deeper, his eyes never leaving hers. 

He finally submerged himself, the water rippling around him as he moved closer to her. “Better?” he asked, his voice low and intimate, the playful smirk returning to his lips.

She felt her pulse quicken, the sight of him, all muscle and smooth confidence, stirring something deep within her. “Much,” she replied, a smile playing at her lips. 

They floated together in the cool water, the soothing embrace of the spring relaxing their muscles. Lucien watched as she dipped her head back, letting her hair float around her like a halo. She closed her eyes, a look of pure bliss on her face.

“This place is incredible,” she said softly, her eyes still closed. “I can’t believe it’s real.”

Lucien smiled, his own tension easing in the tranquil atmosphere. “It’s one of the Spring Court’s hidden gems. Not many know about it.”

Her eyes fluttered open, meeting his with a flicker of curiosity. “How did you find it?”

He shrugged, moving closer. “I stumbled upon it years ago, during a particularly stressful time. This general area of the forest has been my escape ever since.”

They fell into a comfortable silence, simply enjoying the peaceful surroundings and the coolness of the water. Lucien felt a tingling heat spreading through his body, no longer the gentle warmth of before. His thoughts kept drifting back to the female in front of him, the way her skin glistened with water droplets, to the curve of her lips when she smiled. He wanted to feel those lips.

He tried to push the thoughts aside, but the more he tried to ignore it, the more intense it became, his desire for her was becoming harder to control, the need to touch her, to feel her against him, was almost overwhelming. 

“This spring is said to have unique properties,” he continued, his eyes lingering on her face, her eyes, her lips. “Some say that bathing in its waters can bring good fortune, or help with one’s artistic talents.” He chuckled softly. “But others speak of it being enchanted in a more intimate way.”

This provoked a turn of the head and a raised eyebrow, curiosity peaked. "Well, I never cared much for fortune, and I’m a sorry excuse for an artist,” she laughed softly. “So what have you heard? About the intimacies of the spring?” An almost knowing smile graced her lips. 

He swallowed, trying to cover it up with a nonchalant shrug. “They say,” he began, slowly, “that the waters can awaken one’s deepest desires. Enhance one’s… physical urges.”

She smirked at that. “Sounds to me like whoever came up with that got to this spring already horny,” she laughed. At the shit-eating grin on his face, her laughter grew infectious. “Oh, shut the fuck up,” she said, playfully shoving his shoulder.

But the touch was searing. He hissed, a jolt of electricity shot through Lucien’s body, his skin burning where her fingers made contact. His pulse quickened, and he felt a raw, primal need flare up inside him. The laughter faded, replaced by a charged silence. Every muscle in his body tensed as he struggled to keep composed. 

“Lucien?” Concern laced her voice. She reached out for him, but he flinched away from her touch, bringing his hands up to stop her. Hurt flashed across her face until she noticed… “What’s that on your hand?”

She reached out again, but he pulled his hand back, glancing at the sticky pollen coating his skin. Suddenly, it clicked. He knew what this was, had heard tales of its effects but had never encountered it personally.

“It’s… it’s this pollen,” he said, his voice tinged with embarrassment. “It must’ve been on the vines at the entrance. I can’t believe I didn’t put two and two together…”

A mix of curiosity and concern filled her eyes. “What does it do?”

Lucien took a deep breath, trying to steady himself. He could hear his heart thrumming in his ears and wanted nothing more in that moment than to throw himself at the female mere feet across from him. “The pollen is known to,” he pauses with a sigh, choosing his words carefully. “It causes arousal, an intense arousal, making it almost impossible to think about anything else. It heightens every sensation, makes my skin feel like it’s on fire whenever you touch me.” She could see his chest rising and falling more shallowly, could hear his breaths coming more rapidly, could see his pupils dilate each time he looked at her. He hesitantly added, “The only way to get rid of its effects is through… physical intimacy.”

Her eyes widened slightly, understanding dawning on her. “You mean…?”

He nodded, though his regretful expression barely concealed his longing. “Yes, but don’t concern yourself. This isn’t your problem to solve,” he said, his voice strained yet resolute. “I’ll return home and find a way to… handle this. You’re under no obligation here.”

Lucien’s jaw clenched, clearly struggling with the pollen’s effects, but his eyes remained steady. “I apologize, it was careless of me not to recognize the signs sooner.”

With that, he turned, moving to exit the spring and retrieve his clothes. The cool water swirled around him as he took a step, but he felt a hand grasp his bicep, halting his retreat. The contact sent a shockwave of heat through his body, as if her hold would be permanently marked on the flesh there. His muscles coiled tightly beneath her touch, and he had to force himself to contain a whimper that threatened to escape his throat. Every sensation was amplified, transforming the simple gesture into an exquisite torment. He glanced back, his eyes darkening, surprise giving way to raw, unadulterated need. 

“It’s not such an inconvenience,” she said softly, her gaze meeting his with an intensity that made his skin prickle with anticipation.

His eyes widened in surprise, but she rolled hers, a playful smirk forming on her lips. “Don’t act so surprised, Lucien.” His name on her tongue sent a jolt of arousal through him, and he only realized now how painfully constricted his cock was. “It’s obvious I want you, and I think you wanted me even before the pollen?”

He nodded, swallowing hard. “I did. I do.”

Her smirk turned into a gentle smile as she reached out again, tracing a finger down his chest. “So let me help you.”

Lucien’s body tensed, caught between desire and restraint. “Wait,” he said, his voice husky. As he spoke, his hand dipped beneath the water, fingers flexing unconsciously. “You should know… I’ve managed to control myself thus far, but if we continue…” He paused, swallowing hard, his voice dropping to a low, strained growl. “Once I feel you, I won’t be able to stop.”

His fingers curled into a fist underwater. Most of the visible pollen had washed away, leaving only faint traces on his skin, but its effects still coursed through his body. The cool water did nothing to dull the rush of his blood pumping in his ears. With a barely perceptible shake of his head, he refocused on her, his eyes full of want. 

“The pollen… it’s mostly gone now,” he managed, his breath nothing more than rhythmic, short pants. “But it’s like it’s under my skin, in my blood. I can feel it everywhere.” He unclenched his fist, watching as the last remnants of the pollen dissipated into the vast pool, now diluted and rendered harmless. “You won’t be affected, but I…” His eyes bore into hers, desperation in his voice as he spoke, “I’m burning for you, (Y/N).”

With a tender smile, she closed the distance between them. Her hands cupped his face, thumbs gently caressing his cheekbones. Lucien's breath caught in his throat, her touch igniting sparks beneath his skin. His hands remained steadfast on the large stone submerged beneath the water behind him, as though touching her might shatter what fragile self-control he had left.

"It's okay," she whispered, her breath ghosting over his lips. "I've got you."

She leaned in, pressing her lips to his with exquisite softness. The kiss was slow, deliberate, a stark contrast to the fire raging within him. Lucien's eyes fluttered closed, overwhelmed by the sensation. Even in the cool water, heat radiated from his skin, and where her lips met his, it felt as though he might combust.

She drew back slightly, placing feather-light kisses along his jaw, then down his neck. Each touch was like a brand, marking him, stoking the flames of his desire. Seeing his hesitation, she gently guided his trembling hands to her waist. The sensation of her bare skin beneath her fingertips sent a shiver through him, and he instinctively bucked his hips against her, a long, deep whine escaping his lips like a plea. The sound shot straight to her core. 

"(Y/N)," he breathed, her name a prayer on his lips. 

A mischievous glint sparked in her eyes. “Not ‘Summer’ anymore? I was starting to think you’d forgotten my name,” she spoke against his neck.

Lucien’s gaze was unfocused, looking at the vines on the other side of the spring, pupils dilated as he struggled to process her words. His breath came in short, ragged pants, and a fine tremor ran through his body. “Forget your name?” he murmured into her ear, his voice hoarse. Each word seemed to cost him great effort, as if speaking required immense concentration. “Darling, it’s the only word my mind can form right now.”

His fingers tightened on her waist, seeking an anchor as the world around him seemed to blur, leaving only her in sharp focus.

The gentleness of her actions was both a balm and a torment. His body screamed for more, for friction, for release from this exquisite agony. Yet he found himself surrendering to her pace, allowing her to lead him through this intoxicating haze. 

She returned to his lips, deepening the kiss ever so slightly. Lucien responded with a low moan, the sound vibrating through both of them. The gentle waves of the spring embraced them, their cool touch contrasting with the heat building between them, intensifying every sensation.

Without breaking the kiss, Lucien’s hands tightened on her waist, subtly guiding them towards a shallower part of the water. He felt the solid presence of a smooth, submerged stone beneath him and sank down onto it, pulling her closer. She straddled him, her legs on either side of his, pressing her body against his so deliciously that he couldn’t help it when his hips bucked up hard against hers. She gasped in surprise, the sound mingling with their shared breath.

“I’m sorry, I—” he began, but she silenced him by grinding down onto him, her movements deliberate and slow, a wordless reassurance that sent yet another pulse of need crashing through him. His mind spun, every point of contact between them sent his nerves into a frenzy. Her skin felt like silk under his fingers, warm and inviting. He let his hands roam, tracing the curve of her back, feeling the subtle shift of muscles beneath her skin. The way she moved against him, the soft gasps and moans escaping her lips, were a symphony that played directly into the hot coil within him. His hands wandered further, exploring every inch of her, committing the feel of her to memory. He caressed her sides, ran his fingers along the edges of her swimsuit. His touch was gently yet firm, reflecting his reverence for her as well as the uncontrollable hunger that coursed through him. 

But it wasn’t enough. The burning within him grew fiercer with each passing second. He needed more, craved more. The sensation of her grinding against him was driving him to the edge of sanity. It was sweet torture, the ache of unfulfilled need becoming almost unbearable. Lucien’s breaths came in ragged gasps, his body screaming for more, for release — demanding it. The longing was a physical pain, a fire that consumed him from the inside out. 

“Please,” he groaned, his voice rough and low, a powerful undercurrent of desperation threading through it. “I need more, (Y/N). I can’t take it… I need you.” His eyes locked onto hers, a fierce determination in their depths, even as his words pleaded for relief. His grip tightened on her waist, guiding her movements with urgency and restraint, his body trembling with the effort to hold back. “Please,” he repeated, his voice a pained rasp. 

“You need me?”

A single, tense nod.

She looked up at him, her eyes reflecting the same need. “Then take me,” she whispered back, her voice trembling with anticipation.

Lucien captured her lips once more, much more hungrily this time, their bodies moving together in the water. Her hands raked over the expanse of his back, nails lightly digging in. She relished the feel of his muscles tensing beneath her touch, the warmth of his skin under her fingertips. Every contour and ridge of his body seemed sculpted for her hands alone. The power in his frame, the way he responded to her every touch, sent a thrill through her. Her hands wandered, exploring the strong lines of his shoulders, the firm muscles of his chest, and the tautness of his abdomen. Each caress was deliberate, savoring the sensation of his body and the way it reacted to her. 

Lucien's breath hitched as her hands moved lower, feeling the hard planes of his stomach, tracing the edge of his waistband. Her touch was both curious and confident, a gentle exploration and bold possession. 

With a low groan and little thought, Lucien's hands moved to her bikini top, tugging it up just enough to expose her chest. He sucked in a sharp breath, only taking a moment to admire them before descending upon them, his mouth eagerly finding her exposed skin. He left a collection of red and purple marks across them, and she couldn't help but hum softly at the sensation.

Smiling, she pulled the bikini top the rest of the way off, tossing it to the shoreline. “Impatient, aren’t we?” she remarked, her voice breathless and not nearly as teasing as she’d hoped it’d be.

Lucien looked up at her, his eyes so different than when they’d first encountered each other not an hour prior, a smirk playing at his lips. “Only for you,” he murmured before his mouth returned to her skin, his kisses hungry and possessive, leaving a trail of marks across her chest. He shifted slightly, the water lapping at his chest. Her fingers traced idle patterns on his shoulder, not ceasing the movement of her hips. 

“You’re trembling,” she whispered, concern evident in her voice.

He straightened, catching her hand and bringing it to his lips. “It’s unbearable. Every touch, every breath…I feel like I’m burning from the inside out.” He swallowed hard and brought her hand to the nape of his neck, leaning into her touch as if it were a lifeline. 

“Are you sure this is helping…? Maybe we could try—”

“(Y/N),” Lucien interrupted, his eyes wild and craving. “Doing anything but this would destroy me. I’ve never felt anything like this before, but I know… I know that I need you. All of you. I need to feel every inch of you against me.” His gaze locked onto hers, pupils dilated. “Your touch,” he choked out, “is both torment and salvation. I crave it like I crave air to breathe.” Lucien’s hands trembled as they moved to her hips, urging her closer. His fingers splayed across her skin, desperate to eliminate any remaining space between them. “Please,” he whispered, the word barely audible over the soft lapping of the water.

She shivered against him, not from the water, but from the raw emotion in his voice. She brought her hand from the back of his neck to his face, her thumb stroking his cheek. 

“Lucien,” his name on her tongue was so pleasing to his ears. He couldn’t help but close his eyes, lean into her touch.

Her other hand trailed down his chest, his abdomen, finally reaching the waistband of the only thing keeping all of him from her. 

“Let me take care of you,” she murmured, her lips ghosting over his ear. Her hand traveled further yet, getting ahold of him, cupping him, squeezing him, feeling the size and weight of him.

He sucked a breath in through his teeth, muscles taut. A strangled moan escaped from his lips, closing his eyes and rolling his head back. He dug his fingers into her hips, only vaguely aware of the frustrating barrier of her swimsuit. “(Y/N)...” Her touch, her ministrations, it was all so intense. “You’re driving me insane,” he growled.

A low chuckle emanated from her. “Say my name like that again, let me hear it.”

He obliged, her name falling from his lips like a reverent prayer, drawing out each syllable like a sinful plea. 

Her eyes rolled into the back of her head. Whether it was from his voice or the fact that he was tugging her bottoms off, he had no idea. But the sounds she let out were mouthwatering. He watched as she shuddered and moaned beneath his touch, letting out grunts and curses of his own. “Gods,” he rasped, his voice thick. “You sound so beautiful when you moan for me.”

She squeezed him sinfully at that bit of praise, moaning his name quietly. 

“Please touch me, (Y/N)... It hurts…”

In that moment she caved, both of them lifting up a bit to allow the other to rid them of their last bits of clothing. She tugged him a few times, grip tight and movements long. He rocked into her hand, a string of curses falling from his lips. Normally he wouldn’t unravel so quickly, but with every sensation magnified, he’d be surprised if he lasted another minute. 

“Sweetheart, you have to… Gods, please don’t stop,” he managed to gasp out, his hips rocking eagerly, his face scrunched in concentration. 

She met his gaze, her eyes darkening with desire. Nodding slightly, her breath coming out in puffs, she continued, increasing her pace while he maintained his movements into her hand. Lucien’s breath caught, his muscles tensed as waves of pleasure washed over him. He clung to her desperately, burying his face into the crook of her neck to muffle his increasingly vocal responses. His release coated her hand, but quickly washed away into the water as she continued stroking him through it. She murmured soft encouragements all the while. 

She felt his weight slumped against her, heard his breathing slow, found herself wondering if it had passed. She held him close, running a soothing hand along his back, through the hair and the nape of his neck.

When he finally lifted his head, she was ready to greet him with a warm smile, but where she expected either newfound calm or lingering distress, she found neither. On the contrary, it almost seemed as if their actions amplified his hunger. 

Lucien wrapped his arms around her in a tight embrace and found himself rutting his hips up, thoughtlessly trying to find her entrance. She gained purchase on a stone behind him, her chest hovering over his face. With a groan, he released one of his arms from around her, using the hand to guide himself. But when his fingers brushed against her and she let out the softest, most helpless whimper he’d heard in his life, he couldn’t help himself. He wanted to hear more from her. He replaced the head of his cock with his fingers, shakily grazing over her folds. 

Her repeated mantra of “oh’s” and “yes’s” goaded him on, and as he dipped his fingers further through them, he slowly thrusted the still-hard length of himself along her cunt. The caress of both on her sensitive skin getting to be too much. “Lucien, why don’t you just—” What bordered on a wail interrupted her words when he let his tip brush against her clit, the first meaningful relief of pressure she’d gotten there all this time. 

“Wanna feel you, wanna make sure you’re alright,” she could hardly recognize his voice, it sounded pained, his words slurred. “Don’t want… to hurt you.” When he went to slip his fingers into her, she pulled them away, moving to seat herself on him.

“Don’t worry about me,” she assured him she was alright. “I’m helping you, just worry about yourself, okay?” But he shook his head, insisting that he wanted her to feel just as good as he did. “I will. I am.” With that, she lowered herself slowly, taking him inch by inch. Their faces were a mirror of shared ecstasy, expressions soft with contentment. They were entwined — she cradled in his embrace, he sheathed within her warmth. 

Lucien's world had narrowed to this single point in time and space. Any remaining semblance of coherent thought dissolved entirely. The feel of her skin, the sound of her breath, the scent of her hair — these were the only realities that existed for him now. Nothing else mattered — not the court, not his duties, not even his own name. There was only her, only this. 

A low growl rumbled in his chest as he tightened his hold, desperate to remove any open space from between them. His thoughts scattered like leaves in a storm, leaving only base instinct and overwhelming need.

“(Y/N),” he huffed, voice rough with emotion. “I can’t… I need…”

Words failed him, but his body spoke volumes. Trembling muscles, racing pulse, sharp breaths. He was a male consumed. Lucien heard her voice distantly. 

“It’s okay… Take what you need, Lucien.”

As she pulled herself up, something primal awakened in him. Lucien drove his hips up into her and moved with fervent intensity, his actions far beyond conscious control. Every fiber of his being sang with pleasure, drowning out all else. Nothing beyond this moment.

He was dimly aware of sounds escaping him — groans, gasps, fragmented words of reverence. There was only feeling, only her, only them. 

The spring water surged around them, disturbed by the frenzied movements of their bodies. Each trust was relentless, powerful, driven by an urgent need. Lucien’s hands guided her by the hips with a force that left no room for gentleness.

He groaned her name, told her he needed more of her. He didn’t know how it would be possible, in this moment she was his everything. 

Her responses were lost in a series of breathless moans and gasps, her fingers digging into his shoulders as she tried to match his relentless rhythm. “Lucien… don’t stop… please…”

The words spurred him on, his pace now frantic. His eyes bore into hers. Every thrust, every movement, was a raw expression of his need, amplified by the pollen’s effects coursing through his veins.

Her nails raked down his back, leaving red trails in their wake. She clung to him, feeling the intensity of his desire in each powerful motion. The friction and pressure were overwhelming, pushing her closer and closer to the edge. Her body responded to his instinctually, her moans and cries echoing through the trees around them.

“So… damn good… So tight,” he groaned into her.

She gasped, her head thrown back, eyes squeezed shut as she rode him, rode the pleasure coursing through her. “Lucien… oh gods… you’re so deep, I can’t,” she buried her face into the crook of his neck. All she saw was the tanned color of his skin, the golden red of his hair, and smelled the earthy scent of cedar and fresh rain, mingling with the faintest hint of smoke and spice.

He shook his head. “Don’t hold back… Let me hear you. Tell me—fuck—tell me how good it feels.”

Her voice came out in broken gasps, each word punctuated by a moan. “It’s… so good… you’re so good... I can't... I need…”

Lucien's lips found her neck, his teeth grazing her skin before he sucked hard, leaving a mark. "Need what, darling? I want to hear you say it."

"Need you... need you to make me come," she confessed, her voice trembling with need. "Please, Lucien... I’m so close."

He groaned in response, the sound vibrating against her skin. "Anything for you, love." His mouth trailed down to her chest, his lips closing around one of her nipples. He sucked hard, his teeth grazing the sensitive flesh, sending jolts of pleasure straight to her core.

She cried out, her fingers tangling in his hair, holding him close. "Lucien... yes, just like that... don't stop..."

His free hand snaked between their bodies, fingers seeking out her clit. He rubbed in firm, deliberate circles, matching the rhythm of his thrusts. The combined sensations of his mouth on her nipple, his fingers on her clit, and the relentless drive of his hips were too much.

Her body tensed, a strangled cry escaping her lips as she teetered on the edge of release. Lucien bit down gently on her nipple, the sudden spike of pain mingling with the overwhelming pleasure, pushing her over the edge. She shattered around him, her orgasm ripping through her with an intensity that left her breathless and trembling.

Lucien didn’t slow, riding out her climax, his own release following swiftly. With a final, powerful thrust, he let out a primal roar, spilling into her with a force that made stars dance behind his eyelids.

For a moment, they were locked together, their breaths harsh and mingled, hearts racing in unison. Slowly, as the intensity of their climaxes began to fade, they slumped into the water, still entwined, the spring's cool embrace a stark contrast to the heat of their encounter.

Lucien pressed his forehead against hers, his breath still coming in ragged gasps. "Are you... alright?" he managed to ask, his voice hoarse with lingering desire and concern.

She nodded weakly, a satisfied smile playing on her lips. "More than alright," she replied, her fingers tracing lazy patterns on his chest. "That was... incredible."

He chuckled softly, the sound vibrating through both of them. 

She lifted her head slightly, looking into his eyes. "How are you feeling now?"

Lucien took a deep breath, still holding her close. "I still feel it," he admitted, his voice softer now, more controlled. "But it's much more manageable.”

A small smile tugged at her lips. "I'm glad," she murmured, running her fingers through his hair. "I was worried for a moment there."

He pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead, his eyes softening. "You were amazing," he whispered. 

They lingered in the water for a few more moments, their breaths slowly returning to normal. But the connection between them, the raw need, was still there, simmering beneath the surface.

And then Lucien moved again, his hands sliding down to grip her hips. "But I think," he said, his voice taking on that rough, hungry edge once more, "that we have a bit more to take care of."

She shivered in anticipation, her own desire flaring up once again. "What do you have in mind?" she asked, a teasing lilt to her voice.

His answer was a low growl as he shifted their positions, lifting her up and guiding her onto a nearby rock. He took her again there, their bodies moving together with a renewed intensity. Then, he turned her around, bending her over it, her cries echoing through the spring as he thrust into her from behind.

They moved to the water's edge next, Lucien pulling her onto his lap as he sat on a submerged boulder. She rode him hard, the water splashing around them as their movements grew more frantic.

Later, he laid her down on a bed of soft moss, hovering over her as he entered her again. The rhythm of his thrusts was relentless, each one pushing them both closer to the edge once more.

And when they finally left the spring, sated but still hungry for each other, Lucien carried her back to his chambers. He laid her on his bed, driven by a deeper need, something more enduring. There, in the privacy of his room, he took her yet again, their bodies entwined in a dance of passion and connection, free from any enchantments, driven only by their desire for each other.

[wandering-winchesters]

A Cold Night's Warmth

Summary: On a freezing night after a hunt gone wrong, Dean Winchester quietly offers comfort

It was a cold night, the kind that cut right through your clothes and settled deep in your bones. You and Dean had been walking for what felt like hours, the dirt road stretching out before you under the pale glow of the moon. The hunt had gone sideways, leaving you stranded miles from the bunker with only the faint hope that you might come across a town—or at least a gas station—before the night was over.

The silence between you was comfortable, though. After everything you’d been through, just being alive and together was enough. Still, the chill in the air was relentless, and despite your best efforts to shrug it off, you found yourself shivering.

Dean noticed. He always noticed. He shot you a glance out of the corner of his eye, his brow furrowing in concern. “You okay?” he asked, his voice rough from the cold.

“Yeah,” you replied, trying to sound more convincing than you felt. “Just a little cold.”

He didn’t respond right away, but you could see the wheels turning in his head. He was always looking out for you, always trying to find a way to make things better, even when the situation seemed hopeless.

Without a word, Dean shifted closer to you, his arm brushing against yours as you walked. The small gesture was enough to ease some of the chill, but it wasn’t until you felt his hand slip into yours that the warmth truly spread through you.

The moment his fingers wrapped around yours, your breath caught in your throat. It was such a simple, unexpected gesture, yet it felt like the most significant thing in the world. Dean Winchester didn’t do things like this—he wasn’t the hand-holding type. But here he was, holding your hand as if it was the most natural thing in the world.

For a few seconds, you just stared down at your joined hands, your heart racing. His hand was warm, strong, and it fit perfectly with yours, like it was meant to be there. When you finally dared to look up at him, you saw that he was staring straight ahead, his jaw set, as if he was trying to pretend that this was no big deal.

But you knew better. You knew how much it took for him to let his guard down, to allow himself even a moment of vulnerability. And the fact that he was doing this now, with you, meant more than words could express.

You squeezed his hand gently, a silent acknowledgment of the unspoken connection between you. Dean’s grip tightened in response, just enough to let you know that he felt it too. There was a subtle shift in the air between you, something deeper, something that had been building for a long time but had never quite found its way to the surface.

The road ahead still stretched out endlessly, but it didn’t seem quite so daunting anymore. With Dean by your side, his hand in yours, you felt like you could face anything. The cold, the darkness, the uncertainty of the future—it all seemed a little less frightening with him there.

You walked in silence for a while longer, neither of you feeling the need to speak. The steady rhythm of your footsteps and the warmth of Dean’s hand in yours was enough. It was a quiet kind of comfort, the kind that didn’t need words or explanations. It just was.

Eventually, you came across a small diner, its neon sign flickering in the distance like a beacon of hope. Dean’s pace quickened slightly, and you couldn’t help but smile at the thought of hot coffee and a warm meal.

As you approached the diner, Dean finally glanced down at you, a small, almost shy smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “Looks like we found our pit stop,” he said, his voice softer than usual.

“Yeah,” you agreed, returning his smile. “Guess we got lucky.”

Dean chuckled, a sound that warmed you almost as much as his hand in yours. “Yeah, maybe we did.”

You didn’t let go of his hand as you walked inside, and he didn’t seem in any hurry to pull away either. As you settled into a booth, the warmth of the diner surrounding you, Dean’s hand still rested on yours, a quiet reassurance that whatever came next, you wouldn’t be facing it alone.

And for the first time in a long time, you felt like you were exactly where you were supposed to be.

Taglist: @roseblue373 @jc-winchester @hobby27 @mishreem

[thewritetofreespeech]

words: 1.3K rating: E pairing: Gale x Tav [pining stages of Act 1] summary: After so long of being unable to touch, Gale is finally able to experience physical intimacy for the first time in a long time. Even if it's just by himself. [ based off of a request for more details on the bg3 masturbation headcanons I did previously.]

---------------------------🟣----------------------------------

It had been a few hours now since Elminster had left. His old friend likely on the long journey back to Waterdeep, or whatever far parts of the realm ancient powerful wizards wandered off to.

Gale touched his chest for the first time in a while without total fear. The spell Elminster had put on him had worked. The orb felt less volatile than in the past. It was still there, laying heavy near his heart like a stack of bricks, but not like a stack of tinder boxes waiting to explode.

The knowledge of what this respite came with also weighed heavy on his heart. Mystra has asked that he make the ultimate sacrifice for the realm, and for her forgiveness. The latter of which was not guaranteed.

There had been a time during the beginning of his banishment when he would have gladly done as she asked. Blown himself up in spectacular glory. Opened every vein and let his life blood spill out to paint her likeness on an open canvas. He would have done anything for Mystra. But now….

Gale looked across the camp to where Tav was chatting with Lae’zel and Shadowheart. The three in a heated discussion from the looks of it, likely on what to do about the crèche and how to infiltrate it. Where they go next is of little concern to Gale, because it has no consequence for the damned, so he just looked at Tav as they tried to mitigate the argument.

Since that time in the Weave with them, Gale had been nearly fixated on their leader with a passion he thought only reserved for his goddess and books. But what he felt for Tav was so very different from those feelings. Where he revered Mystra he…respected Tav. Their strength. Their decisiveness. Their generosity to help and extend a hand to any in need. Their willingness to admit fault. He’d been beguiled, and the outer package did very little to help dissuade their spell.

Gale felt a tell-tale tightening of his pants beneath his robes as he continued to look and think on Tav, and was prepared to dampen those feelings down like always. With the orb he couldn’t risk any undo stimuli to his person; not with an ancient blight that wiped out civilization stowed away in his chest. But….that wasn’t an issue anymore, was it? The clock had stopped, as Elminster said, so he didn’t have to worry about blowing up. Just doing it at the right time, according to Mystra’s orders.

The wizard slipped back into his tent, unnoticed by anyone. He didn’t think that anyone would bother him right now. Assuming that Gale needed time to think in light of the circumstances. Which, he did, but not right now. There would be plenty of time to hyper fixate on his problems later. Right now, he wanted to test a new theory.

Unlacing his top tunic, he looking down his body towards his bulge now visible in his pants. Gale hesitated, but then slowly drew his hand closer to rub his palm over it. Instantly he moaned. It had been so long since he had felt the sensation of touch this way on his body. Depression and then fear drying up his libido like herbs on his balcony back in Waterdeep. But now a summer rain had come to refresh it. A reprieve. A chance to feel again. He didn’t want to waste it.

Removing the lacings on his pants as well, Gale opened his trousers and his cock sprung free. Seeming to know what was going on and more eager than its master to be touched again. He grasped the shaft and began to stroke himself. A burning tingle crackling up from his fingertip, down to the base, and up his spine. He forgot how good it felt to be touched. How long had it been since he touched himself?

With Mystra, their intimacy had always been noncorporeal. Mind altering. Mind shattering. But bodies completely removed from the process. He thought he didn’t need touch when he had the ‘touch’ of a goddess, so he did not imbibe in such activities. Then the option was taken away from him, and he could not imbibe. So he genuinely could not remember hold long it had been. Had it always been this good? Or was his long bout of abstinence merely the cause?

Gale couldn’t think more on his hypothesis as his hand sped up and his mind became soul focused on that feeling. He was beginning to pant. Drooling, even. He can feel that he was going to cum fast but doesn’t stop. His seed shot out in a long, thick ribbon on the side of his tent that he would clean up later, but he doesn’t stop. He needed more. Even as his cock twitched from having just came, it still cried out for more.

His other hand came up to touch his body. Play with his chest. Touch his nipples. He couldn’t remember how he used to like it before, and his fogged mind was not helping make decisions. His hand reached down into his pants as well to cup his balls, and Gale was cumming again quickly as he fondled himself. Still not enough.

Moving to take off all of his clothes and lay down on his cot, Gale attempted to calm his breathing as he slowed his hand. His cum acted as a lubricant now to help slide his hand over the still hard flesh. He hadn’t been able to jerk off this many times in a row since he was a boy.

As his hand slowed, the fog in his mind seemed to clear a little. Breaking way to the brightness of Tav’s face. He wondered how they would touch him. How those hands that gripped their weapon so tight, and the callouses at their palms, would feel against his cock. Gale whimpered at the thought. His hands were too soft to imagine it properly.

He thought of them being here, with him. Kissing them like he should have during that moment in the Weave. Touching their body as well as they moaned and whined under him. He could almost see it. Conjure it. But he would not insult Tav by making some malformed copy of them with magic. He wanted the real thing.

His fantasy continued until he came a third time, hot & sticky over his hand, and Gale seemed to calm down. Feeling finally sated for the first time in a long time. Who knew masturbation could be a form of self-care?

“Gale.”

The wizard jumped. His pliable peace ruined as he heard a familiar voice outside his tent. One he had just been fantasizing about moments ago. “Y-Yes?”

“I um…I just wanted to make sure you were ok. And see if you wanted anything for dinner?”

Gale was surprised as he didn’t realize how late it had gotten. “Oh. Dinner? No, not really. I can get started soon….”

“No, no! That wasn’t what I was asking. I can do it tonight. You just…if you need some time…we’ll be out here when you’re ready.”

He heard the shuffle of boots walk away from his tent. Their concern touched him. The clear worry in his voice over him pulling something in him that not only made his loins burn but his chest feel tight. But in a good way, not in the way this damned orb felt.

Gale decided then and there that he would not waste what little time he had left on wishes & fantasy. He would tell Tav how he felt. Then he could die without regret. He would just need to come up with a plan to tell them. Someone as beautiful, kind, and perfect as Tav deserved more than just a simple confession. The deserved the moon, the stars.

Gale’s eyes widened as he suddenly remembered a spell he’d created long ago. He’d have to remember how it was done but yes. Yes! That could work.

[reasonsforhope]

"This year the world will make something like 70bn of these solar cells, the vast majority of them in China, and sandwich them between sheets of glass to make what the industry calls modules but most other people call panels: 60 to 72 cells at a time, typically, for most of the modules which end up on residential roofs, more for those destined for commercial plant. Those panels will provide power to family homes, to local electricity collectives, to specific industrial installations and to large electric grids; they will sit unnoticed on roofs, charmingly outside rural schools, controversially across pristine deserts, prosaically on the balconies of blocks of flats and in almost every other setting imaginable.

Once in place they will sit there for decades, making no noise, emitting no fumes, using no resources, costing almost nothing and generating power. It is the least obtrusive revolution imaginable. But it is a revolution nonetheless.

Over the course of 2023 the world’s solar cells, their panels currently covering less than 10,000 square kilometres, produced about 1,600 terawatt-hours of energy (a terawatt, or 1tw, is a trillion watts). That represented about 6% of the electricity generated world wide, and just over 1% of the world’s primary-energy use. That last figure sounds fairly marginal, though rather less so when you consider that the fossil fuels which provide most of the world’s primary energy are much less efficient. More than half the primary energy in coal and oil ends up as waste heat, rather than electricity or forward motion.

What makes solar energy revolutionary is the rate of growth which brought it to this just-beyond-the-marginal state. Michael Liebreich, a veteran analyst of clean-energy technology and economics, puts it this way:

In 2004, it took the world a whole year to install a gigawatt of solar-power capacity... In 2010, it took a month In 2016, a week. In 2023 there were single days which saw a gigawatt of installation worldwide. Over the course of 2024 analysts at BloombergNEF, a data outfit, expect to see 520-655gw of capacity installed: that’s up to two 2004s a day...

And it shows no signs of stopping, or even slowing down. Buying and installing solar panels is currently the largest single category of investment in electricity generation, according to the International Energy Agency (IEA), an intergovernmental think-tank: it expects $500bn this year, not far short of the sum being put into upstream oil and gas. Installed capacity is doubling every three years. According to the International Solar Energy Society:

Solar power is on track to generate more electricity than all the world’s nuclear power plants in 2026 Than its wind turbines in 2027 Tthan its dams in 2028 Its gas-fired power plants in 2030 And its coal-fired ones in 2032.

In an IEA scenario which provides net-zero carbon-dioxide emissions by the middle of the century, solar energy becomes humankind’s largest source of primary energy—not just electricity—by the 2040s...

Expecting exponentials to carry on is rarely a basis for sober forecasting. At some point either demand or supply faces an unavoidable constraint; a graph which was going up exponentially starts to take on the form of an elongated S. And there is a wide variety of plausible stories about possible constraints...

All real issues. But the past 20 years of solar growth have seen naive extrapolations trounce forecasting soberly informed by such concerns again and again. In 2009, when installed solar capacity worldwide was 23gw, the energy experts at the IEA predicted that in the 20 years to 2030 it would increase to 244gw. It hit that milestone in 2016, when only six of the 20 years had passed. According to Nat Bullard, an energy analyst, over most of the 2010s actual solar installations typically beat the IEA’s five-year forecasts by 235% (see chart). The people who have come closest to predicting what has actually happened have been environmentalists poo-pooed for zealotry and economic illiteracy, such as those at Greenpeace who, also in 2009, predicted 921gw of solar capacity by 2030. Yet even that was an underestimate. The world’s solar capacity hit 1,419gw last year.

-via The Economist, June 20, 2024

--

Note: That graph. Is fucking ridiculous(ly hopeful).

For perspective: the graph shows that in 2023, there were about 350 GW of solar installed. The 5-year prediction from 2023 said that we'd end up around 450 GW by 2030.

We hit over 600 GW in the first half of 2024 alone.

This is what's called an exponential curve. It's a curve that keeps going up at a rate that gets higher and higher with each year.

This, I firmly believe, is a huge part of what is going to let us save the world.

[sl-ut]

still here

pairing: joel miller x fem!reader

description: joel is older than y/n, but that’s never been a concern of hers until very recently.

warnings: UNEDITED, age gap (legal), swearing, mentions of sex, mentions of ageing, mentions of health issues, mentions of insecurities, angsty, i literally stole the final line from tlou s1e3

words: 2.3K

date posted: 29/03/23

(idk how i feel about this yet, the idea just popped into my head and i wrote it in about an hour and a half so don’t be too mad if its not great!)

Fifty-eight was not old. Y/n had been reassuring Joel of that since they had started dating. Maybe he was older than her, but that had very little to do with the way that she felt about him. 

His age was among his biggest insecurities. He was a man who had lived through and was hardened by the apocalypse, while she was just a child when it happened, and was able to deal with the trauma of the world ending much better due to the fact that she simply couldn’t remember any part of her life from before. The apocalypse had taken a great toll on him, both emotionally and physically. 

Twenty-odd years ago, he was a relatively young man, and a rather fit one at that. As a contractor, his body had developed and hardened from the amounts of physical labour that he was constantly performing, and while he was still physically active after the outbreak, his age made it more difficult to prevent his belly from softening and his joints from weakening. He was less willing to admit that he was insecure about his physical appearance, though he did very little to hide it. In fact, he had batted her away during their first few times having sex when she had tried to unbutton his shirt, instead choosing to stay mostly clothed while she was nearly bare. She did her best to assure him that she was very attracted to him, though it still took quite a bit of coaxing before he was willing to shed his clothes in her presence. 

Her attraction was not phased by his age, in fact, it may have been accelerated by it, though she could not deny the fact that it definitely frightened her. When she first met Joel, she was a bright-eyed twenty-year old who was morbidly turned on by the sexy fifty-year old man next door, and was wildly ignorant to the looming danger when she had started a relationship with him a few years later; the world was not built for long lifespans anymore, and there would come a day when Joel would no longer be there with her. During their early relationship, Joel warned her of exactly that, but she waved him off and promised him that it didn’t scare her.

And it hadn’t, until fairly recently. She was grateful that she, Ellie, and Joel had come across Jackson; she was able to let her guard down, socialise, and thrive in the new community. She and Joel were able to settle into their new home while Ellie set up camp in the garage out back, and they could look forward to actually living rather than basic survival. The lessened worry in her life allowed her to see what was right before her for the first time.

She had comforted Joel before when he complained about the pain in his knees and hands, though she was truly seeing the effects that it was having on him since their arrival in Jackson. Just last week, the man had nearly thrown his back out from laughing a bit too hard at something that Ellie said, and his salt-and-pepper hair seemed to have lightened considerably more. 

She had even noted his lowered libido, having gone from wanting her at least once a day to once or twice a week–though she was certain it wasn’t for a lack of physical attraction on his end, as he had been eager when she began to kiss him, only his body seemed to be working against his wants. That was his greatest insecurity yet, especially since it had begun happening on a more regular basis. He was always quick to apologise, offering to help her out in other ways, though she always assured him that everything was fine, and it was.

Everything was fine, but her fear of that changing was growing exponentially with every physical sign of his ageing. She did her best to hide her concerns, knowing that they would only be proof of his insecurities, and instead made an effort to keep him healthy in a more subtle manner, such as suggesting that he eats less red meat, inviting him on long evening strolls through the town, and forcing him to join her for long bubble baths to soothe his aches and pains. If he had picked up on this, he hadn’t mentioned it, and she could always tell when he did, because he would wave it off or do something ridiculous that would only end up proving her point.

Then came the final straw.

She was working in the gardens with Maria that day, chatting back and forth happily and they worked to tidy up the growing crops. They had become good friends in Y/n’s time in Jackson, bonding over their shared love for the Miller boys. Maria had been rambling, going on about something that Tommy had done to piss her off earlier that week, finishing her story with a shake of her head before she changed the subject.

“Oh, I meant to ask you,” the woman turned her head, “How’s Joel feeling today? Tommy told me about what happened, that’s an awful scare. At his age, chest pain is not something to be taken lightly–not to say that he’s old or unhealthy, but you know how it is.”

Y/n froze, tilting her head at the woman, “Tommy told you…chest pain?”

“He never told you.” Maria’s expression tightened, realising that the younger woman had no idea what she was talking about. She sighed, dropping her tools and turning to face Y/n as she placed her hands on her hips, “Look, I don’t mean to be the one causing issues between you two, but this isn’t something to mess around with. The other day, while Joel and Tommy were out on patrol, Tommy said that Joel suddenly got dizzy, weak, and was complaining about some pain in his chest. Now, in saying that, I know that he’s been to the doctor, and he’s probably got his reasons for not telling you.”

Y/n pursed her lips, face hardening at the sudden burn of tears at her waterline, “Yeah, I’m sure he did. When did you say this was?”

“Earlier this week. Tuesday, I think.”

She shook her head. It was Saturday, meaning that it had been almost an entire week since this happened and Joel had neglected to tell her. Y/n chose not to respond, quickly finishing up her work before bidding Maria goodnight, heading back to her shared house with Joel.

When she arrived, there was no response to her call, but Joel’s coat thrown on the back of the couch betrayed that he was home, and the soft sounds of his guitar coming from the back porch revealed his location. The strumming came to a stop as the backdoor creaked open, his eyes turning to face her with a soft smile.

“Hey, darlin’-” His peaceful expression shifted to one of worry when he took her in own sombre face, “What’s the matter–did something happen?”

She shook her head, shrugging as she leaned against the railing, “I don’t know, did something happen? Because today, when I was with Maria, she seemed awfully concerned about how you were feeling.”

Realisation dawned on his features, his brows furrowing as he moved the guitar out his lap and ran a hand over his face, “Baby, it’s nothin–”

“Don’t do that,” she scowled at him, “don’t tell me it’s nothing when it’s so clearly not nothing. Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I didn’t want you worrying about me.”

She scoffed, “Fuck, you did a great job of doing that, didn’t you? What am I supposed to do when I hear from someone else that you had to go to the infirmary almost a week ago because you had chest pain? I mean, really, that’s not something to fuck around with, especially–”

“Especially what?” He challenged, already knowing what she was thinking.

Y/n stopped, debating whether or not she wanted to say it, “Especially at your age.”

He stood up and marched to the other side of the patio and rested his hands on the railing, looking out across the small backyard. Y/n could practically feel the emotions that radiated from him; a mixture of anger, annoyance, embarrassment, and shame. 

She sighed, moving to rest a hand on his back, “Joel, you know I don’t care about your age. I love you, but I need you to start taking care of yourself. This needs to be a wakeup call, I mean, it definitely is for me.”

“Why,” he huffed, “you finally coming to your senses? Finally realising that sooner or later I’m gonna–”

“Please don’t say it,” she whispered, sniffling softly as she rested her forehead in the middle of his back, “Please, please, please.”

Joel scowled, sliding away from her grasp, “About time you start to face reality, darlin’. I’m old, I’ve accepted it. Maybe you should wisen up and go find someone who’s not gonna leave you sooner or later, huh?”

Joel escaped into the house and out the front door, slamming it shut behind him. Y/n let out a shaky breath, moving to sit on the bench where Joel had been when she had gotten home, curling into herself and letting silent tears streak down her cheeks. It was only moments later when she heard her own name being called, Ellie creeping out onto the patio nervously.

Y/n wiped her cheeks, smiling weakly at the girl as she sat next to her, “Hey Jellybean.”

Ellie smiled at the name, having not heard it for a while now. She felt somewhat bad about that, having been a result of her requesting to be treated more like an adult, “Are you okay? I didn’t mean to eavesdrop but I was just over there, so…”

Y/n smiled at the teen, curling her arm around her shoulder affectionately, “Yeah, I’m fine. Just…concerned, I guess.”

She nodded, leaning against the older female, “Are you guys gonna be okay?”

Y/n smiled at the child-like question, as if she were asking her parents if they were getting a divorce–which, to be fair, she sort of was, “Yeah, baby. We’ll be okay.”

“Are you sure?”

The uncertainty in Ellie’s voice caused her breath to catch in her throat, finally thinking over the fight. Were they okay? Maybe you should wisen up and go find someone who’s not gonna be leaving you sooner or later. Those words in themselves felt like a knife driving into her gut–was that him ending things? She had dealt with Joel’s insecurities before, but he had never blatantly told her to leave him behind, nor has he ever explicitly pointed out that he would probably die long before her. Before she could even finish her thought, her head fell forward and a loud sob escaped from her throat. 

Ellie was quick to pull her into a hug, awkwardly trying to soothe her as she wept into her shoulder. She listened to her ramble on, struggling to understand everything that she was saying, frowning to herself as she made a mental note to go after Joel the moment that she felt comfortable enough to leave Y/n to herself.

– – –

Y/n’s eyes fluttered open as she felt the mattress shift beneath her. Her foggy vision took in her side of the room, dimly lit by the lamp on her bedside table before she glanced over her shoulder, finding Joel’s back as he leaned down to untie his boots. His back cracked as he straightened up, reminding her of their fight, though she was feeling more confident that he hadn’t broken up with her considering that he had come to bed with her. 

She reached out tiredly, fingers brushing over his back as she murmured his name. He turned his head slightly to acknowledge her, but he didn’t entirely face her.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, voice hoarse from crying, “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

“I know,” he sighed, finally twisting his body to sit sideways on the mattress. His own face showed signs of stress, and his eyes were rimmed with red, “I know, baby. I’m sorry too.”

Joel apologising was no small feat, that much she knew. Normally when they fought, he would give a simple you were right and do something nice for her, but it was very rare for him to actually apologise.

“It’s just…” she pushed herself to sit up, “I know you don’t like to think about this, but it’s really scary for me. I’m not stupid, I know you’re older than me and I know that there’s no stopping the inevitable–” she choked, “but I won’t apologise for trying to prolong it as much as possible.”

He dropped his head, “I know, I’m scared too. Just the thought of leaving you here all on your own…”

She crawled across the bed, smoothly working her way onto his lap and engulfing him in a tight hug. The weight of his arms around her pulled yet another sob out of her throat. His large hands found purchase on her back, sliding up and down her spine as his chest shook with his own tears. 

She pulled her head out of his neck, staring up at him with large, teary eyes. Her hand came up to cup his cheek, forcing him to meet her eyes, “Please let me help you. I’m not ashamed of you or your age, but I don’t know how I’m gonna live without you, so please tell me next time.”

He nodded, “I’m sorry. For not tellin’ you, and for being so fuckin’ old.”

“I like you older,” she snorted, fingers stroking along his furry jawline, “it means you’re still here.”

[wileys-russo]

Emily fox, on the pitch, (sarcastically) “aw baby I’m sorry did that hurt”

I’m thinking enemies to flirts to lovers

frenemies II e.fox

"well good morning sunshine!" lotte laughed as you sat down beside her with a huff, dropping your bag to the ground and rummaging through it with a hum.

"woke up on the wrong side of the bed did we?" the girl teased pulling on her boots as you sighed. "you have no idea. this is going to be a long day!" you warned as the girl squeezed your shoulder sympathetically, the pair of you falling into conversation.

you smelled her before you saw her, the familiar waft of perfume hitting you before the sound of her laugh did, glancing up to see her walk in with alessia, chirpy grin on her face as usual.

"now now, play nice today even if you are grumpy!" lotte warned with a grin as you knocked your knee against hers with a playful roll of your eyes. "its not me whose the problem lots, you know that better than most." you quipped tugging your socks up as emily sat down across the room.

catching her eye yours rolled again as she sent you a wink, tuning back into her conversation with alessia. "i know you're both as bad as each other, she's been here for months now. wave the white flag! be the bigger person." lotte cautioned gently.

"so you admit she's not the bigger person? so she is in fact, the problem?" you grinned gleefully as your friend sighed at the take. "theres that selective hearing. you might want the long sleeve, we're set for rain!" lotte warned as you groaned quietly and unzipped your bag again.

though as you pulled out the top you quickly realised the number on it was not yours and pushed it hastily back in. "i'll survive." you brushed off her concerns as lotte only shrugged. "come on miss holland, off we go." you teased pulling her beanie down over her eyes and standing.

"not again with the tom holland reference! i don't look like him at all." lotte groaned in annoyance as you only grinned. "no i think its more like one of the robbers from home alone." your smile dropped at the familiar voice, lotte shoving emily with a playful glare before walking off with alessia.

"fox." you greeted shortly, the pair of you following after the girls in front who'd fallen into their own conversation. "as if the english weather isn't cold enough, that tones gonna give me hypothermia." the american shuddered rubbing at her arms as you rolled your eyes.

"oh come on! that was funny, you're allowed to laugh!" emily protested as you strode ahead, hurrying after you. "maybe at you, never with you." you warned, holding back a smile as your boots touched grass and you were able to hurry off to another group of girls.

your mood didn't improve during training, in fact it only got worse as indeed lotte was right and the skies opened up, the rain pouring down the last fifteen or so minutes of training.

given it was the last one before the game this weekend you didn't let it stop you, pushing through at the management teams instructions, breaking off into smaller teams for a round robin of games and a cool down.

all morning emily had been trying to get on your last nerve, her own patience wearing thin as you ignored her time and time again taking lottes advice to be the bigger person albeit the white flag.

but as the rain became near torrential and suddenly you were taken down to the ground a lot harder than necessary considering you'd already given up the ball your tolerance grated.

again and again your back hit the turf with only one culprint taking your legs out each time, your training top coated with mud and bib soggy against your chest as beth whipped a goal into the top corner to end the game and the whistles to finish training finally blew.

right as you'd completed the pass to her again your legs were swept out, wincing as your ass thumped into the ground but you clapped at beths goal none the less not wanting to be a bad teammate.

"aw baby i'm sorry, did that hurt?" a smirk hovered over you accompanied by an american accent and a very punchable face as the girl held out her hand to help you up.

with a glowering scowl sent up at her you smacked her hand away, climbing to your own feet and storming away, hearing her follow after you as the rest of the girls sprinted back into the building to shower and change before media.

but right as you went to step foot into the locker room a hand grabbed yours, tugging you away into one of the recovery rooms as the door closed with a click.

you sighed deeply at the grin which shone back at you, crossing your arms and glaring at her when she refused to move out of the way of the door.

"come on stop the frowning. i said i was sorry!" the american laughed stepping closer as you shook your head. "that doesn't mean i have to accept your apology." you reminded firmly, unwavering as she rolled her eyes.

"no. but only one of us is currently wearing something with a collar and ah...the rain has not been kind to you." emily tutted her hand moving to settle on your shoulder and you hissed as her thumb pressed into a deep red mark on your neck and you smacked it away.

with a groan you moved toward a mirror in the corner, turning your head left and right inspecting the marks you'd covered this morning before leaving, the rain indeed having washed most of the concealer off.

"this is your fault fox!" you advanced toward her as she only smiled, meeting you chest to chest. "yeah. so?" she challenged with a quirk of her eyebrow, your mouth opening and closing trying to find a comeback.

"exactly. you weren't saying anything last night when they appeared!" emily grinned cheekily as you only huffed, shoving her and making a beeline for the door before her hand grabbed yours and twirled you so you wound up chest to chest with her again.

"kind of hard to with your tongue down my throat." you scoffed only widening her beaming grin, her face near split in half as tattooed fingers traced the hickies with a feather light touch.

"let me take you to dinner tonight." now that did catch you off guard, stepping away from her with a frown. ever since she'd signed the american had wedged her way under your skin, the pair of you clashing heads and forever arguing, broken up and told off by your teammates.

though it never translated to the pitch, the two of you working seamlessly together down the right side much to everyones shock given how you seemed to loathe one another in every other sense.

but little did they know it was due to the release you two had figured out helped your contempt for one another, and for weeks now the two of you had been sneaking around one anothers beds, always gone by the morning and never more than that.

so you'd hardly expected these words to come out of her mouth.

"what?" you managed out in shock, emily stepping closer with a nod. "dinner. at a nice restaurant, the two of us. tonight ideally!" the defender explained, sticking by her words.

"but thats not-thats not what we do." you declined with a shake of your head as she shrugged unfazed by the rejection.

"well there has to be some middle ground in this enemies to lovers pipeline, you think you hate me but really you don't even know me. i'd like to change that, to change whatever this is." emily confessed confidently again catching you off guard.

when you didn't reply the girl only grinned, pulling off her spray jacket and handing it to you to put on to cover the marks on your neck.

"great, i'll pick you up at seven then baby. wear something...dry! oh and i want that jacket back, since someone else stole my long sleeve." she winked teasingly, and just like that she was gone.

[purinjoong]

take off your halo and wings (j.yh)

summary: yunho can't keep his hands off his angel, especially when he stumbles on one of your less than angelic desires.

jeong yunho x reader :: established relationship, smut, fluff, pervert!yunho, soft and slight mean dom yunho, fem bodied reader (gender not specified)

warnings below the cut!

praise, dacryphilia, marking, slight size kink, fingering, unprotected sex (!!!), dirty talk, pet names (angel, baby, sweetheart, love, puppy)

notes: sadly not proofread im too impatient .. </3 approx 4.9k words!

Yunho swears he would never do anything you’re not ready for, and he doesn’t have any ulterior motives as he snuggles deeper into your embrace on the couch, the colors dancing on the TV flickering across your face. He likes this show, he really does— he was the one who asked to watch it with you— but with the way your head is nuzzled just under his chin and your body is pressed comfortably against his, he has front-row tickets to the tantalizing scent of your hair products and the dizzying warmth of your skin under his palms and against his thighs. 

Every breath he takes thrusts him further into his thoughts, heart thumping against his chest so hard he’s afraid it’ll start jostling you with its movement if it beats any faster. He’s overwhelmed by the need to smooth his palms against the sweet curve of your hips, to kiss you until you’re gasping for air, your clenched fists cutely twisting at the fabric of his loose shirt as he drops his head to your neck, nipping at the soft skin. 

He’s staring blankly ahead, lost in thoughts of you when you let out a cute squeak at something happening in the show. At the noise, his gaze flits down to where your bodies are tangled together, breath hitching as you shuffle around in his hold to get more comfortable. Your thighs are sandwiching one of his arms now, and he’s genuinely holding his breath trying not to whimper from how desperately he needs to have his mouth between your thighs instead, your fingers weaved into his hair as he licks and sucks at you. 

You seem to have noticed something is off, since you tear your eyes away from the screen to fix him with an angelic look of concern, pretty eyes wide and sparkly as you ask him if he’s feeling alright. Fuck, he’s sorry, he’s so sorry, but he responds with a mumbled noise of confusion because he genuinely can’t focus on anything other than the way your lips curve around every vowel you utter and how badly he needs your lips moving against his own.

Your arm (the one that isn’t wrapped around his back) comes up to brush some of his hair out of his face, and it’s just a soft, gentle touch, but he can’t stop the shuddered breath that escapes his chest. He’s so thankful the back of your hand covers the sinful way his eyes threaten to roll back into his head from the mere brush of your fingers against his forehead. 

“You’re warm, baby,” you say worriedly, flipping the hand resting against his forehead so that your palm is pressed against it instead. 

“‘M fine,” he replies, inwardly pumping his fist at how normal he sounds in spite of the desire thrumming through his veins. “Let’s keep watching,” 

You give him a look, eyebrows cutely knitting together in disapproval, but you bring your hand away from his forehead and go back to resting your cheek against his chest to comfortably face the TV. 

The measured rise and fall of your body as it lays against his lulls him further into his daze. He tries to tug his arm away from the back of the couch so he can stroke your hair, but his limbs move like he’s trying to swim through a pool of syrup.

It doesn’t help that he’s so acutely aware of how close his other arm is to your core— the bare skin of your thighs are so soft and warm where they’re sandwiched around his forearm, and if you shift any closer he’ll literally be pressed right against the seat of your cute pajama shorts, applying sweet pressure that he knows would have you struggling to stifle a moan.

He feels like a pervert, he is a pervert, with the way he cartoonishly gulps at the slightest movement of the neckline of the shirt you’re borrowing from him. With the way it’s driving him insane right now, he can’t decide whether he wants you wearing it forever or if he should put all his clothes into a suitcase and throw it out into the ocean before he short circuits from how much he loves you and how seeing you in his clothes stokes the flames of the possessive little fire blazing in his heart, burning bright for you. It makes him want to growl mine, into every part of your body he can get his hands on, pressing a soft kiss and a sharp bite anywhere you’ll let him until you’re a collage of marks proving his adoration for you. 

Yunho’s fingers have been absentmindedly stroking your hair for a while now, and as his thoughts grow more possessive, his strokes have turned into delicious little tugs that feel just right, leading you to bite at your bottom lip and tense your thighs to prevent them from closing tighter around his arm. A particularly insistent tug at your hair from his long fingers draws a pathetic whine from your throat, a needy and wanton plea that causes both of you to freeze. 

You shut your eyes tightly, bashful— you’re just cuddling, for fuck’s sake, but as you’re smoldering with embarrassment, Yunho is fighting the urge to flip you onto your back and kiss the shit out of you. To draw more pretty sounds out of his favorite person until you’re begging him to stop, it’s too much, you can’t take it, but you both know you can and you love that he’ll make you take it. 

He opts for being more casual, so as not to scare you with the overwhelming wave of affection that washes over him from his forehead— where your hand was resting earlier— down to the tips of his toes, and tugs at your hair again. He manages to draw another sound out of you, a muffled little whimper (because you’ve doubled down on the force you’re biting your lip with), but it sends his heart reeling nonetheless. 

“What’s this, baby?” he breathes against your ear, and you shudder at his close proximity. 

“Nothing,” is your petulant response, and you both know it’s a lie with how your thighs shift around his arm. 

“Doesn’t sound like nothing to me,” Yunho says with a soft chuckle, the slight rasp to his voice shooting a bolt of arousal straight to your core. “It sounds like my angel has a dirty little secret to spill,” 

You open your mouth to protest, but he chooses that moment to apply just the right amount of pressure with his nails against your scalp and pulls. With your lips now accessible, a debauched moan floats free from your chest, and it's Yunho’s turn to feel a jolt of arousal shock his body. He wants nothing more than to take you, play you like a delicate instrument that sings a sweet melody just for him, but he sets his feelings aside because he decides he wants to hear you beg first. 

Everything about you is cute, and Yunho can go on for hours given the chance, but there’s something so delectable about seeing you soft and flustered in his arms, everything from your supple cheeks to your shy gaze just begging him to keep teasing you until you melt into his embrace like a marshmallow over an open flame. 

You won’t meet his eyes, not after the tempting way you keened into the pull of his fingers, and it drives him crazy. You’re embarrassed, but you don’t even have a clue how worked up everything you do makes him. It’s delightful, and it’s infuriating, but more than anything, it conjures that perverted, possessive beast in him that belongs to you, just like the rest of him. 

“Why are you so shy, baby?” he whispers. “Tell me how to make you feel good, and it’s yours,” Your gaze flickers to his bow-shaped lips, but it’s still shy, measured, like you’re afraid another whine will pierce the air if you let up on how harshly you’re biting your lip. 

There’s something so lewd about the way he unabashedly growls dirty words into your ears when you fuck, with his soft cheeks, sparkly eyes, and cute lips. It’s worse when his fluffy hair is half-covering his eyes, because he looks so cozy as he’s pounding into you so perfectly you can’t even form a train of thought. At the same time, whenever his pretty fingers roughly push his hair away from his face so he can fix you with a dark, predatory look as he hits that spot inside of you, you unravel for him without fail. 

There’s a method to the madness that is Yunho piecing you apart and molding you back together just to ruin you again. When you don’t respond, bashful gaze still trained on his lips, he coos. “All you have to do is tell me, baby, I’ll give it to you so good,” he coaxes. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you try, but the way your voice trembles gives you away, and his lip curls up in triumph. 

He hums in response, cocky smirk still quirking his lip as he toys with a lock of your hair. “No?” he asks. “So if I took off these flimsy shorts of yours, you wouldn’t be dripping through your panties?” 

Suddenly, you’re aware of the way your thighs have been clenching around his forearm, and how you’re trapped between his sturdy chest and the plush cushions of the couch.

“Yunho,” you say, voice barely above a whisper. 

“Yeah, sweetheart?” At your lack of a response, he coos, leaning down to press a gentle kiss to the side of your lips but not quite on the plush flesh that’s practically tingling with the desire to be engulfed by Yunho’s. 

“I need it,” you breathe. “Need you,” And as badly as he wants to ravage your body with kisses until you’re moaning his name into his mouth, he’s transfixed by the image of your eyes welling with desperate tears, lips swollen from how you bite at them when you try to restrain your sounds and pleas for him to just give himself to you and to stop teasing already. Weak as he is to his desires of your flesh, he settles for pressing a sweet kiss to your collarbone and revels in the way your eyes flutter shut. 

“To do what, my love?” His voice is muffled by your skin as he litters it with more kisses. 

“Stop teasing me, please,” you whine pitifully, and you would have the strength to be embarrassed if it wasn’t for Yunho’s responding deep chuckle. His long fingers brush against your core, applying insistent, sweet pressure for a moment where its soaked the flimsy fabric of your shorts. He brings the glistening digits up to his mouth, pausing to admire the way your arousal clings to his fingers as he separates them. “Yunho,” you whisper, pleading with him to do something, anything to soothe the ache between your thighs. 

He sucks his fingers— coated in your desire— into his mouth, answering your desperate plea with a cocky smirk and a teasing hum around the fingers in his mouth. When your eyes well with tears, he takes pity on you, cooing and swiping at your cheeks with his clean hand. It’s his turn to be embarrassed from how hard your teary, pouting face makes him; he can’t bring himself to tease his angel any further when the only thing he can think about is having you cry on his cock. Yunho brings a thumb to your lips, parting them and kissing you so fervently it feels like he’s pulling the breath out of your lungs. 

You’re so lost in his lips that the gentle yet firm brush of Yunho’s knuckles against the seat of your shorts sends a delicious jolt of arousal up your spine, a cute squeak slipping out of your mouth and into his. You feel the way his lips quirk in amusement, a silent pledge to draw as many lewd noises from you as he can before the night is over. The circles he rubs against your clothed clit are anything but soothing, forcing you to break away from Yunho’s intoxicating kisses to catch your breath, face pressed against his chest while your hips buck against his hand.

“More, please,” you beg, hand sliding under his shirt to run your fingers along his soft skin. 

“Yeah?” he chuckles, but how can he deny his angel, especially when asked so sweetly? He finally makes direct contact with your drooling cunt, long fingers teasing your folds until one is eagerly sucked in by your walls. 

“So good,” you babble into his shirt, and the laugh that rips from his chest is mean, but so, so sexy. 

“Just like that, huh, baby?” he coos. When your answer is nothing but a pathetic whine of his name, he chuckles again, pressing a kiss to your temple. “I know, sweetheart, I’ll give it to you just how you like it,” 

“Need you to fuck me, Yunho,” you gasp, fists clenching uselessly around his shirt while he scissors his fingers in you. You know he’s trying to stretch you out, make it easier for you to take him, but you don’t care at this point. Every moment without his warmth filling you up and fucking you full is driving you crazy. The sharp glint of his smirk at your words has your walls clenching frantically around his fingers, drawing a guttural groan from Yunho’s throat that he throws his head back for. 

You can’t even bite back the pitiful whine the sight pulls out of you— you want to bite his neck, to bury your face in him and drown in his ocean, never coming back up for air if it means you can be surrounded by him, engulfed by him. “Please Yun, I can’t take it,” you whimper, voice catching when his fingers press against that spongy spot inside of you that draws a litany of sounds and broken cries of his name as he takes advantage of it. 

“But you’re soaking my hand, love,” he teases, a cruel smirk taking over his features as your fingers scrabble to grab a hold of his wrist. His ministrations have your limbs tingling, grip weak as you try to halt his pleasing assault on your pussy. “So wet, just for me, hm?” 

“Yours,” you nod frantically, nails lightly scratching at his forearm as you moan at the stimulation. “Put it in, Yunho, please?” you break, too far gone, too lost in the pleasure he pushes on you to care about the indecency and lewdness of your words, not when he’s staring you down like this. Not with his fingers mercilessly teasing your g-spot, sadistically cooing at the staccato whimpers that escape your mouth despite how hard you’re trying to stay quiet. 

“I can’t hear you honey, what was that?” he chuckles, voice dropping a little deeper at the frustrated moan you let out at his tormenting. 

“Yunho,” you huff, indignant, but it comes out as a breathy purr when he crooks his fingers against that spot just right. His sharp, cocky grin tells you it was no accident— he plays your body like an instrument, toying with you to draw out those pretty sounds you make just for him. 

“You’re clinging onto my fingers so tightly, baby, I need a little motivation to get them out to put my cock in you,” he says, voice dripping with faux sadness as though he isn’t enjoying every second of your helplessness beneath him. 

“You’re the wo-rst, Yunnie,” you scowl, face warming with embarrassment at the eroticism of your voice. Even you can’t take yourself seriously with the obscene moans punctuating your every word. 

“Awww, you want Yunnie that bad, baby?” he mocks. “It’s too bad you won’t beg for it,” 

Your trembling fingers curl tighter around his wrist to no avail, his assault on your g-spot so pleasurably mind-numbing that you stumble over your words as you try to beg for his cock, unintelligible cries of his name slipping past your lips. “Please, Yun, need you so badly, need you to fuck me so bad,” you finally manage, head thrown back to escape his piercing stare and perverse smile. “I’ll do anything, I’ll be so good, please just give it to me,” 

“There’s my angel,” he groans. Your pleading eyes brimming with unshed tears makes him want to hold you against the plush cushions of the couch and draw orgasm after orgasm from you until those tears are spilling down your cheeks, pleasure-addled brain unable to focus on anything but whining his name and pawing at his shirt the way you so endearingly do when he fucks you dumb. But since you asked so sweetly, so good for him as always, Yunho pulls his fingers out (with a firm rub against your g-spot and your pliant walls on the way out for good measure) and presses a reverent kiss to your clit before shucking down pants. 

You’re practically salivating, hands wringing the hem of his shirt in anticipation after so cruelly being denied his cock for so long. ”So eager, love,” Yunho chuckles, the weight of dick resting deliciously against your pussy. 

“It’s not my fault you’re such a tease,” you snark. “You could have been inside me ages ago, you sadist,” 

“Yeah?” is his only response, but his tone is so dangerous— airy, but threatening, with some hidden promise beneath it that you’re morbidly curious to discover. 

“Yeah,” you answer, but it comes out softly and timidly at the shift in his demeanor. The smirk on his face that disappeared at your brattiness returns, a more sinful glint in his eye as he takes in just how pliant you are for him.

“So cute, puppy,” he grins. “Fuck around and find out, huh?” And find out you do as he slides in, the glide laughably easy from how wet you’ve gotten from his teasing. 

“Yunho,” you whimper, a silent plea in your wide eyes to go faster, to stop tormenting you and to just give you all of him until there’s nothing left. 

“You’re soaking, angel,” he observes, blatantly ignoring your unspoken request. Instead, his thumbs find your folds, gently spreading them apart to expose your throbbing clit. You’re almost embarrassed at how closely he’s inspecting you, but you’re too overwhelmed by the hunger in his eyes as he bites his lip at your arousal. He brings a thumb against your clit, applying delicious pressure that has your body jerking against his, sheathing his cock snugly within your walls. He laughs at the cute yelp you make when his pelvis finally connects with yours, pressing a little harder against your clit to hear you squeal and watch you shut your eyes tightly to escape the pleasure. 

He devours you in every sense— drinking in the sight of your trembling form trapped beneath him, savoring the erotic mewls and desperate moans you make for him as he feasts on the feeling of your hot skin beneath his fingers and trapping his cock. He has to fight the urge to gather you up in his arms and press you against him, chest to chest, face preferably buried in your neck or hair or lips smothering yours so he can be close to you in every sense of the word, but you look too lovely splayed against the couch cushions for him to manhandle you any further. 

“Feel good?” he asks softly, bringing his free hand up to your face to fondly brush away the hair obstructing his view of his angel. He’s checking in on you, making sure he isn’t being too rough, making sure you can still feel all the love behind his teasing. 

“So good, Yuyu,” you pant. “Please move, please fuck me,” As always, your wish is his command, so he complies, pulling out almost entirely before thrusting back in. Your moan is so obscene its practically pornographic, and coupled with the tight warmth of your walls sucking him in, Yunho has to throw his head back with a guttural groan to keep himself sane. You’re so fucking cute, calling him Yuyu with his cock buried within you, your pretty, teary eyes blinking up at him so sincerely as you ask him to fuck you. 

He’ll be damned if he doesn’t give his angel the world on a silver platter, so if it’s a good fuck you want it’s a good fuck you’ll get. With every thrust, you let out a breathy moan or a lascivious “please.” If he angles himself just right, you punch out a sweet keen of that nickname that he would find gut-wrenchingly cute under any other circumstances— but with your bottom lip pinched between your teeth, brows drawn up and arms splayed limply above your head as you’re left helpless to the pleasure he fucks into you, Yunho would have to be some kind of deity not to lose his mind. For how pliant and weak he makes you, you return it twofold, leaving him powerless before your charm. 

You bring an arm down to your stomach, hand finding one of his to intertwine your fingers as he fucks you deep and calculated, thrusts perfectly orchestrated to have you falling apart on his cock. “Feels so good, Yuyu, I love you so much,” you whimper as your fingers slot into the gaps between his, and Yunho has to grip your hip with all the strength he has to stop himself from filling you up with his cum then and there. 

“I love you too, angel,” he praises, fighting to keep his voice level. “Always so fucking good for me,” 

Your moans begin to rise in pitch, broken little gasps and desperate whimpers of “Yuyu, just like that, please don’t stop,” that come to a peak as your back arches into a pretty crescent, hips bucking madly against his as you fall apart on his cock, cumming with a satisfied sob of his name. 

Yunho has many hobbies, some more productive than others, but his absolute favorite is watching you cum, treasuring the pretty expressions you make only for him and the debauched sounds he can pull out of you. It was good, he can tell from the way you’re panting and blinking slowly like you’re still coming down, but he doesn’t let up because you aren’t crying yet and he promised he would have you falling apart on him so good that you wouldn’t be able to think of anything else. 

You’re so cute, eyes widening in surprise as he fucks you through your orgasm. Yunho isn’t sure if he wants to show the whole world how his angel is the loveliest there could ever be, or if he wants to keep you all to himself, so sweet, all fucked out and pliant for him. 

That possessive beast you conjured in him always seems to win, though, and he shifts so he’s looming over you even more dangerously now, broad shoulders filling your view with nothing but Yunho, Yunho, Yunho. You’d never have it any other way though, mewling at the overstimulation, squirming beneath him and tugging uselessly at his shirt as he fucks you relentlessly. 

“Can you t-take this off, at least?” you whimper, and he heeds your request with a breathy chuckle, his pace inside you never faltering as he tears his hands away from your hips to pull his shirt off. He feels your walls flutter desperately around his cock at his exposed torso, pulling a more throaty laugh from his chest. 

“What a pervert,” he teases, licking his unfairly pretty bow-shaped lips as his palms find your hips once more. 

“Y-You’re such a hypocrite,” you punch out between soft little whines, an indignant squeak preceding your words. 

“Mmm, never said I wasn’t a pervert, my love,” Yunho grins, pinching your hip and grinning wider at the way you squirm. “I’m a proud pervert when it comes to you, but you’re just as bad, aren’t you, angel?”

You want to retort, cheeks warm with humiliation, but you can’t form the words or the thought when Yunho’s penetrating you so perfectly. You’re only able to manage a feeble moan, which draws another mean-spirited laugh from Yunho and the rewarding pressure of his thumb against your clit once more. He finally stops teasing you with his words only for his mouth to latch onto one of your nipples, the hand that’s not busy at your clit making its way up to your other nipple to toy with it until you’re jerking against his body, helpless to his desires as his chest secures you against the cushions. 

Yunho has the gall to laugh against your skin when he bites the pillowy flesh around your nipple, resulting in a cute yelp from you that has him hardening impossibly further within you. The assault on all your sweet spots has you clenching uselessly around him, walls hugging him so tight he can’t tell if you’re trying to push him out or suck him in deeper, if that was even possible. Your thighs are twitching uncontrollably around his hips, fingers scrabbling against his back, seeking purchase in the soft skin and hard muscles contracting under your fingertips from how powerfully he’s thrusting into you. 

You’re almost there, he can tell from the litany of pitiful whines and maddeningly sexy pleas of his name spilling from your lips, but he needs to give you just a little more to have you coming undone for him the way he wants, to give you pleasure so good it leaves you floating for the rest of the evening; so he painstakingly pulls his hand away from your (now swollen from his attention) nipple to press his palm flat against your stomach, applying just the right amount of force to have you gasping and digging your nails into his skin. It hurts so good, his eyes roll back into his head, but he has to keep himself under control at least until he draws that orgasm from you that he knows you’re craving. 

Your eyes find his, and those unshed tears that have been driving him crazy finally fall past your lashes, spilling down your cheeks as you moan his name. You’re so perfect, in every sense of the word, squirting all over his cock as he fills you up. “That’s it, my love,” he praises you, voice deep and strained as he cums for you, “So good for me,” 

“I love you, Yuyu,” you mumble as he pulls out, slowly and cautiously because he knows you’re probably sensitive from all his teasing from earlier. The painstakingly slow drag of his cock against your walls has you twitching against his hips, though— you can feel every ridge and every vein this way and you’re starting to think that Yunho probably had a point when he called you a pervert earlier. If you are a pervert, it’s only for him. 

“I love you too, angel,” he says sweetly, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. Your thighs twitch as he soothingly cleans them with a warm, damp towel, carefully brushing your hair away from your face and rubbing comforting circles into your hip with his free hand. “It was okay, baby?” he asks, movements faltering slightly as he looks up at you from between your thighs with those sparkling puppy-like eyes that got you into this predicament in the first place. 

“It was perfect, Yun,” you say sincerely. “You felt so good that I couldn’t really… control myself,” you mumble, trailing off out of embarrassment. You have to avert your eyes for your own sanity when that puppy face splits into a teasing grin, his canines back on display. 

“Hmm, I can tell,” he chuckles, leaning up towards your face to warmly kiss away the few tears still adorning your cheeks. 

“Yunho,” you whine, indignant. “You asked me just to tease,” 

“Nooooo, baby,” he laughs. “It’s not my fault you’re so cute when you get like this,” 

You can’t really retort, not when he’s giggling like that, what with his pretty smile and soft cheeks. 

“If my angel has any other dirty little secrets to share, I think we could have a lot of fun with it, don’t you?” he lilts, taunting you by sliding his long fingers through your hair to rest firmly at your scalp. Not tugging, not yet, but the possibility lingers, kicking up your heartbeat again. 

“You’re the one hiding all these kinky secrets,” you counter, pouting. “I know you took that pair of lacy panties I asked you about the other week, you pervert, so who’s the real false angel?” 

Yunho just laughs, again, a throaty chuckle rumbling in his chest that would have your thighs clenching to alleviate the jolt of arousal shocking your core if he wasn’t settled between your legs. “You have a point, love,” he acquiesces, and shoots you a wink that already has you needy for him to draw yet another orgasm from you. You’ll save this information for next time, though— you have a lifetime to explore Yunho and a lifetime to fall deeper in love with every new inch he reveals. 

[flemingsfreckles]

Perfect To Me (18+)

Jessie Fleming x Reader

Preview: Jessie notices you acting differently, when she learns why, she’s determined to help.

Warnings: body image issues, self deprecation, self consciousness, some self hatred, SMUT (18+), somewhat controlling Jessie, mirror sex, edging, fingering (r receiving), mentions of strap on sex,

WC: 3.0k

Today had just been one of those days, you woke up and felt wrong. It started when you went into the bathroom, seeing two large pimples bright red on your face. Then when you changed you couldn’t help but notice every little detail wrong with your body, stretch marks, scars, blemishes, all of it, you hated it. You tried to get dressed, everything feeling too tight on your body caused you to spiral even further.

Jessie was quick to notice you were off, that morning opting to wear a sweatshirt and pants despite the warm weather. She then noticed at training the way you hurried off to the bathroom to change, unlike normal. She noticed you were frustrated at practice, having a rough day overall it seemed. On the way home you didn’t say anything, silently watching out the window, thinking about everything that went wrong.

“What’s going on in that little head of yours?” She questions you as she throws the car in park in the driveway.

“Don’t want to talk about it.” You dismiss her concerns for you.

Her hand comes over the console and finds its way to your thigh. “Babe, talk to me. You’ve been quiet all day, I’m worried about you.”

You loved Jessie, she had been a perfect girlfriend for the past year, but she was insistent. She always wanted to talk things through, it got on your nerves, sometimes you had to sit in self loathing first. “I feel like shit about myself Jessie! I’m bloated, nothing fits, everything is too tight, everything seems wrong, everyone else is running around with their toned stomachs and perfect legs, I have stretch marks, I have acne, I hate myself.”

“Hey!” Jessie snaps. “You’re not allowed to speak about my girlfriend like that!”

“I can talk about her however the fuck I want to, I hate myself, I hate myself, I hate myself.” You taunt Jessie as you unbuckled and closed the door hard behind you.

Jessie follows you in the house. She lets you be for the next few hours, keeping her distance knowing you just needed some time alone to work through your feelings. And you worked through those feelings, as best you could, still not loving your body, still annoyed at the way everything fit, but better than you were this morning.

Your uncomfortable feelings with your body fade slightly as the day goes on, you start to forget what a terrible start to your morning you had. You knew you were overreacting, feeling just overwhelmed with the day, you took it out on yourself, you always did. What you didn’t know was Jessie hadn’t forgotten the way you had moved away from the mirror at home, the way she saw you staring for too long at your thighs and stomach, the way you closed yourself in the bathroom at home and at work to change. She was determined to make you feel better, even if you had already done it for yourself.

Which is how she ended up feeling you up as the two of you attempted to watch a movie. The movie is quickly forgotten as she pulls you up onto her lap to straddle her. Her hands on your waist, pulling you into her, encouraging your grinding motion. Your hands run through her curls as your lips slide against each other.

She reaches for your shirt, you nod hard against her, letting her know it was okay to pull it up and over your head. Your self conscious feeling comes back slightly as Jessie’s eyes make their way across your body. She then slides her finger tips into the waistband of your pants.

“Can I?”

“Just touch me already Jess, don’t take them off.” You think you’re being subtle, just hoping she’ll think you’re desperate enough for her touch that she shouldn’t bother taking off your pants. It’s less that you’re desperate and more you didnt feel like being completely naked.

“Okay babe.” Her hand slides past your waistband and pushes aside your panties. “Fuck.” She whispers as she feels the arousal between your lips.

“Please Jess.” Maybe you actually were desperate for her touch. She brings her fingers up to your clit, beginning to play with it exactly how she knew to. Jessie would usually tease a bit, giving you soft touches, moving away for a moment, slowing down, but today she was doing all the right things. It was as if she was trying to get you off as quickly as possible. You ground down onto her fingers, increasing the friction and pleasure.

“Fuck Jessie.”

“You feel so good on my fingers baby.” She groans into you and your grip on her hair tightens.

“Babe I’m not going to last long if you keep doing that.”

She smirks up at you. “I know.”

“Oh fuck.” You drop your head to her shoulder, letting out a string of moaned profanities from the pleasure of being right on the edge of release. And then you're quickly cursing Jessie as she takes away her fingers, removing them completely from your waistband.

“What the hell?” your head snaps up to look at her.

“Get up.” She taps your thighs and you move off of her reluctantly wishing she would finish what she just started. You were also still pissed that she took away your orgasm.

“Take the rest off and join me in the bedroom.” She looks at you, her eyes are soft, pupils are big. She turns and disappears into your bedroom. You assumed she was putting down the waterproof blanket, her strap, and maybe a few other toys.

Wanting to get your orgasm, you quickly remove your clothing, too focused on getting off that you don’t care as much about being naked. You leave your pants, underwear, and bra on the couch with your discarded shirt. You make your way to Jessie, walking into the bedroom.

Jessie is sitting on the bed against the headboard, she was now just in her sports bra and boxers, legs spread out on the bed. You notice there isn’t a blanket on the bed, she didn’t have out any of the toys you shared. You then noticed the large mirror usually in the corner of your bedroom had been moved to the end of the bed.

“Sit.” She patted the spot between her legs, you obeyed, crawling onto the bed and kneeling between her thighs. You start to move to straddle her, just as you had been on the couch, when she stops you.

“Nope, turn around, back to me.” You turn yourself, you bare back pressing against Jessie’s covered chest. You now realize the placement of the mirror, so you could see the two of you from where you sat together on the bed, Jessie’s head resting just above your shoulder.

“Good girl.” As you get settled where she wanted you Jessie praises you. She uses her arms to uncross your own, removing them from where they hid your chest, pulling them down and placing your hands on her thighs. She then uses her own legs to hook around yours spreading your legs, leaving you completely exposed in front of the mirror. “Now before I help you finish what I started out there, we’re doing this.” She gestures to the mirror.

“Look at yourself.” You don’t follow that instruction. Keeping your eyes glued to the bed sheets, not wanting to see your naked body in the mirror. Jessie gives you a second to look up, when you don’t her hand is hard on your chin, forcing your face up. You close your eyes, “I said, look at yourself.” Her grasp is hard on your face, a grasp that is demanding and slightly harsh.

You do as she says, opening your eyes, only your eyes find her eyes in the mirror, still avoiding looking at your body.

“Babe, don’t make this harder than it should be.” Her whisper is gentle in your ear, a contrast to her harsh grip and tone from before. “Look at my hands if that’s easier.” She adds before she removes her grip from your chin placing her hands on your shoulders.

“See these babe?” She squeezes your shoulders, “I love your strong shoulders and arms, I love how they hold me tight, how they hold me when we dance in the kitchen, I love how they toss me on the bed before you have your way with me. I appreciate your arms everyday.” Her hands rub from your shoulders down to your hands and back up, you watch, keeping your eyes on her hands. Her lips place kisses on each shoulder. “Tell me one thing you love about your arms and shoulders, pretty girl.”

“Um,” your eyes fall for a minute, Jessie’s hand finds your chin, gently pushing it to remind you to look up. “I love that they get to hug you, after a goal when you come and jump into my arms, they get to hold you up.”

“Good job baby.” She turned her head down to you, gently guiding you to kiss her. “Keep being a good girl and you’ll get a reward.”

Her hands then slide down, finding your chest. “Mhhh” she hums as she grasps each of your tits firmly in her hand. Her actions have you letting out a small moan. “I mean I think it’s obvious why I love these, but I love how you react when I touch them, when I drag my tongue over here.” She lets her fingers drag across your nipples making you arch into her touch slightly. “I love how you let me fall asleep with my head on them, they really make the best pillows.” Her hands remain on your chest, she is playing with your nipples and the surrounding skin. “Your turn.” She tells you.

You’re stuck, your shoulders and arms were easy, you didn’t fully despise them, your chest, and frankly the rest of your body was going to be harder.

“I dunno.” You look down. Your hands moved down to start to pick at the skin on your thighs.

“Hey,” Jessie pulls your hands away from where they were picking. “I’ll keep going then. I love the way they look in your sports bra, I love the pretty little noises you make when I play with them, I love how you let me mark them with my mouth, I love-“

“Okay stop.” You gently chew your lip, looking at Jessie through the mirror, her gaze is strong on you. “I like how they look in that yellow top that you like so much.”

“That’s perfect baby.” She gives you a nod and kisses the side of your head.

Her hands trail down. Settling on your waist and stomach. You took a deep breath, eyes still looking at Jessie’s face.

“Look at my hands.” She tells you. You drop your eyes lower, looking at where her hands were spread on your own stomach.

“I love your stomach, your waist. I love being able to hold you tight around the waist, I love how your hips look when you tuck in your jersey,”

“I have stretch marks.” You interrupt her, you don’t mean to but the words just come out. You tense, expecting to get scolded by Jessie. Only she doesn’t scold you, she just calmly starts speaking again.

“Yeah baby, you do.” Her fingers gently drag over the lines you were so insecure about. “But guess what, so does everyone, you’re strong because of those marks, you grew, you’re an athlete, you push this body to the limit everyday. You’re making it stronger, faster, and sometimes that means your muscles grow faster than your skin can keep up, so you get these beautiful marks.”

Her hands slide down to the inside of your thighs where more stretch marks sat. They rest, sitting just above where you still desperately needed her touch.

“Look at these legs baby. So strong, they’re able to carry you running around for hours. You’re able to squat, jump, and run, because of these legs.” Her hand is now on the outside of your thigh. “These legs help carry me to bed when I fall asleep on the couch. These legs piggybacked Sam around for 45 minutes so she could say hi to fans after playing a whole 90’ minutes because she didn’t want to deal with her crutches, these legs score game winning goals.”

Her hands squeeze tight, reassuring but also nearing painful. “Now since we are talking about your strong, muscular, beautiful legs, you owe me something you love about your stomach and your legs.”

“I like that my legs let me play soccer and that they’ve let me travel all over and see incredible things.” You stop and stare at your stomach, looking for something good to say about it. “Um. I like my core because it makes me a better athlete, and it’s useful for other activities.” You give Jessie a knowing look through the mirror. It took you and Jessie only a couple times to learn how much core strength is required to be on the giving end of the strap on you shared.

“That’s perfect, you’ve been such a good girl.” Jessie’s voice suddenly deeper. “You did so well baby. Do you want your reward?”

You nod against her, still making eye contact through the mirror.

“What do you want, baby?” She brings her hands down on your thighs so that her index fingers are sitting in the crease between your thigh and pussy.

“Your fingers. Please.” You were ready for her to fuck you, having edged you just to make you sit for what felt like an hour, staring at yourself in the mirror.

“Of course my love.” She gives you a kiss on the cheek. “Anything for my perfect girl.”

Her hands move, her left moving a finger to your entrance, slowly running in up and down to collect some wetness before she gently pushes it inside of you. It’s only one finger but it feels good with how turned on you are from being edged.

“Add another please Jessie.” You manage to get out.

“Anything for you.” She pushed into you with two fingers thrusting them both gently, curling once they’re deep inside of you. Her right hand now settles with just her middle finger on your clit. Unlike before she starts slow, gently tracing around the bud.

Her mouth starts making its way down your neck, leaving hot, open mouth kisses along the side, it makes you sigh, you loved the feeling of her lips on your neck, it was always so sensitive, the way she would suck hard enough to feel it but soft enough not to leave a mark. The way Jessie would drag her teeth over your skin, biting you softly knowing you liked the pain. Her mouth on your neck was heaven.

With her mouth pleasuring your neck and her hands between your thighs, it wasn’t long until your legs were shaking and you were moaning Jessie’s name. Feeling yourself reach the edge again you throw your head back, shutting your eyes.

“Eyes open, watch yourself baby, watch yourself feel good.” Jessie’s shoulder nudges your head up. You listen, but instead of watching yourself you make intense eye contact with Jessie.

She removed her hand from your clit and stalls her fingers inside of you just as your legs start to try and close on her hands. You let out a high pitched whine.

“Do you love your body?” She stares at you through the mirror.

“Yes.”

“Tell me.”

“I love my body.”

“Look at yourself when you say it.” Her hand, previously pleasuring your clit, comes up to hold your chin again. You can smell your arousal on her finger tips. Your eyes leave hers and find yourself staring back at you. “Now, tell me you love yourself again.”

“I love my body.” Her hand drops from your chin.

“Again.”

“I love my body.” Her finger finds its way back to your clit, just touching it, not moving.

“Good girl, again.”

“I love my body.” She starts circling with her fingers, pleasure immediately flowing through you again.

“Again baby.”

“I love my body.” Now she’s gently thrusting her fingers again, no where near the force or speed that she had before but it was better then them sitting still inside of you.

“Good girl, one more and I’ll let you cum.”

“I love my body.”

“That’s my girl, you can cum, I promise I won’t tease you this time.” With her promise her fingers inside of you return their vigor from before, immediately feeling yourself clenching tightly around them. Her finger in your clit increases its pressure and you watch yourself fall apart in the mirror. You’re able to watch your orgasm start before the pleasure becomes too much and you have to shut your eyes and throw your head back.

Jessie praises you as she works you through your orgasm. Her words spur you on further, her lips hot against your ear. “That’s it pretty girl, so good, I love making you feel good. You look so pretty cumming around my fingers.”

As you come down from your orgasm you blink your eyes open, finding Jessie’s eyes in the mirror.

“I love you.”

“I love you.”

“What do you want? A bath? To cuddle? A nap?” Jessie was always attentive with aftercare even if you had vanilla sex, she always checked in, seeing what you needed and you’d return the favor.

“A bath would be nice.” Jessie nods and slides her legs off of yours, finally allowing you to close your legs. She moves off the bed, holding out a hand to you. You get off the bed with her assistance and walk into the bathroom together. Jessie starts running the bath, putting in your favorite lavender soap. She moved to get out a towel for you. When you notice she only grabs one towel you frown at her.

“What's wrong?”

“Can you join me?” You point to the bath, a pout on your face.

“Of course.” Jessie reaches back into the cabinet for another towel. She comes over to you, wrapping her arms around your waist, holding you tight. “I love you, you’re perfect.” She whispers.